Hi guys!!! Welcome to everyone new, and hello to all of my readers. I decided to repost this introduction to really re-explain why I have this blog and what I’m here to do. 

Edit: When I wrote this post, I had only been diagnosed with bipolar disorder for a few months. Now I am going on 2.5 years! Currently happy and healthy and only a little crazy 🙂 Enjoy

On January 26th, 2017–12 therapists, 5 psychiatrists and 2 hospitalizations later–I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. I cannot adequately describe the whirlpool of disorienting fear and terrifying relief I endured as my doctor delivered this information to me. I stared at him. He smiled at me. He told me I’d (probably) be okay, that a life full to the brim with handfuls of pills and stringent routines and constant therapy would (hopefully) manage my “mental illness.” And as utterly overwhelmed as I felt, I also felt the immense calm after the storm, in my pit of my stomach, telling me that it was okay to be crazy. It is okay. Four months before, I had been misdiagnosed with depression. And the only thing crazier than a bipolar person is a bipolar person on antidepressants. Antidepressants keep serotonin in your brain longer, which often helps people with depression. But for a person with bipolar, like me (still weird to admit), the happy brain chemicals can force her into a manic state. And manic was I. This one was not what I call my “good” manias: rapid speech, shopping sprees, overdrinking, undereating, not sleeping, and lots of exhilarating disasters. This was one of my “bad” manias, my worst one to date. 16 weeks in my personal hell. I had daily panic attacks so severe that I felt I was dying, my heart beating so fast that I knew it would soon give out. My eyes were permanently bloodshot from tears. I couldn’t breathe. This drug-induced “bad” mania got me institutionalized. Twice. The nurses took away my shoelaces, my underwire, even my deodorant, and absolutely all of my dignity. I glared at the white, bleached walls of my jail cell and believed that was where I belonged forever. But, thanks to psychiatrist #5, my hell is gone, at least for now. I am beginning to hone in my crazy for the first time in my life. I am learning who I am when I’m not knee-deep in my mood swings. Most importantly, I am reminded every single day that I am so loved, by so many people, so much more than I deserve. You give me the strength to accept my diagnosis, to even get a tattoo to forever represent it. A bright pink arrow up for mania, and a dark blue arrow down for depression. Thank you.

37 thoughts on “Introduction

  1. You are so like me in stories. I am in therapy weekly and kinda freak when I can’t have it like today. I was in the ER yesterday, regular sick, and couldn’t make today’s therapy. I am finding your blog interesting. You will be added to my special list of blogs to read.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Hey there,

    I can’t do anything to change your world, but I am glad to have seen a small part of it.

    It is not easy to accept mental illness, but it has been the only relief for me so far, so I hope that you have found relief in that too. Keep blogging! I don’t know why it helps, it just does. For me, it’s a way to keep track of “me,” the one self that is truly me. I don’t see her often and I’m not sure that I would recognize her if I ever saw her. After accepting my conditions a few months ago, I have slowly been getting to know myself.

    I really appreciate you for taking the time to write this blog. You will touch more lives than you can begin to imagine. Don’t be ashamed. Don’t hide yourself. Love and allow yourself to be loved.

    Liked by 2 people

  3. Lovely intro. You’ve got a distinctive “voice” in your writing and a nice way with words. May the words help you shine a light on the path before you and chart a course through what’s obviously an extremely difficult time. Best of luck with everything, and I do hope you find ways to keep at the writing, in whatever form you choose; you clearly have a gift for it. Also, the tattoo seems like a beautiful way of acknowledging where you’re at. Nice design!

    Liked by 2 people

  4. I’m really enjoying your blog and writing. Thanks for sharing your story. I’ve found writing about my mental illness, anxiety and panic attacks, to be therapeutic, hope it is for you too. And you’re helping others as they relate to what you write. Thanks for visiting my blog and the follow. Nice to connect with you! Jenny

    Liked by 1 person

  5. What an ordeal you’ve lived through! But your intelligence, your strength, and your sense of humor shine bright. It takes great courage to bring these issues out into the open, where they belong. I am sure your blog will help others struggling with the same issues. ❤

    Liked by 1 person

  6. Hi Bipolar Cat,
    I know exactly what you’ve endured.
    I’ve slept on the most expensive blankets “fraction” blankets because I use to rip the cotton blankets and tie them around my neck, shoelaces also removed.
    Plastic cutlery which I would still try to hide then break and cut myself.
    A “special” a nurse who was at your side constantly, couldn’t even go to the loo without her watching.
    All dignity was lost.
    I enjoy reading.
    Cheer Mo X

    Liked by 1 person

  7. Good to see you writing again. It can be so good for you to share your thoughts, feelings, worries etc – there’s a cathartic effect, I think. I scrolled down a long long way looking for a follow button, only to find I already was! Must be from last year – old age does that to your memory! Look forward to seeing more from you.

    Liked by 1 person

  8. All to familiar story, misdiagnosed as a paranoid schizophrenic for 7 years until meeting that one good psych that changed my world. Still it’s a daily fight but coming up well for now. Thank you for sharing. D

    Liked by 1 person

  9. Thank you so much. It was quite the endeavor, but I am so thankful to have finally met the right people to turn this whole thing around 💕 thank you for reading and commenting, I truly appreciate it! xox

    Liked by 1 person

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