Diary of a Bipolar

I'm starting this as a diary of sorts about my life having bipolar disorder. Some of it will be daily occurrences; some of it will be memories and history.

I was diagnosed in August of 2003. What led up to it was that I was having difficulty concentrating at work. I couldn't stay focused; my mind was always wandering; I was getting much less done than I should have been. I was diagnosed as being Attention Deficit and the dr. put me on Adderall, which is an amphetamine - pure speed. This had a very bad effect.

After I had been on the Adderall for a while I couldn't concentrate at ALL. My production was so low it was crazy. What little I was able to get done was mostly due to the fact that I knew my boss was in the next room waiting for me to give him things. And unfortunately it just so happened that my boss went on vacation as this was going on. I got NOTHING done while he was away. I simply couldn't concentrate on anything for more than a few minutes. I kept berating myself for being so "weak" that I wouldn't do the work but it didn't occur to me that there was something physically wrong to cause that. The day before he was scheduled to return I took all the stuff home - the files, the transcription machine, etc... I thought that I would be able to concentrate more at home but of course that was a silly idea. It didn't do the slightest bit of good.

The most prominent bipolar symptom that manifests itself in me is rage. The stupidest things would set me off. In the space of an instant I'd go from "normal" to pure rage. I would throw things across the room; break things; scream and yell; punch the wall; and a few times I came close to being abusive to my daughter. When I was on the Adderall she would do or say something minor and I would feel positively murderous. I was afraid of what I might do if I lost my temper so I would go in my room and refuse to deal with her until I calmed down. This scared the hell out of me.

I ended up checking myself into the psych ward because I knew *something* was wrong but I didn't know what. My first reaction upon being told I was bipolar was, "No way! I am not crazy!" but I agreed to give the meds a try. Let me tell you - the Lamictal has been an absolute miracle drug for me in terms of the rage. I very, very rarely get mad like that anymore, and if I do, I feel it is appropriate to the situation.

After I was released from the hospital I educated myself on bipolar disorder. I read voraciously anything I could find about it. I realized that there were so many things about myself that I had been putting myself down for, for feeling like a failure, were actually bipolar symptoms. In one way that was a relief "Hey, there's a reason for this!" but in another way it was simply confirmation that I was indeed what I considered "crazy."

After I had been on the meds a while like many other people I decided I didn't need them anymore and I stopped them. The rages came back within a week and I immediately went back on the meds. I don't like myself like that.

Since then I have come to the realization that bipolar disorder isn't "crazy." It's a biologically based illness just like diabetes. And I need my meds just as diabetics need their insulin.

So that's the brief history of how I got diagnosed... more to come.