My doctor described my diagnosis to me in this way: I’m a 78 RPM person trying to function in a 33 1/3 world. For you baby boomers, you’ll know what I mean. If you’re younger than a baby boomer and don’t understand the analogy, ask your parents to explain it to you.

When I’m manic, I’m like the energizer bunny. Always going. Creating something. Wanting something. 

Right after I got diagnosed, I jumped into crafts and started making these little wooden window seats.

I didn’t create one or two, or a few. I created dozens. And dozens. And boxes full. I obsessed over getting every single wooden window seat in the Tampa area so I could make something out of it. Then I wanted a puppy. (Thank goodness my husband saw fit to tell me no at that time) Then I jumped into soap making. I made pounds and pounds of soap. (All of this is in less than a week.)

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I have known about my illness for close to 25 years. While I was not enthusiastic, to say the least, when I learned of the diagnosis of bipolar disorder; it did provide clarity. I began my search for answers, treatment options and support. I joined groups, read books and was fascinated to learn about Kay Jamison and Patty Duke who were willing to admit that they too had this diagnosis. I eventually became okay with all of it. It went from being my broken wing, to my cross to bear to my hidden truth. I do what I need to do to stay well.

• I take my medicine daily
• I avoid stress or simply view situations differently (thanks now to mindfulness, meditation and affirmation)
• I can’t say that I don’t drink, I do enjoy an occasional glass of wine with my meals (I’m a Francophile after all, la joie de vivre is important to me)
• I also make it a point to get at least 6 hours (8 is better), because I know lack of sleep is a real trigger point for me.

Since the time that I was diagnosed 25 years ago, I have not needed to be hospitalized again. Controlling my mania has been a huge win. I have experienced a bout or two of depression during the past 25 years. But that really isn’t so bad when you consider that I was also dealing with unemployment, a failed marriage, financial hardship an adjusting to unexpectedly becoming a single mom. All this at the same time! Bipolar or not, this was tough stuff to overcome. More than anything I am resilient.

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I first began to experience symptoms of bipolar disorder in my early teens. i was put on Lithium while in a hospital and right away the almost catatonic depression I was in began to ease. From there on in, it seemed medication would be the answer to everything that was wrong with me. For years i was on every depression medication available, tricyclics, MAO inhibitors–when one stopped working, I was simply put on something else. Then things got better and I needed no medication through my twenties. i still struggled with lows, but there were no suicide attempts, I was able to live and love, to work and, for the most part, even enjoy life. Then, at the age of 29 I had a manic episode and my medication nightmare began.

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Hello, my name is Matthew.

I have a serious mental illness and the diagnosis is Bipolar disorder.

We all have our own story. Mine is how I went through school K-12 and always struggled with depression and anxiety but I never got the right treatment until my senior year of high school was falling apart.

I did graduate but it was more than getting to class on time, doing homework and studying for the next test. It was Bipolar 1… a serious and complicated illness. With words going around school that, I was falling apart like a monument that collapsed with no foundation. The foundation was not cemented it was my state of mind. A dark hole that comes quick, I went to Havenwick Mental Hospital.

I was ran a cross-country race, I was always a great runner since 10th grade. “Come on Matt speed up,” I finished with a bad time. Which was not me but my team treated it like it was. I was just dehydrated, which was true, but how about writing how you will run a race and do well in school the next day when you stay up until 3 am? Why, I was manic. Manic is less sleep more energy. (Superman) I felt like trash with a cherry on top.

Going back to 2005 when I was in kindergarten the alphabet was tough for me. The teachers most likely said he is hard on himself or he is slow. Ever since then I was hard on myself, but moving back to my senior year I was falling apart quickly and then started to not be as hard on myself once I received treatment at a mental hospital I felt happy and with peace to be in the same room as other people with mental illness. When I was in Havenwick Mental Hospital, I was thinking of my friends and people at my high school. Not as much as if I miss them, but the fact that the people in hospital with me did not take the small things for granted. Small things are like appreciation for one another.

Back at my high school it was you are a jerk get out of here you are a no buddy. Then I was rethinking my friends and being happy to talk to others that had a great appreciation of one another. Respect for one another. With respect comes a problem to connect about depression, anxiety, coping, medication, and other mental illness in a hospital room. I just think it ironic how the people that don’t realize they have it all but instead that blame other people for their problems. For the people in the hospital, it was just being happy to have shot at recovery. Ever since my recovery, I made a face with puzzle pieces each piece as a word that defines who I am. I made sure that I filled it all the way. To never looked back!

It took months maybe a year or two to feel very comfortable about being aware of mental illness. That’s what brought me to type this letter. Everyone has chances to somehow come out of your mental health problems. If not come out to feel somewhat relieved.

The treatment was more about faith than anything else faith that you have a shot to change for the better. Support groups are in many hospitals in the Metro Detroit Area. Just look on the web or a person that may know about mental health in general. If our problems were meant to be solved by ourselves we would not be speaking the same languages. Look what humans have done for thousands and thousands of years. Whether it was the next Empire or helping your neighbor down the street we have done it all. That’s what support is, its self help. What’s wrong with help, nothing. I have help. Great! “A man that faces his problems can teach someone else how to fight their problems, but not someone that runs away.”

Failure is just part of life, it’s learning from someone or your own past mistakes. A quote from Henry Ford the man that started the assembly line a line full of other people that work on different parts that help each other to achieve a goal that it’s hard but they made it look easy. “Failure is the opportunity to begin again more intelligently.”- Henry Ford to this day still makes a tremendous impact on the auto industry and assembly lines in general. He also made a lot of mistakes in the process but learned from one another. He made jobs for people with severe mental illnesses. (Production line) Hope this letter helps someone in need of hope in their lives.

So, since 2011 my older brother has been having symptoms but has been diagnosed with schizophrenia, bipolar disorder and ADHD, in my opinion psychosis. I’ve been to mental health court with him, tried several programs and various medications. Me and mother’s last resort is always the hospitalization. He needs therapy, he hasn’t been on meds in 9 months he was fine but not he decided to get back on meds but doesn’t take all of them. He’s an alcoholic, beer consumption everyday! He always blames me and my mother if he can’t find something he lost. He has angry issues, blast loud music and in his car I’m surprised neighbors don’t call the police for noise complaints. It’s exhausting going through this all. I can’t allow my oldest brother who also in a program to come over because my other brother thinks he steals his stuff which isn’t true. I can barely sleep most of the time, I sleep over my bf house just to get a rest, on top of that I’m my mother’s caregiver she has metastatic breast cancer. The stress is unbearable. Idk what to do anymore except deal with it as I been dealing with it sadly.

Hi! I have been diagnosed with Type II Bipolar Disorder, Clinical Depression, Generalized Anxiety Disorder, Social Anxiety Disorder and PTSD.  I have been in treatment since 1994.  Sounds like a mess doesn’t it? I’ll admit for many years there were times I thought I was crazy. There were times I thought I had two personalities, which I found out I don’t.  Some doctors have tried to diagnose me with Borderline Personality Disorder as well. After reading about it, I believe they could be right about that too. Many of it’s symptom also fit me. 

The reason I am writing this is to say that there is hope!  I wasn’t diagnosed with Bipolar until I was nearly 45.  I am now 61.  I knew since my teen years that there was something wrong with me, but I didn’t know what.  I didn’t know back then that there was help. I didn’t know in my 30’s or 40’s there was help. Mental illness wasn’t talked about then like it is now.  I was ashamed at first, but you know what?  I talk about it freely now.  Mental Illness is no different than having heart disease, or diabetes, or kidney disease.  Just because you can’t see it, doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.   Your brain is just as much an organ as your heart, the organ that regulates your insulin, and your kidney.

I have accepted the fact that I have to take my “psych” meds, as I call them, for the rest of my life. Right along with my blood pressure medicine and potassium for my heart. It doesn’t make me weak.  It makes me a survivor!

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I have bipolar disorder, borderline personality disorder, and anxiety. I have struggled with mental health illness since I was a child and because I was misdiagnosed with depression at the age of eleven, have suffered for quite some time.  I also struggled with alcoholism for a few years, having inherited it from my Dad.

I’ve been on many medications, seen several therapists and psychiatrists, made numerous suicide attempts, and self-harmed. I felt broken. I wasn’t thriving and I didn’t expect to survive. Then there was a miracle. I conceived my daughter. She was born in December of 2008.

I needed to at least live for her sake at that point, but I was still barely surviving. It was the spring of 2015 when I decided to quit alcohol and to go into the hospital because I was severely depressed and suicidal. The doctor changed my medications and a few days before my discharge date the doctor made me realize that I was still in a deep depression. I still needed help. I decided to do ECT.

It was a major decision but it changed my life. The combination of ECT, medications, and therapy have helped me onto my road of recovery. I’m not 100% and I still have my episodes. However, have my treatment team, my friends, and my family to guide me and help me. I’m not alone.

When I was 19 I was finally diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder after 2 years of rapid cycling between mania and depression. I had also dealt with depression for a long time, and have attempted suicide 3 times in my life. It has taken a long time to become stable, but after years of therapy and medications, I’m functioning well and have minimal impairment. I never gave up on my dreams, and now I’m 25, own a home, am halfway through nursing school with a 4.0 GPA at the top of my class, and was selected for a major scholarship to pay for the rest of school. My point is to never give up. I promised myself that when I finally put that R.N. behind my name, I will make a difference and help people who are struggling like I did. I will remind healthcare providers that those lost souls need guiding, and not judgement or whispers. Stay strong, you have a purpose. 

In 2004 my life changed. I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. I was twenty years old at the time, and I was a good student. I began feeling depressed and having memory issues. My grades began to slip. I knew something was wrong. I did a little research, and I concluded that I must have bipolar disorder. Mental illness runs in my family so I wasn’t scared to go to the mental health facility to seek help. Sure enough, I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. It has been a difficult twelve years. I have had many jobs. I have acted erratic and gone years without working due to depression. I’m thirty-two now, and I am on a cocktail of medication that is beginning to work. Hopefully, I’ll be working soon. Remember to never give up hope.

I am mentally ill.
That’s okay.

I wake up every morning and put my pillbox together for the day. I take eleven pills total per diem. Respectively, they treat mood stability, severe anxiety, bipolar depression, blood pressure, bipolar disorder, and more bipolar disorder. I think that is a lot of medication, but I know some who take even more.

I own my mental illness. I know I’m not right. Sometimes my dad says to me, If I could make it so you didn’t have to take medication, I would. He says, I know what it’s like to not be in control of your faculties, it’s humiliating, it’s frustrating.

My meds have made an elegant organization of life. Twelve PM. Four PM. Nine PM. Bed. I can speak in complete sentences most of the time. I don’t often burst out crying or laughing at inappropriate times. There is a logical voice in my head that tells me what is correct behavior and what isn’t but I often find that I know by experience more than by listening to that voice. I still say very inappropriate things and curse like a sailor and make funny noises and sometimes don’t remember what facial expression to use, but that’s me, that’s all me, and I’m used to it. I own it. I’m weird by genetics.

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