Bipolar disorder - the inner story part 1

Bipolar disorder - the inner story part 1

In the first of a series of much-needed and informative articles on bipolar disorder, Marita Nazareth gives us a view of the other side of the story—that of the one who is afflicted by it 

Have you ever tried driving a car without fuel? That’s exactly how I feel when I am  afflicted by ‘the disorder.’ I have this amazing gift called Life, but when I want to  engage, I can’t figure out where to get the fuel from or when the petrol runs out. And  at other times, it’s as if I have so much petrol and not enough places to go!  

Any disease that is mental or emotional is as  much a disease as that which involves  pain, such as cancer, diabetes,  hernia, piles, etc. Only, it’s a lot  worse as it is not visible and the  levels of awareness are low. Also it does not normally elicit much  compassion in the same way that  

physical illness does. By the way,  physical pain is part of the package,  but it is rarely talked about as the  

mental pain is much worse. I have  some pain all the time—cramps  

and other weird symptoms that  

disappear along with the depression.  

Also, I invariably get dental issues or a  

frozen shoulder. 

In an interview with Oprah Winfrey, Lady Gaga  

shared her experiences with fibromyalgia, which  

accompanies her mental health issues. Voices  

regarding mental health are louder these days,  

and that fills me with hope.  

The prognosis 

I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder (BD) sev eral years ago. Bipolar disorder is a serious men tal illness in which common emotions become in tense and, often, unpredictably magnified. I have  

had chronic insomnia, high levels of anxiety, and  panic attacks, right since my school days. I would  do well at maths and literature, but anything that  required memory was very difficult due to the high  levels of anxiety that accompanied my exams. 

I do hear people express how sorry they feel for my  caregiver, but such compassionate remarks rarely  come my way. On the contrary, I have heard people  calling me a toxic, negative, and I-centric person  (during the depressive phase). However, I am grate 

ful for the few people who did not judge or give ad vice but just kept walking with me, with their en couraging words and prayers, as I took small steps  towards my healing. What I find hard to swallow  is that some relatives stopped even informing me  about life events and were also positively rude, for  instance, when I called to explain that I had not  been well and so could not attend a funeral. I wish  I could have said that I had cancer or some such  physical ailment, which would not only have drawn  understanding but possibly won me some of their  love. This does not indicate their lack of compas sion; it only shows how little is known about the  inner world of someone suffering from a mental  disorder. 

The lack of understanding and empathy Guilt is a very common emotion that accompanies  depression. If you aren’t doing it to yourself, you  are reminded by others that so many people are  worse off than you and yet are bravely going ahead.  I wasn’t too surprised that when my husband  had a painful slipped disc, nobody reminded  him of the gruelling struggle that marathoners  go through and how they endure it till the finish  line, or that if he only saw the intense pain of  another and reached out, he would not feel so  bad! That would have been ridiculous! On the bright side, thanks to all the ‘tools’ that a  

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Higher Power led me to, I have been able to live  a fairly productive life. I share these tools in my  training programmes on emotional intelligence,  self-esteem, and stress management, and other  workshops. I believe that every pain that you  experience is a sign from the Higher Intelligence  to question your lifestyle and cherished  disempowering beliefs and values, and then  attempt to change whatever is possible. 

I have stayed away from allopathic medication  (except for two years when I was forced to see a  psychiatrist). The allopathic medicines made me  constipated and compounded my problems, so  fortunately, I was allowed to taper them off when I  got better. My Gratitude Journal entry: “So grateful  that I am not on medication which doesn’t agree  with me.” I have been off medication for almost  twenty years. 

I feel reassured when I come across some doctors  on YouTube sharing their experiences. They speak  about the disastrous effects of drugs in the long  term and how they handled their patients with  complete success—without medication.  

I am also blessed to have discovered Bach Flower  remedies, which have got me out of three bad  episodes of depression. I find them effective and  gentle. The best part is that they have no side effects  and can be stopped at will.  

I am not against any particular form of  medication; I am merely sharing what works  for me since I prefer to use ‘props’ which can be  discarded when wellness sets in. 

Understanding what bipolar disorder feels like Bipolar disorder is a confusing condition, espe cially for someone viewing it from the outside.  So let me share my experience. But also keep  in mind that it is only one person’s experience;  other people with the same disorder (which has  many variations and intensities) may have vastly  different experiences.I experience three phases:  hypomania, depression, and a normal phase.  (The last one is a luxury I don’t take for granted!) 

•  Phase 1: Bipolar Hypomania  

During an emotional high, I am full of energy.  It’s like the pendulum has swung from ‘no energy’ to too much of it. It occurs sometimes  after a depressive phase, for instance, when the  house has been left in disarray and not as clean  as I would like it to be. (I am unable to even give  instructions or enter the kitchen without feeling  worse when I am low). I frantically start getting  things done: decluttering, cleaning, tidying,  arranging clothes, buying things to brighten up  the home, and sorting out issues regarding our  future. 

I am over-optimistic. During this phase, I am  able to achieve what some others may not even  attempt. I began an environmental NGO called  CBC in 1993, initiated basic communities  in neighbourhoods in the eighties, and Line  Dancing classes in Bandra in 2012; the list goes  on. When I look back, I can’t even believe that I  would attempt to take on such challenging tasks! 

On the other hand, I am grateful that I haven’t  taken on very big challenges that could have  

affected my family adversely. Some people who  suffer from BD (I will be calling such folks polar  explorers henceforth) spend a lot of their family’s  resources compulsively buying unnecessary stuff,  taking on justice issues beyond their capacity, or  starting new initiatives that cannot be sustained.  I know someone who planned a big holiday very  enthusiastically but had to cancel it as he had run  out of steam. A friend of mine suffering from the  disease splurges at the supermarket, even though  she knows that neither her kids nor she would  ever use the purchases. Her explanation: “I can’t  stop myself.” 

In this phase, I have tons of energy. I am creative  and fulfilled, and receive the most positive  feedback from the attendees of my workshops.  My self-worth temporarily skyrockets.  

The problem with this phase is that I try to sort  out all the issues that are pending, before time  runs out, and that leads to levels of depletion and  feelings of being overwhelmed that account for  the collapse. The energy burns out; I’ve just a  little of it left. 

Bipolar disorder is a confusing condition for both the afflicted as well as the carer 

Confession 49 

•  Phase 2: Bipolar depression 

I have a fairly mild depression sometimes, and  this is dangerous because I don’t even know  that it has set in and that it’s a call for remedial  action. When it gets worse, I lose motivation. I  want to be left alone. It’s not as if I want to be by  myself; I want everyone else to disappear. I don’t  want to go anywhere, see anyone, or do anything.  No matter what I do, people are telling me that  I’m doing something wrong. So the easiest way  to feel better is to ‘vanish.’ I actually come out at  breakfast and ask my husband to leave me alone  even though he is the gentlest person I know.  

I am also very irritable and intolerant. In this  phase, I become acutely aware that I don’t have  the adequate support structure to stay out of  depression and feel resentful that there are so  few people to help me rehabilitate myself in my  professional and personal life. This really hurts  me.  

This is the hardest time because I need people,  but everything I do drives them away. A relative  wouldn’t reply to my calls but would take my  husband’s. I wanted to sort this out, so I spoke to  his wife who had a ready explanation: “Are you  surprised? Are you the kind of person he would  want to stay in touch with?” I hear comments  like “Who would like to be around you when  you are so toxic,” or “Why would anyone want  to help you when you are so ungrateful.” And  I don’t completely disagree. But I genuinely  cannot help myself.  

Unfortunately, the worst part of this phase is  that (a) my behaviour is compulsive (choice does  not seem to exist), (b) I have little initiative, and  (c) I don’t have a supportive structure in place  (as yet).  

I need to do things that bring me joy, but unless  somebody takes the initiative and calls me, I  am unlikely to feel motivated to do the same. I  find it hard to bathe, do my exercises, come out  to meet guests, go for a daily walk, speak to my  loved ones, or tidy up. 

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Seeing all ‘these people’ carrying on, living  their happy lives, is an annoying reminder of  the bipolar disorder that plagues me. I love to  travel, and the thought that it may never happen  discourages me. I don’t need to go to Facebook  to see people having fun; I can see it all around  me! I find it harder still when I happen to share  my feelings and those who listen tell me “how  dangerous it is to compare.” I once shared that I  was feeling envious of a relative and, immediately,  I was criticised for “not being proud of her  achievements.” 

No matter what it is—working, hanging out  with friends, exercising, dancing, listening to  music—I don’t enjoy things, because the smallest  tasks seem unsurmountable. If friends invite me  out or I invite someone over, I imagine everything  going haywire.  

Worse than the depression is the high level of  anxiety, which is crippling. A good friend of mine  would offer to drop in, and then the anxiety would  kick in. I would go overboard trying to get my  house perfectly clean and tidy, and get so anxious  that, eventually, my caregiver believed that this  friend was not good for me and discouraged me  from meeting her. Everything is scary, leaving me  dreading the very idea of doing anything. When  I think about the future, I feel terrified and can  only wish that this misery will end soon.  

I often joke about death and people wonder why  I do that. Let’s be honest—it definitely seems  a more attractive option than this constant  tightrope walking and walking-on-shells-feeling.  I have even had a close relative say “If you are  like this now, I can’t imagine what you will be  like when you get older.” I can’t either. The future  doesn’t look exciting when I am low. 

The worst pain of all is that my professional life  goes for a toss. I invariably tear up my class notes  and can’t do follow-ups. The encouraging feedback  that I receive after a workshop is literally of no  use as, by then, the ‘happy clients’ have engaged  another facilitator. I recall working with an NGO  

that helps cancer patients. One fine day, they just  decided not to have me back. I was appreciated  by both the patients as well as their caregivers  who attended my sessions, but I was too weak  to seek a dialogue because, by then, I was in  depression. I also felt really disappointed when I  was no longer able to conduct my Line Dancing  classes. After spending hours mastering simple  dances and starting groups at five centres, I was  left with no classes. By the time I was normal,  others had taken over everything that I had built  from scratch. 

•  Phase 3: The ‘Normal Phase’ 

The good news! I have a normal phase too. The  time that I am in this phase has increased due to  my personal research on mental wellness and the  various activities that I include in my everyday  schedule.  

In normal times, I wake up in the morning  feeling fine. I don’t dread going about my day.  I get things done and have plenty of energy  throughout the day. The days when everything  was blown out of proportion disappear, and all  tasks (even washing dishes) are pure delight. I  search for recipes and innovate to make tasty,  nutritious food. The breeze against my face as  I wash up or cook fills me with gratitude, and I  can say “Praise the Lord” with ease. I am now in  a state of grace. 

Life flows. I can roll with the punches that the  average day hands out. The future is enticing.  Balance is restored. I begin my hobbies: teaching  dancing, doing fun workshops, photography,  etc. I begin to think in terms of a holiday. I am  invited to events, and I want to attend them all.  The sunshine is back! 

Just to explain it further: 

•  In Transactional Analysis terms, my  relationship with other people is as follows:  in depression, it’s ‘I am not okay, you are  okay’; in mania, it’s ‘I am okay, you are not  okay’; and when I am well, it’s ‘I am okay,  you are okay.’ 

•  When I am well, I know I am blessed. Prayer  is just thanksgiving for all that is. I feel the  Divine within and trust It to be in charge of  my life. In depression, I have serious doubts  that God exists; I feel disconnected and  hope vanishes. In the manic phase, I am like  the folks in the Renewal Movement in the  Catholic Church: I sing the Lord’s praises! 

•  When I am depressed, I can’t forgive anyone  or anything; the hurts run deep. When I am  high, I might even buy a gift for the offender.  And when I am normal, I feel neutral and  don’t even think there is anything to forgive  in the first place. When I am back to being  me, I am grateful that I have a choice; I  can reframe anything and stay in a state of  feeling good. 

I honestly wish I could stay in a balanced state  all the time. It is a time of pure grace, and I am  grateful for this and also for the ups and downs  that have helped me grow. 

In a forthcoming issue, I will explain what I do to  move towards a more balanced state at all times. 

Marita Nazareth is a wellness coach, corporate trainer, motivational speaker, writ er, environmental activist and line dance teacher and vlogger. She can be contacted on  9757289004.