#great to know that my mum seemed to disassociate through my whole childhood

[toomanyfandomsneverenoughtime]

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[mybipolar-coaster]

An Introduction

I would like to say it was an easy decision to write down my experiences thus far in life but that would be a lie. I don’t really consider myself an interesting person. As a matter of fact, I consider myself rather boring. I like boring things like history and science. I studied statistics in university. I’ve led what I would consider an amazingly average life. That is, until late last year when I was diagnosed with Bipolar Affective Disorder, or as those in the states would call it, Bipolar I. Since then, so many things in my life have clicked into place. Things that had always seemed unusual now had a reason behind them, a cause. I had something I could point to and say, “that’s why”. Since being diagnosed I have found an entire community online of people both living with the disorder and coping with the fallout of it. I have also had my own share of trials and ordeals to deal with since my diagnosis, but that’s getting ahead of myself a bit. First, let me explain what it was that finally made me commit to writing this blog. I am currently waiting for the right opportunity to ask the girl I have been dating for the past 10 years to marry me. I have the ring. I know the when, I know the where. The how is still slightly eluding me but I think a small amount of improvisation on that front won’t hurt. This is what made me want to write this blog. I wanted to detail my feelings leading up to asking the question. I hope to portray the excitement and nerves leading up to the moment of truth so that afterwards I can get my (hopefully) fiancée to read back and see how much thought, work and planning went into this and how much I love her. But then I thought, “hey, why stop there”? I could keep the blog going afterwards, talk about ordinary, every-day things. Perhaps even give people an insight into how I live with my condition and how it affects those around me. I have always been a creative person and I enjoy writing, so maybe this could be a new hobby for me. I certainly hope so. So, this will be the first post in a hopefully ongoing series of blog posts. However, in the off chance that my girlfriend does happen to stumble upon this blog, I will be operating under strict anonymity for the time being. I won’t say my name, or the name of anyone that could be used to identify me in these blogs, at least until after I’ve popped the question, but everything else within will be true. I think an ideal first post then, would be for me to give a quick recap of my life so far, and give you the reader an introduction to my life and how my messed-up brain works. I hope you enjoy!

I was born in the UK in the early 90’s (trying to be vague) into a working-class family. My dad worked as an electrician in a dog-food factory and my mum volunteered as a cook in a nursing home. My parents were quite old when they had me, so there is a large age gap between me and the rest of my family. In fact, when I was born both of my older brothers were teenagers. My mum says that one of my brothers refused to talk to her or my dad for a year after they told him they were pregnant because he was so disgusted that they were still having sex “at their age”. Having an older family definitely has its advantages though. When I was young, all my siblings had jobs, so I got four times the amount of presents that most other kids got. I should point out that I also have a sister, who is the closest in age to me. Growing up, me and my sister got on like oil and water. I’m surprised my mum managed to survive through my early years – in the same year my sister turned sixteen I was going through my “terrible twos”. I have always been a mummy’s boy. Even now that I’m in my 20’s, I get on great with my mum and have a good relationship with her. I bring up my mum because she was my first ever contact with mental illnesses. My mum had panic attacks and generalised anxiety when I was younger. I have multiple memories of us being somewhere and my mum suddenly bursting into floods of tears, sometimes running away, and my dad having to track her down and console her. It was an incredibly scary experience as a child but, to my mum’s credit, she did a great job of explaining things as she calmed down. She would tell me it wasn’t anyone’s fault, that it was something that was medically wrong with her like being sick and that I shouldn’t blame myself for her attacks. Her explanations were pivotal in my understanding of mental illnesses and my dad’s behaviour during these attacks served as an example to me for the rest of my life on how to deal with a crisis situation.

Even far back in my childhood, symptoms of my bipolar were there. It was subtle, but there were things about me that made me different from other kids. I could be morose or have fits of worry every now and then. I would worry about dying, or someone in my family being hurt. I was very young when I realised that, because there was such a big age gap between me and the rest of my family, I was most likely going to have to watch my whole family die. I’d have to attend their funerals, possibly give speeches, and then I’d be left alone at the end. This terrified me as a child and even now it still serves as a strange sort of morbid obsession during my low days. For instance, I have the speech I will give at my father’s funeral memorised and have done for quite some time. My dad isn’t even ill and shows no signs of kicking the bucket anytime soon, but it plays in my head so often that I’ll be prepared for when that day comes. In fact, I’ll be prepared in more ways than one. Ever since I was a child, I have been experiencing a symptom of bipolar affective disorder that I didn’t even realise was unusual until I was diagnosed. I spent my entire life thinking everyone got this at certain points in their lives and it was only after a conversation with my girlfriend where she pointed out that this wasn’t normal that I went to a psychiatrist and got diagnosed. This symptom is called Disassociation. Disassociation can happen multiple ways, but it always affects me the same way. During moments of crisis, moments of importance or sometimes when I feel I am in a place of some significance, I feel as if I leave my body and allow another entity to control it. That sounds far more sinister than what it actually feels like so let me try and explain it as best I can. Most people experience going on autopilot, where their mind switches off and they continue to do some monotonous or repetitive task. My Disassociation feels a bit like that. The entity that takes over my body is my autopilot. He will do what I would want to do anyway. He doesn’t have his own needs or wants. He just does. I, on the other hand, leave my body. I picture it like that episode of Tom & Jerry where Tom accidentally kills himself with a falling piano while chasing Jerry. His soul leaves his body and rises up to cat heaven only to not be allowed in because he’s been so mean to Jerry. Well my “soul” (I don’t believe in a soul so the more fitting term here would probably be id) leaves me in the same way and floats, just above and behind me, and observes. I feel like I am acting like a documentarian in these moments. Like a wildlife cameraman observing the animal he has been tracking for years being eaten by a predator – I am totally detached. I’m there to watch, not to influence. Sometimes I think maybe I’m me in the future, remembering this event and not actually the present me at all. Does this make sense? It’s a very strange sensation and, from what I gather, kind of unique to me so I really struggle to explain it to other people. My girlfriend thinks she can sometimes tell when I’m disassociating though. She says I become wide-eyed and emotionless, talking in a monotone. This might be true, but she has only been able to correctly identify when I’m disassociating twice in the entire time I’ve known her so it might just be they were particularly noticeable incidents.

Of course, the other big symptom of Bipolar Affective Disorder is the mood cycles. When I was younger, my cycles were generally rather enjoyable but as I have gotten older, they have gotten less enjoyable and more something to be monitored and observed. Before I go any further into how my cycle affects me, I feel I should spend a bit of time explaining the cycle as a lot of people don’t really get the Bipolar cycle and there is a lot of misinformation in the media. To put it in the simplest terms, lets imagine a scale from 0 to 10. Now if you are a neurotypical, normal person, I want you to imagine the happiest you have ever been. Then I want you to imagine the saddest you’ve ever been. Now if I was to say to you that 0 is the worst and 10 is the best, where would you put those memories? Probably 0 and 10, right? Well, in terms of measuring bipolar moods, we tend to use the 0 to 10 scale as well but ours is a bit different. When you get down to 0, there should be extreme hopelessness. Either you haven’t moved for extended periods, haven’t eaten and most likely have self-harmed, tried to commit suicide or have at least given it serious thought. Now your 0 may hit a lot of those same notes. You may have considered killing yourself after the death of a close loved one or a life event that hit you particularly hard. Once again, I want you to think back to that worst moment in your life. Now what if I said you’d feel that way every few months. You feel like that, not because something has happened or because you lost something but because it’s September. It’s just that time again. Now let’s go to the other side of the spectrum. This one is a little trickier because it involves more than just emotion, it involves energy levels and sanity levels. This is an important thing to bear in mind with bipolar. If you’re a normal person, your 10 is the happiest you’ve ever been in your life. If you’re bipolar, you’re 10 is the furthest from reality you’ve ever been in your life. Don’t get me wrong, sometimes mania can feel great but sometimes it can feel like hell. A 10 on the bipolar scale can involve hallucinations, delusions of grandeur, an insane amount of energy that absolutely must be excised, a manic state and way of speaking and a lack of need to sleep. Seriously, while manic I can sleep for as little as 2 hours in a 48-hour period and feel absolutely fine. The only upside to a manic state is that it can sometimes feel really good and all that energy helps you get through a lot of work if you can keep focused. You also tend to get a burst of creativity while manic which can help with business projects, artistic creations or even writing the first post for a new blog!

I think I’ll leave it here for my first blog post, I’ve explained a little about myself and why I wanted to start this blog, but mostly rambled in my scatter-brained way about my bipolar disorder. I think I’ve put enough words down for today and I’ll pick up on this tomorrow. I promise I will get into more of the general diary keeping and talking about the proposal, but I feel it is important to get this bipolar stuff explained first so that you know what lens I look at the world through before I start telling you what I can see. And if you’re reading this, I love you Gorgeous!

-B