Kristina’s Story
I am a 21-year-old college student living with bipolar disorder. This is my story.
I was first diagnosed with bipolar type 2 when I was 14. I was acting out violently, became involved in drugs and risky sexual behaviors, lacked motivation, and eventually became suicidal and dropped out of school for a year. I did not believe I was bipolar: I thought I was just a rebellious teen. I started taking medication, attending therapy, and made a personal decision to turn my life around. I proceeded to excel in high school and received a full-ride scholarship to the University of Michigan.
In the summer after my freshman year, I had my first manic episode. It started out wonderfully. I felt happy for the first time in my life. I smiled, I had energy, I was confident and talkative. I was making connections in my mind that I had never thought of before. I felt one with nature and the universe, and I felt like I could literally do anything. My thoughts raced, and like shooting stars they blinked into existence, sped through my mind, and then faded, only to jump to another equally brilliant one. But then—something changed. I began talking too fast. The previously entertained look on my friends' faces soon turned to looks of fear and concern. I began to become delusional. My lifelong interest in Russian culture warped into paranoid conspiracy theories that I was being persecuted as a spy. I even contacted the CIA; I was convinced that I had somehow learned too much, and now I needed to be eliminated. I felt like I had superhuman powers. After all, I had at this point went eight days without any sleep, save for a one hour nap on the kitchen floor naked after being given a sedative from my family doctor. I never knew that this kind of crazy existed: I felt no need for clothing, nor food, nor sleep. I talked so much and so fast that my voice went hoarse. I began to hallucinate. I saw white doves flying under my eyelids, faces in the ceiling fan, and the image of a close friend with his bird-spotting scope standing on a street corner. I started calling and sending emails to everyone: friends, old teachers, professors, CEOs of companies, and political figures... To this day I cannot bring myself to look at my email outbox. Everyone knew I needed help, but I refused. It was finally on the advice of a very good friend that I went to the ER.
I was committed to a psychiatric hospital (after I had tried to escape from the ER). Obviously, at this point my diagnosis had changed to Bipolar I, after having a manic/psychotic episode. I spent a few weeks in the hospital, and stabilized to a state of hypomania. After that, I tried to start the semester, but was still too sick. I attended partial hospitalization for another month and took the semester off. I soon fell into a deep and horrific depression that lasted almost a year, and from which I am still recovering. Finally, we found the right medications that work for me: Lexapro, Lamictal, Seroquel, Wellbutrin, and Klonopin. I credit my doctor, my mother, and few incredible friends with saving my life on numerous occasions.
Words cannot describe the highs and lows I have felt in my life. And yet, I do not feel like a victim. I am not a disease. I know that I will have to manage my bipolar disorder for the rest of my life. Currently, I am back in school, and am getting all As. I am a double major in Neuroscience and Russian Studies, hoping to either attend medical school and become a psychiatrist, or to do graduate studies in the area of Clinical Neuroscience. I recently returned from a humanitarian trip to rural Russia, and currently work in a lab specializing in psychopathological research. Although every day is still a struggle to manage my mood, my dreams are coming true and I feel that I am on the right path. I actually feel that I am blessed to be bipolar. Through all the pain and suffering, it has given me a unique perspective on life and deep introspective abilities, as well as much creativity and wisdom. I am a survivor and I want to dedicate my life to finding new treatments for people with mental illness.