You Are Not Alone

I want to tell you about a young man I know. He went to a major university and was going to graduate this spring.  He was one of those people that lit up the room every time he walked in, the life of the party. He was very popular in high school and college because he was kind to everyone he met.  He had a loving and supportive family.  I would tell my niece if she ever broke up with her boyfriend, she should date him. To sum it up, to know him is to love him.



He committed suicide last week.  He had been struggling with Bipolar disorder.



The next night 100's of students at his college held a candlelight vigil for him.  Literally a busload of his high school friends made the trip for it.  His memorial service is next week and is expected to be a full house.  He was loved by all.  Including me.



Many people didn't know he was Bipolar until after he passed.  I wonder if his family kept it a secret? Were they worried about the stigma of a Bipolar diagnosis and the scrutiny they may face? What if people knew about it, like it was any other health issue such as diabetes or cancer?



What if I knew?



As you may know, my Bipolar II diagnosis is not nearly as severe as Bipolar.  But to some extent, I understand some of things he was going through.

What if I had talked to him? To let him know that he's not alone and I've been through many of the same things? That I know what it's like to feel hopeless.  That I know what it's like to feel dread for no reason.  That I know what it's like to feel that my life was out of control. That I know what it's like to feel overwhelming sadness and be adept at covering it up. Unfortunately, I never had the opportunity.

Would this had helped?  Would it have saved him? I'll never know.

What I do know is that hundreds of people are heartbroken over the loss of a great young man.



Namaste


Postscript:
My nephew went on a spiritual retreat over this past weekend (he goes to a Jesuit High School).  The retreat was for a small group of the school's student leaders. Part of the agenda was a prewritten speech about his struggles with depression (pretty ballsy for a High School senior).  Right before his speech he found out about the death of his friend.


He took this as a sign.  He now plans on speaking about his struggle to the entire school. He told me that he's sick of hiding this and it needs to be discussed.


What an exceptional young man. (I may be a little biased)


This shows that there is hope.

Coming out of the Crazy Closet

For those who don't know me, let me introduce myself.  My name is Wendy.  I'm 44 years old, never married, no children (though I am a kick ass aunt), I'm college educated, have a great job, well-liked by my coworkers, and have supportive, loving family and friends.  All in all, I have a good life.  To the untrained eye, I'm the fun one, the easy-going one, the one who never gets mad, the one who has her act together.

But there is another side. I have recently been diagnosed with Bipolar II and it's the best thing that ever happened to me.  Now I know what's wrong. I've suffered depression and anxiety for years. I really don't like to use the word suffering. I never felt like I was suffering.  I just accepted it and thought everyone went through this. For awhile now, I've felt like I hit a wall and couldn't figure out the puzzle.  It may sound odd but this diagnosis gave me hope.

Bipolar II is a milder version of bipolar disorder. Because the "down" episodes are more prevalent and last longer, it's usually diagnosed as depression.  When my therapist suggested I may have Bipolar II, I blew it off.  I didn't have mood swings, I was just down a lot.  People who are Bipolar are bat-shit crazy.  They always go off their meds and can't function.  There is no way in hell I have this.

That "light bulb" moment hit be one Sunday afternoon.  I had gone for an 8 mile run that morning. Afterwards, I was feeling spectacular and optimistic.  Ready to take on the world.  By mid afternoon I was crying and laying on the couch.  I felt completely hopeless.  What my therapist said started to make sense.

Later that day, I surfed the Internet to find out more about Bipolar II and realized I had many of the symptoms. 

It was obvious that I had the symptoms of the depressive episodes :

• depressed mood
• Loss of pleasure
• low energy and activity
• feelings of guilt or worthlessness
• hopelessness

I was surprised that I also had symptoms of the Hypomanic episodes:

• Being the "life of the party"
• Speaking quickly
• Having unusual enthusiasm
• Becoming agitated or irritable, I hid that well
• Going on spending sprees, spending money I didn't have
• Experiencing pleasure-seeking or risky behavior (see the next one)
• Thinking about sex, a lot. For me, it got to the point where it was constant

It's a little embarrassing to say but the sex one was the clincher. Later that week, I went to see my psychiatrist and he changed my meds. (Yes, I do see a psychiatrist and take meds. Got a problem with that?)  My family and close friends have known for years I suffered from depression. No one else.  When I started telling them I had Bipolar II and explained the symptoms, it made sense to them as well.

I decided to start telling some people outside my trusted circle. I was tired of this being a "secret" and wanted break the stigma.  Every person I told was floored.  I should be an actress. 

And that's the reason I wrote this blog, to raise awareness about mental illness.  When someone has diabetes, they take insulin and no one thinks differently about it.  It's the same with mental health disorders. There's a chemical imbalance and medicine is needed to relive the symptoms.  Too may people don't seek help because of the stigma.  I have Bipolar II disorder and I'm OK.  At least that's what my mom tells me and she's completely unbiased.

To those people who think depression is a sign of weakness and just an excuse to take meds I call bullshit. Getting help is a sign of strength.  My meds don't turn me into a zombie or create aftifical happiness.  They keep me normal.  If someone has a problem with this, I don't give a shit.  You're someone I don't want to know you or you were never my friend in the first place.

I jokingly tell people, "I'm crazy, just not bat-shit crazy".  It's a way to find humor in my situation and make people feel more as ease with it.  I never used depression as a crutch or excuse for anything.  I've always taken personal responsibility for my actions and that will continue.  I just hope someone who's suffering will read this, get over the stigma, be strong and get help.

Finally I'd like to let you know, I don't want your sympathy, just your understanding.

Much Love,

Wendy

P.S.  I came across this article this morning about an actor who battled depression for years and is trying to break the stigma. A brief but good read.
Celebrity Hero: Joe Pantoliano article via @MSNCauses #MentalHealthMonth
 http://on-msn.com/YhKQ9f