The Bipolar Blogging Mom

It has been 5 years since this photo was taken approximately. This was the moment I was told I have bipolar. I took a video actually so I could remember what the doctor instructed me to do with my latuda and PRN anxiety med. I remember that it felt like I knew it was coming but wasn’t prepared for the words coming out of his mouth. Something felt so freeing about it because he didn’t bat an eye at my erratic stories or behavior but instead quickly found answers and conclusions and a plan which I so desperately needed. But the realization that this was a lifelong illness that I needed to manage with a team was so daunting and troubling. I felt like I was “sick”. So I went on for months and years believing I had this disease and I was a sick person. I felt like I was that person to my friends and family and coworkers. Anytime I was too loud, obscene, or intrusive I felt like I needed to apologize on behalf of my bipolar. Any time of arousal whether it be physical or mental made me worry I was spiraling.

A few years later, I had the manic episode that was the down fall of my 2019 year. I almost ruined my marriage, I faced jeopardizing the safety of myself son and others and I could’ve ruined my career. It was a very scary time that is a very private story to me now. But I explain it to say that it’s when my meds needed revamping because something shifted in my mental chemistry and I was considered “bipolar 1” now. I was hospitalized, and seen by specialists and had out patient twice a week. I was constantly self harming and found a lust for being the girl with hidden cuts and sunken eyes because I took on the facade of being the sick girl. It became my identity. I don’t always think it was an excuse as I tried really hard to take on my responsibility, but I did find myself constantly finding a connection to my actions back to bipolar. I was Ariel, the bipolar mom.

As the years have past, I’ve had a lot of trial and errors with meds, counseling, and doctors. I’m currently in one of the healthiest states I’ve experienced in a long time. And one thing that has greatly contributed to that is my therapist has introduced to me the notion that I am not the “sick” girl. I am not my pain, condition, or bipolar. And that people have treated me as such for a long time, and it’s become an identity. I’m still working on fully learning about a side of me that isn’t this weathered and torn girl, but instead, an intelligent creative and outgoing woman who yearns for social connection and has a desire for self growth to benefit those I serve. I don’t regret not knowing this sooner – I think toxic Ariel needed to feel sick for a while so I could radically decide that that is no longer something I want to be. I am deeply disturbed and disgusted by what my illness changed into, and I think having that relationship with my bipolar allows me to never go back to that again. I wouldn’t have known what to do with that radical self love at the time. But now I am ready and embracing it.