Temporary Sanity 101

The following is a quote from a successfully treated individual with bipolar disorder (from the U.S. National Institute of Mental Health NIMH):

"Manic-depression distorts moods and thoughts, incites dreadful behaviors, destroys the basis of rational thought, and too often erodes the desire and will to live. It is an illness which is biological yet looks and feels psychological, one that is unique in conferring advantage and pleasure, yet one that brings in its wake almost unendurable suffering and, not infrequently, suicide. I am fortunate that I have not died from my illness, fortunate in receiving the best medical care available, and fortunate in having the friends, colleagues, and family that I do."

It is difficult to accept the burden of chronic medical illness.  There is no one path to acceptance, but there are probably similarities in the experiences and feelings along the way for those thus afflicted.  On this site, you can share my travail from pre-diagnosis of Bipolar Affective Disorder (type I) through the recovery process as I try to maintain my temporary sanity.

The first bump in the road was ignorance. 

If you think you or a loved one may be suffering from bipolar disorder, you can find symptom information here:

My family and friends were ignorant of the many aspects and seriousness of this serious medical illness, although some suspected I could have bipolar.  In their ignorance, they sometimes did things that exacerbated the illness.  Often my extreme confidence coupled with irrational thinking seemed like stubbornness, not insanity.   

I was also quite ignorant.  Having a friend with the disorder, I thought I had a pretty good idea what mania was.  I knew enough about mania to diagnose myself in late fall of 2005, but not enough to realize how infected my thinking was with classic symptoms of bipolar mania. 

Seeking professional diagnosis was my first correct step.

Unfortunately, it is not always quick or easy to get correct medical attention, especially for oneself in the midst of serious illness.  After about four weeks with little sleep, the symptoms I recognized were getting seriously worse.  I had a day off work, and went to my family doctor's office to ask for a psychiatric referral.  I needed it ASAP and was very agitated when they wanted to schedule a visit with my family doctor for the next week. 

After some petulant pleading, my family doctor saw me that day and diagnosed me as manic.  He set up an appointment for me with a psychiatrist, but I would have to wait a month.  He said I was lucky, because usually it took six months to get in with a psychiatrist.

My family doctor gave me a prescription to help me sleep.  It helped a bit, like a Band-Aid on a gunshot wound.  I was quickly losing mental and physical control in potentially dangerous ways.  Within a couple of weeks, I made a desperate visit to the psychiatrist's office, and they directed me to see him at the hospital where he was on call. 

Under my psychiatrist's advice, I voluntarily hospitalized myself.  He began me on medication that day for Bipolar Affective Disorder type I.  The medications worked quickly on the symptoms that troubled me most.  In fact, I felt some of the medications were too strong, made me too sleepy, so I would only take half doses.  

Insane confidence and ignorance pushed me off track.

After six weeks without much sleep, what I needed was sleep and lots of it.  However, what I wanted was normal sleep.  I wanted a normal routine.  I wanted to be up for breakfast to choose my food for the day.  There is precious little control over one's life on the psychiatric ward, and I wanted as much as I could get.  I wanted to be in control of myself, and I was determined a normal routine would make me normal again.

After a couple days' medication helped reduce my hyperactivity, my overconfident manic thinking convinced me I was nearly cured.  I was improved in some ways, but I was ignorant of many symptoms.  I was also unaware how abnormal many of my thought processes were.  Without medication, it is possible that I could have become psychotic. 

Even so, I was released four days after admittance.  It took a couple more months of medication to completely reduce the mania.  Sometime around late February, I seemed to go from low mania (hypomania) into a plummeting severe depression. 

Working with doctors and finding the correct medication is a vital part of my recovery.

To counter my depression, my doctor made several adjustments in my medications.  I expect him to make more before we find an acceptable balance.  Adjustments in medication could be a lifelong necessity.  Along with medication, cognitive therapy has been a part of my recovery.

As the medicine helped me descend from mania in late winter, I also learned more about my disease.  I gradually realized how mistaken I was in my extreme self-confidence.  I steadily discovered how off my perceptions continued to be as the symptoms of mania continued to reduce.

I cannot describe the turmoil in trying to reconcile the extreme confidence from a few months ago to the obvious symptoms of insanity I can see now.  I cannot convey how mortifying it is to discover the depths of one's insanity and that one's thoughts are still not clearly rational.  My normal personality is one of self-confidence, but I found myself increasingly plagued with self-doubt.  My self-doubt was intensified by the other side of bipolar affective disorder--depression.

In bipolar disorder, depression is caused by the illness, without need of an external event, although trying to adjust to a chronic illness may make depression more severe.  I used to have some level time between mood swings, but this time, I fell hard and fast from fairly functional to utterly useless.  I could no longer work.  Soon I could no longer care for myself. 

While recovering, I have a high risk of suicide.

The climb up from depression has been arduous.  Just when I feel I am making progress, I seem to slide down with little or no reason.   Without the support of family members, my chronic illness would become a fatal one.  I seemed quite well in the last couple weeks of April.  Suddenly, I became suicidal.  With each slip, the suicidal rationale falls deeper into insanity.  I greatly fear I will not survive another suicidal episode.

I have times of temporary sanity.  This is one of them.  At least, I think it is.  Sanity at this point in my recovery is like waking up in the middle of a nightmare to find that the nightmare is real and may not end.  To accept, survive, and overcome my insanity, I need continuous medical treatment and family support.

Family Support

Remission is the Goal!