Thread by @chrisgeidner

OK, it’s a perfect time to talk about World Bipolar Day, which was now yesterday. (Get it? 🙃)

Anyway, my story. I was diagnosed with Bipolar II at 20, after having had to move back home to Ohio from DC after a summer of not being able to hold down a job.

Earlier in the year, around Memorial Day, I’d checked myself into Sibley Memorial Hospital for help — at the strong urging of my dearest friends. It wasn’t the solution, but it started me on the path. I was started on an anti-depressant, which got me over the “no meds” hurdle.

The summer was both not all bad by memory — yet obviously a complete disaster of a shitshow by all actual evidence. By the end of the summer — I tried to work at Kramerbooks for a week, but that didn’t work! — I was out of money and weighed 115 pounds. In August, I moved home.

As soon as I saw a doctor in Ohio, it was clear there was more than depression going on, so we started on a new path. I changed meds, read all about bipolar, and started — slowly — pulling my life back together. I started working, eventually moved into an apt, found a new path.

I also turned 21 and part of me ignored the warnings I read about addiction and bipolar disorder (and my own family history) as I started drinking more regularly. That led to problems—and, eventually, sobriety—but, as I learned later, I used it to cope w/ my bipolar mood swings.

But the healthy — and unhealthy — coping mechanisms helped me move forward. I graduated from college at Youngstown State (after having started at American), worked for a campaign and at a newspaper, and went to law school at Ohio State.

As the drinking increased, my caring about taking my meds—a pill in the morning and another at night—decreased. I’d go a month or two off my meds here and there. (Note: Not good!) Drinking, irregular meds, and not really paying attention to my mental health caused more shitshows.

Eventually, that left me unable to find — or really care about finding — a job, which eventually led to friends, this time, basically teaming up and telling me it was time to move back to DC. I wanted to do it, but I was completely stuck. They helped make it possible.

I moved back to DC, living with dear friends out in Virginia. I started Metroing into the city and applying for jobs. I was blogging. That led to Metro Weekly, covering DC marriage and then the start of “don’t ask, don’t tell” repeal. But, I was still drinking.

After like 6 months back in DC — and a few more shitshows — I eventually had enough of the drinking and started on the path to sobriety. It was only then, however, (and, honestly, a couple years in) that I realized I needed to focus again on learning to live with bipolar — sober.

While there were many parts of that process that were tough and painful, that combination — facing how to live with my bipolar *and* my addiction — is what created the life I lead today. It just opened up a whole new world — one that actually made sense to me.

It’s different, it’s not what I imagined for myself — but it’s so much better than so many of the other possibilities. And, honestly, I think my addiction and my bipolar, and what I’ve learned about living with them, helped me so much with making it through this past year.

And my life is fulfilling. Even when I had to change my meds for the first time in 20 years during a depressive episode during this stupid pandemic, I took it in stride — grateful that there was something to help me.

Most importantly, those two experiences, learning to live with bipolar and addiction, can save me when I do screw up — something that still happens every day, in ways large and small — if I’m honest with myself.

Anyway, I’m here. Living with bipolar can be tough — but learning to live with it can open up a world like none that you’ve ever known.

Love to everyone who is traveling on their own journeys with bipolar. 💖

Love also to Vincent van Gogh, whose birthday is why March 30 is World Bipolar Day. ... At the end of 2005, I saw the Van Gogh drawings exhibit at The Met, and two drawings nearly stopped my breath. They are two of my favorite works of art. He drew them shortly before his death.

I just scrolled through an online version of the book from the exhibit to find them. This is the first time I’ve seen them in years, and they are almost as powerful now — on my phone — as they were in person. The emotion he conveys in “the blue drawings” is so stark. My heart! 💙

Stigma over mental health diagnoses must end.

I am privileged enough, have the support systems in place, and am OK enough right now to share my story to help chip away at that stigma a little bit. Not everyone can or should or wants to do that, and that’s 100% OK.

So, that’s my story. If you need help, reach out to someone. My DMs are open, although I’m obviously not a professional. If you’re not doing well, and need to talk to someone, please try the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: suicidepreventionlifeline.org

Night, all, and let us try to be good to one another — and ourselves. 💙