My worst episode of mania led to my diagnosis.
On how I was correctly diagnosed as having Bipolar Disorder 2 after being misdiagnosed as having Major Depressive Disorder.
*Content Warning: talks of suicidal ideations*
Earlier today a friend entered my Instagram DMs and asked where she could find the post I’d written about being correctly diagnosed after being misdiagnosed. She specified that it was before posting on Substack so I went to work in my Bipolar Highlight to find the specific post. I thought it’d be a good idea to update it and post it here on Substack to direct folks to in the future easily.
If you’d rather listen to me tell this story, I also posted a YouTube video on the same subject during my brief stint at vlogging (not for me).
My worst episode of hypomania led to my diagnosis.
2018
I was misdiagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder and placed on an antidepressant, Viibryd. Initially, after a trippy adjustment period, the medication seemed to be the cure for my depression. There were a few annoying side effects, and I had put on significant weight, but I felt that was a price I was willing to pay for a taste of sanity.
2019
The problem with someone who has bipolar disorder being placed only on an antidepressant is that this can increase the frequency and intensity of episodes of mania and that is exactly what happened to me. Suddenly in the latter half of the year, my medication not only seemed to stop working, but I was becoming increasingly more irritable, anxious, and suicidal. All I could think about was how crazy and miserable I felt and how I wanted it to end.
2020
The world began shutting down and my mind continued shutting down with it. I was frequently in a state of angst, panic, and agitation. I wanted out of my skin and to run away from myself but there was no escaping quarantine. Before the pandemic, I had an unhealthy coping mechanism of keeping my schedule busy so that I didn’t have much idle time to think about how truly miserable I was. Covid came in and said, “Nope, stay at home and feel that shit.”
Within a couple of days of the initial stay-at-home orders, I woke up, and decided I was going to Cleveland, OH thinking that “if I’m going to die, I at least want to be with my family.” I wasn’t quite sure if I meant from Covid or otherwise. At the time I lived across the street from an Enterprise so I walked over, rented a car, and headed home. For those who don’t know, I live in Maryland.
During that drive, I could think of nothing but ending my life. When to do it. How to do it. Doing 90-100 on a near-empty turnpike full of dangerous curves and mountains, wrestling with constant thoughts of closing my eyes or “accidentally” missing a turn. A small section only has a guardrail separating the road from the edge, and I thought, “Here’s your chance.” I ultimately decided against it because I did not want the means of ending my life to be a major inconvenience to others—which a shutdown section of a turnpike when we’re all supposed to be at home anyway definitely would.
I made it to Cleveland safely. I stayed with my sister and didn’t leave her guest bed the entire time I was there. I played and had conversations with my niece and nephew but inside I was feeling like I was losing my mind. I felt like I needed to die and I was exhausted by years of the build-up that led to this moment.
I eventually returned home to Maryland to return the rental car and quarantine with my then-boyfriend. During one of my many sleepless nights, I got up and sourced all my journals for mentions of “bipolar”, “manic”, and “depression.” From my own words, I wrote somewhat of a thesis on why I think I have bipolar disorder and emailed it to my therapist. Before that point, I hadn’t previously disclosed to either of my therapists, or my psychiatrist, that I suspected I had bipolar disorder. The label of regular ole depression felt safer. I didn’t want even more stigma associated with me. Even after typing evidence of its presence, I still hoped my therapist would reply “Girl, you trippin’!”
She said I was textbook.
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I also am bipolar and struggled a long time before finding the right meds and lifestyle. I’m doing much better these days but still not well enough for many things. How are you? I am just happy I’m happy. It took a long time to reach this point.
Thanks for sharing this! I got a similar response: “Textbook”