Sometimes I Am Disabled

Most people who know me know that I am bipolar. When it comes up in conversation, I don't mind sharing. I'm happy to answer questions, and I am always willing to be an advocate. Not much of my private life is actually private. On my blog I admit to having bipolar, OCD, and EDNOS. I confess to self-harm. My two in-patient hospitalizations are forever recorded on the Internet.

Despite this claim of transparency, I have a very difficult time showing that I actively struggle with these issues. I would like to present myself as a successful portrait of mental illness. The major mood swings, the cutting, the starving and purging - all elements of my past. I am "stable." Just look at me! I go to class, I have straight As, I am involved in activities. I exert a lot of effort trying to appear well-adjusted. I've been working towards being on the cover of Time, plastered on the front a box of cereal, and featured on 60 Minutes with the claim that I "conquered" mental illness.

Unfortunately, my type-A personality has set an impossible goal. I have a disability, and sometimes that means I am disabled. I am not stable right now. I have been struggling with my mood swings again. I have been having severe physical reactions to stress. But, I am learning, this does not detract from my message of advocacy. Part of representing the many individuals with mental illness is acknowledging the suffering, the heartbreak, and the difficulties that are a part of daily life.

Stability is not a magic status that occurs once you have logged a certain number of hours. Healing is a process. That process includes ups and downs. There was at least a solid month when I felt very good, but now I do not feel very good. In fact, I feel pretty bad. My blog is a place where I can acknowledge the good and the bad. It is not my job to always be a beacon of hope.

I am a human with unfortunate brain chemistry. I can live a meaningful life, I can be an advocate, and I can be a writer, but I will have days that will be lost to my illness. These lost days do not detract from my message; they are part of my message. Despite my struggles, aches, and losses, my net effect is positive. My failures amplify my triumphs, just as the rain makes the rainbow that much more beautiful. Bipolar has taught me that nothing is all good or all bad, but everything is temporary. Glean what you can from this moment, because you do not know what the next moment will bring.

So let's share these moments: the manic, the hypomanic, the stable, the depressed, the devastating, and all of the shades in between. Let's share the milestones and mistakes. We can celebrate and mourn simultaneously. It is most important that we create a community of acceptance for all states of our illness, including our wellness.

In the comments, I invite you to share one aspect of your life that is going well and one that is challenging you. For example, I am celebrating six months of being self-harm free, but I am struggling with exercising.

Drugged

I have been off Lexapro for a week now. It's my first time with 0mg since my first hospitalization in 2012. Late last year, I started taking Latuda, which is for bipolar depression. It seemed like a good time to try weaning myself off of the Lexapro.

I take a lot of meds. I used to be concerned about how the pills were "changing me," but I realized that all of the pills do is help balance me to a point where I can function normally. It seems to go against logic, but I am able to be more myself when I artificially add the chemicals that my brain lacks.

Recently I have become aware of a part of the mental health community that concerns me. Just thinking about it is making me cry right now. There are people who say that I use my pills as a "crutch." That instead of learning techniques to control my patterns of thinking and behaving, I pop pills.

I have been struggling as I have been decreasing my Lexapro. I notice that I'm having a tougher time dealing with stress, I have been more emotional, and I am having more thoughts about self harm. I don't know if this is because of the dosage change, stressful circumstances, or a combination of both.

I'm meeting with my psychiatrist on Monday, and we'll be discussing whether or not I should stay off of the Lexpro. Part of me wants to show that I can manage without it - that I can use the coping skills I've learned in therapy. I feel like if I can get through the months of April and May, I'll be fine. But the other part of me doesn't want to tempt a disaster. I can't afford to have a bad episode during these next couple months.

I honestly don't know what to do. It is entirely possible that I would be feeling this way even with the Lexapro; things are very stressful right now. I'm still functioning. I'm going to class, doing my work, and participating in activities.

For me, it's not a question of whether or not I will take medication. It's a question of how much. Without the Lexapro, I'm still taking seven pills a day. I don't think I will ever be completely drug-free, but part of me would like to embrace this chance to reduce the number of chalky tablets I put into my body.

Ultimately, I need to make this decision myself. That said, I am still interested in other opinions. It's important to note that saying no to Lexapro right now doesn't mean that I can never go back on it. I think that all of us have different ways of dealing with our conditions and that we shouldn't feel shame in taking medication or choosing not to take it anymore. I'm just trying to figure out which way is right for me.