There are times that I’ve felt cursed by having ultra-rapid-cycling, somewhat-atypically-presenting bipolar 1 disorder. My mood episodes are short (sometimes as short as one day, although usually lasting a few days to a week) and they can be very intense. I also suffer from mixed episodes, which are agonizingly painful to experience, and at times I have had profound suicidality that has led to multiple suicide attempts — one of which left me in a coma for three days and nearly claimed my life. Doctors said I wasn’t going to make it. But I did.
During the worst of times I’ve wished to have “classic” bipolar disorder instead of my bipolar disorder. In truth, “classic” features may be relatively rare; but it conjures the idea of long, bleak depressions punctuated by shorter, but still somewhat long, grandiose and euphoric manias. Separate and distinct periods of each, usually lasting for months at a time, with bouts of clean euthymia (wellness) in between.
I haven’t really experienced prolonged euthymia, instead merely catching glimpses of it over the course of my continuous ups and downs. My manias are “dirty” and dysphoric, tainted with depressive themes. My hypomanias are very productive; but if my mood spikes too high, my thoughts become dark and gruesome. If I were to jump off a building, it would be to kill myself, not because I believed I could fly.
And I’m also a researcher. Without a doubt, my research in the area of bipolar disorder draws upon my insights as a bipolar person. If I had “classic” bipolar disorder, the research I have done (some of it relying theoretically upon data collection of my own personal changes in mood) would not have been possible. Because I’m an ultra-rapid-cycler, I was able to capture long-term patterns that might take many years to become evident in “classic” bipolar disorder. I believe the same patterns exist in both, but when moods last for months at a time, it is harder to see those patterns.
My ability to detect patterns has served me well in life (including in my professional career) and to some extent, my bipolar disorder trained me to do it. Predicting my own mood was not only possible, thanks to the accelerated timeframe, but essential to my ability to cope with them. Part of the devastation of mixed episodes came with the loss of my ability to predict with reasonable accuracy when moods would peak or change and in what direction. Even so, I learned new patterns and slowly became able to tell what a “mixed episode” felt like, and whether I was experiencing one. This was not something I could do at first.
Insight into the emotions, cognitions, and memory issues that come along with my bipolar disorder developed over time, starting at an early age (as I first developed symptoms around the age of 10). In turn, this level of insight has allowed me to hypothesize connections no other researcher has yet seen. I understand firsthand how bipolar disorder intersects with changes in thinking and memory.
I have the opportunity to discern cause and effect in relation to changes in my mood much more easily than someone with “classic” bipolar disorder, thanks to the immediacy of any reactions. Upon hearing from my psychiatrist that nitrates in beef jerky were causally linked to mania, I took note of my own reactions. I had known for quite some time that beef jerky had a stimulant-like effect on me, but I was surprised to learn it did not have this effect on everyone. (Too bad!) I experience this stimulant-like effect almost instantly, while I’m still eating. The temporal proximity of the cause and the effect makes them easier to distinguish.
My bipolar disorder is a blessing and a curse. I have struggled immensely to control it, but I wouldn’t trade it for “classic” bipolar disorder or no bipolar disorder at all. The knowledge and abilities I have gained as a result of my battle with bipolar disorder — my bipolar disorder, not someone else’s — have actually, truly been indispensable to my life and my career. Plus, that excessively productive hypomania is pretty good too.