After my last post, where I commented on my fear around being bipolar in public, a discussion came about regarding attitudes, and how I’m the same as everyone else.
Well, I beg to disagree. I’m crazy. And the implications of that are undeniable.
In a world of education, political correctness, and tolerance, it seems like the fact that I’m sick shouldn’t rob pieces of me, pieces of my life. It shouldn’t affect my work. It shouldn’t affect my friendships. It shouldn’t affect my lovers. But that, of course, is falderal. Bipolar Disorder slips into everything, even when you’re watching and you think you’ve got everything covered, it still manages to steal.
The First Friend I Lost
About a year or two after my bipolar diagnosis, I was still deeply in the throes of being depressed, and didn’t know how to really express it. And I had a best friend, Hanna*, who I would talk to about it. She too suffered from depression, and she could understand where I was coming from. We hung out together every day for more than a year, sipping lattes at the university. I saw her through boyfriends, and she saw me through my first girlfriend.
And then one day, she didn’t return my call. Or the next call. Or the one after that.
I finally did pin her down to ask her what was going on. She would only say that because I was bipolar, it was too hard to be my friend, and she didn’t want to do that anymore.
She had never discussed it with me. I had no idea there was a problem. I would have compromised with her. I would have taken her needs into consideration, if only she had asked. I cared for her deeply. But she disappeared. It was as if she had never been there at all.
The Last Friend I Lost
Last year, I had an index series of electroconvulsive therapy (shock therapy, ECT) treatments. In spite of professional, well-meaning medical personnel, I still believe ECT is barbaric and horrific, despite being helpful for some. Jessica*, my love, the person I felt closest to on the planet, agreed to help me through some of them. It was going to be hard for her, I knew, but she agreed to shuttle me back and forth to the hospital, make soup, and feed me meds. I was so utterly terrified that seeing her face was the only thing that allowed me to lie on the table, and let them put me under. Her hugs afterwards were all that kept me standing upright.
After the first six treatments, she had to get back to her life, which was to be expected, and another wonderful woman stepped in to help.
But Jessica never talked to me again. I called her and called her. I sent her emails. I left her jokes on her voicemail. But we never had another conversation.
My heart broke. It breaks still.
The one person I thought would always be there for me had left. No note. No discussion. No explanation. Nothing. After six years, she just disappeared into the ether.
And, of course, there have been others. Those are but two. It took me years to stop feeling pangs over the first one. I’m still not over the last one. I wish them both well, but despise the way they have treated me. I deserve better than that.
Discarded Because I Am Bipolar
I’m not like everyone else. I am crazy. I am sick. I am bipolar. People abandon me without a word. People think it’s OK to treat me like that. People think it’s OK to use bipolar disorder as an excuse.
I look around, and I see a humanity that I’m not part of, a race that I’m not in, not because I feel that bipolars are intrinsically unequal or divergent, but because the world keeps showing me that I am. It isn’t about what the guy down the street thinks, or about what a columnist opines, or even how my family feels, it’s about these close, personal bonds being destroyed by something over which I have no control.
Yes, I’m crazy, I’m sick, I’m bipolar, I’m different. I know. Life keep telling me so.
*Names changed
You can find Natasha Tracy on Facebook or @Natasha_Tracy on Twitter.
Haven’t spoken with manic bp friend since February. Back this past December, she had bipolar episode due to bp insomnia and her driving put us and general public at risk. Was hospitalized afterward and what ticked me off was that after all of the apologies, goes right back to the triggers- the parties, shopping, etc. She doesn’t know that I know about her condition. Quite frankly, I don’t care, but what’s driving me away from her is the lying, hiding, denying (“Oh, it’s just insomnia.” Yeah, caused by mania! And “It was just a nervous breakdown!” A generic term!) I do not trust that she will accept and admit her biploar, and will not put my life in her hands by getting in her car and hanging out with her. We”ve been friends since we were 15 (we’re both 40 now); and I can sympathize with how hard it is to come clean about something like her condition-the stigma keeps alot of people silent. I wasn’t trying to hurt her, but my tuning out and dropping off is a last resort of frustration with her behavior and her refusal to accept and take responsibility for her condition. According to a mutual friend of ours, she has said some pretty nasty things in response by calling me the a lazy n-word and that my arthritis is fake and that she’s going to get me in trouble with social security. She’s seen me over the years with my condition and in fact, she was one of many people telling me to get disability and she says that? Also, her bipolar gets to a place sometimes when she percieves you’ve done wrong to her, then she pulls the silent treatment and won’t speak for months, then she comes back and wants to resume friendship out of the blue like nothings happened! She’ll complain about silly irrelevant things about everybody, but won’t talk about things that really count. She’s texted me twice already asking how I am, but I really don’t know where to begin with her with what to say, so I’ve ignored her. I don’t miss her and love the peace and lack of drama and feeling used and drained. I’m not interested in making back up, but would not want to leave her stranded without a word why. What do I say? Thanks!
I have been in a relationship with someone who is Bipolar like myself, for eight years. I want to move on, but everytime I tell her, she ropes me back into the relationship with guilt. I used to look up to this person,but now I don’t, she keeps saying she’s depressed and that’s why she doesn’t work, or achieve goals, but she doesn’t do anything to change her depression, she just sits in it! Life can be hard, but you have to at least try! I want to be around positive people who actually want to do things and have fun, and not just lay around and waste life away. so I understand where you are coming from.
Hi Beth,
That sounds tough. I agree, it’s best to be around others that share you points of view on goals and the like. But to be fair, depression can zap you of the will to do anything, including fight the depression. Not that that means you should stay, I’m just saying it may be her point of view.
Thanks for your comment. I removed your email address so you don’t get unwanted emails and I don’t normally contact commenters directly.
- Natasha
My experience has been that friends can often be just fine with intellectually knowing you have bipolar and intellectually knowing what that means, but once they actually see you having symptoms and experience being right there in the middle of you having a meltdown, they never, ever look at you the same way again. Ever.
My experience is that if I, as a person with bipolar, want to have and keep friends, then the thing I must do at all costs is never, ever, ever go symptomatic in a big way *in front of them*.
Be in another room, at the minimum. Don’t have a friend talk me down from suicide, use a hotline, and so forth. The exception would be friends who have bipolar themselves and have experienced meltdowns or who have very close relatives who have bipolar and who have successfully and compassionately coped with their relative’s meltdowns–and you never assume they can cope, you find out. And you’re still careful about hiding meltdown moments from other people as much as humanly possible.
Other people can generally deal with knowing about it, not with seeing it. That’s my “rule.”
It’d be nice if people were better than they are, but they’re not. They are what they are. And actually seeing us at certain levels of symptomatic is beyond most people’s ability to cope. It sucks, but it’s reality. So because they can’t cope, they rationalize running away without communicating.
Our behavior while we’re symptomatic *is* unacceptable. Nobody “gets to” behave like that. Ever. Unfortunately, the nature of the disease is that we can’t help it. The nature of their inability to cope is they rationalize that “if only” — see the list of “if onlies” in the post above — we were doing better at managing our illness, the episode wouldn’t have happened (or another one wouldn’t be about to happen). Thus their silent disappearance is justified. Or is justified by, “I just can’t deal with it.”
It is okay to leave a friendship/relationship with one of us. Just have the grace to say to our face that you’ve tried to cope with the relationship and our illness and haven’t been able to manage it, so you’re ending it now.
That’s fair, and honest. Just because *we* are stuck with this rotten illness doesn’t mean you have to be, too. Just give us the dignity of saying goodbye.