"Keep Your Chin Up"
by A. S.
I was used to having an abnormal brain. Depression had been my best friend since I was 12 years old. Obsessive compulsive behavior was my campanion during quiet moonlit nights within my tiny farm house. Anxiety attacks would suck the air straight out of my lungs. What I wasn't used to was mania. It poked its angry, silly, obnoxious nose into my life when I turned 21 years old. I went days without sleep. I would simply "forget" to eat for six or seven hours. I would sincerely need to spend every last penny within my pocketbook on elaborate cupcakes for my Sociology of the Family Class. I can still remember the awkward smiles on their faces at my over-the-top gesture. My cheeks still grow rosey when I recount the many times I have interrupted countless, defenseless professors so that I could talk. That's another symptom of mania; the constant urge to make a connection. Mania's anti-self also resided within my body, depression. I started to see my current pychiatrist during this time period. There were days I refused to get out of bed. I remember losing ten pounds within two weeks during one bout of depression. My mother had to take Family Leave Act and homeschool me during my senior year of high school because I refused to go to school. I spent most of my school day in the Ladies Room, sobbing. My depression literally immobilized me. I also started to see a therapist. No one could understand why my anti-depressants and therapy weren't making the difference they should have been making. Depression is what caused me to enter into inpatient care at Hampton Behavioral Center for eight days when I was 18 years old. They believed I was having psychotic features. Years later they realized it was actually mania. Click here to read or post comments.
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