Now let's talk about wrecks. I have definitely fit the bill of 'trainwreck' in the past. These days I might be doing better, but obviously I think back to worse times and recall what a complete disaster I was.
I remember a night during my sophomore year of college, sitting in a bathtub full of water while wearing a lace dress and chain-smoking cigarettes and pot, when I found myself staring at the white tiles of the walls and wondering if I was going insane. Where did reality and sanity end, I thought, and how could I know?
Lucky for me, you have to be at least somewhat sane to wonder at your sanity. It wasn't the last time I would wonder this, though, nor had it been the first. Over the next ten years, I spiraled into a deeper and deeper mess, dropping out of school, dating drug dealers, trying more drugs and drinking excessively. I did some incredibly stupid things like driving drunk, going to class or work high, going home with men I met in bars, and refusing to go to therapy or take medications.
Delusional ego-trips are a common symptom of mania. I believed at some points that I would write the most amazing piece of literature of the twenty-first century, or become a famous filmmaker, just by showing up with some ideas. Obviously I have yet to accomplish either of those ideals. More dangerous than these very foolish notions, however, was that I knew better than every doctor in the world.
I have always been a bad patient, in part because my father is a doctor and I get free medical advice at home. I've also taken a few classes like Anatomy, Physiology, and Organic Chemistry that made me think somehow I know more than professionals with actual working experience. (I might be able to do literary analysis better than a few doctors, but my diagnostic abilities are far from accredited.)
Some statistics estimate as many as 50% of people who have bipolar disorder don't take medication, and for a long time, I was part of that statistic. It took hitting rock bottom to start picking up the pieces of my life and doing what needed to be done to manage my illness. I wouldn't wish rock bottom on anyone (okay, I'd wish it on Putin, Trump, and Bevos), but sometimes it takes a massive slap across the ego to make you realize that you need to make some serious changes.
The good news is that if I can start taking the steps to improve my life and manage my illness, anyone can. I have met some incredibly high-functioning people through the DBSA who work incredibly stressful jobs like nursing and legal investigations. I am trying to join their ranks, but it is a slow process, and one I have to accept is no more instant than any other aspect of treating a disease.
Even the most gruesome vehicle wreck eventually gets cleaned up. It might take a while, but bit by bit, the debris and sometimes also the dead bodies and chemical spills will get cleared away. Figuring out where to start is the hardest part, of course, but once you start the process, it gets easier to do, because there's a little bit less wreckage each day.
P.S. Here is the article from Psychology Today that I referred to in my last post, and again today. It's a good read. (Again, this is just the url, and I have no idea if it will work as a link because my link function is not working.) http://www.psychologytoday.com/articles/200311/managing-bipolar-disorder
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