My Illness Made Me Do It

Depression/anxiety/mania made me do it.

I’ve always hated this expression… the thought that any state of being could make decisions on behalf of me, this excuse that I am somehow not responsible for my actions simply because I am unwell. Perhaps it’s because I feel that it opens a door – if I can blame the mental illness for my behaviours, then so can everyone else; it only feeds the stigma. Or perhaps it’s because I haven’t always been comfortable sharing about my mental health problems, or because I didn’t want to admit to myself that I had these disorders that truly did take over at times. Whatever the reasons have been in the past for disliking the phrase, I still try to avoid using it whenever possible.

The problem is that while I refuse to allow my illness to completely gain control of me again, it has in the past taken over any rational or logical thought processes. I didn’t know how to manage and cope with my unstable thoughts and emotions – I didn’t even know what was wrong with me. Being bipolar means that at times the depression or the mania becomes natural, they are ingrained in me and part of who I feel I am at the moment – sometimes it’s difficult to separate the harmful thoughts from the level ones, the logic from the negative voice. It can be impossible to equate the person I become with the person that I am – it can be similar to having a split mind, the behaviour different depending on my emotional state.

But I still hate using this excuse, this reasoning that “the disorder made me do it”. Because the truth is, I am not my disorder. Yes, I have an illness… but I am capable of managing symptoms and seeking help. I am capable of fighting through the clouds of darkness and recognising the energy and chaos of (hypo)mania. I am capable and I am strong. I am able to speak and write and identify what is wrong and use the skills and tools that I have gained to keep myself grounded and present. I can keep the rest of my health in check to make it easier – my physical well-being, my spiritual relationship, and my social and supportive surroundings. I can make choices that might not heal the illness but that can certainly put me on the right path and give me hope to cling to when I begin to fall. I can focus not on my limitations and the things that I have done and experienced in the past, but on hope and recovery.

Sometimes I might still need help. Sometimes I might still falter and make poor decisions. Sometimes I might not always feel strong. Sometimes I might feel like this cycle is never ending. Sometimes I might not feel in control and I might need guidance and support and love to get back to a healthy place.

But I will not let the illness win and I will not be a victim of my own mind… I will stand my ground – not alone but with friends and family to back me up – and I will fight to stay healthy. I will keep hoping and praying and talking and writing, because I know that I am worth more than being a pawn to the emotional kidnapper inside my head.

I can choose right now to focus on the illness. I can focus on the things I have felt and the way it takes over who I am and changes the way I think, feel, and act. Or I can focus on recovery… on learning and growing and grasping onto the beauty in every day. It’s never easy… life rarely is, but it is worth it and every day that I struggle, I see the tiny changes - the way I am propelled further forward in my journey than ever.

Recovery isn’t simple… it will be different for everyone. But for me, it’s about letting go of the idea, the stigma that tells me that I am only my illness and that I can’t ever fully control my thoughts, feelings, or actions. It is about taking back control, learning to see and preparing in advance for sudden curves in the road, and taking the past and using the experience to bridge gaps in the journey. Recovery is about taking back the wheel, loading up the backseat with tools and support, and taking life on as it comes at me. Sometimes it will be easy, but I will never give up.