Living Beyond the Diagnosis

I am a busy mom of 4 amazing kids.

As the incessant beeping of my alarm begins at 6:00AM sharp, I roll over and slam my hand down on the clock, trying to find the off switch. I know better than to hit the snooze button. I know that if I do that I won't move from my bed until an hour or more later; I know that I have to keep with my routine. Groggily I roll out of bed and begin my day. Bathroom. Kitchen to make a cup of tea. Living room with my phone, the laptop, or a book for an hour. As 7:00AM approaches it's time to move from my spot on the couch and wake up the kids, move to the kitchen to help them with breakfast or making lunches... eat my own breakfast. As they begin to get ready for school it's time for me to shower and dress, followed by an outing of some sort (exercise on most days, occasionally groceries or a meeting or an appointment). I work part time so sometimes I go to work, sometimes I write or edit or read or bake or meal prep. The afternoon and evenings consist of more predictable routine - school bus, reading and homework for the kids, supper, evening sports and activities... baths and bedtimes and down time for the adults, followed by of course a steady bedtime for me. 

I am a dedicated wife.

It looks like a normal schedule for a busy parent of four kids and from the outside I look like I have it all together. It looks like I'm just another mom, running around - doing errands, taking kids to activities and swimming lessons, and maintaining a typical family home. As I move through the grocery checkout I smile at the cashier and make small talk, I listen to music piped from my phone to the car stereo on my way home, sometimes singing along and belting out the words at the top of my lungs. I've maintained a house that is usually clean and well organised, I've managed to hold a job with the same company for nearly six years... moving through different positions and transitions, and I've got four amazing, well behaved kids who receive compliments on their behaviour wherever we go. 

Life for me looks good. It looks positive. It looks healthy. 

And right now, at this stage of my recovery journey, it is healthy - despite my recent hospitalisation. I'm doing (almost) everything right and I'm willing and able to participate fully in my life and my own recovery. I'm able to stick with routine and use skills when I feel myself slipping or triggered - I know who to call and what to do if those skills stop working, and I know who I am without tacking on bipolar or borderline to the end of my name. 

I am creative and I am a photographer.

And that's the tricky part. One of the biggest events for my journey was the day I sat in the doctor's office and heard the words Bipolar Disorder for the first time in reference to my moods and behaviours. Oddly enough, it didn't freak me out to be diagnosed with such a serious condition. Maybe it was the lifetime of unpredictable mood swings, the hallucinations and lack of sleep, the constant battle between fine, and beyond fine - creative and motivated and risky and energetic, and so depressed that I wanted to end my life; it made sense to me. But it also began to define me. I didn't realise at the time how much I began to cling to the description of what made me the way I was. I did research on the subject and became well aware of what I was doing and why I did it... as much information is available on bipolar disorder, I found it. And then it became me. As I met with the Psychiatrist over several appointments and he confirmed the initial diagnosis, I began to incorporate it into my perception of who I was. I began to feel restricted and defined. I began to fight with myself because as much as it was me tacking on the defninition of bipolar to who I was, I also didn't want to be categorized that way. I didn't know what direction I was headed and while I tried to gather a support system and understand my new way of life, of the medications I was taking, and the way I thought I should now be living - I became lost inside of myself and it became a constant fight to figure out who I was. 

I am fun, and kind, and enthusiastic.

It was a daily battle. A struggle to find my place as I continually researched and learned more about the disorder. It fit. Mostly. And so it became who I was;  I didn't know who I was aside from having a mood disorder. I picked up words in my vocabulary and often referred to myself (behind a mask of humour) as crazy, nuts, or psychotic. I didn't see an end to the illness, a different way of living aside from constantly trying to keep my head above water and float along... after all, it was only a matter of time before another episode would occur.

And of course, eventually it did occur... several different episodes, with several different outcomes. It wasn't until I was finally hospitalised again after attempting suicide and a second diagnosis was added (Borderline Personality Disorder) that things started to really click for me. At first it was confusing though; I knew who I was - I was the Bipolar one, not the Borderline one. I didn't agree with the doctor and it took a few days, once again researching and talking to nurses and social workers before I finally managed to say to myself - look, this diagnosis fits as well, maybe you can be both. 

So I continued to read and research and really talk to people. I learned about what the disorders each entailed and where they affected my life, where I had let them control me by defining me, and where I could take back some of my life. This was not an easy process. It wasn't simply a decision followed by an action. It has taken months and even years of learning how to cope, how to identify, and how to prevent episodes from occurring or worsening. It has taken doctors, and counselors and support. Mostly it took rediscovering who I am. Because I am not crazy, nuts, or psychotic. I am a unique individual whose brain is wired a little differently than most and needs a little extra help from time to time, to keep it on track and moving forward in my daily life. While I do have a mental illness, it is not who or what I am. I am so much more than Bipolar or Borderline. What I am is overall satisfied - despite occasional setbacks. I am an individual that is creative, healthy, kind, a good mother, an organised housewife, a writer, a photographer, an enthusiast for life and for a future, and most of all I'm simply me; I'm changing and growing every single day. 

I have hope. I'm worth it. 

I also have hope. I've seen the progress and the changes that can be made. I've lived a journey through recovery that has taken me on adventures regularly, but that I will not let destroy my hope again. That's why my daily routine is in place, that's why I look normal on the outside, my daily life reflective of the life I want and will continue to lead. It isn't always easy - some days it has felt impossible - like trudging through waist deep mud, but it is definitely worth it. Hope for tomorrow, for stability, for a lifetime that I can live fully and enjoy despite the self-checks and the meds and the therapy is worth it. Learing, growing and being who I know I am inside is worth it. 

I am going to keep talking about my journey and my mental health, keep fighting to end the stigma that we place on ourselves and others. I am worth it.

If you're struggling right now, don't give up. There is hope beyond the diagnosis. There is life, and laughter and love. There is a person waiting to be discovered. You're worth it too.