Recently, I was diagnosed with bipolar II.
While the diagnosis came only a couple months ago, the knowledge of it was far from recent. It’s been clear from very early on that all the women in my family suffer from this issue. Since a very young age, I recall my mom oscillating between screaming and crying at my dad – to Harvey Two Face style turning around and answering the phone in her Stepford Wife persona. (The ongoing joke my sister and I had was handing her the nearest trophy shaped object like she’d just won an Oscar for her acting skills.) But enough about them. Back to me – the only one brave enough to reach out for help, get the diagnosis, and ultimately get the help I needed.
Now, it’s not my place to diagnose. But, I’m honestly starting to wonder how much those who are in the place to diagnose – actually know enough to do so. Let me explain. I was at my wit’s end two weeks ago and willing to try *something*. (I’ll delve into the sordid details later, but for now you get the short n’ skinny.) A couple weeks back and about a month out of a breakup, I was (in part) blaming my bipolar that I was unwilling to take medication for, for the downfall of our relationship. Emphasis on “in part”. He wasn’t an angel either (and hid a lot of his own diagnoses from me, bipolar included, while blaming anything I did that he didn’t like on my “bipolar disorder”.)
But I kept wondering, “What if I’d just tried *something*?”
Once we were done, my first thought was, “Well, but now I don’t have anyone to be normal for, so it doesn’t matter”. (Insert clown emoji, I know…) But as that manic and euphoric feeling of newfound freedom subsided, I came to find that even post split, without any human target for my manic or depressive episodes, I found the same feelings boomeranging back onto myself. Obsessing. Depression. Avoiding life. No big surprise. I honestly expected the mania would end. It always does. I’m aware enough to know when a wave is coming – I just hadn’t been brave enough to face it with any real weaponry. I also didn’t realize the extent to which my brain would rally against me. When there’s no one to turn to or on, you either turn to or on yourself. The problem with that is that – people like us don’t get normal sad or excited. We go all the way down into padded room territory – or all the way up into max-out-the-credit-cards territory.
After the breakup, those poles got farther apart.
The darkness got darker.
The mania scarier.
Finally, I started researching options.
There were heaps of them, mind you. But, because I’m vain and unwilling to gain weight, Lamictal and Latuda were the only ones I was willing to consider and that my psych lady was willing to offer. Lamictal seemed awesome. Great reviews. No weight gain. Increased energy. Actual testimonials and reviews from users were amazing. (Latuda, less so.) Some downsides I read? Tardive dyskinesia. Tremors. And this deadly rash that is rare, but requires hospitalization. I was nearly ready to try it anyway, but then I saw another side effect: hair loss. (Vanity: activated.) That’s a nuclear nope for me. (My ex had lost his hair to meds and I had the same problem back when I was on them. Mine grew back – but never was quite as lustrous or shiny ever again – and his never grew back at all.) I had trusted her to tell me all the possible side effects. She “missed” this one (along with many others) because she was hellbent on prescribing something to me.
So, being a bio grad, I ran an experiment.
I threw the question about hair loss in my bipolar group on Facebook (ya know – actual live people who are taking the drugs) and was nearly immediately greeted with replies like, “Oh THAT’S why my hair’s falling out! I had no idea it was a side effect, but now it makes sense.” (Honestly, if you’re looking to find out the genuine side effects of something, go ahead and join you a support group.) You can quote me statistically significant research (that the drug company funded) all day long. But 8 out of 10 women I ask say they lost hair after taking Lamictal, guess which one I’m listening to? I even asked specifically to see which women were only taking said med – no others (because a dual effect may make for more hair fall where, with just one med it’s less noticeable). Verdict? Even on singular scripts – those follicles be dropping like bodies in a Judo class, survey says.
Still desperate, but not enough to suffer death rashes or being bald, I came full circle. Full circle to the route I took when I was first getting clean from dependency and addiction to opiates and benzos (half the reason I avoided meds for bipolar in the first place – didn’t wanna be dependent on something) and looking for self calming remedies to help me sleep. I went back to the drawing board and sought out options specifically that were being used, over the counter, for the treatment of bipolar.
When I threw the idea into the group, some were on board.
With others, the big pharma brainwashing was clear.
I had to laugh when I heard: “If alternative medicine worked, it would just be what doctors gave you”. It continues to amaze me how some still haven’t learned the concept of big pharma and how the entire profession would collapse if OTC options and education on lifestyle changes made people able to get better without a massive monthly copay for meds and office visits and labs and…. BOTTOM LINE: There’s no money in DIY fixes. Mind you, I’m not saying it’s a perma fix. I’m not saying medicine is a bad option. And I’m not saying it’s for everybody. I’m just saying that holistic options can and do work for some. That’s why (if you keep reading), you can see my journey with natural options. I’m sharing it because some people like myself don’t like their prescription options. I’m also sharing it because some people don’t even have that option. I’ve heard sufferers talk about having had heart attacks, neurological events, hospital admissions, and ultimately being told by doctors that they can’t take medication ever again, as it may be fatal. (Another thing the “alternative medicine doesn’t work, so just take drugs” group fails to consider.)
Thing is, about ten years ago (before I even realized this was bipolar), I began my journey. I just didn’t know what condition I was addressing. Chocking it up to some manifestation of addiction, I renovated my life dramatically. Drug free. Using the tools of those who’d come before me, I was able to 180 (kinda) for the better through routine and new habits. Keep in mind, this is just my journey and I haven’t always adhered to it perfectly. When I did, though, life got so much easier and my episodes felt far less intense or long. Also, worthy of note: before I began changing my “routine”, I was an absolute mess. No joke. Think of the creature from LOTR in the cave, crouched over a carp he’s just caught and eating it raw. Something like that, but hiding it well. I’d show up to work late (or not at all), spend the entire weekend and free time in bed, wear the same things for days, and lived in squalor. I wouldn’t shower unless I had somewhere to go. I wouldn’t change bedsheets. My poor dog skipped so many grooming sessions. I just hid it very, very well. Best designer clothes. Makeup always on point. Hair done. But each night I’d come home to an apartment that looked like the grand finale of a Hoarder’s season when they save the worst episode for last.
Me behind closed doors was a different story from what y’all saw.
I never invited anyone over.
I was too embarrassed about how I lived. If you could call it living.
After renovating my life (in layers, by trial and error) with habit changes, I now have a career in PT where I’m a top requested clinician, I train in MMA five days a week (won two gold medals in jiu-jitsu last year!), I workout every morning, I teach yoga and write about health and wellness as side jobs, and am pursuing new hobbies and interests all the while. (And yes, my dog lives like a pampered princess.) I’m not saying that to say “I found the cure!”. (I mean, if you keep reading I have found it for me – but yours may be different. That’s why this series will be so long.) I’m definitely not always on my A game. In fact, after this past relationship, I realize that I struggle to navigate managing another person’s needs while keeping my own “routine”. That said, below what I’ve outlined are just some of the things I’ve done that have helped me go from floundering to “doing pretty okay but still need the help of professionals and a support system”. I just figured I’d share what’s gotten me from non-functional to better-than-just-functional even without meds. Remember, my journey is MINE. I’m not offering official medical advice. I’m not saying don’t take meds. I’m just saying, if something resonates, cool. And if you haven’t tried it already, maybe consult your doc before trying it a first time. Because maybe it will help even just one of you. I know it’s helped serve as reinforcement just by writing it down. So, what were these routines and habits? Well, some are things I’ve been doing for years now (as mentioned). Others, I’ve just begun since my diagnosis. But we’re about to take a tour, full of stops that may help stop your swings – or at least stave them off.
And the first stop is… daily exercise.
The rule? Find something sustainable. Something you’ll do everyday.
Not some crazy hobby like flying yoga.
(Not me doing flying yoga. Probably during a manic spell…)
Okay… I may deviate and do fun novel stuff here and there.
But my daily routine looks a lot different. Simpler.
Read on to see how my daily dose of blood pumping keeps me sane…