Hi my name is Robbi I’m a 43year-old mother of 3 at 32 I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. Mental illness runs in my family.   My mother and grandfather were not diagnosed So unfortunately due to lack of awareness of the disease resources and lack of proper medications at 8 I lost my mother and witnessed  her suicide . At 10 I  witnessed  the  death of my grandfather to suicide also I’m a twin. Despite my extreme trauma and my losses I continue to fight for those like me who need support resources hope love kindness caring respect…most of all stop the stigma. I do not drink nor do drugs. I have no criminal  record. I have an Associate degree as an Licenced Optician. I want to do what ever I can to help who ever I can. God has seen me thru and I feel like this organization will help me achieve those goals as well as I feel thats my purpose. It brings me great joy to give others hope. I want to become a motivational speaker like Les Brown.  With Gods help I will❤

I’ve been dealing with my fiancé’s bipolar disorder for 6 months now.
Are episodes of depression, drinking binges, extreme highs, lack of empathy part of bipolar disorder?
I’m trying to learn all I can about this mental illness. I love him very much but it feels like I’m on a roller coaster ride with his emotions. I want to hug him and slap him at the same time.
Now I know I am not alone, and find some comfort in that. From what I’ve read the symptoms vary. Thanks to everyone for sharing, now I know I am not alone and find some comfort in that.

Mental illness is the most difficult thing that you will ever encounter in your life. But it lays down the road for you to deal with the obstacles that come in front of you in life. You are stronger and tougher person for having to deal with a mental illness—in my case, I suffer from bipolar disorder. Going insane is no picnic ride, but it teaches you to appreciate life in a way that is unique and special, for the mind is the most complex and most powerful thing in the universe. I treasure my sanity, yet I embrace my insanity for it has made an indelible mark on my character as a person. I’m more sensitive, understanding, and loving towards life, and I believe that I would not have this insight if it weren’t for my illness. I’m a better person, because I am bipolar.

I have dealt with mental illness all my life as the road hasn’t been easy. Having 3 hospitalizations before I was 15 wasn’t easy as I had an abusive natural father and an alcoholic stepfather who’s alcoholism was denied by his youngest daughters with more mental illness issues that my alcoholic stepfather denied that I had. The 1st time that I knew that I had bipolar disorder wasn’t until I was in my early 20s and I was grateful that I was in a place that did treat me for it but it was in one of the worst areas on the north side of Chicago. I lived in several different areas of the city that I knew were dangerous as I knew gangs were a problem in the areas I lived in when I found out that alcoholism and/or drugs were a big problem within the family. Fast forward to August 27,1997 I got into a program called Emotions Anonymous which helped me get off meds with a doctors ok and a little over a year later I got into Al-Anon knowing alcoholism was a problem but didn’t realize how big of a problem was until I had left home for good November 18th, 2005 as it was the year before my stepfather died. Many other things I looked into was the possibility that I had PTSD due to the many years that I knew that I was a family member of alcoholics and/or addicts as I added Nar-Anon to the mix about a year after leaving Chicago and moving to the Phoenix area with my mother. 

                           I’m truly grateful that I still attend meetings today while dealing with my illness as I’m working everything to the best of my ability as I just celebrated 23 years in Emotions Anonymous and have 8 years in Nar-Anon..Will have 22 in Al-Anon November 19th and I know that my illness will never be put on the back burner by anyone else other than me as long as I exercise when possible, try to get my weight to a manageable level and attend my meetings I’ll be okay.

My first encounter with mental illness was around age eight or nine when I found out that my dad had bipolar disorder (formerly known as manic depression). He and my mom had just gotten remarried, and he had a manic episode, which landed him in the hospital. I learned that bipolar disorder could be treated with medication, but that it is a chemical imbalance in the brain for which there is no cure. 

Bipolar disorder is a hereditary illness. I didn’t think that I had depression, but that I had just  been in depressing situations. When my parents divorced, my grades suffered. I lacked confidence. I was teased and tormented by kids in school. When I became an adult, I couldn’t hold a job, and I found myself in trouble with the law. I tried on several occasions to go to college, but I would get discouraged and quit.

In my 20s, I lived with a friend, her parents and her four siblings for about three years. She and her older brother were physically and verbally abusive towards me. I was able to get out of that situation, but I struggled with the effects of it for a long time. I became friends with a woman whom I’d met in church. We were the same age and shared similar interest, but then my “former” friend resurfaced and manipulated her way into the relationship that was blossoming between my new friend and I.

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In the last three years, I have lost two sisters to a terrible disease called mental illness. Just like people with cancer or kidney failure, people with mental illness deserve our compassion, our understanding, and our empathy.  While our oldest sister L was stricken with a mental illness in her late forties, M’s battle with Bipolar Disorder was a lifelong struggle, something she had been dealing with since she was a teenager. M may have struggled daily with her illness, but in living her life she did not let it define her.

M and I bonded when L became ill.  We spent countless nights on the phone, trying to guide each other through the difficult challenges L was facing, and as her siblings, that we faced, too. We learned a lot about each other, and about how messed up (and how resilient) the human brain can be.  It’s a complicated organ, and we just don’t know enough about it.

M has always had a difficult time dealing with loss – grandparents, pets, or friends. Knowing this, I was very worried about her after L’s death, as was everyone in the family.  I was candid, and told M we were all concerned, since her bipolar depression seemed to hit hardest after a loss. She acknowledge that, yes, it was hard, but seeing the outpouring of love and support that everyone had for L, and how much her death had affected everyone, she really wanted to work hard to stay well. And work hard she did. She had a good three years where she managed to get her medication regulated, and her bipolar swings under control.

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I am a 30-year-old female with bipolar disorder and I am here to share my story of living with this mental health condition.

By the age of 16 years old, I had probably been diagnosed with every mental illness out there and taken every medication possible. It wasn’t until I was 24 years old and in early recovery from addiction, that I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. It took me a long time to accept the fact that I had this diagnosis. No one understood what I was dealing with. I never knew if I would wake up happy or depressed. I did tons and tons of research on bipolar disorder and found that it is partially genetic, so I decided to do some digging and look into my family. I found out that my great grandmother had died by suicide at the age of 24. My father had told me he didn’t want me to know because he blamed himself for my mental illness.

I look back, and always ask, “why me?” I feel like I was hit with the stick that gave me a mental health condition and a substance abuse disorder. Being one of three girls, I always felt like the black sheep of my family. I was always messing up and getting into trouble, especially when I would become manic. To me, mania is an outer body experience and I loved the feeling. In a matter of two weeks I spent over $20,000 because of my mania.

I have learned that bipolar disorder is not my life—it’s just part of who I am. I am not shy about it and I do public speaking about my illness. Now at the age of 30, I am a licensed master social worker working with individuals with mental health conditions. Mental illness is not something we can help and education is the key factor in getting others to understand what we are dealing with. I am finally stable on my medication and am doing the best I have been in a long time.

Even though my life isn’t where I thought it would be, coming to terms with my bipolar disorder was a major accomplishment. Don’t get me wrong—I still have my ups and downs and I still have a lot of symptoms that are very difficult to manage. NAMI is such an amazing organization with everything they do and I want to thank NAMI for always providing services and educational material to better help understand and deal with bipolar disorder.

Remember, you are not your mental illness, it is just a part of you. Stay strong and don’t stop fighting.

COLLATERAL DAMAGE

Collateral Damage: injury inflicted on something other than an intended target.

Although I do not suffer from mental illness, my family has suffered, and continues to suffer, from the effects of mental illness. You could say it’s collateral damage.

My daughter had bipolar disorder with associated schizophrenia.

My first-born child, she came into this world as a cute little strawberry blond. Her father’s bipolar disorder soon came to light and, due to his abuse, I divorced him when she was just 3 years old. Our nuclear family then consisted of my actively-involved and supporting parents, her younger brother, and me.  When she was 10, I remarried and soon thereafter, we added another son to the family.  She had a very normal upbringing in an upper-middle-class neighborhood and had many opportunities that other children did not have in life. She was a strong-willed child, but, as she grew older, her issues presented primarily through anger and “emotional issues” which disrupted our family life and for which we all received counseling.

As a teen, in order to give her a new perspective and to allow our other children to live without her daily rantings, she went to live with other family members until she graduated from high school. She excelled in these situations. She enrolled in college, but when the 9/11 tragedy occurred, she completely lost it. She quit school and returned home. She had a few jobs and even worked as a stand-in for a movie that was filmed in our town.  

All in all, she was a beautiful young lady who had a zest for life, a sparkle in her Caribbean-blue eyes, and so many opportunities. She fell in love, moved out of town and married at age 19. Within four years, she had three children and their marriage was on the rocks.

A single parent at 24, she needed help raising her children, so we moved her, and unbeknownst to us, her growing bipolar disorder, back to town. 

Bipolar disorder, quoting NAMI, “is a mental illness that causes dramatic shifts in a person’s mood, energy and ability to think clearly. People with bipolar experience high and low moods—known as mania and depression—which differ from the typical ups-and-downs most people experience.  The average age-of-onset is about 25, but it can occur in the teens, or more uncommonly, in childhood.”

The last 12 years have been full of few “ups” and so many “downs.” 

The “ups” are her four children, and spending time with them.  She remarried as soon as her divorce was final, and had another child. Although she loved her children with all of her heart and soul, she was unable to keep up with all that entails raising four children, all boys, and I mean “all boys.”  Her new husband did the best he could to work and care for the family all the while her mental health issues were becoming more prominent.  My husband, two sons and I all did our best to support them, and to give her children a foundation from which to grow. 

The downs are too numerous to mention, but I’ll hit the highlights (lowlights?): 

• There were many family court battles over visitation and custody with her first ex-husband.  Eventually, he was granted custody of the three oldest boys and her rights to her own children were terminated. 
• He also refused to allow me any visitation with my grandchildren, and after almost 2 years of litigation, I lost my fight. As it stands now, I have no way to see or even communicate with my three oldest grandchildren.  Even worse, my youngest grandchild has lost his three brothers, and the three oldest have lost their youngest brother.
• Her second marriage also ended in divorce, and he was granted custody of the youngest child. 
• Her manic moods became much more severe, and schizophrenia soon set in.  She did receive medical and psychiatric help as an in-patient and out-patient, but either she failed to follow her prescribed treatment plan, or the plans weren’t effective.
• Despite my helping her in so many ways and, particularly, in helping her to get approved for monthly Social Security Disability payments, she became homeless, sometimes living in a tent, homeless shelter, storage shed, etc.  She lost all of her possessions through neglect, foolishness, etc.
• She threatened “great harm” to me.  In order to protect myself and those who live/work with me, I was forced to get a restraining order – against my own daughter.
• She was arrested numerous times as a result of her manic episodes and the behavior she exhibited during those episodes.  (Each time, I pleaded with the court to get her more treatment, not jail time.  Unfortunately, our jails are filled with the mentally-ill.)
• She left town on a bus one day, not really knowing where she would go or what she would do.  We’re not really sure what happened from that point on.

In late July, we received the phone call we had always dreaded.  A call came from the County Coroner’s Office in a state 700 miles away.  We still don’t know the “what” or “why” of her death, but it doesn’t really matter.  She was a victim of an inherited mental illness, and the side-effects thereof.

We brought her home and, remembering what and who she was when she was at her best, we celebrated her life and laid her to rest.  She is no longer suffering.  We are no longer burdened with worry.  Maybe God decided it was time for an end to her misery that wore on us all.

The damage has been done, and we have our scars.  As to the three oldest grandchildren we have now “lost,” I pray that they are well, and that we will be reunited at some point. Her youngest child is, thankfully, part of our lives on a consistent basis.  My husband, two sons and I are all happy, well and thriving. Life goes on.

I am 32, a United States Marine Corps veteran, an auditor and I am living with bipolar disorder II, which causes symptoms of anxiety and depression episodes.

I never truly understood what it meant to have a mental illness until I realized that I was constantly worrying and feeling down. My depression episodes manifested as days of extreme lows where I struggled to get out of bed and perform day-to-day tasks and activities. I spoke to some friends who were dealing with similar symptoms, and they encouraged me to seek professional help. My bipolar diagnosis was identified when I was in a serious car accident while experiencing a manic episode.

Discovering a mental illness while recovering from a major accident was not easy. Here is what helped me accept my diagnosis and recover from my physical and mental injuries:

• My family and friends stepped up tremendously ready to assist and encourage me. I was an emotional and mental mess, and they helped put me back together.
• I had to position myself to receive advice from my family and friends who are familiar with mental illness and are actively managing their own mental illnesses. I also had to remain open to receiving information regarding coping strategies, being mindful of my mood and warning signs of a potential manic episode or manic depression.
• Setting small goals helped me find my way back to myself. I am not the same person I was before the accident, and trying to get back to that person is not realistic. I had to accept the now me in order to move forward.   

Today, I am different because I am living with my diagnosis and my diagnosis is not controlling me. I see my therapist and psychologist on a regular basis. I am mindful of my mood on a daily basis and aware of the warning signs of manic and depressive episodes. I ultimately have taken charge of my life and my health.

There is a need for mental illness to be recognized as a real and serious condition in community specifically the African American community. People need to be educated on the various mental illness diagnoses and symptoms and see a therapist at least 2-4 times a year to maintain their mental health. Education and therapy ensure they are not putting themselves or others in danger. Many people are unaware of their mental illness and choose to suffer in silence. We need to end this process of thinking and encourage people to seek support.

Mental illness screenings should be done 2-4 times a year for preventative reasons, just like an annual physical examinations and biannual dental cleanings. Mental illness screenings should be no different.

My hope is that people who live with mental illness and the people who love them will eventually see all health as equally important.

Before being diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder II – I honestly knew little about it or mental illness in general for that fact. I was drowning in confusion while losing an uphill battle of anxiety, depression, and loneliness. It’s difficult to take care of yourself when it feels like your brain has betrayed you. For those of you who suffer, who are afraid to seek help, or are currently in the threshold of the mental health system, I give you my ABC’s of mental health. Everyone deals and reacts to mental illness differently. This is not a standard guide, but my personal experience with dealing with a new diagnoses, going through the process of finding the right medication, while trying to live life to the fullest despite the struggles and stigmas faced every day.

Anger – at yourself, at life, at everyone around you. Anger toward the medication you have to take, the doctors telling you things you don’t want to hear, therapists making you dig deep to the point of mental breakdowns. Anger that this is your new life. In the words of Tame Impala, “Let it happen.” Then let it go.

Bravery – I know it may not seem like it at times, but it takes a lot of courage and strength to get out of bed and face the world when all you want to do is curl up in a ball and hide from everything. It’s even braver to say things out loud and accept your disorder as part of you -not all of you. I came out to my family and friends in the form of an article that was published. Although I didn’t feel the bravery that they told me I had, it was a necessary step in accepting my illness and reducing the stigma attached to it. To those who struggle every day and find the courage to keep going, you my friend, are a brave one.

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