It's been two years to the day today that I was last hospitalized for a manic episode.
And what a storm it was. I had just found out I was pregnant and thus was so excited I couldn't sleep for a week. You see, it had taken us ten months to conceive the little lady and being the impatient, total Type-A person I am, that was just way too long.
When I don't get enough sleep, it leads to mania. My thoughts race out of control, I start talking in circles, and I lose touch with reality. My husband knew the signs all too well. He knew what needed to be done.
Within thirty minutes, his mom was here to help with our 18-mo old son, and the EMT's and two police officers were standing in our bedroom trying to talk me into going with them to the hospital. When I wouldn't consent, my husband signed some papers, and they cuffed me and put me in the squad car. Luckily this time it was pitch black outside and they didn't have their flashing lights on. So hopefully the neighbors didn't see and think I was being arrested.
Crazy how far I've come in those two years. I've learned so much over these past six years living with bipolar disorder. I've learned how important my family is to me, I've learned which friends care enough to actually talk with me about what I've been going through, and most of all I've learned that I can overcome this "mental illness" to make my dreams a reality.
Six years ago I was so crippled by depression and anxiety that at times I didn't want to go on. I was being so selfish, but I saw how my condition was affecting my family and I hated that I kept bringing everyone around me down because of my mood. I felt like I had lost my identity because the career I had worked so hard to build over the past four years came to a screeching halt after my second hospitalization. I couldn't handle the pressure at work any longer - the pressure that had pushed me to work harder and smarter over the years was now causing panic attacks and driving me deeper and deeper into depression.
Ultimately, I had to resign from my job and with that I felt like I was a nobody. I was worthless. I was sad. I didn't feel like there was anything worth living for.
Looking back, it basically took me all of 2006 to pick myself up again. I went through so many weeks of crying hard every.single.night. It's hard for me to think about what my parents and husband went through during that year. I don't know if I would have been strong enough to stay positive and supportive to someone who was so incredibly sad.
But they did. And Thank God they did. I am eternally grateful to them.
I never would have imagined that I would be where I am today without the love and encouragement of my dad, mom, and husband. Along with my in-laws, brother, two sisters-in-law, and a handful of close friends, I trudged through 2006 and made it into 2007. I made it to see another day.
And now I know that there is so much to live for.
I am so thankful to have found a medication that works for me. I know that I am lucky. I take my medication religiously and stay on top of my moods to make sure I continue to stay stable. I have too much going for me to end up in the hospital again. I don't want to miss a second of this life.
Because it really is too short when you think about it.