A Gift?

I am involved in some online support groups for people who have bipolar disorder, and I see the same question asked repeatedly in many of the forums. "If there was a magic button you could press that would erase your Bipolar Disorder, would you press the button?"

As shocking as you might think it, I usually find that people usually respond with a "No". People living with pain, confusion, and serious and debilitating symptoms - and they don't want it to go away? That may seem bizzare to you. But I get it.

I have been considering the question myself. Would I press the button? No.

I have been thinking about my illness a lot, and trying to see if in a different light. I have changed my view on many things regarding my illness over the past few days. Yesterday I wrote about a change that had happened about how I feel about my diagnosis. Today I wanted to write about the change in how I view my illness as a whole.

I have come to see my own personal experiences as a gift. Let me explain.

During periods of hypomania, I am creative, imaginative and filled with energy. I have learned to harness that drive and focus to complete what would usually be quite daunting projects quickly and thoroughly in a short period of time. I have use the creative and imaginative aspects to write poetry and short stories. I draw, I create, I complete crafts quickly and easily, and enjoy giving my projects out as gifts. Yes, there are aspects of hypomania that I have to rein in, but I have learned to do exactly that.
Without my Bipolar Disorder, I would miss that creative and energetic aspect of myself.

I guess part of the change in how I see my disorder has to do with my realization that I have so many ways of dealing with my illness and have functioned at such a high level throughout most of my symptoms. Many people aren't capable of that. I am not here to judge people who struggle to maintain control more than I personally struggle. It's just that, apparently, because my expectations of myself are so high, I have created good plans and safeguards, and have many effective coping strategies. I had never realized how many people struggled to create plans and then follow through with them. I see this ability as a gift, and as a personal strength.

Another thing that changed my view about my own illness is the discussions I have started. People talk to me in person, or read my blog, and the discussion opens up. I start hearing about other's struggles, and have been able to point people in the right direction to receive treatment for their own mental health needs. I hear stories of family and friends, and the feeling of hopelessness that loved ones feel when they don't know how to help. I can offer my own experiences as an example, and offer suggestions and advice on how to learn how to help during a crisis. I hear people say that they didn't know much about Bipolar Disorder or other mental health issues, and that my words have opened a window, and started a discussion, and engaged them in a topic they previously know almost nothing about. I hear supportive words and encouragement, too. That helps in my own healing process.

I have been thinking about my own personal expectations, and my resolve to function and live an active, "normal" life, and the inner strength that requires. I have changed my view on things because of all these things.

If I didn't have this illness, if I wasn't open and honest about my own personal struggles - how would that change things? Would the people I have helped still be struggling on their own? Would I have a stack of notebooks and journals filled with stories and poetry? The people who have a new understanding of the illness that disrupts the lives of the people they love - would they remain confused and feeling powerless? My passions and interests - would those be dulled?

Don't get me wrong - there are plenty of things about my illness that I do not enjoy, and that are painful. But that doesn't mean that I would get rid of it, even if I could. I see the change I have initiated in my small corner of the world, and it makes the pain worth it.

I guess I have come to see myself almost like an athlete. I will experience discomfort, pain, and exhaustion in the game of life. But the game is a good game, and I am out here, helping out the group of people that count on me, and that I count on as well. My friends and my family and I - we are the team and the fans all rolled into one. Rooting for each other, offering support and assistance, and cheering each other on. I am staying in the game, and all the pain will be worth it to me, as long as everyone has a good game and enjoys themselves, and I contributed something to the game. I am strong. I am winning.