Manic Moments-Living With Bipolar Disorder

The connotation behind the following illustration doesn't actually need a lot of explanation. However, I will give a brief one. A day in the life of bipolar disorder. On this particular day for me, it garnered me in the psychiatric ward for a month. I was EXTREMELY manic that day. To the point of no return. I had gone to my psychiatrist, but he was not in, so I was assigned a fill-in. I will call him Doctor Wrong.

I told Dr. Wrong I was uncomfortably manic and having severe mixed manic episodes. I am a little foggy on the exact details of that day because most of it is a distorted blur. Why Dr. Wrong didn't recognize I was in crisis, I will never understand. I left his office and decided to go shopping. I was hearing soft annoying voices almost constantly now. I could not push them away. This manic-mixed episode was extremely dangerous by this point. I wanted to self-harm, but was fighting it. I was calling EVERYBODY I knew on my cell phone, begging for help. Eveveryone, including friends and family cautioned me to go immediately to the hospital. So I eventually found my way to the nearest emergency room. The hospital did a psych evaluation, and said I was OK to go back home. I was beyond ill, O knew I wasn't situated in reality, and they let me leave the hospital. I barely knew my name when I left the hospital in a state of disbelief.

The voices told me to go to the store to shop. Unable to block out the disturbing voices, I did exactly that. I shopped and shopped until the money was gone. The cart was stuffed full of groceries, home office, kitchen and electronics I didn't need. I made more desperate phone calls. My therapist and psych Dr. Wrong told me to stay put, so my family could find me. I wasn't listening, nothing was registering. So I drove aimlessly all over the city. I hit a curb and ended up with a flat tire. Two gentlemen kindly changed the flat tire.I do not remember the details of that happening, I was on the phone as it was occurring, so my family heard the details of what had happened. I made even more phone calls. Finally, with the tire fixed, my family was able to talk me home safely.

The next day my family drove me to the hospital and my psych doctor (not the fill-in) and therapist had me committed. No one, including doctors and family know why in my condition I was not admitted the first time. I had cuts on my arms, and visible mental health issues. I had been in the hospital several months earlier, so I built barricades as far as reaching out to professionals. And once again I felt let down.

I did get the treatment I so badly needed. I started taking my medication as prescribed, but unfortunately bipolar episodes are not on a fixed schedule. Often the medication stops working, and a person spirals into a cycle of mood swings. I have had my medication changed began to get well and live my life again.

Names have been changed to protect their privacy.