Day 4/100

Age: 51 Weight: 352 Mood: Moderately Stable Shot: Sony A7R5 50mm 1/200 ISO 100 F/2

The question that elicits most people to lie is “How are you?”

I was taught at an early age that no one really cares how you are. It is just a polite greeting where the only appropriate response is “awesome.”

But most of the time, I wasn’t fine. Living with untreated bipolar means you are never fine. You are happy, really happy; or sad, really sad.

But fine? Nah, that was for normal people. And it was clear to me that I am far from normal.

I was diagnosed with bipolar in 2008. I had been sober-ish for a couple of years but my depression was crushing and my good days were, well, let’s say they were euphoric.

My therapist had been imploring me to see a psychiatrist because he thought I had a mood disorder, and I had finally relented and set up an appointment with one of the foremost authorities on mood disorders who happened to live in Peru and Boulder, CO.

I sat down with Dr. Wood and he just asked me questions. “Have you ever smelled something burning where there was nothing?” All the time. “Do you hear your name called in a crowded room?” Happened yesterday. “Have you ever felt a presence when you were alone?” I swore I had ESP.

“You have Bipolar II.”

I felt those words when he said them. I knew in the part of my body where I held the truth that he was right.

I walked out to the car and called my mom. “He figured out what was wrong with me.” And I broke down in tears.

It has taken years for me to get comfortable being bipolar and being open about it. I always was afraid of doors closing or people judging. But the truth was that so much of the person I had become existed between those emotional poles and my attempts to manage my moods. I am not defined by my bipolar or my anxiety or my depression, but they do inform who I am.

I am not always fine, but I am now living with my mental health instead of against it, and that is awesome.