My Illness

I'm reading a book about Bipolar Disorder. I just started it and I'm not in love with the fact that the author keeps calling it an illness.

To me, an illness means that it's something that you eventually heal from and it goes away. Like a UTI. Or a cold. Or an upper respiratory infection.

I try to think of other words that might fit.

Condition. My thinking is that this is something that will never go away but can be somewhat controlled with proper care. If I take my meds, go to therapy, eat well, exercise and keep myself in a very low-stress environment, I'm pretty much okay. But finding myself in a very loud, noisy environment will freak me out in varying degrees. There are other triggers, too.

I'm beginning to learn when I'm in throes of mania or depression. There are sometimes accompanying physical symptoms. Such as, when I find myself in Barnes & Noble, torn between buying these books (big stack) and those books (smaller but more expensive stack), I'll have an "everybody out!" moment when the books get left behind and I hie me off to the ladies' room.

I also know that when I go on a manic-depressive cycle, the manic depressive builds up slowly, almost impossible to notice. It's like that first hill on a roller coaster. Cool, we're going up! And up! And whee! Go faster! At some point, the roller coaster stops going up and only goes down, down, down.

In the latest bout, I was able to catch myself at the tail-end of mania and managed to bring the roller coaster into the station and a smooth end to the ride. It was a first, I think, and a relief that I didn't have to crawl into that dark, dank hole of depression.

I've also figured out that I do need to buy groceries, no matter how painful. Knowing I have healthy stuff around to eat makes me feel more secure. Also, I feel better when I stay away from all that pre-made stuff.

So, I'm learning to cope, learning to deal. And trying not to love the manic part as much as I do.