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I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder in 2002. I’ve had plenty of time to figure out my medications and my moods. Now, that’s not to say I don’t experience mood swings and I haven’t had episodes since my diagnosis, but I’ve worked very hard over the last 17 years to get my moods stable.
I went into early menopause. Early, like at age 42. And there’s nothing like a big hormone change to throw everything out-of-whack. And the imbalance that comes with menopause has really thrown a monkey wrench in my otherwise stable lifestyle. Even doctors agree, menopause can actually exacerbate bipolar disorder. Lovely. Isn’t it fun to be a woman sometimes? Ugh.
Being depressed feels like being trapped under a heavy wool blanket. I can’t breathe, I can’t see, I can’t move. The immense weight of the world around me is almost unbearably oppressive. I get lost in my own mind as fearful, anxious thoughts overtake my brain. My muscles and bones ache, and I feel stiff and immobilized. I just can’t seem to move my body enough to get myself off the sofa or out of the house.
When I’m manic, blindingly bright electrical impulses fire rapidly through my head. Things that normally feel good are intensified tenfold. Food tastes incredible, music sounds melodious and meaningful, and colors appear more vivid. Like the rush of dopamine that comes with the high of a powerful drug, it’s pretty amazing. Sounds great, right? The problem is, ideas dart around in my mind so rapidly that even in the middle of a pleasurable experience, I can’t simply enjoy it, because I’m focused on chasing the next one.
In both scenarios, my body gets lost in the whirlwind created by my bipolar mind.