I just turned 47 years old, and I suffer from bipolar disorder. Never in a million years did I think I would still be struggling at this age. Back when I was diagnosed, I remember thinking, I’ll just take these pills and that will take care of it. From age 19 on, things have progressively gotten worse with my symptoms. My 20’s were a nightmare filled with self- injury, suicide attempts, and hospitalizations.
It wasn’t until my 30’s that I started to see things more clearly. That is in a large part due to marrying a kind, caring, and compassionate man. That, coupled with finally getting mental health coverage, finally allowed me to choose a doctor that was a good fit for me. It was a struggle. It’s been very difficult to find one that I felt I could trust.
As I turned 40, thing seemed to come apart at the seams. I attempted suicide once again in 2013 and was hospitalized. I felt like I was starting all over again. The hospital was horrible, and I received no help whatsoever. I had to make the decision to try to play by the rules to get myself out of there.
In the years since that hospitalization, things have been incredibly up and down. I won’t lie, nothing has been easy. I now have a good doctor, but I think she might even be a bit confused about what to do next. It doesn’t help that I have a medication-resistant system.
I go to bed every night with the hopes that tomorrow will bring me a brighter day, and I’ll experience fewer symptoms. It’s useless for me to make to-do lists anymore. I’m overcome with guilt if I don’t accomplish everything on it. I don’t mean to make it sound as if the years have all been bad, and I never feel decent. I’ve accomplished some things I never thought I would, and my marriage is a strong and happy one.
However, the losses I’ve experienced have been crippling and incredibly difficult to endure. I have yet to attempt therapy again. I can say that no good has ever come from my experiences with therapists. Maybe I just never found the right therapist, or maybe I’m just too damn stubborn. My last therapist fell asleep while I was talking, so I’m passing on the experience for now.
At this stage in my life, I’ve been struggling quite a bit. Turning 47 doesn’t help matters any. You hope that after all of these years, you would have some insight into what does or doesn’t work on a daily basis. That is not the case for me. I’m grateful for the little things, and I try not to get too down on myself for the bad days.
For now, I will take comfort in the little things that some people may find trivial. A good movie, a good book, hearing my husband say I love you, and the occasional comments from folks around the world that are grateful for the honesty in my writing.
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