Boldly Co-Existing with Mental Illness

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In my senior year of college I had a psychotic manic episode and was hospitalized for two weeks. At 21 years old I received a lifelong companion, bipolar disorder.

My new companion overwhelmed me for almost two years. I was doped up, depressed, and I gained 50 pounds. During that time I remember going to my psychologist and just sitting in her office, silent. Thankfully, she would not poke and prod me, force me to speak or demand that I act. She would just repeat a mantra during those otherwise quiet hours, “Give it time, Adam. Give it time.”

I took her advice and I found ways to pass the time. I managed to graduate from college. I only had a semester remaining, so I dropped my international affairs major, took art, dance, and a literature class and got a general liberal arts degree. I spent my time between classes sleeping in my car. Then I got a job that demanded little of me. At home I slept, watched TV, smoked on my balcony, ate microwave dinners, and read Harry Potter. And reluctantly, yet consistently, I took my medications. This was my life for 19 months.

Then, in the heart of the Brazilian Amazon, something changed.

It was our first family vacation in many years. Our plans dissolved within 24 hours when our guide, who we had depended on for all our reservations and transportation, turned out to be a swindler. We were left to our own devices and had to marshal all our talent (and Portuguese) to make it up on the fly. I had been very nervous going into the trip because Brazil seemed so far away from my carefully nurtured post-traumatic comfort zone.

But when our plans fell apart, I found that I had something to contribute: my humor.

Growing up, my older brother had been the hot one and I was the funny one. But for the year after my hospitalization, I made very few jokes and most of my smiles were forced. Then, in the jungle, in the embrace of my crazy hectic family vacation, when we all needed a little comic relief, I was able to play that role. I had them cracking up!

I was reminded on that vacation that I have a role to play in this world. I am a brother and son. I am a community member and a friend. I am a talented change agent. I realized the most important thing in my life was to play those roles well, and to do so I had to learn to boldly co-exist with bipolar disorder.

When I returned to Cincinnati, I made some changes. I joined Weight Watchers and dropped my weight. I started exercising and reading the news. I looked for jobs in the international affairs field and found one in Washington, D.C.

I had a lot of help to make these changes. I made a major adjustment to my medications and for the first time they were helping. My professionals continued to support me. My mom found the job posting. My brother and sister-in-law were in D.C. and helped me adjust. I was on my way.

Now, I am nine years into my journey with bipolar disorder and I have learned a lot. I am vigilant about my physical health. I eat well, exercise, and am fanatic about getting solid sleep. Nothing throws me off kilter like sleep deprivation. To this day, I still occasionally practice the “give it time” doctrine. When I fail to care for my needs, or life just gets the best of me, my first resort is retreat. I make sure all my urgent commitments are taken care of, then I turn off my phone, curl up in my bed, stream Netflix or read a ridiculous novel and avoid the world for a while. Sometimes, I catch my fluctuation earlier and I go for a long bike ride or walk a labyrinth and that does the trick.

When I have a persistent funk, I seek out professional help. I have found help from psychiatrists, psychologists, many ministers, a psychic, and a shaman. But the biggest tool in my wellness toolbox is self-awareness. I have been forced to develop an objective view of myself. It is up to me to identify when I am losing control and figure out a way to get it back.

In many ways I am blessed. I have always had access to good professional help and I have a circle of family and friends who have always been there for me.

It has been a journey, but I have learned to live boldly with bipolar disorder. I became a leader within Unitarian Universalism, helping launch and manage the UUA’s Standing on the Side of Love Campaign. I met a woman who was definitely out of my league before I was diagnosed, and now she is my wife. I’ve earned a law degree, passed the Bar Exam, and am now practicing law with a civil rights law firm. I have accomplished this without another trip to the hospital and I’ve avoided slipping back into a depressive stupor. But my bipolar disorder is always on my mind and plays a role in every major decision I make.

During some frustrating moments my psychiatrist in D.C. reminded me that no one escapes life without having some heavy rock they struggle to push up a hill. Some of us face a Sisyphean challenge where each day’s triumph must be redone tomorrow. In that way, we may be absurd heroes. But each night when I pop my pills and lay down next to my wife, my never-ending struggle toward the heights is enough to fill my heart.