Hello world!

 My blog name is Tash.  This is my blog about Bipolar disorder, or as it is more commonly known , Manic Depression. You will find throughout this blog  the aforementioned disorder’s labels.  Bipolar disorder and Manic Depression will be interchangeable as if they are one and the same.  Some will argue with that, saying Manic Depression is an old antiquated label that carries with it reams of stigmas and old wives tales.   However, this is the most widely recognized name for this disorder.  And so, it will be used from time to time in order for my reader’s to understand the mental illness I am discussing.

I am a fellow sufferer of Manic Depression.  I was diagnosed with Bipolar disorder when I was twenty-five.  I believe, however, that I have suffered the ill effects of this disease since I was thirteen years old.  Sadly, I had to suffer in silence for over ten years before someone would diagnose my illness.  I am amazed even today that I survived those tumultuous years of ups, downs and sideways.  

Regardless of how frenzied my behaviour became, rising to absolutely ludicrous heights and dropping to unnatural lows, I was denied a legitimate diagnosis with which I could have found some relief.  I attempted suicide more than a dozen times in that span of ten years; some I reported to doctors and some I kept to myself.  I was treading water in the deepest end of the cerebral ocean of emotions that can be the soul and I was running out of the will to keep paddling.  I was almost to tired to really care.

I was told repeatedly by health care professionals that the psychiatric profession did not like to diagnose these disorders before a patient was twenty-five.  I would sit there dumbfounded and wonder how many people have had to struggle with this unforgiving illness before they were deemed eligible for a diagnosis?  I would wonder how many suicides would be prevented if people were allowed to find treatment sooner rather than later?  I know how many times my demons drove me to the brink of life and death before my lithium took those thoughts and urges away.

You see, a diagnosis is an important thing.  Diagnosis means medications and medications mean the ability to function on a daily basis on a relatively even keel.  It can mean the difference between life and death.  It did to me.  My life changed when I received my diagnosis and when I discovered the name of that demon that haunted my mind.  I then knew what I could do to fight back and fight back I did!

Now that I have been able to identify my illness and it’s control over me, I have been able to understand it better and learn more about myself.  It has been a long and painful road to this new self-awareness, but it has been necessary for my mental health.  I am now able to recognize my symptoms and anticipate an emotional crisis before it can become extremely dangerous to my personal well-being.

I now am a relatively content housewife with one beautiful child and a loving husband.  I live in a normal house in a normal city and lead a relatively normal life.  These are things that I never believed were mine to have.  I felt unworthy of such contentedness.  

I believe many bipolar sufferers feel the same feelings.  I want these people to see their future not as cursed but as teeming with possibilities.  They too can work towards a path to personal emotional well-being.  

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