Hi. I’m Nikki.
I mentioned in my introduction that I have a mental illness. To start, I am going to go into a bit more detail as to what that means for me, my journey with it, and the help I have been able to obtain.
I was 14 when I saw my first therapist.
I had tried to commit suicide, survived without anyone knowing, and decided to talk to someone. It was just some guy at my high school who sat and listened to me talk for 40 minutes a week, and only for a few weeks. He thought I needed to see a doctor, but I didn’t want to. I wanted to feel better, but I didn’t know what was wrong, and I certainly did not want to try to explain that to my family. I was just scared and sad all of the time, even when I did not think I should be.
I started seeing the next therapist at 16:
Right before I started self-harming. I cycled through a few of them for the next 10 years before finally finding someone I could connect with. Since I was linked up with her, my life has improved 10-fold. Still, I think I am getting a bit ahead of myself.
Backing up to about 3 years ago
I started seeing a psychiatrist at the request of my then therapist. I had been suffering from an intense depression and she thought medication could make a substantial difference for me. That was the first time I was officially diagnosed with anything: depression. Many people in my family had been diagnosed with depression, so I wasn’t shocked. From that point moving forward, my natural cycles coupled with the medication induced cycles which resulted in numerous medication changes, suggested diagnoses, and three hospital stays.
Being Bipolar
It wasn’t until I got a more complete family history that Bipolar was even considered, and that was just over a year ago. Finally, I was properly diagnosed and medicated, and I have been able to recognize which parts of my life are related to mental illness versus those that are just me being poorly prepared to cope with life. So, yes, I have Bipolar Disorder I. That means I have very high periods, where I have what seems like limitless energy, where my moods sway from euphoric to irritated and back again, and where I can sleep two hours a night and no one thinks I am tired. I also have my low periods of deep depression, usually at their worst right after a high, when I struggle to get out of bed, when anxiety accompanies every move I make, and when I cry when the barista at Starbucks doesn’t smile right away when I walk up. There is much more to it than that, but that is a very general description. Everything else is sort of extra to me.
Finding a Team
I have been able to work with a talented therapist for about a year now. In the beginning, I resisted even the most basic of coping skills. I didn’t believe she would be able to help me, or that she even wanted to. I would get so angry that she would suggest that deep breathing might actually help when I was upset. It took a long time to really trust her, and I still struggle with that, but I have come a long way, and I trust her more than I have ever trusted anyone.
The team of people I have working with me include my psychiatrist, my therapist, my primary care doctor, and a couple of close friends and family members. These team members are essential to managing my illness. There are times when I don’t realize I am relapsing into unhealthy behaviors, but one of these people might. These are people I trust, who know my symptoms, as well as the consequences surrounding those symptoms, and who aren’t afraid to tell me, in a straightforward way, something is wrong. They are also people I can talk to when I know something is not right, and who will talk with me, and if necessary, take the difficult steps to get me help.
Some of the tools I use are my medications, DBT and process therapy, journals, and art supplies. Medications are a daily necessity. Therapy has taught me the skills I need to confront my illness. I do not always succeed. When I fail, I tend to fail magnificently. The point is, I get up and try again. Sure, I still cry in the closet, but I don’t cut when I am there. At least I haven’t in a while. Instead, I cry, and I journal, or I draw, and I am sad, and I just… am… sad. That is one example.
Okay, that is my story, in a pretty concise way. I am sure there is more to learn that will be exposed in any posts I make. Hopefully right now you feel less alone, you understand that the struggle is real, and that there is help. My advice? Find a therapist. Start there, and do not settle. It may take a while to get linked to the right therapist. Still, he or she is out there.
*You can do this. *
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