Living Positively with Bipolar Disorder

by G.Y.
(College student in New Jersey)

My bipolar disorder has allowed me to experience life in richer ways. When I became sick in 1995 at the age of 22, I wouldn’t have thought that my life would have turned out this way. I was interested in many different things. My main passion was writing. My Asian family and the suburban community basically thought that to be a success story, you had to go to the “right” school or have a career as a doctor, lawyer, or engineer. When I became sick with bipolar disorder, I grew to realize that my physical health and mental health were the most important things to me. Every setback caused me to feel like a huge failure. After many years of struggle with the illness, I just wanted to be well. I prayed to God that if I could only be well, I would be happy and satisfied with my life. The “American Dream” started to recede in my brain. I started to appreciate who I was instead of trying to fit the mold of what everyone else and society expected of me. And I actively sought to appreciate the gifts that were given to me: humor, empathy for others, good friends, and a strong appreciation for life.

Before I became ill, I was just another Asian suburban kid who dreamed to become a doctor. In the midst of my junior year in college, my symptoms became noticeable. At first, it didn’t occur to me that anything was wrong. But, gradually over time, I started to feel that something was just not right. I had a severe depression in my junior year that I thought was the result of my heavy course load. My mind felt fuzzy sometimes, and I had a difficult time with concentration. Finally, I decided to take a semester off. My mother was not supportive at all. She pressured me to return to school even though I wasn’t feeling well. Under so much pressure from my family, I returned to school at a branch campus.

At school, I met my boyfriend. After three months of dating, he noticed that I was developing some weird symptoms. I started to have delusions. One of them was that my chemistry professor was out to poison me and by eating chalk, I could stop the poison from working. I was paranoid, obviously. And I had severe mood swings. My boyfriend tried to get my mother to help me. But, she would not. Instead, she threw me out of the house, multiple times. I was devastated by her behavior.

My boyfriend was very supportive of me. He moved me into his grandfather’s house and encouraged me to work. Unfortunately, by then, my symptoms were unmanageable. I sometimes took a long time to just complete one task. I could not hold down a job for more than a few months. After several years, my boyfriend became depressed. He sought counseling and this is when my situation improved. My boyfriend’s counselor thought that I had a mental illness. She urged my boyfriend to get me professional help. My boyfriend immediately took her advice. He took me to see a psychiatrist and psychologist and they confirmed that I had bipolar disorder.

The psychiatrist said that I could attend Partial-Care, a daycare program for adults with mental illness. In the morning, I would get picked up to go to the center. In the afternoon, someone would drop me off. In my mind, I was convinced that I was going to be institutionalized for the rest of my life. There was no hope, I thought. I started to think that I should take my own life. My boyfriend told me not to give up hope. He stressed that taking my own life was not an option. He is a Christian and told me that if I did that, I would end up in hell. He urged me to go on and said that no matter how hard and awful it got, I could not take my own life. I listened to him. He said that there were excellent medications and in a few years, I would be okay. My psychiatrist said that my chance of recovery was excellent. With so much support, how could I say “no”? So, I went to outpatient daycare.

My boyfriend turned out to be right. Eventually, I recovered. Today, I have Supportive Housing and have my own apartment. I work part-time as a substitute teacher and teacher’s aide. I have pursued my passion in writing and now write resumes, brochures and pamphlets for individuals, businesses, and organizations. I speak for NAMI (National Alliance for Mental Illness) about my recovery in a program called “In Our Own Voice”. I go out to various audiences and tell my story. I let them know that mental illness is nothing to be ashamed of and completely recoverable. Several of my articles have been published in local newspapers, The Courier-Post and Philadelphia Inquirer.

My story has a happy ending. My boyfriend and I are still together to this day. Sometimes, my illness does flare up. I have learned that taking care of myself physically also helps my mental health. I try to eat healthy, exercise, sleep well, and keep my stress levels low. I have many friends that I can count on. My friends and I talk to each other about the things that matter to us the most. They have been one of my greatest sources of support.

So, I keep chugging along. My motto for life has been to “keep learning.” So, while I wasn’t able to make it as a doctor, I think I lead a meaningful life. It has been a long journey for me. This excerpt from “The Road Not Taken” (Robert Frost) relates some of my experience:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less travelled by,
And that has made all the difference.

For me, the unintended road has made me a different person than when I started off at college. Life has dealt me its cards. I think I’ve played them well. I know that I’m a lucky person. I’ve had my share of troubles, but I’ve been bountifully blessed.