I’ve been hearing pretty much all my 20-something life “think positive” or “stop thinking negative” or “if you think negative that’s all you’ll attract”. Sure, it’s easy enough for a “normal” person to push away less pleasant thoughts, but what about someone who tries and tries again and again and fails? Who fails to be “positive” like “the others”. These two words have been foreign to me for a long time now.
I grew up in the times of “in my time there were not so many problems”, “in my time there was no such thing”. Because you can’t see the dirt as long as it’s swept under the carpet. If we pay attention to the details that make up history, we will realize that mental disorders have always been present. Including great painters, musicians, scientists, leaders, etc. In Romania, at the moment, there is still a lot of stigma attached to mental disorders, which makes the recovery of the diagnosed person much harder and painful. Many people suffer in silence because of this stigma. I see stigma as a great handicap of society. For a long time I was also one of those people who suffered in silence because of the fear of being judged, but mostly because of a fear of feeling the pain that overwhelms you when you really see that the people around you cannot understand you.
The fact that I am a victim of abuse and, implicitly, of trauma, has spoken its word since the age of 14 when I was first diagnosed with major depressive disorder, and I have subsequently received medication and psychological treatment. Of course, I sensed that something was wrong with me long before this first diagnosis. The first symptoms were self-harm and a state of sadness so intense and painful that there was a very strong need to translate that inner pain into a physical one, on the grounds that physical pain would be easier to manage. I had no one to pay attention to my needs and what was happening to me, no one to talk to, no one to listen to me.
So, at the age of 15, I ended up being the survivor of a suicide attempt (another taboo subject, treated with superficiality, which is not only stigmatized, but barely pronounced, this word that begins with the letter s). The first words I heard as soon as I opened my eyes were “it’s a miracle you’re alive” from a doctor who was next to me at that very moment. My health got even worse over time, and when I was almost 17 I was admitted to a pediatric psychiatric hospital. The day I was admitted I met my new therapist and started cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT for short). The fact that I followed a well-planned treatment plan helped me and still helps me to be here today. The simplest activities like washing, dressing, walking etc. often seemed impossible for me. On top of all this came memory loss, severe difficulty concentrating and more.
I was given the final and current diagnosis of bipolar disorder (type 2) and schizotypal disorder after many evaluations. Bipolar disorder is one of the most stigmatized mental disorders. The term “bipolar” is often used as a negative adjective by people who don’t realize that it is actually a real illness that incredibly lowers a person’s quality of life. Being diagnosed with bipolar disorder means you’re at the mercy of chemicals in your brain. Just as, in leukemia, certain blood cells go haywire, so in the brain, in bipolar disorder, certain chemicals in the brain fluctuate abnormally. Every day I am helped by the medication I take to cope with the symptoms. There were times and days when the anxiety and the sudden change from one mood to another limited me enormously. These “unannounced” mood swings are exhausting. Both mentally and physically. From good moods with energy, laughter, enthusiasm, joy, you end up in depressive episodes with some very intense thoughts and emotions, sometimes frightening because of the fact that there may be some dark thoughts that you have to face. When you live with bipolar disorder, a state of uncertainty is always present. You go to bed feeling a certain way and you can wake up feeling the complete opposite. You’re effectively on an emotional roller-coaster.
But this is most likely not to be visible. Many times, when I happened to tell someone about my diagnoses and the situation I’m going through, I felt their scepticism, being told that I don’t look sick. Many diseases are invisible. But that doesn’t make the anguish a man goes through non-existent. I fight 3 invisible enemies. Bipolar disorder, schizotypal disorder and chronic migraines (i.e. I have a headache almost every day for 4 years). I don’t look sick because when I go out, I pull myself together. My bad days are only seen by my doctor, my mom and my therapist. In society I always put a smile on. Because the nature of my diagnoses requires that the symptoms be hidden. I’ve never been seen at times when I nearly fainted from headaches, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen. It’s never been seen how exhausted I am (due to chronic fatigue) after a simple shower. Probably no one has ever noticed how my hands shake with anxiety in some situations, or how I struggle to breathe while watching a countdown when I have a panic attack. But that doesn’t mean it’s not happening. I have not been seen in these circumstances because on days when I feel sick, I isolate myself. I need time to get back on track. Once I’m back on track, I know that because of my diagnoses, after a while I’ll get under it again and have to start all over again. Again and again and again. But it helps me enormously that I know what I have and have learned how to act.
Getting a diagnosis for mental disorders is very important. That’s when you feel how the last piece of the jigsaw has been fitted. Because the moment the patient knows exactly what is happening, they can start to learn how to manage their situation. Bipolar disorder and schizotypal disorder are not diagnoses with a prognosis of “cure” or full recovery. But they are disorders that can be kept under control by managing symptoms with a long-term treatment plan. Is it hard for me? Yes. It’s a constant battle with all the symptoms, but I’ve learned to enjoy the little things. Everything that happens to me exhausts me and I often feel like I can’t do it anymore. But I’m getting help now. It seems most impossible when there is no help or when the affected person is treated superficially.
Some time ago I promised myself to be the voice of people with a psychiatric diagnosis. I promised myself that I would be there for anyone who needs to be heard. I was and still am a shoulder for victims of abuse and neglect to lay their heads on and cry on when they need to. I know how painful it is to feel lonely. My diagnoses have taken a lot from me, but at the same time they have given me something very valuable. Empathy. I am happy for how far we have come. I am glad I survived and grateful to be able to share my story. For anyone struggling with a mental disorder, I have an important message: you are not alone and you matter more than you think.
In order to create a safe space for people with a bipolar diagnosis, Mental Health for Romania is starting a Facebook discussion and support group, which will be coordinated by Denisa, the author of this article. Together, we want to create a community where everyone feels included and understood, and this is the first step.
Resources:
[1] Informative article on bipolar disorder
