According to WebMD.com ~

Bipolar disorder is a serious mental illness that is characterized by extreme changes in mood, from mania to depression. It can lead to risky behavior, damaged relationships and careers, and even suicidal tendencies if it's not treated.

I was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder in May 2005, 6 months into my marriage. I had talked to Joe about my intense family history of Bipolar but I was sure that I had "dodged the bullet." People have asked me why it is that I started having problems after I married Joe. As if he caused me to become psychologically unstable. I had symptoms for a long time but it wasn't until I tried to mesh my life with someone else that things started to slip out of control. I believe the Lord gave me Joe at that time in my life to help guide me to do great things. I don't think I would be where I am today, as a wife and a mother (some pretty amazing roles) if I had met Joe later on. He has a HUGE amount of patience for the things that we deal with because of Bipolar Disorder. I couldn't have asked for a more loving, patient and understanding person to have by my side holding my hand, as I suffer through some of the intense emotional ups and downs that come along with this disorder. I am able to talk with him through so many moments of despair and he helps me see the good. He helps me sift through the nonsense that my brain creates, to see the true meaning of things.

I've always been fairly realistic about life. Growing up in such utter dysfunction, I saw life as what it was, not the fairytale people tried to make it into. I was raised very aware of my family history with this disorder. I was raised more to think of it as a curse than anything positive. I grew up thinking that it was the worst thing that I could ever allow to have happen to me. That it was the ultimate failure. Joe has said that without having this condition, I wouldn't be able to have the intense feelings for the good things that come through the manic moments. He believes that when I am happy, I am to the fullest. I feel such intensity for things that others might take for granted. Together we learn to see the greatness of all the simple things in life.

When Joseph and I had only been married for a short time I started to realize that things weren't quite right. I had always had bouts of depression, for as long as I can remember. I had intense thought of leaving this world on a regular basis but I never thought that I was different than anyone else. I thought it was normal growing up stuff. After we were married I had to mix my life with someone else. Usually, when I was in a "mood" I would be alone, chill, I had my ways of "self medicating" (some good, some not so good). After marriage, I wasn't alone anymore, I was a part of something greater. Joe and I were now a team and I couldn't just walk away and do my own thing. If I messed up my life, it affected him.

I signed up for therapy. One of the best decisions I've made in my life. I told myself I'd be open and honest. Tell it how it was. I pushed myself not to hold back. It was painful. I started at the beginning and I worked my way through the story of my life.

I knew I wasn't extremely manic. I wasn't (what I refer to now as) the "good Bipolar"; the kind of person who is off the charts, full of energy and ready to take on the world. To me, they tend to do quite well in society, for the most part. They are constantly on the go, accomplishing things completely out of my energy level. I'm the more depressive, chill, could lie in bed all day and count the seconds until I die type. I have burst of energy (mania) that make me jump through the roof and I can clean my house, complete a lengthy To Do List, learn a new craft, plan out our future, and so much much more on little to no sleep for days at a time. I can be the coolest mom and have loads of energy and plan trips, and go on shopping sprees and buy the coolest toys on a whim just because the day feels like a day to celebrate. Or, I would be the worst mom, when I can't get out of bed, I cry, I sleep entire days away, I feel my children would be better off without me, yada yada yada. Or I have "normal" days. Not quite what the average person would classify as completely normal. There's always a burst of emotions somewhere in there, but it's fairly easily tamed.

Over time, I've come to embrace my "uniqueness". Not everyone can be as cool as me and that's okay. I have intense emotions about things. Sometimes I handle things just fine. Other times, I lose it. People can comment on something and I feel my mind take it in a thousand different directions and then other times, I'm totally chill.

The best career choice for me is being a mom. Some may think, after reading the above, that I shouldn't be in charge of little ones. Ha! They keep me real. Yeah, they work my nerve, just like all the other "normal" moms. That's one thing I love. I feel the closest to normalcy when I'm being a mom. Moms are supposed to be a little off their rocker. They're always a little unique. After spending so much time with a child you start to see the world from their view. A little off, a little different, a lot of surprises around every corner. The life of a child has its intense ups and downs. I can totally relate. Sometimes, I want to throw a temper tantrum and so do they. It all works.

I was afraid to have kids after the whole bipolar diagnosis. I knew I definitely didn't want a girl. With the way things work in my family, the girls get it BAD. I also didn't want to raise children to have to deal with a mother so "unstable". (Although, what mother isn't?) I've worked so hard to work on myself; to learn and to grow and to work at coping. Medication is my friend. There isn't really a way around it. Life is better with a little help from the pharmacy. I want to raise my children to have an understanding that some people might not have it all together. Some people struggle. Some excel. Either way, we need to be understanding and patient and above all, learn to listen, that's the most powerful thing you can do sometimes. Not judging and not racing around trying to fix the world's "problems". Stop and just listen and be there. I want them to know that it's okay to be sad. It's okay to not have all the answers. And above all, it's okay to ask for some help whenever and wherever you need it.

It's ironic though, I've hated medication my whole life. Headache, ehh, I'll wait it out. Cramps . . . they go away eventually. Nothing could last forever, or so I thought. I've been pumped full of many different kinds of medication since I've come to accept my disorder. Sure, I could just not take any medication; I agree that idea is the healthiest for my body. BUT, I wouldn't have the life I have right now. I guess you could say the benefits of taking medication for Bipolar Disorder outweigh the risks. My medication isn't just popping a pill or two, or three. It's going to therapy, checking in with the people close to me and updating people on my struggles and my weaknesses. I need to stay informed and learn ways of coping. Some people claim that medication is a crutch. Sure, but sometimes people need crutches to hobble around.

I wouldn't have a loving marriage. I wouldn't have my children in my life. To be the way I "naturally" am, I'd have to seclude myself from all the things that take me out of my comfort and security. I'm sure, I could live alone and keep to myself and function fairly well in society, as long as I built a bubble of protection around me. I feel that's where my faith and belief in my Savior comes in. We came to this earth to grow and learn and to develop into beings of great worth. You don't get there without sacrifice, pain and loads of trials. It’s not supposed to be a comfy cozy ride through life. We're supposed to grow and learn and prove that we can do what is placed before us.

With all of that said, we're not perfect. Sometimes we fall. It's what we do when we fall that makes a difference. I've written a lot about our recent miscarriage. It has and still does teach me a lot. In some ways I've become stronger. In other ways, I've shown how weak I can really get.

A week or so after the miscarriage, I got in the car and drove with Joe on what seemed like the longest drive of my life. It was only about 25 minutes away but the unknown waiting at the end of that drive was something that brought me to my knees. I had hit a low. After losing the baby, I didn't want to live anymore. I've never felt so at peace with my thoughts yet so scared by them at the same time. I will never forget that night, that drive. The night I walked in and checked myself in.

Sometimes, I can joke about it now. It's referred to by some as the Mental Health Facility, the Psych Ward, the Nut House or even the Looney Bin. I committed myself. I thought it was better to do that then to have someone do it for me. If that happened, I felt I'd lose all power and say so in the matter. As Joe and I walked through the doors, I was completely numb. I didn't know what I was getting myself into. I felt lost but I had loving people telling me that this was the best place for me, at that time. The girl who worked there said something funny as she led us to the unit, which was the longest walk of my life. She said, "I've stopped asking people how they are doing, given the circumstances." I laughed. She also made a comment that the long walk to the unit probably seemed like a long walk into prison. She stole my thought right out of my head. The whole idea was terrifying but I knew it was right.

I will never forget the time I spent in there. Time stood still. It dragged on for what seemed like a month when in fact it was only a short while. I learned some great things. I met some great people; people who are unique and who struggle, but are strong and great people. Our every moment was monitored. Where we were, what we were doing. We were allowed only certain things, and very few at that. I remember checking in and they were going through my bag. It was annoying to have my possessions rummaged through. They told me that I could have my sweatshirt and my pj's but they had to remove the drawstrings. One pair of pj's they had to cut the drawstring out. I look at them now every once in a while and they just aren't quite the same. It put a whole new twist on the freedom we have in life. We weren't allowed to have clocks in our rooms because they were seen as dangerous; really, a clock? The thought baffled me. It drove me crazy (no pun intended) to not have access to the time whenever I wanted. No laces in our shoes. Thank goodness for Crocs. When I took a shower, they had to come in and monitor me shaving. The windows were bolted shut and the lights were covered and bolted with thick plexi-like glass over them so they couldn’t be accessed. When I checked in, my freedom and privacy checked out. All of that was more to get use to and not really upsetting. We had a strict schedule. We had somewhere to be or something to do all the time. I enjoyed group. It was good to see others perspectives on life; to see how one person handled their mental health different from another. One of the hardest parts was when I received a phone call from my mom while in there. I hadn't told my family that I was checking myself in. Joe couldn’t keep it from her for too long because she kept calling because she hadn't heard from me. (No cell phones allowed) I was afraid to take the call. I thought I had ruined all hopes my mom had ever had for me. The mother in her came out and she just wanted to make sure I was doing okay. If that was what I needed then that's where I needed to be.

While there, I realized that I do have a purpose. I have 2 beautiful children that need their mother. They don't blame me for what happened. I have 2 little spirits waiting for me for another time, but for now, I need to be with the children I have on this earth. While in the unit, I realized I didn't want to be away from them. I missed them so much. It was painful to be away from them.

At times, life may throw at us some pretty terrible and nasty things. It's what we do that makes us who we are. Some may see the idea of going into a place like that as a failure. I see it as a success. I had plans to deal with my situation in an unhealthy way that couldn't be reversed. Instead, I chose to get help. To throw my pride aside for the time being and take what help I could get.

It was a successful decision.