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Polar Bears

Living with Mental Illness

By Leah BurtonPublished 6 years ago 4 min read
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A few years ago, I was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder and a severe anxiety disorder. When I initially got the news, I was in disbelief and denied everything. I had never noticed there really was anything wrong with me. I didn't spend money, like a rockstar, that I don’t have, I didn't have delusions or mood swings, and I handled myself well around people. I’ve worked since I was sixteen-years-old, went to college and made the dean's list and landed a really great job in a career I love: mental health and addictions. It seemed a natural choice, because I grew up watching people drink and use drugs daily, including my mother. I have a knack for working with people who experience mental health issues and issues with addiction, so that’s where I gravitated. I have complications with addiction myself and have worked very, very hard to get where I am.

Now came the calls. I felt I had to call my friend and family and explain my diagnoses to them and I lost some people along the way. It broke my heart, but life goes on right? My own mother quipped that I did not get it from her side of the family and I’m fairly sure I did, but I digress.

When I sat down and explained to my children about being bipolar, my son, who didn’t understand, asked if that meant I was like a polar bear. It was so adorable and heartbreaking and I cried for days.

I did start to notice why I had been diagnosed. I had spending problems, which I had never seen as a problem and I did have more than mood swings. When I was up, I was really up and when I was down, I couldn’t leave my house, answer my phone or open my mail. I couldn’t work or do housework and worst of all, I couldn’t enjoy spending time with my kids who mean more than everything to me. So I had been in denial and now it hit home. I needed help. I couldn’t go on like that. It was only getting worse without help and I couldn’t manage on my own anymore.

My biggest fear was losing what meant the most to me and that was my son and my daughter. You see, she saved my life and he kept me going and the last thing, the worst thing that could happen was losing them. I couldn’t manage a real relationship with any man, so I’m “that mom” that had two children with two different men, who are completely indifferent to their children, so all they had/have is me. I had to get better. If not for me, for them.

I take my meds and I do my best to seek help when I need it. My job helps a lot, too, as I work with people with the same issues, but some days are still dark. Some days are so dark that I can’t find my way out and I have to wait it out, so to speak. My husband is one of my biggest supporters and he knows that, for me, failure is not an option, giving up and giving in to the disparaging thoughts or the feelings of self-loathing or mania is not an option and he helps to keep me grounded. He understands when I’m not at my best and does his best to offer help, whether I take it or not.

I’m doing better now than I was ten years ago and I can share my story without fear now that I will scare people off. I know I’m not alone and each day is scary and exciting, because I wake up never knowing if I’ll be manic or depressed, regardless of the medication.

What’s most important is I know I can manage with support and love and I know I won’t let it get the best of me. They are my demons and we live comfortably together, I guess because we have to. I can’t change that part of me, but I can change how I respond to it. I educate myself as much as I can about treatments and therapy and I’ve tried them all for now and I’ll keep going, because as I said earlier, giving up is not an option. I will continue to learn to live with them as I have no choice, but that doesn’t mean I can’t try to imagine a life without them. Perhaps if I didn’t my life would have ended up very differently and I wouldn’t have my kids or my husband or my great job and maybe it’d be worse, I’ll never know. This is what I know now; I am a polar bear, strong and fierce, intelligent and compassionate and that’s what I want my kids to see and remember about me long after I am gone.

Mental illness isn’t the end of the world, but it changes your world and your view of it and I believe on some level it’s made me a better person than I was knowing I am what I am and that I have what I have. It’s a part of me, take it or leave it.

bipolar
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About the Creator

Leah Burton

I am a mother, a wife, an aspiring writer and my family is everything to me. I can be a little dark sometimes and somewhat twisted as my husband would say, but it keeps things interesting. I hope to write a great book one day. Until then...

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