I think it’s time to have the talk with a Doctor again. Previously there hadn’t to my mind seemed to be enough evidence that warranted this. But events of these last few days have forced me to re-consider and most certainly warrant raising the subject again when I resume seeing a psychiatrist.
Without going into details, this past weekend (which was a long weekend in my end of the universe) featured what might be hypomanic episode, the first that I am aware of. Many of the signs were there, inflated self-esteem, impulsiveness, short sleeping periods and racing thoughts. It was a persistent state for a significant portion of the weekend.
I’ve been over this ground before, with my previous psychiatrist, and we both agreed that my mood dysfunction is unipolar, in the extreme, towards a depressed state. It seemed obvious though that if anything happened that required re-evaluating that we would do so.
I think this weekend definitely qualifies.
While there doesn’t seem to have been any last damage, there is no denying that I made some very foolish choices too that could have gone a lot worse if I’d been a bit unlucky. Perhaps, it was just a burst of enthusiasm and relief given all the positive changes that have occurred to me over these last few weeks, a pent up need to celebrate and release the stress that I’ve been holding in.
It may just be that too. But it has also forced me into some hard thinking as well.
Obviously I have been thinking about my own behaviour and how I felt during this entire episode. But I have also been thinking about my own past behaviour, looking for other signs of hypomania. So far, I’m not finding anything all that outstanding though.
But I have also been re-considering my entire thought process towards the question of Bipolar disorder and whether or not I am experiencing that. I have to admit, whenever this has been brought up, I have been very reluctant to accept that I might have a Bipolar disorder and have often strenuously made a case that I am not experiencing bipolar.
Why am I so resistant to being diagnosed with Bipolar?
Having the right diagnosis obviously is important in order to get the right treatment plan. And at the end of the day, it’s just a label that we apply to what we’re struggling with, a convenient verbal cue that sums up a wide range of experiences that I have gone through.
And yet, a Bipolar diagnosis to me seems wrong.
Perhaps it is because I have almost never experienced the hypomanic periods. I have been down for so long and in a such a brutal, horrible darkness. That is what Depression is.
To turn around and then say that I have Bipolar, a disorder characterized by mood swings seems ridiculous. It’s absurd. In a way, it almost feels like it’s trying to invalidate my own experience.
I suppose that also shows how wrapped up Depression and my struggle with it has become in my own identity. It’s role in my life as Nemesis, as explanation, as reason for much of what I’ve gone through seems firmly entrenched. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. I think it’s certainly a part of the healing process, accepting what I am going through.
I have to wonder though, if part of why I feel this way is because I feel like my identity is being threatened by a revised diagnosis?
I have a lot of thinking to do. Again.