WHAT RECOVERY MEANS

Merriam-Webster's Dictionary defines BIPOLAR DISORDER : 

"any of several psychological disorders of mood characterized usually by alternating episodes of depression and mania —called also manic depression, manic-depressive illness". 

I've been depressed most of my life. The last time I remember feeling real joy while I was growing up was when I was about five or six. I got up early and got ready for school, just bursting with happiness and eagerness to get there. One of my family members came and told me that it was Saturday and that there was no school.  The good feelings I had whooshed out like air out of a balloon. I don't know why this sticks in my mind; it's just an instance I clearly remember.

In 1990, I was first diagnosed with clinical depression. I got medications and psychological treatment. My care was excellent, but I was going through this continuous up-and-down cycle that no one seemed to know how to help me with. I had many different psychiatrists and therapists, usually because of insurance changes, and each time I thought I finally would find the answers with new treatment.

It took until 2006 for me to get the proper diagnosis.  Here are a few reasons why:

• My doctors, though excellent clinicians, didn't know enough about bipolar disorder to look for the symptoms. Very few in the medical community really knew much about manic and depressive mood swings at that time.
• I did not go see my psychiatrist when I was in a manic (high) cycle. I felt good, so I thought that was normal. It wasn't until I crashed down into deep depression that I would get help. Also, many times when I saw psychiatrists and therapists, I put on a "good face", hiding how low I really felt.
• I thought that the up-and-down cycles I went through over and over were an indication of my failure to get well. I thought was beyond help and felt like giving up.

Then, in March 2006, I moved and needed to change psychiatrists again. By some miracle, my doctor referred me to University Hospital's Mood Disorder Program. There I was asked to fill out a questionnaire about bipolar disorder and I answered "yes" to 8 out of 10 questions for symptoms. I didn't believe it. I remember that the the doctor wanted me to enter University Hospital's Intensive Outpatient Program (IOP) as soon as possible.   I actually told her I didn't have time for that, I needed to go to work! Gently, she explained that I had a much more important priority than work. 

Thank God for that day. That meant up-and-down cycles I was blaming myself for were part of my disorder. The high I experienced wasn't the "normal" mood I felt I had to maintain, it was mania.  I hadn't failed at managing my depression. What a relief!  I wasn't so abnormal that I was beyond help. There were treatments and medications that could help me.

Over the last six years I have learned more about bipolar disorder and myself than I ever thought possible. It's been a long and hilly climb up, the important word is UP.  Even though I've sometimes felt like I'm back at the beginning, I'm always in a better place than I was in the past. 

So what does this illness mean to me today?  It means that I've been on a journey of growth that is sometimes joyful and sometimes exasperating. The main thing I've learned is to see and change the ways I had of thinking and reacting to life's hurdles. Following is an example of enormous growth for me:

Recently my daughter told me some things about myself I didn't want to hear. I had hurt and disappointed her by not following through on a commitment, and she was upset. She knows this is one pattern I've had when I'm in depression.  Being in the throes of illness is like being in a cocoon.  It doesn't always feel great, but it's a safe place to hide.  I don't feel much except apathy and indifference for the world out there.  Since I had let her down like in the past, she questioned whether or not I was really well.

My daughter is having her own struggles with depression.  She thought this was just one more incident in a long line of disappointments.  If this was true, and all my work and medication hadn't made me well, what hope did she have for her own recovery?
I felt like my heart had stopped. My daughter knows all too well what I've been through, and the struggles I've had to stay on top of my depression. She knows often I've questioned my own wellness, and that her honest reaction could rock me to my core.  I feared that if she thought I was in a possible relapse, then maybe it was true. It took tremendous courage on her part to confront me.

Here is how what happened after that indicates recovery:

• I felt the pain and cried. That wouldn't have happened before. I would have gotten angry and defensive, and justified the perfect opportunity to overeat and stuff my feelings down.
• I didn't try to fix my daughter's feelings. In the past I would have bent over backwards to alleviate the pain she was experiencing, instead of crying and showing how hurt I felt.
• I was able to see the truth about what my daughter said. Though I didn't like it, I had to accept responsibility for my part of the problem. There were hurt feelings on both sides. I had to acknowledge that my actions were the problem, not hers.
• Her opinion of me did not change the way I felt about myself. There was a time when I would have been completely crushed by what she said and gone into a downward spiral of depression. I made a mistake; I didn't have a relapse. That is a very important distinction.
• I didn't make depression the fall guy. It's been very easy for me to say "I was too depressed to deal with that." Part of being well is stepping up and admitting that I have to work hard to stay out of past patterns of behavior.
• We were able to talk directly and honestly about finding solutions to the problem. I had to admit that I was wrong. That is not what I would have done in the past. I would have paraded my hurt like a martyr, hoping to make her feel guilty for her honesty. I would have dissolved into tears, hiding behind them so that she would feel sorry for me, and I would be off the hook for taking any action to resolve the issue. I would have let her think that she "had made me depressed" and turned everything back around to her responsibility.
  
  

  

  
  Was our interaction perfect? No. Were our feelings all smoothed over and everything solved like the end of  a 'Brady Bunch' episode? No. Was it easy? Hell no. The difference today is that I am still standing. I admitted I was wrong and took action to heal the hurts. I took care of my feelings instead of expecting the other person to do it. As a result, my daughter and I came to an understanding that has improved our relationship. Now we talk about what expectations are on both sides and communicate more clearly what we need from each other. 
  

  This is recovery.

  
  

For more information on depressive illnesses:

University Hospitals

Mood Disorders Program

10524 Euclid Ave

Cleveland, OH 44106

(216) 844-2400