Bipolar and the ability to function

The other day I came across this definition for Bipolar Disorder. “Bipolar Disorder is a mood disorder where mood swings can be severe and last for several weeks or even months and can significantly impact an individual’s ability to function in their daily life.”

In the past year I have spent 5 months in depressive episodes, 3 months in hypomania, and I’m currently in a depression that has lasted 3 and a half months. I have never had this much instability. It has been the hardest year of my life, and right now I would say that I am struggling to function because of my condition.

This is something that I easily forget. That when I can’t function, it is not my fault and I am not a failure. I have an illness that directly effects my my ability to function. Instead I have been subconsciously blaming myself. I try to live a ‘normal’ life keep up with my neurotypical friends and general society, and when I come up short I feel like a failure.

Bipolar disorder has taken a lot from me. It has taken my ability to consistently hold down a job. Not just once, but multiple times. I have quit jobs because in the depths of despair it became impossible. I have quit jobs because I haven’t felt good enough. More than once I have quit without notice. And right now I’m 32 and currently not working. I have a part time teaching job lined up, and in my current depressive episode I’m already doubting myself and wondering if I can handle it. Around me my friends are getting promoted and progressing in their careers. I find it really hard not to compare myself.

Bipolar has also taken my ability to have another child when I wanted to. I always wanted 2 children, preferably close in age. After weening off my lithium early last year to try and conceive another baby, I had a miscarriage. Shortly after depression followed, and I have been cycling between hypomanic and depressive episodes since then. Desperate for reprieve I recently decided to go back on lithium as it has kept me the most stable over the years, but I knew that meant choosing not to grow our family right now.

I told myself that in the future I could come off lithium and try again. But my psychiatrist recommends a long period of stability first, and as I’ve been unstable for so long I don’t know when that will be possible or if it ever will be. Riley is already 2 and a half, and as my episodes continue my dream feels further and further away. When I see friends who are pregnant again, I feel sad. When I see Riley playing alone, I feel sad. There’s this deep longing in my body to have another child. I know it’s not logical, but there’s this feeling that my body has failed.

I just feel so mad at my disease right now; a deep sense of injustice. It’s just not fair. Why has this happened to me? I just want to have normal emotions and lead a normal life. I have started seeing a therapist and she noticed that I am harbouring a lot of blame for things that have happened because of my bipolar disorder. Things that are actually out of my control. So I have to really let that sink in. That this disease impairs one’s ability to function, so it’s understandable that I can’t always function. My life won’t necessarily follow a ‘normal’ path. There will be challenges and setbacks that a neurotypical person won’t ever have to come across. So I have to stop comparing.

I have to celebrate what I’ have achieved in the face of adversity. I’ve completed 2 degrees. I’ve worked in multiple jobs, one of which I held down for 4.5 years. I’ve gotten married and still have a loving husband by my side. I have a beautiful son. I have done all of this while living with Bipolar Disorder.

So I have to learn to give myself some compassion. This is not easy for me. I’m not functioning in daily life right now, and it’s not my fault. When I am functioning, I can do great things. And I will be good again.

My Bipolar Story

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25 years old, on holiday in Melbourne, undiagnosed and experiencing my first hypomanic episode

My name is Courtney, and I have Bipolar Disorder. For 6.5 years I’ve hidden it away like it’s a dirty secret. But I’m no longer ashamed. I am who I am, and having Bipolar doesn’t change that.

Bipolar Disorder affects approximately 1% of the population, so it’s highly likely you know someone with it. Bipolar Disorder is a mood disorder that can develop at any time. I have Bipolar II disorder, which means I experience hypomanic episodes (less severe than the manic episodes experienced by people with Bipolar type I) and can experience long depressive episodes which can cause significant impairment.

I was first diagnosed with depression when I was 23 and then Bipolar type II at 25 years old, which is a common age of onset. Before then I had never struggled with my mental health. By my early twenties I had breezed through high school, moved away from home at 17, got a Bachelor of Arts degree, made lifelong friends, had a few different jobs, and met the love of my life. I had lived a happy, carefree life, privileged life; little did I know that was all about to change.

These years were a very difficult and confusing time of my life. I knew quite a lot about depression, but when I was diagnosed I was still in complete denial. Despite being prescribed anti-depressants, I was convinced the doctor had it wrong and I had chronic fatigue syndrome. When it came to Bipolar Disorder, I knew nothing about it except the one dimensional, cinematic portrayals I had seen on screen. I was totally uneducated and misinformed.

I was diagnosed with Bipolar following my first hypomanic episode. The change in me came on very quickly. One week I was normal, the next my mind was racing, I couldn’t relax, and I wasn’t sleeping. Then before I knew it I was in a full blown hypomanic state, though being undiagnosed I didn’t know what it was yet. The tipping point was when my partner (now Husband) proposed to me. In the first few months of dating I knew he was my person. I had waited 5 long years for this day. The proposal itself was absolutely perfect; the only problem was I knew with certainty he was going to do it.

I’m a very perceptive person and I don’t do well with surprises, in the sense that I’m too nosy and excitable and I have to know all the details. As a child I could never sleep before Christmas’ or Birthdays. I’m still like an excitable child when it comes to that sort of thing. My husband still reminds me of the time he threw me a surprise pool party for my birthday, and I was convinced we were going swimming with dolphins. But I digress. My husband, let’s call him J, had planned a surprise trip away for our 5 year dating anniversary. He asked me to take time off work, pack a bag with enough clothes for a long weekend, and that’s it. I pried and pried but he wouldn’t budge. My mind went into overdrive.

The week leading up to our anniversary/trip, I lay awake for half the night deciphering all the clues J had inadvertently left. My mind was thinking of every possible scenario. I was also full of creative energy, and I had an urge to write and write. By the time the trip came around, I was exhausted and a bundle of nervous excitement. We drove to our secret destination, Raglan (which was no longer a secret as J finally cracked under my constant harassment) and stayed at a beautiful accomodation on a cliff overlooking the ocean. The proposal was top of my mind, but it took 2 days of sight-seeing and holidaying until he finally popped the question. I don’t think I slept at all for those two nights, and I was barely functioning. But I was doing my best to hold it together and act normal as I couldn’t exactly let on to J the reason for my insomnia.

When he asked me to marry him, the moment actually took me by surprise. It was beautiful. I said ‘yes’ through tears of joy. I was beyond happy, but also relieved. We were going to get married! And finally I could get some sleep! However as hours passed, and we revelled in our new engagement, sipping champagne and calling all our friends and family, my tiredness lifted. I felt amazing, and high on life. I did sleep that night, but not much. I was still so excited, and now my head was full with wedding plans.

The next day, the world looked different; felt different. We went on a little walk through the bush next to our accomodation and I was totally entranced by the beauty of the scene around me. The insects, the flowers, the rosy light of the sun. I had never seen anything more beautiful. The sound of the cicadas was overwhelming. I was euphoric and floating on air.

My finance started to notice my behaviour shift. I was hyper, easily humoured overly talkative and jumping from subject to subject. A few times he told me I wasn’t making sense, and wasn’t acting like myself. I just said I was excited from the engagement, and admitted I suspected it and hadn’t been sleeping well.

It was time to go home, but we decided to call in for a night at my parent’s house to break up the trip and celebrate. I was so tired, but so excited to tell them all about it. My Mum had a really old, expensive bottle of champagne on ice and we toasted and drank into the night. I remember being in fits of laughter, and very intoxicated. The night gets a bit hazy after that. We went to bed late, and I heard noises from the garage and I was worried our dog Juno had escaped out the cat door. Sure enough, I went down to check on her and she was gone. It was about 2am, and I was in the rain walking down the street calling her name. This roused my family, and when I returned home with Juno, they were shocked to see my soaking wet in my pyjamas full of energy about my adventure. It was all a bit of a blur, but that night I had what I can only describe as a period of psychosis. I lay awake in the lounge with Juno, and I was convinced something was different about her. I felt this strange energy that my friend that had died 6 years earlier was with me. I was somehow convinced that she was my dog reincarnated. I talked to her as got chills all over my body, and whispered “Is it really you? Has it been you all along?”

The next day, I woke up after a few hours of sleep with an anxious feeling of ‘what happened last night.’ My memory was blurred, and I had flashbacks to finding my dog in the pouring rain. I asked my family if everything was okay, subtly checking in on my behaviour, and they said it was fine we all just had a bit much to drink. But I felt really weird about it all, and I still had chills from my last night’s experience.

The next day, we went to get coffee and visit my Mum’s work (a women’s fashion store) before hitting the road. My behaviour was really starting to concern my fiancé. I was talking non-stop, and in Mum’s shop I was trying on everything and in the mood to buy. We had a bit of a fight, as he was in a rush to get on the road, and I just wanted to keep shopping. I popped to the cafe next door to get us coffee, and returned with a $100 painting that I bought with engagement present money from my Uncle that I hadn’t even told J about yet. That was the final straw. He told me in front of my Mum that my behaviour was really out of character, and he didn’t know what to do. Mum agreed that I didn’t quite seem like my normal self, but she had only seen me for one night. J had to get back to work, and I was in no rush to get back, so we agreed that I would stay on for a few extra days.

I was aware of how different I was feeling, but because I felt great (ultra energetic, happy, sociable, productive, and exorbitantly confident) I didn’t understand why my loved ones were concerned. I liked these new characteristics. I had always been a self-conscious person, so it felt like I was a new improved version of myself. I would lie awake at night and think about all my untapped potential; I wanted to publish a book, learn snowboarding, get fit and enter some sort of bodybuilding competition. And everything I dreamed about, I truely thought I could achieve. For me, it felt like I had tapped into an unconscious part of the brain that most people don’t know how to access. For my friends and family, their concern was growing about my uncharacteristic behaviour and that fact that I never seemed to stop. I was sure my depression had been cured for good and I was experiencing some sort of spiritual enlightenment.

The night J left, and things felt a bit tense between us, I lay awake and convinced myself him leaving was all part of an elaborate cover up for some huge engagement gift/surprise. I convinced myself my parent’s were in on it too. I went into their room in the middle of the night, and loudly woke them up to tell them I was on to them. Mum was less than impressed. Dad was obviously concerned, and followed me to my room to hear me out. I explained that J had gone to pick up a luxury camper van that he had bought for us, and was driving it back right now to surprise me. It was something we had talked about briefly in the past, travelling around the country like nomads, but it was merely a fleeting idea. But I truely believed he was going to pull down our driveway any minute, lights flashing and horn hooting. I kept pulling back the curtains, as Dad tried to reassure me there was no secret plan and my idea was ridiculous. Eventually he jumped in and top-and-tailed with me to calm me down and try to get me to sleep, but I wasn’t convinced that they weren’t all in on something.

The next day, my parents made me go to their family doctor. She had been my GP since I was little. I tried convincing them that I didn’t need to go; my natural instinct was to dismiss people’s concern, because I wasn’t concerned. I felt great. My Mum sat in on the appointment, vouching for my strange behaviour. I under-exaggerated my sleeping problems, and consciously slowed my talking down and calmed my enthusiasm. I must have told the doctor I was fine probably 50 times, just excited from the engagement. She eventually reached the conclusion that I was having a ‘mental break’; just a small blip, and it was nothing to be concerned about.

My parents and Jonno weren’t convinced, and decided I should stay a bit longer. I called my boss to explain I wouldn’t be back at work on Monday, but it came out all wrong. I gleefully announced my engagement as though that was a reason in itself, thinking he would be thrilled for me, and he instantly turned dark and started to raise his voice at me. I didn’t understand, and freaked out, and Dad who heard the conversation unfold had to take the phone off me and explain that I was going through something and I needed to be home right now. Good old Dad keeping it vague. My parents also had to intervene when people started to notice my strange behaviour on social media. I was posting weird, spiritual things in the middle of the night, and planning social catch ups with people I hadn’t seen in years. I would often wake up at 2 or 3 in the morning feeling like I was fully refreshed, and headed downstairs with my phone to start the day. My friends started to tell me some of my posts were out of character, and when my parents cottoned on they decided to loving take my phone off me at night, which in hindsight I am grateful for. Part of me was slightly embarrassed with everyone’s concern, but I truely couldn’t see what the problem was. I was happy, which as a sufferer of depression was not always the case for me, so why couldn’t they just be happy for my newfound happiness?

After a few days of staying with my parents, my lack-of-sleeping started to get the better of me. I was so tired from sleep deprivation that I couldn’t function properly, but so wired by hypomania that I just couldn’t rest or sleep. My energy would come in waves, but at times I felt like a drunk zombie. Eventually I got prescribed sleeping pills which helped me get to sleep and stay asleep a few hours longer, but my elevated behaviour continued. I turned everyday things into a party. I went to do a supermarket shop with Mum, and was singing and dancing around Countdown, filming myself on Snapchat (a big thing at the time) and talking to every stranger that so much as looked at me. I would never be caught dead doing this normally. The security guard came and stood near me with a watchful eye at the checkout, as quite frankly it probably looked like I was as high on drugs, and I thought it was all a big joke. Although I was not myself, and my family was rightfully concerned, I was funny and charismatic and I could still make them laugh. None of us knew what on earth was going on.

As I started to get better sleep (still a max of 5-6 hours a night, but nobody knew that), I decided it was time to go home and get back to my new fiancé. I booked my flight and was so excited to see him. Unfortunately, his life was continuing as normal and I was still experiencing a whole other level of euphoric ecstasy. As much as he told me I wasn’t acting like myself, I denied it, and we argued constantly. It wasn’t the post engagement bliss we had both hoped for.

My hypomania continued months, putting strain on all of my important relationships. But it was particularly hard on J, who had to live with this supercharged version of me for months, telling me I wasn’t acting like myself until he was blue in the face; but I wasn’t listening. Meanwhile I was having the most fun I’d had in my life. I managed to go to work and smooth things over, and tone down my behaviour as much as I could. At the end of the day, I was still full of energy and squeezing in as much extra activity as I could into my day.

At home I was drinking wine every night, and instead of hanging out with J and relaxing and watching TV like we normally would, I would rather go out and socialise. I had a lot to say, and I really struggled to sit still. Because we lived at the camping ground that J was managing, I only had to walk over to people’s caravans where they were always happy to socialise. I befriended some new neighbours, a lovely same-sex couple who came up to stay regularly, and would arrive at their caravan unannounced with a glass (or bottle) of wine quite. They seemed to enjoy my company, and I talked their ear off for an hour or 2 before I reluctantly heading home. In hindsight, I’m embarrassed that they regularly saw this version of me. I didn’t want this space between my fiancé and I, but I was tired of the conflict and being called out for my seemingly harmless behaviour.

My hypomania continued for 3 or 4 months. I had developed a love for opshopping and was constantly buying trinkets and antiques that I thought were beautiful. I collected so much stuff that I turned one of our spare rooms into a museum of goods that some would deem as junk. I was crafting constantly in the evenings, undertaking huge mosaic projects that I still have now. I had plans to open a shop, and even looked at a few premises and started building a website but my plans never eventuated.

We went to Melbourne on a holiday and caught up with some friends over there. Things had calmed down a bit now, but as soon as alcohol got involved I was back to playing the goat. One night I was meeting J’s friends for the first time, and after a night of cocktails and wine over dinner and at the casino, I was loud, outspoken and unhinged. I remember J having words to me but I thought I was the life of the party. I also remember being quite reckless. One night I couldn’t find a lighter, so I lit my cigarette on the gas stove, returning home a few hours later to find the gas still on. But I just didn’t mention it and moved on; it was no big deal to me.

My sleeping, or lack-thereof, was still an issue. Eventually, my tank started to run out of fuel. I was physically exhausted – I just don’t think my body could keep up with my mind any longer. I gradually started coming back down to earth.  I remember one day my fiancé calling out something I’d done one day, and something clicked in my brain, and I actually heard him. I got this unforgettable pang in my stomach as I looked back on the last few months, and suddenly saw everything he’d been talking about. I had been acting really strange. I had been embarrassing myself, and him, and my family. As the reality and sunk in, I sunk deeper and deeper into my shame and remorse. What was wrong with me!? I sobbed “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

I can’t remember how long after my hypomanic episode I got my diagnosis, but I don’t think it was immediately. It all a bit blurry, but I feel like I spiralled into a depressive episode which led me to get back in touch with my psychiatrist. What I do remember is the appointment. I talked him through the months of out-of-character behaviour, even the parts that caused me deep shame. I knew something was wrong with me, but the word Bipolar had never crossed my radar. After lots of talking and questions, he told me he thought I had Bipolar Type 2, and informed in all about hypomanic episodes. Everything he said I could relate to. It all made sense. I was relieved to get a name for the months that I had been calling to myself and my fiance and family ‘that time I went a bit crazy’. But my diagnosis didn’t alleviate the deep shame I was still feeling. I only told 4 people about my Bipolar; My fiancé, my parents, and my sister. I thought I would never tell anyone else. To those that were witness to my episode, I did damage control where I could, and continued on as normal like nothing had ever happened.

I went on Lithium, a mood stabiliser, and since then I have never had a hypomanic episode even close to the scale as that one. It also helped to manage my depression, keeping it at bay for longer periods of time and making the episodes less severe. It wasn’t until I came off the Lithium to conceive and carry my son that I have experienced another hypomanic episode, and again when I came off it to try for another baby. I have since found a mood stabiliser that is safe with pregnancy, and so far it is working well. I hope to have another baby again in the near future, but it is really daunting with my condition, and timing is critical.

Until recently, my Bipolar Disorder has been a part of me I tried so hard to repress. I buried my shame from that hypomanic episode, but memories and episodes would still intrude on my life and remind me that my mind has the power to play tricks on me. Since starting my Instagram page @mentalhealthmama_nz, I have been sharing parts of my story, and reading so many others’. The Bipolar/mental health community I have found on Instagram has honestly changed my life. I no longer live in shame, because my experience is not unique. There are different types of Bipolar Disorder and no two people’s experiences are the same, but reading and hearing other’s stories and feelings are so relatable.  I have wanted to write my story for years, but every time I’ve started I haven’t been able to follow it through. But I’m ready now.

I may only be followed by about 10 people I know in real life, but that’s a huge step after 6.5 years of hiding it away. Maybe one day I’ll wear my Bipolar out and proud, but for now I’m proud of my progress. Living with Bipolar is incredibly hard, and no-one should ever go through it alone. I no longer feel alone.

While my road has not been easy, and because of this life-long condition I’m sure it won’t be all smooth-sailing from here, I am stronger than ever before and I have the tools and experience to get through whatever life throws at me. Despite my disorder, I am grateful for my blessings and the life I have. And at least it makes for an interesting story.

Mental health update & rapid-cycling

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A few days after deciding to start lithium again and writing ‘The hard decision of putting off growing our family’ blog, things changed quite rapidly. Within a week I went from severe depression, to suddenly stable, to the beginning of a hypomanic episode.

When I really thought about it, what I was experiencing was similar to what I felt like in Rarotonga a few weeks earlier. I was excitable, feeling ultra-productive, super creative, overly confident, and in a constant state of busyness with an urgency to get everything done as soon as possible. I was also not sleeping well. At the time I put it down to the excitement of the holiday, but I think it was more than that.

As quickly as my depression lifted, the hypomania came on, and while I was so grateful to finally be out of depression after desperately trying to rid it for months, I was a little worried about how quickly my mood had changed yet again. On the whole I did things to help myself. I got in touch with my psychiatrist, I started taking my olanzapine every day, and I did things to try and slow my mind and body down. But part of hypomania for me is enjoyable, particularly the increased productivity, creativity and confidence, so I took advantage of my decreased need for sleep and used this time to squeeze more into my day.

At this point my husband and I were fighting, as he was trying to help me the only way he knows how, and at the best of times I don’t like being told what to do. I was in the spare room so I didn’t disturb my husband with my strange sleep patterns, but also so I wouldn’t be forced to try and sleep when I didn’t feel I could. But as I’ve learned in the past, going into my own room doesn’t always help me as my hypomanic brain prioritises everything else over sleep. I was blogging and creating content, online shopping and dreaming of up big plans until late at night, then waking up really early full of energy. I was physically tired, but my brain just didn’t want to rest.

When it got to a point I was only getting 4-6 hours of sleep, I knew I needed help so I went back to the mental health team.They advised I up my olanzapine dose to 1.75mg in the morning and 2.5mg at night, and prescribed a sleeping pill. I fought the urge to keep doing things at night, and with these new medications on board I was able to get my sleep back on track.

It’s been a few weeks since I would consider myself stable. I’m still feeling productive and an urge to keep busy, but I am being realistic and pacing myself with how much I achieve in a day, and doing things to improve my sleep hygiene. I’m actually tired by the end of the day, and sometimes even falling asleep on the couch after a long day of teaching and parenting. I’m still in regular contact with my psychiatrist.

About a week ago I went for an in-person appointment (a lot of our contact is over the phone. We discussed my symptoms, behaviour and the ups and downs of this year at length.) He told me about rapid-cycling, which is classified by at least 4 bipolar episodes in a year, which he said applies to me. Rapid-cycling doesn’t feel like a big diagnosis, it’s just a part of this mental illness I carry with me always. It actually helps, because it gives me a name for increased amount of episodes I’ve had in one of the hardest years I can remember. It makes a lot of sense.

Doctor Gary changed my medication somewhat. We decreased my anti-depressant (because when you’re not depressed it can actually push you into a hypomanic state), increased my lamotrigine (mood stabiliser), and kept the olanzapine on board for a few more weeks until I’m satisfied that I’m not hypomanic at all. It’s an absolute science getting your medications right, and while I’m pretty much a qualified pharmacist with all my experience, I’m so grateful to the experts for their knowledge and support.

When I last posted about changes in my medications I talked about starting lithium and how we’d have to put off trying for another baby. I am thrilled to say that all the medications I’m currently on are safe to take during pregnancy, so I don’t have to give up my dream of growing our family. But like my last pregnancy, I would like to reduce my medications as much as I can while still being in a good place mentally. I definitely want to focus on being stable right now, and the baby-making can wait. It’s daunting for me, but it’s exciting, and I’m sure it will happen when the time is right.

Sublime

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Original poem inspired by the onset of my first hypomanic episode.

I hadn’t slept for 3 days (at all) and my now husband had just proposed in the most beautiful place. This wasn’t just normal excitement. Everything looked different, smelt different, felt different. Even breathing felt unbelievably good. It was surreal. But the weeks that followed were damaging.

This was 6 and a half years ago, but I remember it like it was yesterday. Thanks to the knowledge  have now, medication and being aware of my triggers I have never had an episode like this again 🦋

This is home

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I have been lucky enough to have lived by this beautiful beach for the last 8 years. It has seen me at my best and at my absolute worst, but no matter what it always makes me feel grounded 🙏

First brush with hypomania

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This photo was taken roughly 6 years ago. I was 2 months into my first hypomanic episode and still feeling completely uninhibited and euphoric, but having to consciously tone down my behaviour as people around me were noticing. My family and friends were concerned but I was in complete denial that anything was wrong.

I felt amazing, why would they want to bring me down? On this day I showed up late for a funeral because it wasn’t a big deal. I was drinking and shopping way more than usual. Trying to befriend strangers. Sleeping very little but feeling energised after a few hours. Taking dangerous risks because I felt invincible. I felt on top of the world, but I was oblivious to the harm I was doing.

Bipolar Diagnosis snippet

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6 and a half years ago I had my first hypomanic episode and was diagnosed with Bipolar Type 2. I have never shared my story except with those that were really close to me and saw me go through it.

For years I’ve started drafting my story but I stop because it’s too painful to relive and I’ve carried such deep shame for so long. But I’m learning to look back at this time with more self love and compassion. I hope others can do the same.

Watch this space, full diagnosis story blog coming soon… 😬🤍

Seasons

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Like seasons my moods fluctuate,
sometimes sunny and euphoric then desolate and cold.

When I’m good, everything flows.
Other times I am frozen, submerged in ice cold water.

I desperately kick up for air but my thoughts hold me under,
and I don’t know how much longer I can fight for.

Then after the never-ending Winter,
spring comes around, as it always does.

The water slowly gets warmer
and the flowers start to bloom.

I find my flow again, basking in the light and the colours,
all the while knowing seasons can’t last forever.

2023 – a year of many episodes

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Depressed  ➡️  stable  ➡️  severely depressed  ➡️  stable… all in 5 months. This is my bipolar 🧠

This is me 2 months ago on vacation in Rarotonga, having the time of my life. For 3 months before this I had been suffering from mild depression and bad anxiety. When I returned home I quickly spiralled into an episode of severe depression. I didn’t want to get out of bed. I couldn’t distract myself from the pain I was suffering. I couldn’t muster a positive thought about myself. I was in a really dark place.

Although I have come through similar episodes many times before and I knew it wouldn’t last forever, it felt like it would never end and I desperately wanted to escape.

Fast forward a month and I am feeling back to my normal self. Happy, motivated, and self assured. It blows my mind how quickly I can go from depressed to stable.

I am so glad I’m out the other side again, but sadly I know this won’t last forever. Bipolar is fucking hard work. It’s exhausting and at times debilitating. But the good times make life worth it. If this is your reality, know that you are strong beyond measure 💪 And you’re going to be okay.