I was having dinner with a friend last night, catching up on how the holidays went. I told her that this Christmas was not as stressful as it usually is. But as I related the details, I broke down crying. Because even when things are going pretty well, there are still always crises when you have this much mental illness in your family.
In a previous post I talked about the stress of dealing with a family member who is currently manic. But in all honesty, I prefer the mania to the depression. I’m sure I would feel differently if I had to live with someone who is manic, but luckily I don’t. And regardless of what pole they are in, I still have to keep a safe distance, lest I trigger my own depression and anxiety. Still, when I’m with my brothers or my dad when they are at one of the extremes, I prefer the over-the-top version of their best self than a shell of the person they normally are.
I understand why people with bipolar disorder don’t want to take their meds. I didn’t want to take my meds, even though they made me feel much better. People use drugs to create the feeling of mania. So it’s understandable why someone would not want to take a drug that keeps them from experiencing the highs.
I’ve had hypomanic episodes, and they were great. I had energy, despite my lack of sleep. I was productive and creative. And I didn’t do any of the destructive things that my family members do when they’re manic, like spend all their life’s savings. Or quit their job, move to another city, and become a dance instructor. Or get kicked out of a bar for starting a fight with someone because they’re certain that guy was making fun of him.
The most extreme thing I can recall is that I made mixed tapes for each of my brothers, and they all had different songs on them. That’s like, over 100 songs. For those of you who are too young to have made a mixed tape, it is way more time-consuming than burning a CD from iTunes.
Plus, there was no crashing and burning after my hypomanic episodes. If anything, the hypomania was a reprieve from the depression. Still, I have no problem giving them up in order to have stability in exchange.
I do have one brother who consistently takes his meds and has been stable for years now. He could be the poster child for bipolar disorder, illustrating how it’s possible to live a normal life if you’re compliant with treatment. The other two, however, live most of their lives at one extreme or the other.
I was looking for a picture of my niece the other day and ran across a picture of my dad while he was depressed. I had to turn away. Any of the pictures taken from that 4 year period make me want to cry, because he looked like someone who was barely alive. Ordinarily he is larger than life. Unforgettable. But when he’s manic, he is a moth to a flame and believes he’s fireproof. But when he’s depressed, he is a zombie, sleepwalking through life.
If stability is not an option, I prefer the moth.