If you've read some of my posts, you may know that I don't write much about my personal life. I think it's pretty boring to most people who aren't my friends. But this is a story of my life that may be able to help some people, so I want to share it. I am not writing this to bitch and moan and beg for sympathy, but to perhaps help others understand bipolar disorder, maybe help those who suffer from it.
This post mostly deals with my childhood and my history of anxiety. Anxiety is not part of bipolar, but there is often co-morbidity. I would give more details about my childhood bipolar, but I really don't remember much
Anyway, I don't know where to begin, so I'm just going to start wherever I want. I have no idea when my illness began. They say symptoms don't start to show until late teens/early twenties, but some studies suggest that it may start much earlier for some. There was an article in the NY Times Magazine a few months back about kids with bipolar.
I can promise it started well before my late teens, though I had no clue what it was. No one did back then. Anxiety was probably the most obvious first symptom, though I always had a strange relationship to the world (my parents tell me). I was an odd duck--not unpopular, not socially awkward, just a little different.
In grade school the anxiety really hit me. I would have panic attacks that were so intense that I passed out. Why was I fainting? I didn't know. My mom and dad didn't know. Our family doctor didn't know. This must have happened 20 or 30 times from grade school through junior high. After awhile I stopped counting.
Imagine what that's like for a kid. Yeah, it sucked, to say the least. I was not a "normal" kid and there was no way to hide it. But why wasn't I normal? No one knew. I know now of course that it was a result of severe anxiety attacks. People still liked me, I was funny and smart, I was a decent (if lazy) student, I was kind and well-mannered, girls thought I was cute. I had everything going for me--except not quite.
I don't remember my childhood that well, to be honest. I remember bits and pieces, but I can't tell many coherent stories about it. Why that is, I have no clue. And most of what I remember isn't all that positive. (But let me say now, my parents are great and always took care of me. My sister and I are great friends. We lived a middle class and then upper-middle class lifestyle. I wasn't abused or anything of the sort. My parents are still happily married. In many ways it was a good childhood.)
My anxiety wasn't limited to classic anxiety attacks. Here's an example: I played baseball as a kid and I was OK. I tried out for the "major leagues" when I was 10 (for 10-12 year olds) and I made a spectacular catch--we're talking full-out diving highlight reel catch. So a team picked me. However, the coach just happened to be an alcoholic. Great. One practice I was hit in the hand by a pitch and my finger burst in a near-comical explosion of blood. From that moment on I never got a hit. Never. I had to play 3 innings every game. And I would bat at least twice a game. And I never got a hit. I struck out every time. I was Charlie Brown. It was a nightmare. It was anxiety.
OK, enough with the fun sports stories. (Bring back King Kaufman!!) Other symptoms wouldn't become really obvious until high school, but they were there, I just didn't know what they were. I had brilliant ideas, lots of them, but I wouldn't finish them. I had dark days and weeks, but I thought that was normal. I didn't know other kids didn't feel the same way. Everyone must be like that, right? Apparently not.
Anyway, as I went through junior high, I was popular-ish. Not one of the popular kids, but I had friends and I always had a "girlfriend." I hung out with the nerds and the non-nerds. But lots of guys thought I was a pussy, as one said back then. They thought I was soft and weak. It's hard for kids to understand, and I don't blame them now. (I also think they were jealous that I had girlfriends. heh.) I was never bullied, though, mostly because I was very social and not a typical "loser" or "freak."
So I sort of lived two lives: the life where I constantly dealt with anxiety and other issues, and the life where I was a pretty normal kid. And that split, though obviously not easy, worked ok--until high school...
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Comments
Hmmm...my mom (who worked hard the last 15 years of her life making up for lost time) admitted to me once that she didn't remember much of my childhood. That makes sense...seeing as her worst bi polar episodes took place during my growing up years.
Wow...thanks Chris...you are right! Your post already helped one person...me! I used to take it personally that Mom didn't remember my childhood but now I understand that the disease was probably the reason. And not that she just didn't care. Which, btw, is what I used to believe.
Keep writing. I'll keep reading.
Rated for your generosity of spirit.
@Behind: yes, my family has been a huge help. But we may learn more about my mother in an upcoming episode...
@Gwendolyn, Bob and OESheep: thanks for the compliment.
@Renaissance: honestly, it didn't take much courage for me to write this. I'm bipolar and that's just how it is, sort of like someone born without a leg--except you can't see the bipolar. I was diagnosed in my early 20s. As for having a close circle of friends, we shall see...
@GracieLou: I'm glad I helped. Many people don't get diagnosed until late in life, partially because it's hard to spot, there's still a stigma and/or because they're in denial I think. Back in the stone age of mental health treatment (before your mom was diagnosed) :), I don't know if anyone was diagnosed and treated. I believe the illness had a huge effect on how she behaved toward you when you were young. People with bipolar disorder often push away those close to them and their behavior is almost impossible to fathom without just assuming they're jerks and don't care. I'm sure she cared.
@Finger: I've more or less come to terms with the whole thing, but that doesn't mean it's easy. Thanks for the comment.
@Theodora: The panic attacks aren't really part of bipolar, but bipolar disorder and anxiety disorders are often co-morbid, meaning they exist together and affect each other. It's not one diagnosis, but the panic attacks can certainly be intergrated with the bpd in horrible ways. The stress and anxiety can trigger bpd and make life virtually impossible. I dealt with agoraphobia for a little while. We'll see how I got out of it in a future episode (but I'll email you to talk about it)...
I wasn't simply dealing with panic attacks at a young age, but that is what I remember the most, probably because it was the only part that seemed obviously "off" to me. Talk to my parents and they have plenty of stories. With kids, however, there's no real way to spend lots of money, partake in risky sexual behavior or engage in many of the other signs of bpd.
Great article, thanks for sharing.
As I was reading your piece, which by the way is well written and constructed with a strong base, I sometimes wonder if young children do suffer from its affect.
I've never heard of it until you mentioned the NY Times magazine.
Finally, the idea of duality struck with me, and I dare say others who have bipolarism as well.
It's like fighting with yourself all the time. All that energy, for me anyway, has to be put into something.
And that's where the writing comes. It becomes a lifeline I simply cannot live without.
A good, strong, solid piece and well-written, too. I look forward to your future work in whatever form that's comfortable for you whether by your words or your camera.
@Luis: there do seem to be many people on here who suffer from bpd. There's no definitive proof, but many in the medical profession think there's a link between bpd and creativity. Check out Kay Redfield Jamison's "Touched by Fire" for more on that.
And the split you refer to I think is common to many people with bpd. Not only is there the bipolar, there is also a bifurcation of the individual which complicates matters immensely. In addition to battling the bpd, there is the battle to appear "normal" and to relate normally to others, even if your brain isn't feeling so normal at the moment.
The lack of understanding and stigma of bpd only increase the perceived need to "pass." When I'm passing successfully, people think I'm just another person and would never suspect my illness. That's one reason why when it bubbles up and then bursts to the surface, people are so confused and don't understand that it's an illness. Or when I tell someone I suffer from bpd, they almost invariably say, "You seem so normal. I never would have guessed."