Surprise!...Or...Not

Did you ever have one of those moments, you know the ones where something you have known all along suddenly...hits you? Well, I had one of those moments today.

You see, I have been officially diagnosed as having Bipolar Disorder. Big scary sounding thing, isn't it? I spent the morning in a doctor's office undergoing a grueling evaluation. Not on the top of my fun things to do list, let me tell you! But.. a necessary evil, as they say. The thing is, I am having a hard time explaining the changes that occurred in me from the time I walked through the door to the doctor's office, to the time I left. But there were changes, indeed.

It's not like I have lived a normal life and suddenly *BAM!* I have this mental affliction. I have had the symptoms for better than twenty five years. I simply chose to ignore them. Or at the very least, I have refused to face head on what I should have known all along. It's a sobering realization.

This disorder runs in my family. My birth mother has a severe case of it along with other issues. My older brother was in the throes of a depressive state when he chose to hang himself in the alley between two buildings, thus ending the promising life of a spectacularly talented artist, not realizing that on that same day his wife would find out she was pregnant with his child. Funny how fate does things like that sometimes.

As for me, my life has been pretty harsh, if one chooses to look at it on the most basic level. I've lived through and experienced things beyond what many people might even be able to imagine, let alone endure. Yet through it all, I somehow have managed to wake up nearly every single day with a renewed hope that somehow, this time, things would get better. It doesn't seem to matter how many times I've been beaten down, trodden upon; left. I refuse to admit defeat, at least not for very long. I cannot lie and say I've never wallowed in a glorious bout of self pity, because I have. But somehow it never lasts for long.

On the surface it would seem that my life could be a text book case of what bipolar disorder is, and does. I have euphoric highs and magnificently low lows. I've felt certain that I was going to conquer the world with my wit, and I've believed without a single doubt that my presence on earth was not only not needed, but a travesty. I've imagined my death at least a hundred different times, and considered what those I cared about would think when that time came. Alternately, I've considered the possibility that no one would give a whit about my passing, should it occur at some untimely moment. Suicide is simply not an option for me. I have seen it too much in my own circle of family and friends for it to ever be something I could do, no matter how low I got. Wanting to die, well now that's another thing altogether. I couldn't count the number of times I've wished I could just ... not wake up. Thankfully, those times are not all that frequent, and my wish was never granted. God has bigger plans for me yet.

The thing I find strange right now is how disconnected I feel from myself. It's not like I suddenly came to a realization that I have issues. I mean, I've known pretty much all my life that I was different somehow. I've even looked up the symptoms on more than one occasion. Bipolar disorder always came up as one of the possibilities. In fact it was almost always the only result of my search. But still, I continued onward without facing the truth and reality head on. I could say it was a mistake, but I won't. Today is so much different; it's like a veil has been lifted from my eyes. It is both calming, and confusing. I think that right now I am stronger than I have ever been, and the timing was perfect. Yet there is still this feeling of shock, odd as that may sound.

I've lost relationships because of my actions, and reactions. I know that much of it had to do with the chemical imbalance in my brain. But I am not going to consider myself blameless. As much as I have seen the ravages of this disorder in my family, I knew what was what. I simply did not want to deal with it. I did not want to be like her...like them. There is a certain stigma that goes along with any mental illness. Often times people on the outside act like it is simply a matter of willpower or self control. Or God forbid...contagious. But let me tell you something - it is by sheer will alone that I have come as far as I have. I am not the person I was ten years ago, or even two.

In lieu of available medical treatment, I have had to rely on a lot of soul searching, prayer, and determination. I'm not saying every single thing can be overcome with those things. But I can tell you, to a certain extent, they have worked for me. I had this feeling of being stunned when I was told that I did indeed suffer from bipolar disorder. But.. why? Was it really that much of a surprise? I guess it's just a matter of perception. As long as I had not heard it 'officially', then I could always deny it. Denying all the crazy stuff I've done all my life, well that is another matter altogether. But now.. I am faced with the knowledge that I do indeed have some things that have challenged, and will continue to challenge me for the rest of my life.

I'm not sure what that means, exactly. But the truth is, I'm glad. I don't want to ever use excuses for bad behavior, because there are none. But at least now I can understand a little bit better how my thought process works, and why I have such difficulties sometimes. I am stronger than this. I've proven my strength time and again throughout my life. In some ways, I am probably more strong because of what I have overcome. So how can I be mad about that? I'd like to think I am a worthy person, that it might be worthwhile for someone, some day, to take a chance and love me. Until then, I am going to revert back to my previous post. I have plenty of love to give, and I will give it. It doesn't matter whether I get it in return or not. Real love, true love, doesn't work that way. When you start putting conditions on love, it becomes a contract. Unconditional love is selfless. So people are self centered, unreasonable, illogical. So the love I give is not, or maybe cannot be, returned. I am still going to love anyway.

This includes, but is not limited to, myself. I am more than the sum of my parts, flaws and all. The less I become, the more I am. I myself am paradoxical, so how could I live my life any other way?

Kimberley