The first time I experienced mania, I was completely oblivious. I had long been acquainted with depression, which often enveloped me in darkness, filled with sadness, despair, and tears. However, mania was a term I recognized but didn’t fully understand—until it overwhelmed me.
My initial manic episode was all-consuming. It began innocently enough with an exhilarating wave of joy and an uncontainable surge of energy. I felt as if I was floating, colors around me were vibrant, and the air crackled with electricity. Suddenly, I was energized, brimming with inspiration. Ideas flowed through my mind faster than I could type, and I found myself captivated by a creative rush that felt magical.
In my fervor, I decided to write a book titled “Superhero Unmasked” and made the impulsive decision to drop out of school. My advisor attempted to dissuade me, but I was undeterred; I had a story to tell and a fire ignited within me. I shook with an intense motivation that propelled me forward.
Within days, I produced tens of thousands of words. The quality, however, was questionable at best. My thoughts raced chaotically, and I couldn’t focus. At the time, I perceived myself as a genius, feeling invincible. But this grandiosity is a common symptom of mania, and it pushed me to keep creating. I even decided, in a fit of impulsivity, to found my own literary magazine.
I was on a high, both in work and pleasure. I danced and drank, embodying the confident person I aspired to be—witty, charming, and exuberant. But soon enough, the tide turned, and my mood shifted dramatically. I became irritable and angry, resorting to excessive drinking and sleeping even less. My focus veered from productive endeavors to reckless behavior. I took on the persona of a 20-year-old dancer named Trixie, engaging in risky escapades in public places. My boyfriend and I found ourselves in compromising situations, exploring our sexuality in the most unexpected locations.
Despite the chaos, I felt like I was racing through life at breakneck speed, convinced I wouldn’t crash. But eventually, I hit a wall. In a moment of despair, I resorted to self-harm.
There’s a widespread misconception about mania; many, myself included, mistakenly equate it with pure elation and productivity. While mania can bring about bursts of creativity and happiness, it can also lead to irritability, impulsive decisions, and even suicidal thoughts. It’s a dangerous state that took me 14 years to fully understand. I didn’t receive a bipolar diagnosis until I was 33—more than a decade after my first manic episode.
Despite this realization, I can’t deny that there are times when I yearn for the manic energy—not for the chaos but for the creativity it sparked. I know, however, that stepping away from my medication is a gamble that affects not just me but also my family—my husband, my child, and the beautifully imperfect life we’ve built together.
So, I continue to take my antidepressants, antipsychotics, and anti-anxiety medications, hoping that today will be a manageable day. I strive for stability, knowing that I need to take care of myself for those I love.
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In summary, my journey through mania has taught me invaluable lessons about mental health, creativity, and the importance of stability in my life.