I have lost many years of life due to bipolar disorder. No, I don’t mean that I have a reduced lifespan due to bipolar disorder (although this is probably also true). What I mean is there are years Zoe missing due to bipolar disorder. At 46, I can look back over the decades and see those wasted years of my life very clearly.
What are the years lost in bipolar?
“Life” is in the eye of the beholder, I guess, but living, to me, is about going out and doing the things you want to do and achieving the things you want to achieve. No time, of course, is perfect. We don’t get everything we want either, but living is the process of following it.
So the “lost years” are the years I couldn’t do that. While you can lose years for many reasons, my lost years are the years I gained through illness and disease treatment.
My teenagers lost to bipolar disorder
I was undiagnosed and certainly untreated in my teenage years. They mostly went through a horrible spiral of depression, self-harm and suicide with occasional bursts of the insanity known as hypomania. Other teenagers worried about boys (or girls) and what to wear while I was in treatment, trying to survive until I was old enough to leave home. (At the time, it was assumed that most of my depression and instability was due to problems at home. A mental illness was never considered. While these issues undoubtedly complicated the situation, I suspect I had bipolar disorder then as well.)
I lost my 20s to bipolar disorder
I can say that not all of my 20s were wasted due to bipolar disorder. For part of my 20s, I was getting a college degree (albeit while still quite sick). For part of my 20s, I worked my first tech job. For part of my 20s, I was skydiving, scuba diving and paragliding.
That’s the good news. The bad news is that I also spent time in a psych ward. I also spent part of my 20s suicidal, self-harming and deeply depressed. These kinds of states will steal your days, weeks and months no matter what. While other young people were out partying with their friends, I was working with huge concerns about the effects that lack of sleep and alcohol would have on my mood.
The 30s Lost to Dipolar Disorder
My 30s were worse. When I was 29, I got a job at a big, fancy tech company in the United States (I’m from Canada). This was the biggest opportunity of my career, so I took it and moved to Washington State. But there was a price to pay for working in such a high-stress environment and in a team where backstabbing and politicking were common pastimes. I ended up having to take short term disability leave within six months of joining the company. I then had vagal nerve stimulation (VNS) surgery to treat my treatment-resistant depression. That didn’t work. I went back to work anyway. My time there was very difficult. I devoted every moment to work and exhausted myself to the point where I had to lie on the floor of my office and take naps in the afternoons to continue working.
I was fired after three years. I tried electroconvulsive therapy (ECT) at the time to try to treat my depression. That didn’t work either. The depression and surrounding drama led to a suicide attempt. Surviving this experience didn’t feel much like ‘life’. While other people were getting married and having children, I was white everyday.
I lost my 40s to bipolar disorder
Now I’m in my 40s and bipolar disorder continues to do its thing – it continues to consume my life. There are few options left when it comes to treating my bipolar disorder, and bipolar just continues to detract from my daily existence. I spend too much of my days using bipolar coping skills and requiring complete control of the thoughts in my brain at all times in order to stay upright. I rarely live at all. While other people have reached the pinnacle of their careers and settled into long-term relationships, I can’t climb a career ladder or have the relationships that others have had for years.
What I haven’t lost from bipolar disorder
All of the above is true and horrible. But it’s important to put it in context. In my teens and 20s, I got a degree in computer science. I started my career. I flew with the eagles over Venezuela. In my 30s and 40s, I also began a career in writing and speaking. I wrote and published a book. I bought an apartment. I testified before the Food and Drug Administration (FDA). I built relationships with companies like HealthyPlace and Health Association. I created a podcast. And I achieved many small daily goals. I didn’t lose my best friends. I didn’t lose my kittens. I didn’t lose my life. These are not small things.
So, while I sadly mourn all the days lost to bipolar disorder and bipolar disorder treatment, there are other things to think about and remember. Context matters. Achievements, however small and unlike my peers, matter. The people in my life matter. The things I’ve kept matter.
I will always lose my life from bipolar
What it comes down to is, no, I don’t have a life like other people. Most of my day is spent dealing with a brain trying to kill me. This drastically affects what I can do in a day. It also drastically affects how I interact with the world. These are just facts. I will continue to lose parts of my life due to bipolar disorder. This is also a fact.
However, bipolar disorder has not stolen who I am as a person. He didn’t steal my presents. It didn’t rob me of my value as a person. And while years of my life have been sapped by this hellish disease, I’ve still gotten a few things out of it despite that. This is what I will continue to do. I will continue to find small moments and small ways to really live.
Image by Flickr user Mike Mozart.
