What it’s like to have bipolar disorder

A mental health experience from a 27-year-old woman from the UK

I’m 27, I’m a woman, I live in the UK, and I have bipolar disorder.

When I type “bipolar” into search engines a common question is “what is it like to have bipolar?”, I’d like to offer my personal experience and what I’ve learned

Although the condition affects everyone differently, and there are various ‘types’ of bipolar disorder which can be combatted by other diagnosis or undiagnosed issues, I will try my best to outline what living with bipolar is like for me.

I’ve been diagnosed with of ultra-rapid cycling bipolar two disorder.  The rapid cycling part means that my moods very quickly change, even throughout one day.

The ‘bipolar two’ part means that I do not often experience ‘mania’ in the sense that someone with bipolar one would. I instead experience ‘hypomania’ or ‘mixed states’ and bipolar depression.

Hypomania is a boosted mood and for me, a mixture of extremely high-energy, pressurised speech, unrealistic expectations and goals, delusions and sometimes audible and visual hallucinations.

People have told me that my pupils enlarge in this state, and I also experience bruxism, a little like what one experiences under the influence of amphetamines. Overall, it is a pleasant and sometimes euphoric experience; however, some of the choices and behaviours I’ve had in this state have proven far from healthy

Bipolar depression is tough to cope with and is commonly mixed with anxiety and stress which makes it incredibly hard to manage. It’s an entirely different reality than what you experience in your baseline mental state. As a coping mechanism, I go into ‘de-realised’ state, often feeling completely out of my body as it tries to separate myself from the pain I’m experiencing. This mental escapist tactic is ideal for suicide ideation as you simply do not feel like ‘you’. It is a severe mental state wrecking havoc on you physically and emotionally as well as mentally

In the experiences that I have with this disorder, I would say that mixed states are the most dangerous of the abnormal moods. Mostly because you feel incredibly depressed and possibly suicidal, but also have energy and delusions as well as derealisation. You are not within your right mind and have the power you lack from in depressive states to possibly act on delusions and unhealthy thoughts.

I’ve been yoyoing from these different mood states for as long as I can remember.

The time frames between being symptom-free or in a considered ‘normal’ mood to having an episode was much longer, and that time frame has shortened, and the states have increased in intensity as I’ve gotten older.

So how does it feel to me? Exhausting, terrifying, liberating and insane.

Going from one extreme to another so quickly means that you don’t get to recover from each state and come to terms with your behaviours and how this has impacted the people around you as well as your life before the shuttle on the rollercoaster climbs or drops again. The constant up and down and the inability to think has many times made me think I’m going crazy.

As a woman, my menstrual cycle has a direct influence on the rollercoaster, and through research and trials with my psychiatrist and doctor, may explain why I am suffering from such a quickly rapid-cycling version of the disorder. I hope to contribute to as many studies as I can to better the understanding of menstruation and how it can trigger bipolar episodes.

One, often grossly romanticised, but a rewarding element of bipolar disorder, for me, is its creativity. It’s no saving grace by a long shot, but I am working as an artist full-time and feel I can creatively express myself in many different states of the illness. Creativity along with a hypomania as long as it doesn’t climb too high can be a pleasant experience. It’s only a tiny light in a tough disorder, however, and I would easily give this up to have a day or full week or maybe a month in one state, naturally without the need for a mixture of drugs.

I don’t buy into the stigma surrounding taking medication and find the “zombie” illustration people paint with their out-of-date thinking of medicating mentally ill people bordering on offensive and satirical.

I currently take lamotrigine for mood stabilisation, firstly used as an epileptic drug, it is also now used to treat mood stabilisation in bipolar. It’s the only other drug than lithium to be FDA approved for mood stabilisation in bipolar.

It is less efficient for hypomania and mania but is incredible for bipolar depression. It works with the brain’s neurotransmitters, and release of glutamate, which new studies are proving are abnormalities of the bipolar brain.

I also take Citalopram a SSRI antidepressant, not usually recommended for bipolar as in many cases can trigger a manic episode. I find, in my case, I’m determinedly depressive and have taken a downward spiral whenever I’ve removed it from my physiology.

I have also taken antipsychotics in the past, such as quetiapine, abilify and risperidone but have only found them to exasperate my delusions rather than help and drag me down into a depressive episode further.

I do have an excellent quality of life despite my condition, but I haven’t always. The condition has masked my ability to communicate healthily in various contexts, I’ve lost jobs, gotten into debt and put a strain on myself and people close to me.

I would not have this quality of life now if I were not taking medication and receiving the help I need from psychiatrists, psychologists, doctors and support workers as well as a supportive friendship group and family. I am so much luckier than most, more talking surrounding the illness needs to happen to aid understanding in helping its sufferers and the other people affected by it as well as eradicating stigma.

More funding and more innovative methods adopted in hospitals and labs around the world and further mental health support for all mental illness available in schools, business and within local communities would lessen later strain on emergency departments, hospitals, health services, carers and families. Too often people have to arrive at a desperate state before help. Some don’t make it so far.

I have an aim to speak as openly and honestly about my experiences to help as much as I can to support others, understand myself and be an instrument in further scientific developments in this disorder.

Living with bipolar is a truly horrible experience, and I won’t sugarcoat it, but it can be managed with the right help, and people can have a high quality of life.