I debated about publishing this – I didn’t want it to sound too patronizing or too awkward, and unrealistic – too Girl Interrupted. But for the longest time, I felt that this part of me has been hidden and denied from the public. Staying at the Women’s Inpatient Unit at CAMH has made me realize, as heartbreaking and as lonely as it can be – that my illness is part of who I am. It doesn’t go away, nor sleep, it’s always awake, and no substance or distraction can break it – nor cure it. So today, I decided that I won’t sleep the day away in my room at CAMH tomorrow – I will go to group therapy and meet other people who have experienced trauma in their lives so that I can learn to live with my disorder, instead of running away from it.
Obviously, writing this post has been the hardest thing I’ve done in my life. I can only hope that it can help others acccept themselves fully, as daunting as that task may be.
Bipolar Disorder is present your whole life, however, many of the symptoms of bipolar disorder simply look like high-enery normal behaviour in its early stages. This is why most of you know me as energetic, enthusiastic and motivated, even creative at my most manic of stages.
However, my symptoms worsened as the following occured since the beginning of September: I entered full-time at OISE while working everyday as a program coordinator for a not-for-profit organization and then going home to tutor Korean kids from 6 pm to midnight. That left me after midnight to attend to homework and other pieces of creative writing my job entailed me to do. Within these months, especially during practicum, I ran on a 3 hour sleep schedule every day, feeling very energetic, motivated and driven, despite not having slept for an entire week. Along with juggling social events, paying bills for my house, running a house with 3 roomates and taking care of a psychotic cat, I didn’t realize how much stress this was doing to me until I stopped completely.
Enter the holidays. No school. I also took vacation days from both of my jobs. For the first time, I was doing literally nothing for a week – and it felt great. I’m not going into full detail about what went on during this week, but some of you have already been introduced into the new set of friends I discovered, which allowed me to be “excessively involved in pleasurable activities that had high potential for painful consequences” – another symptom of mania.
The next three months have been a blur of panic attacks, staying in bed all day yet not sleeping at night, watching movies to keep myself distracted from the fact that school and work is now slowly falling apart – as well as my relationships with other people – partying recklessly, abusing alcohol and other substances excessively – anything to keep myself from myself. I became unsually violent, irritable and socializing with people who knew me became very much like cutting through thin skin – each conversation was a battle; each response from me was forced, full of denial and guilt for not being able to be more truthful to others, and shame for not being able to accept myself.
What finally set my commitment to CAMH in stone was a nervous breakdown I had at my dear friend’s condo. It was an unbelievably happy day – we went for Chinese, went to buy board games and played Little World at Castle Cloud, and then went back to Etobicoke to be together for the night. Immediately after our sharing circle I started feeling awry, so they set a bubble bath for me which made me feel calmer. However, the next thing I knew, I had snapped at a friend of mine when he wasn’t doing anything wrong, and when my other friends tried to soothe me by explaining that he didn’t mean what I thought he meant, the breakdown began and I started hearing voices that told me that they hated me, and that they wanted me to leave. The next thing I remember is that I was in a room with black, angry faces trying to control me, and that all I wanted was to go home. When I came to, I was at the back of my friend’s car, my face buried on my friend’s shoulder, too embarrased to look up, as I held on to his thumb for dear life while he spoke to kill the incredible silence. I know I have great friends. I know they did all they could for me out of love. But all I can think of is how much of an inconvenience I was to their day, and how much they’re willing to cope with this crazy behaviour.
And so here I am, at the Woman’s Inpatient Unit, 9th floor at CAMH. I am on form for 72 hours which means I cannot leave, and my pschiatrist and social worker has informed me that they may extend this form to 3 weeks. Hopefully, in that time, I can try to see who I am, how I can deal with who I am, and how I can take care of those around me knowing the responsibility of loving me entails.
To end this post on a cheerful note, I met a wonderful girl here that we’ll call Jane. My first conversation with Jane involved her having a panic attack trying to find Rexall all within the 15 minutes she’s allowed to go outside. When she got back to the CAMH building, there was a shift change with the conceirges, and so for a full 10 minutes, she tried to find CAMH, not knowing she was already at the building the whole time.
My second conversation with her involved me asking why she was dressed so nicely. She said that she had tried to go out of the building, but upon going outside, began to have a panic attack, called the ambulance only to find out that she was still in the building she was supposed to be in anyway.
Tonight I caught her brushing her teeth and she asked me about my tattoo. All of a sudden, as I was explaining it to her, a whole new meaning began to take form. My tatoo is of a quill with a writing that says, “Find the others”. This was a quote from Timothy Leary who encouraged people to go beyond the social convention, the platitudes, and ask people who they really are, what they truly love, what scares them at night – create a conversation that is both awkward and depressing because that is how you can evolve an everyday conversation into something beautiful, into truly knowing someone for who they are. So find the “others” who are willing to participate in this kind of conversation with you, so that you may feel like you belong.
As I was telling her this, she began to get more and more excited about the concept, especially because living in a pscyh ward forces you into platitudes, while at the same time, necessecarily breaking those platitudes in order to reach out and make your stay, as well a the other person’s stay, more meaningful and enjoyable for both of you.
She said, “The other is you! And it’s also me!”
Which made me realize, in a moment of such euphoria, that I have found the others, after giving up my battle to become “normal”, and surrendering to who I truly was, disordered and bipolar, but HONEST – and that’s what makes me beautiful.
Spontaneous Ditties 