I am 32 years old, and I was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder 
(Type I) when I was 29.  As is often the case for people with my 
mood disorder, I sought treatment for depression during one of my 
"downs," and I was placed on an antidepressant.  Within a week I 
cycled into the worst manic episode I have ever experienced, 
complete with hearing things, believing that I was going to die, 
and the absolute inability to sleep or to stop moving.  The episode 
was treated inpatient, and thus far, thankfully, I have only had 
to go into the hospital that one time. I have had 5 major manic 
episodes as far as I know, but countless hypomanic and mixed 
episodes.

I believe I have a tendency to cycle rapidly, and I am easily 
triggered by loss of sleep, stress, too much emotional stimulation 
in my environment, and over-the-counter medicines 
(such as antihistamines and "no drowsy" formulas). 

At first, I responded to lithium, but gradually this medication 
ceased to work.  I am on Depakote right now, and it has been 
working well, but I have recently started cycling more and more.  
Increasing the dose works, as do my as-needed medications of 
Klonopin and Buspar. 
 
Unfortunately, I have no insurance, have been denied for every 
insurance I have sought (due to my Bipolar diagnosis), and do not 
qualify for our state benefits because I earn an income.  
This leaves me responsible for the cost of my medicines, and I am 
lucky to afford the minimal dose of the Depakote. I first noticed 
my difference in late childhood and early adolescence.  

At first it was a gift, a strength that allowed me to achieve.  
I had more energy than my friends.  I could stay up for hours, 
for days, while they required sleep.  In high school I could 
work on my assignments without stopping, and of course I made 
excellent grades. I finished undergraduate school in two years, 
and sailed through graduate school.  Before I was 25 years old, 
I had my Ph.D. in hand.  

Then, just like now, my successes are what people have seen.
I never let anyone, not even my family, see the other side.  
No one knew about the hours of terror, despair, and crying.  
No one was aware of the suicide attempts conducted quietly, with 
no intervention other than luck or God's hand.  I can remember 
working tirelessly on projects night after night, only to slide 
so far down a few days later that I slept in my car because 
I lacked the energy to go inside to my bed.  

I have a history of debt, poor spending, and impulsive decisions.  
I have been told I talk too fast and too loud so long I simply 
taught myself to barely talk at all. Racing thoughts--I think 
I probably write a book on this symptom alone.  

At times, I am so distracted by them that all I can do is sit 
and try to keepup with my own brain. Now, as I get 
older, I find myself growing less aware of when my disorder is 
interfering with my thinking and my life decisions.  This is 
frightening to me, as are many aspects of having this problem.  
I am most fearful, I think, of ending up without the ability to 
support myself and to give myself the care I need to literally 
preserve my health and sanity.  This is a constant battle and a 
constant source of worry for me, and I haven't yet found a way 
to turn this one over to God, though I am trying. I used to hate 
even the word Bipolar, but I am working on defining it as a 
challenge and a blessing instead of a frustrating disability.  

If I can begin to see my moods as a challenge of my 
self-understanding sent from God, then perhaps I can be more 
accepting of me, of who I am, and of what makes me up from a 
biological standpoint.  I create from the depths of my lows in 
the peaks of my highs.  I can, in those times, express myself 
artistically. I do, at those times, have moments of feeling 
connected to the whole universe.  I have other moments of 
internal pain and distress, but even these bring me great 
understanding of suffering.  

This understanding then helps me to do my work with much more 
effectiveness (I work in mental health).  Overall, the mood 
swings push me to grow, grow, grow--improve myself, improve 
my self-care strategies.  Surely not everyone is blessed with such 
an opportunity to learn about themselves, and about what is good 
for them. I am fortunate enough to have this chance and this major 
motivating force. I am also fortunate enough to have a condition 
which virtually requires me to learn to trust and to rely on a God 
of my understanding.  

Whether my Bipolar Disorder continues to worsen or gets better, 
I have little control over this, and I can't predict it.  I 
could choose to steep in that uncertainty, but a friend of mine 
has a poster about trusting my unknown future to a known God--and 
this has instead become my immediate goal.

Carrie