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I have gone through numerous treatment programs. I have been in-patient, 24/7 care in a mental health hospital with treatment around the clock, daily groups, meal times, check-ins, medications and more. I have been in Partial Hospitalization Programs, day programs with lunchtime, groups, social workers, therapists, and psychiatrists. I have been in Intensive Outpatient Programs, half-day programs with the same structure as a Partial Hospitalization Program. I have had my on-going relationship with “outside providers” my own therapists and psychiatrists. That’s considered “traditional outpatient” treatment.
Throughout my treatment, I have had a notion in my head that my mental health has a final destination. I will be mentally healthy. I will [be] mentally healthy forever always and it will not be disrupted. I will be cured. I will be stable. I will be freed from the everyday annoyances, inconveniences, hurdles, obstacles and pains that I deal with that mentally healthy people do not have to encounter. Each time I leave a program because I’m declared “healthy enough”, (or my insurance will not give me any more days) I feel like I should be “healthy enough”. But to be honest, most of the times, I’m not and I just don’t know it yet.
Mental Health Hospitalization
The mental health programs or hospitalization I would complete I would assume to be my last. It’s positive thinking, right? This is my last hospitalization, I came, I learned and now I will become a better future “me”. I became “better” and I believed I would be better for the rest of my life. Unfortunately, bipolar does not believe the same method that I did. I have to constantly work for my mental health because if I don’t, my world can crumble faster than I ever want it to. Trust me, it’s happened. It’s happened more than once and it’s never a good feeling.
My mental health comes and it goes. One of my favorite sayings that I relate to is “I’m like the moon, I have phases.” And I do. I go through periods of great strides. I have held full-time jobs. I have sustained relationships. I have woken up at the first alarm I’ve set. I have grocery shopped and cooked meals for myself. I have taken public transportation.
I have stuck to a schedule for the week that I have made myself. I’ve done larger things like, I moved to a foreign city by myself and I live in a studio apartment alone. I have stuck to a financial budget within my means. I have said “no” to things that do not align with the best of my mental health. I have been independent, mentally well and doing just fine.
But it does not last forever. I wish it did. I used to think that taking my medications would be the cure-all. My psychiatrist said it’s a “mood stabilizer”. This will make me stable. This will make me be okay. This will stop all of the chaos that I deal with. I won’t have racing thoughts, anxiety, stress about little things, difficulty accomplishing small tasks, but it does not.
Since my last hospitalization, July 2017, I felt I have hit rock bottom more times than I can count. Rock bottom has been defined differently. It has been spending an outrageous amount of money on many pairs of shoes, the same ones, in different colors that I do not need. It has been going out every single night with different people and doing harmful things to myself, always waking up with regrets. It has been being unemployed and feeling the guilt that I still have to rely on my dad to support me.
Rock bottom has been feeling worthless, feeling helpless, feeling hopeless and feeling alone. Each time I hit rock bottom, I think it’s the last. I think this will teach me. I will find the puzzle piece. I will find what I need to lead a healthy, happy, life worth living. But in reality, I do learn. I learn lessons the hardest way each time I hit rock bottom. I don’t think I can regret when I’m down there because picking myself back up shows that I have strength, resilience, courage, determination, and commitment. I have hit rock bottom so many times and that is just part of the process of my mental illness, bipolar 1 disorder.
Life Lessons
The most important lesson I have learned from hitting rock bottom is that it passes. Rock bottom is never a place I want to be. And I used to think I can only hit my lowest once, but that is not true either. I have hit my lowest many times and I have let it become water under the bridge. I have to have self-compassion about being in a bad place because if I do not, then who am I? I would be a self-hating person day in and day out and on top of dealing with mental illness; I can’t hate myself even more for it. It’s so important to be nice to yourself. It’s so important to integrate self-care. It’s so important to be your own best friend. The saying is true if you can’t love yourself then who will?
At the end of the day, mental health programs help. They provide structure, skills, support, medication, advice, and so much more. But at the end of the day, it comes down to me. Sometimes, I have to let myself slide, I have to hit rock bottom and feel the pain to pick myself back up. Sometimes, I have to hold myself to rigid standards and wake up early to go for that run before work before grocery shopping before that meeting before seeing my friends before taking care of my pets before going to bed.
Bipolar is an unpredictable life, and as I’ve grown older with it, I’ve learned the more I go, the more I don’t know–but the more prepared I will be.
