Bipolar, BPD, & CPTSD

True bliss can be hard to find, and when found it is a fragile state of being. I have been stable for almost two years now, yet I still search myself at night for fear of becoming manic or depressed again. I spent most of my adult life in one or another state of being, both a unique hell all it's own. I am lucky to be medicated into a stable state, yet I am aware all the lithium, seroquel, and lexapro in the world will never cure me. I am always in danger, always one episode from destroying my life again, and again.

I live a comfortable life all things considered, I have little money, but happiness is more important to me. I ride a cloud of momentary bliss, living in the moment is the best coping mechanism I have, it allows me to forget the horrors I have seen. It allows me to forget what I have done, what I have sacrificed in the short term to make it though the long term. I have regrettably stepped on the backs of some to make my way to a life worth living, only to find I likely would have done better having not done so.

I was diagnosed with CPTSD as a child, bipolar at 23, and BPD at 26, each providing answers, another subject to research the night away in the hopes of feeling better. I have found the hardest one to control to be my bipolar these days, I have been building a large repertoire of coping mechanisms for my CPTSD since I was in kindergarten, only allowing myself to feel as much of it as I could swallow in each sitting. For my Bipolar, I had been shooting in the dark in search of the right medications for years, hoping I would never have to go to a mental hospital again, never have to throw my life down the drain again. With my BPD, I mainly had to shift how I thought of people, thought of the world, in order to not hold my friends hostage in our friendships.

My BPD was my most toxic of mental illnesses, I needed constant gratification, constant reassurance, and loyalty beyond approach. I loved my friends, yet possibly too much, I would have a melt down over losing my "favorite person" which would threaten to lead me to mental hospitals. No friend should be treated in such a way. If you love someone you need to understand that they will have their own lives they need to look out for. And that needs to be okay.

My bipolar was likely my most dangerous mental illness as it liked to play hand in hand with my CPTSD, bringing forward memories I had hopes not to see first hand again. I would be tugged up or down depending, with my Mania, I would manage to work three full time jobs, not sleep and rarely eat. I would come out of the episode feeling as though I had been on a bender for the entire six months or so I was Manic.

When you are manic, you will find it causes brain damage, and for me made me not take any care of myself, so I would come out of it in deep pain that seemed to penetrate into my bones. They have found that when you do go into a Manic state it can cause your blood to grow toxic to the rest of your body causing flu like symptoms to the body, as well as spitting off some symptoms of withdrawal. These are the symptoms I would receive each time.

For my depressive episodes it would feel as though my body had been filled with rocks, weighted down by my own thoughts, as my mind raced in every thought one tries to run from. I would water my pillow with my tears each night contemplating ending it all, tired of the seemingly endless cycle, worn thin by a lifetime of mental afflictions. When depressed all rational thought would leave my body, all self preservation out the window where I wish my body would follow. I was drained of any hope, allowing myself to plummet through my timeline wavering only in my self pity, reliving each and every trauma for around six months at a time. In these episodes I would seek solace in alcohol and drugs, only to deepen my sorrow.

The only thing that helped me was the right medications, a ton of therapy, and several hospitalizations. I would reflect on my position in life and lacked any fear of my situation changing, allowing me to alter how I lived. I kept my weekly therapy and psychiatrist appointment, I jumped out of bed from a man who hardly noticed me, and I moved to a different town to be with my parents. I allowed medical staff the luxury of my innermost thoughts and it provided me insight I would have otherwise overlooked. It took time, and I am glad to have invested this time in myself. I'm glad I spent a solid year focusing on just myself. Sometimes it's best to be a little selfish.