In the previous post, I mentionned something regarding the fact that this blog is an excellent venting point for me and that it proved exceptionally useful in the rollercoastery days pre-diagnosis.
What I didn't mention was what that diagnosis was. I'm pretty certain that this will be no surprise to anyone who's ever read any part of this blog, but I'll still write a little about it.
I'm bipolar.
I was finally diagnosed with bipolar disorder (bipolar II, to be precise) in October 2007, after having 'lost it' during the summer 2007 and asking my general practitioner for a psychiatric assessment. At first, the doctor didn't seem very keen on the idea. Not until I confided all about the grand ideas I always had in the back of my mind, about the fact that I oft felt that I was harbouring a magical power, etc etc. That little tidbit of info alone seemed to change his mind on the psychiatric assessment.
Lemme tell ya, it's quite an adventure to be 'psychiatrically examined'. At first, I was met by a trio of psychiatrist in what they call the 'liaison' module. Their task: determine whether or not I should be there in the first place. Their way of determining: carabining you with questions. Where have you been? What have you felt? What have you been doing? Sum up the past 10 years of your life for us. Let's make a timeline of it all. Oh you've not accomplished much during all that time, have you. Oh dear, that's quite a lot of changing and switching, etc etc. I know they weren't judging in the very least, but it's quite scary, depressing and humbling to look at the previous 10 years of you life on a blackboard and realise that you haven't completed anything or amounted to very much in all that time.
I had three meetings with the psychiatrist at the liaison module before I was transfered to the mood disorders' clinic for another assessment. A different one. A very scary one.
Imagine the scene: you are in a waiting room. Someone comes up and calls your name. You follow the person to a room. They open the door. There are 5 people in the room waiting for you. They're sitting in a circle. They are all ready to ask you questions and listen and take notes.
Here's a rundown of the team:
- Psychiatrist
- Intern in psychiatry
- Psychiatric nurse
- Social worker
- Psychotherapist
And so the interview begins. An hour straight of questions. Then they ask you to step out of the room while they discuss and deliberate on your case as well as refer to all the data the peeps @ liaison amassed on you.
Thirty-something minutes later, they ask you back in the room. Diagnosis falls. "Sir, we believe that you have bipolar II disorder." You feel a mix of fear, sadness and relief. They talk of treatment options and further meetings with psychiatrists. You walk out of there with a booklet on the disorder, an appointment for the following week with the Intern as well as a prescription for mood stabilisers.
It wasn't very easy at first. Mood stabilisers are a serious matter. There are side effects and scary facts and blood tests to be had to monitor that they are not killing essential bits of your system. But almost a year and a half in the treatment, I must say that they have saved my life.
I've changed so much in the past year and a half. No more crazy highs and insane lows. No more freaking out on people, no more losing it and spending complete afternoons pulling my hair while lying in bed staring at the ceiling, no more believing that I'm infused with some sort of a divine power that makes me invincible.
When all of that leaves you and you start becoming (more) stable, you start realising who you are. You realise what you want and what you don't. You also realise how you were before and what you did to people. Let's just say that you start feeling pretty silly about little things and little facts of your life.
And then, as you live through it and ponder it and accept it all, you realise that the past belongs to the past. That it's all you've done that brought you where you are now. You end up realising that, in the end, it's all okay.
