Everything is about choice. As adults we make our own choices in life. We choose to live whatever life gives us and it is not always fair. I have had a very unfair life and I am currently attempting to find opportunities where none exist. With Bipolar, sometimes it is very hard to keep that in mind when life has me down. I have to be mindful of my body placement--somewhat like "a check in point". I use to do this when I took ballet. To maintain a stance, position or pose for a significant time, required concentration and the delicate balance of my own muscles to keep that pose. And, I also had to keep my eyes focused on a distant object, without taking them off to complete either a stance, position, pose or even a movement, such as pique turn, turn, turns, rapidly and not wind up dizzy with a low arabesque. At one point in my life, I was extremely proficient.
I chose to drop out of ballet at 9.5 years old. I got bored with it, I was lonely in class, but I really don't know why I was allowed to make that decision, I just know I did actively make that choice. Let's just chalk that up to one of my life decisions I regret...
What does a down episode feel like? To those who do not suffer from any mental illness and read this blog, at the peak of my unmedicated stupor in college when I was 20 years old, I was making POOR CHOICES, setting myself up for failure, specifically my coursework, then when I inevitably failed, I would wonder how I allowed myself to get into these horrendous situations, especially with "the boys" after I knowingly placed myself and acted on impulse. I was not detached from reality, I knew I was making a poor choice, but I also know, if I risk it (my heart, my gusto for grades, my popularity, whatever), the profit of return would be huge or predictably, I would crap out--which I usually did...
Now this was after my intentional suicide attempt, so knowing I had a problem was not the issue, it was about how to treat, which I did not know. Back then, there was no internet, no WebMD, no books in the library at the college I attended, and the way I had racing thoughts, I doubt I could read them anyway--and why read some bogus "self-help" books when I NEED to be reading my course material? That's dumb! Or so I thought.
And I wanted a fantasy island, romantic getaway, with the boys (yes, boys) I liked. While I was running up under them, they wanted nothing to do with me other than... And stupid me, yes, I played that role, which often included binge drinking and smoking cigarettes. No, I was not trying to "be a part of the crowd" or "one of the gang"--more like I intentionally wanted to be numb...
Back then, there were ZERO studies that if you failed to take your anti-depressants, and there were no such things as Selective-Seratonin Reuptake Inhibitors (SSRI), that it would cause you problems. I did not know that. In fact, that was NOT explained to me of the importance to take psychotropic drugs, and why it was important. And I could not comprehend medical texts at that time. So here I was, taking powerful psychotropics, non-adhering, running around binge drinking, making discordant choices before the explosion of HIV/AIDS as a 20 year old! WTH? EXACTLY THAT'S NUTS!!! These days, there would be so many adults on children like "white on rice"...
So here I was, in college, feeling destitute and alienated. No one to talk to all because I made a poor choice and a dumb decision. That's life right? Wrong! Because I can go from 0 to 80 of making that poor choice and dumb decision worse...
I do not remember the EXACT timing of when it happened now after 20-odd year, I can still feel the ratcheting raw emotions that lead me to the decision I made. I believe this was on a weekday where class was in session. I may have failed a test or felt like I was failing. One of the boys I was into played me like a fool, again. I hardly ever got along with any of my roommates, I was just a poor roommate, at that time, communication was not my strongest talents. I may have failed to eat anything that day. That day was becoming another crummy day. I don't know if I was menstruating or I finished (key to remember). In an outburst, I left my dorm room that day, it was Fall, and I rushed to an isolated spot on campus, I don't know how I found it, and I sobbed. For all the poor choices I made to all the bad decisions I made to the people that were effected that I felt I hurt. I was hopeless, I felt helpless and not even my crying stopped the rush of angst...
So nearby my college, there was an Interstate freeway. And on that freeway was an overpass or bridge. At that time, bridges were not covered... Here is my thought that suddenly popped into my head during all that angst: "I could go to that overpass and I could jump head first, then all this pain I feel would be gone and that will end it..."
{Yes, as I write this, the images haunt my memories.}
Something... Something... Something told me... Something, somewhere, somehow, from nowhere, told me... Something, somewhere, somehow from out of nowhere told me to get up and get psychiatric help. Call, visit, speak. Whatever that was, whoever that was, I know who it was and it was NOT me! That was NOT my voice in my head at that time that said that to me...
Somehow, I found my way to the counseling center--which at that time, was for course counseling--advising. But it was the place I saw the few advisors I had who could help me. See, at that time, there were no formal psychiatric psychological services on small college campuses, especially the one I attended. So, basically, I was left untreated, unmedicated-non-adherent, binge drinking, in a full rapid cycle episode, discording relationships, at 20 years old... (For my physician friends, what's your diagnosis?)
By the time I got to see the psychiatrist who did part-time work, the people recommended that I be hospitalized to get stabilized on my medications, which takes ~1 week (yes, at that time it was 1 week). Remember, I had not been adhering to my meds and moreover, pharmacies did NOT have major computer access until I completed college... The other issue is I had to willingly go to the hospital, so the psychiatrist asked me if I wanted to go. Interestingly I said YES because I could not bear these painful thoughts...
The thing is this hospital was for drug/alcohol rehab. Not psychiatric care. There is a difference. While people who are drug/alcohol abusers could have mental health problems, such as depression, their treatments are usually suppressing the addiction to the substance. Not intensive cognitive behavioral therapy, like I needed. Moreover, I had a roommate in the hospital that came from my college. I will never forget her, ever. But the one thing I can say is she was cycling, too and she had been sexually abused by an uncle. Here is my problem truly biochemical, hers traumatic childhood experience. And our treatment modalities were the same... Same group sessions, same activities, same... It was like a precursor to prison, but costs people more personally... What I did get is massive testing, such as blood tests, psychological tests and evaluations. Remember, back in that day, there were no differentials to young women having manic episodes...
Then, I was released. I know I gave an evaluation, don't know what happened to it. I went back home, and my folks asked me what they get for their money and all I could show them was an art project... I was hurt because I could not pay for the damage I inflicted and I did not want my parents to pay for me--because at that time, I felt I was not worth it. Nonetheless, how was I suppose to stop these pervading thoughts from entering my mind?
My father took me to a "health food store" and spoke to a few of the natural herbal remedy counter. They referred me to Skullcap and Valarian. It was my first exposure to complementary alternative medicine and healing. I took these herbs to allow me to sleep more peacefully, and they did do there job. As I found out more about these herbs, I had to find a place that sold them where my college was--I found one. And through talking to one of the herbal remedy people, they handed me books about well-being, wellness care. I read those books with great interest. Concurrently, I had started taking a class at my college that discussed natural healing cures and remedies through food, one of them being garlic for high blood pressure. Never sorted out how it worked, exactly. Later I determined that the drug companies, suppressed the results of the natural products industry...
Somehow, my college hired a social worker to health with the mental health issues. I started seeing her and with her therapy, I got better. Then I asked her what she knew about herbal remedies, she said she remembered that the supplement, Tryptophan, assists people to sleep. So, I got some and it worked! Then it was published that a "rare eosinophilia" is caused by Tryptophan usage and the FDA pulled it off the market... Within 2 weeks, Prozac was introduced...
But I wrote this blog to let people know that we all have to keep that power to make good choices in our lives. If I had not made the choice to go to be hospitalized, I would be dead due to suicide and could not share this story with you today. Also, I would have not learned ANYTHING about complementary healing arts and holistic, wellness and well-being. I would be nowhere need to the recovery levels I am today.
What I do know is this is NOT a path for the newly diagnosed. Work with your team, and remember the path along your recovery journey and find your space that will lead you to well-being or Ariafya!
If you need support, questions, or overall motivation by coaching, talk to me through my website at Ariafya.com
