One day my senior year in college I woke up and started crying in the shower. And the next day I cried in the shower and the day after that I cried in the shower… This went on for days, weeks—it seemed like forever. My boyfriend who I have lived with all through college left me. I wanted to quit school, thankfully my mother didn’t let me. I was diagnosed with depression and given various drugs that gave me all kinds of side effects from migraines to ER visits.
Flash forward a year later—still a science experiment.
After 3 days of not sleeping and horrible hallucinations I went into the doctor’s office. She looked at me and said you are not depressed. You are either bipolar or schizophrenic and I CAN”T help you.
I look at that day as perhaps the worst or best day of my life. That day I found the doctor that saved my life. One glance at me and he said, she’s on fire. After about 2 1/2 years of playing a guinea pig to the medication; I found myself out of the fog. That was always my fear of the medication that somewhere along the way I would drug my soul out.
Here I am 10 years later…and bipolar is part of me a big part. I like to call it my joker in the deck of cards I was given. You never know when it is going to be thrown out. It is hard, I am resentful of this disease, but I am open to the treatment. Because it allows me to play my part in the world.
The world that I love—my marriage, my friends, my family..
My treatment has allowed me to experience the life I wanted before bipolar was part of my every day vocabulary.
But that day, the worst day. I was forced to STOP, be still. At 22. Be still. That day taught me more than anything about compassion. Compassion for those that must be still when the world is too much.
Be still. Be compassionate. Be patient. Be open because the sadness is not madness. The energy in you soul is your fight to get to the other side of the darkness.