I had a mid-life crisis when I was 33. It happened as I stared at my psychiatrist, mouth open, mind swirling, when he said, “You have bipolar disorder.”
My world came crashing down, and with it, my sense of self.
I knew I had been depressed, and dangerously so. Months of medical trial and error had not yet helped. I flirted with suicidal thoughts. I struggled to function as a human, let alone a mother of five children under 10, including an infant. I credit my faithful husband with our family’s survival.
Suddenly, the latest in a string of antidepressants triggered something I had forgotten existed: happiness. I had instant energy, and with it, I concocted ambitious plans. I started to paint bedrooms, learn a challenging piano piece, lose ten pounds. I thought the world was mine…but it wasn’t. I had jumped straight from depression to mania.
As delightful as mania could be (just the freedom from darkness was intoxicating), it came with anger and agitation. I was soon troubled by the swing of my emotions. The ups were brief and the downs crashed hard. There was no middle ground. Bipolar made sense of my recent mood swings, but the stigma of the illness disturbed me.
A review of my life revealed a telltale bipolar pattern. However, to protect my fragile ego, I questioned everything. Had I truly been having manic episodes for more than a decade? Was the dating, working, straight-A college student Manic Heidi or just me? Was it true that Depressed Heidi was simply the lazy girl who didn’t try? Who was the real Heidi? I yearned to know, but the answers came slowly.
I now believe I had prolonged manic phases as a young mother. Doing it all energized me. I was the consummate committee chair, musician, and party planner. My kids and I took day trips to the beach, the apple orchard, and the zoo, always with scrapbooked photos the next week.
One year, I successfully trained for a marathon in 11 short weeks. I exercised a lot, didn’t sleep much, and was generally very happy for long periods of time. I thrived on the positive feedback from my family and others.
Life with young kids wasn’t close to perfect (parenting is hard whether or not Mom is mentally ill!), but I remember those years being very happy overall. The notion of a manic influence never entered my mind.
My depression had surfaced in early married life. I didn’t understand my oppressive sadness. Despite the blessings of a husband, baby, and new home, my world looked gray. Depression lifted for long periods of time (sometimes replaced with mania), but seven years and three babies later, it had become a constant companion.
I was always irritable. The deliberately calm mother in me disappeared. I was also sad, withdrawn, lethargic, and distressed that I couldn’t do things that made me feel valuable: host parties, attend park trips, serve others. Basic tasks stretched me. I was broken.
After my bipolar diagnosis five years ago, I expected to uncover a completely new person, one who was neither manic nor depressed. That would be the real me; the standard by which I would judge all moods and behaviors.
Actually, there are parts of the real me in every phase. My mania seems to amplify innate characteristics and recreational interests, while depression strangles them. When I am manic I might train for a marathon; when stable I might jog a few days per week; when depressed I might not exercise at all.
I tend to tie productivity and accomplishment to my personal worth, so mania and depression elevate or diminish my self-esteem, respectively. This awareness prompts the questions: Do significant accomplishments alone make me valuable in the world? Am I nothing without them?
The answer to both questions is, of course, “No.”
I can now say that I am not defined by my illness. I have learned to express, “I have bipolar disorder,” instead of “I am bipolar.” I am not the sum of my accomplishments. I can confidently affirm that I am compassionate, a good listener, a loyal friend, and a dedicated wife and mother, even though today I did not take a shower, make dinner, or volunteer at the book fair.
Having a mental illness does not mean I don’t contribute to my family and society. I am an important, lovable person simply because I am breathing, and if breathing is all I can do today, that is great!
Time and treatment have not healed me. My psychiatrist recently said, “Our goal is not relief of symptoms, but better management of them.”
I will probably battle bipolar disorder all my life. As such, I have chosen to speak more openly about it. I am trying to overcome the social stigma of mental illness, which is challenging because it attacks a person’s core identity.
Explaining bipolar disorder to my young children has been difficult. I don’t want to frighten them, but I do want them to have a vocabulary for and basic understanding of my experience.
Out of my painful journey has come two children’s books. When Mommy Feels Sad will be available on Amazon by the end of April 2018, and Feeling Manic and Other Things is in the early stages of production. I’ve shared these stories with my children, friends, and family members. Some cried with me; others felt educated and enlightened. My therapists endorsed them.
I hope they help start conversations about mental illness. I am hopeful that through my darkness, I might shine a light of hope for others.
QUESTION: Can you see the person you are through all that you do? Do you define yourself by your accomplishments or something else?
CHALLENGE: Be kind to yourself. Consider your challenges and accomplishments. Think of the value you have simply because you are you, regardless of what you do.
Edited by Lisa Hoelzer and Kimberly Price.
Image provided by the author; graphics added by Anna Jenkins.
Thank you for being transparent and sharing your story and journey with me/us. Your courage will help more than you know.
Super job. I’m sure your expressions will resonate with and help many.
That’s beatifully written Heidi. It’s something that will help so many. Great job.
Yes! You are awesome despite the stuggle you are faced with. Thanks for sharing!
Thank you, Heidi. What a remarkable insight into the inward conversation associated with bipolar disorder. You will (and have) influence many for good, I’m sure!
Wow Heidi. You never seize to amaze me. Thank you for stepping forward and being vulnerable. A difference you will make 🙂
This is an awesome article. I have several people in my life whom I dearly love who have bipolar disorder, and I think you explain it so well. And yes, they are so much more than their illness! Thank you thank you for having the bravery to write this and share this. I am excited to see your books when they come out!
Thank you!
Thanks Heidi. So nicely written. You are such a lovely person and I love you just the way you are. Just know that there many of us who walk a challenging path. I am encouraged to know that one I care for like you works hard to make the path with walking.
Thank you for sharing your experiences.
Heidi, this essay captivated me. We have close family members who also have bipolar disorder, and to see you working through it so beautifully is an inspiration. Your story also helps me with the ups and downs that I feel on a regular basis as a result of hormonal issues. Thank you for speaking so clearly and positively about your experience. Much, much love!!
Thank you for the insights your article gave me. I have several close friends and family that suffer from this ailment, and this explains a lot of their behavior to me. It sheds new light on the behavior patterns I sometimes took personal. Thank you for being the person you are.
It’s been a long time!! I randomly found a link to this and was inspired by your story and your openness to help others who are struggling. Thanks for sharing. That’s awesome that you’re writing children’s books to help them understand. I wish you all the best as you continue to work through your struggles.
Just got your book, “When Mommy Feels Sad.” The transparent, simple storyline and absolutely beautiful illustrations were so tender. I cried and cried, because although I don’t struggle with the same illness, you bridge the gap of all the vulnerability in being a mom and being enough, especially for deliberate moms like us. Tender, tender.
Heidi, I also have bipolar (2) disorder. Your story is much like mine. It is refreshing to read about someone like me. ?
I have been married 27 years and have 3 kids ages 23, 21, and 18. Two of them have also been diagnosed. I was diagnosed 14 years ago, and yet sometimes it seems like yesterday. When my dr. gave me my diagnosis, (which includes anxiety and ADHD), I cried and cried, tears of joy!! Finally! An explanation and a plan to manage what I thought was my bad behavior, my irrational thinking, my poor grades, my inability to keep a job, etc.. What I always thought as character flaws is really just the wacky chemistry in my brain. You hit the naiI on the head; we are not bipolar, we do not suffer from or carry the burden of bipolar. We have bipolar disorder. Managed with medication (or whatever you might do), and therapy. The 14 years since my diagnosis I have never gone off my meds thinking I was cured! I know better. It will get worse the more we go off and on our meds and as we age. Anyway, thank you again for sharing your heart. (This link might help others to learn the differences between bipolar 1 & 2). https://www.healthline.com/health/bipolar-disorder/bipolar-1-vs-bipolar-2
In His hands,
Dana Edmonds