Coping with Manic Depression

Six months ago things were fine, the next day I was out of my mind. The thoughts racing through my head at a hundred miles an hour. Suicidal thoughts that would not seem to leave me alone. This was not me. I grew up in a good family, I’m in a band, I’ve got a great girlfriend. Why am I suddenly sleeping all day and having these suicidal thoughts? I decided to run away from all of it. I packed my backpack with a few things and hit the road. I didn’t have a destination. I didn’t even have a clear thought in my head about my friends, or family, or what was going to happen to me. Thoughts were fuzzy and scattered. One minute I was thinking about jumping off a cliff, the next minute I would laugh at myself for having such a thought.

After about a week on the road, I woke up one morning extremely confused and scared by my surroundings. I was cold, hungry, alone in the street. My mind felt like jelly and I decided it was time to contact someone. I showed up at my music teacher’s house and explained to him that I had found God. His face told me that he thought I was joking. But the more I tried to convince him, the more concerned he got, and the next thing I knew my grandma was there to pick me up. After many frantic hugs and shoulder shakes, I was taken to the hospital and diagnosed with manic depression.

Manic depression is no joke. I’m on a ton of medications that make me feel groggy and weird even though my thoughts have mellowed out for the most part and I sort of feel like me again. I’m still in a band, but my fellow members are always concerned about how I’m feeling or whether or not I’m going to disappear again. My parents aren’t quite sure how to deal with my manic depression either. The medication is costing them money, and they keep searching for miracle cure. If I forget to take my medication, I start to say things about the world in my mind and people around me get a little scared because I become unpredictable. I’ve started going to church every week because I want to ask God for help through this. I wish bipolar living didn’t entail a bunch of pills that take me out of myself. But then again I’m not myself when I don’t take the medicine either. It’s hard!

I just have to take it one day at a time. My family and I have dinner together every evening and talk about normal family things. Like how our day was. How school was. How is the band doing? Do we have a new set list yet or any shows coming up? But in the back of my mind there is a constant inner dialogue telling me that everyone is judging me for being a freak. I wonder if they’re scared of me. They think I could crack at any moment. And the sad thing is that I could.

Adjusting to living with manic depression is a hard thing to do after leading a semi-normal life for eighteen years. But like Father Brannigan tells me, “A life of struggle should teach compassion.” So I try to be understanding and compassionate. I work real hard every day to get over my sour feelings of not fitting in. My music is getting better and my drive is getting stronger. With the help of my friends and family, this manic depression will ultimately fuel me on the path to a successful life.