Bipolar disorder...and the fun times that come with it - NOT...

I can't remember if I've written about this experience or not, but I'm going to do it anyway. My blog, my rules.

It's good to be queen...ANYWAY...

A couple months ago, D and I went to one of our favorite places to eat - IHOP. I'm funny that way, I guess...I like restaurants of that nature (Denny's, Perkins, Village Inn, IHOP).

Anyway, across the aisle from us was a man dining alone. He was heavy-set, and he looked like he was trying to work of a few separate projects at once...he was reading a book, talking to someone on his cell phone, and taking notes about something else. Somehow, he overheard the conversation D and I were having, and he struck up a conversation with us; the topic escapes me now.

Somehow, the conversation turned to personal stuff - where you from, etc...and he mentioned that he had a mental illness.

I said, "You're bipolar, aren't you?" without missing a beat.

He said, "How did you know?"

I replied, "Because I am too." I don't know what possessed me to verbalize my thoughts about this guy, but it was just an instinct. A line from "West Side Story" comes to mind - "Every dog knows his own." Let's just say that Rover met Fido, and leave it at that.

I wasn't afraid to say it...my mother would have been mortified for a minute, but would've gotten over it. But I still don't understand why I felt I had to say it, in a public place, on a Saturday night, to a perfect stranger.

But I could see it. The way he jumped from one topic to another in conversation, the fact that he was involved in multiple projects, things like that. His speech pattern wasn't necessarily rushed, but you could kind of see from the look in his eyes (at least I could) that he was having a hypomanic rush of some sort.

I'm sure I annoy people when I talk about BP...but it's a hell of a lot more annoying having the disease. One time, my sister and I were talking ab0ut stuff, and I had mentioned my last hospital stay at Suburban Hospital in Bethesda. I was griping about the food, the annoying "structured" activites, etc. She asked me (and I wasn't sure how to interpret her tone of voice) why I stayed there if i didn't like it.

That was a good question, believe it or not. Why DID I stay there if I didn't like it? I could have checked myself out at any time (I suppose), even though I was having suicidal thoughts at first.

I think it all boils down to one reason: DEEP DOWN, I KNEW I NEEDED TO BE THERE. In spite of the crappy food, annoying social workers, and screwed up meds, I needed to be there. I realized, in that last stay, that all my previous stays back in Iowa were more escapes that didn't do me any good in the long run. And I haven't been in the hospital since that date in late 2002, so this is a record for me.

So what does that have to do with anything, you ask?

Well, it shows that I have come a long way from having three hospital stays in a year and 1/2 in my history. But it also shows that I have a long way to go. I'm trying to fix things that are broken as a result of the disease, mostly in terms of relationships and obligations.

Most of all, I just have to learn how to read myself a bit better and learn to look outward at how my actions affect others, whether I'm "sick" or "well". I'm not afraid to say it - it's a bitch. But it has to be done.

BTW, if you want to learn more about this disease from a patient's point of view, click on the title of this post. It will take you to Julie Fast's website, and she does a good job of explaining the disease from a patient's point of view.

The photo on this entry is of a celebrity that I have something in common with: Patty Duke.

Ms. Duke has really done a lot to create awareness about mental illness by doing the bravest thing possible - revealing herself to be one of the millions of people with it.

If I ever get to meet her, I am going to hug her and say "Thank you." She may have me arrested for it since she doesn't know me, but it'd be worth it.

Who knows? Maybe she'll read this entry. That'd be nice.

Sudiegirl