Carol Borrelli

If I Ever Meet ‘Mr. Bipolar’—Why I Would Thank Him
If I could meet my bipolar disorder, I would ask him why he chose to accompany me in life—and I would also thank him.

By Carol Borrelli

Archetypes. They are everywhere. They are a part of our unconscious psyche, our more universal consciousness, and a part of our self-concept. So what of the archetype for bipolar disorder? I shall call him Mr. Bipolar; and I would really, really like to speak with him.

If I ever meet Mr. Bipolar, we will have a sincere heart to heart. In my mind’s eye, from a distance, I see him as tall, charismatic, charming, and dressed deceivingly well in a black-and-white tuxedo. Upon closer inspection, however, he looks a bit pale and haggard, a bit worn out. He will be seated across from me, and I will look him in the eye.

First I will ask him, “Why?” I will ask him why, at my tender age of 12, he started coming to visit me. I will remind him that I was a sweet, kind, talented child, if I may say so myself, full of hopes and dreams.

I will remind him that he had no business messing with my mind and causing me the pain that he did.

I will ask him why he chose me, why he came to call. I will remind him that I had a “normal” childhood, a loving family, a good upbringing, and a firm belief in a Higher Power. I will share with him that while many persons with bipolar disorder have other family members affected by the condition, I was the only one that I knew of with it in our family, causing me to feel like I didn’t belong. I will tell him how very alone I felt, in my pre-teen world, where no one else seemed to be affected by a mental health condition (or at least they didn’t acknowledge it). I will share how I felt I had few immediate examples of persons in my life living with bipolar disorder, few role models. Yes, Mr. Bipolar, you made me feel so very lost and alone. Like I was confused on a hike and without a compass.

I will ask him why he was not content to visit just once and then leave well enough alone. Why he made me feel so dead inside that I would literally pinch myself to make sure I was still alive. I would ask him about the time in the hallway in high school when friends had to hold me up because I was about to swoon from sorrow. I will ask him about the embarrassing crying spells that I could not control in the middle of the day at school. How at times he was like an incessant, pestering guest, constantly coming to visit when no one had called for him. Yes, what about that, Mr. Bipolar?

Then I will ask him about the euphoria. That exhilarating, deceiving euphoria. So high on life, so happy. Yes, Mr. Bipolar, you were sooooo pleasant. So wonderful. You had me shooting through the stars. But you were not content to let me sail among them. Instead you would be followed by a depressive crash the likes of which I was lucky to survive.

And what of your name, Mr. Bipolar? I have never felt it truly reflected reality. At times I did not want to be identified with it. I had always felt it made me sound confused. Like I couldn’t decide between only two equal yet opposite moods. Don’t you see you are a spectrum, Mr. Bipolar? Don’t you see there are many points when traveling along life’s path with you, Mr. Bipolar, and various descriptors with which to categorize them? I have always felt that where I was located along that path was no one’s business and quite irrelevant. All one needs to know, if anything, is that I have issues with my mood. Mood Disorder. Affective Disorder. Any of these will do. But okay, they call you Mr. Bipolar; I will accept this.

And Mr. Bipolar, for far too long, you have not been a friend. I suppose you expect me to tear into you for this and all the reasons above, and that we shall part with bad blood. I suppose you think that I hate you, that I am ashamed of you, and that I will resent you.

But before leaving, Mr. Bipolar, I will do the unexpected: I will thank you.

I will thank you for teaching me patience, kindness, and strength.

I will thank you for teaching me courage and wisdom. I will thank you for teaching me compassion, and not to judge others, if I can help it. For you taught me that there is so much more to a person than meets the eye.

I will thank you for the creativity and the unique perspective that experiencing strong emotion contributes to my art. I will thank you for helping me to think outside the box in my problem–solving. Having a mood disorder, anxiety disorder, and ADD is a lot to contend with. You forced me to be creative in dealing with these issues, so that I may function well. And now I can try to use those techniques to help others.

As we depart, I will remind you of one more thing: that I am not you, and you are not me. I will remind you that I have a host of family members, a treatment team, a lifetime of coping skills to rely on. Though I know that Mr. Bipolar may come to visit, I will remind him that any of his destructive antics that may come along are not welcome in my world. That he will be managed. That he may be himself, but ever and always, I will be me. I will tell him that I will take the good with the bad, and make the best of my circumstances.

For like the spectrum of a rainbow, the spectrum of bipolar also consists of light.

Let it shine.
Tagged with: acceptance, Bipolar, coping skills, creativity, treatment
About the author: Carol Borrelli
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Carol Borrelli Carol Borrelli is an RN, makeup artist, writer, musician, and published poet, who has Bipolar Disorder. She was diagnosed with the condition at the age of fifteen, and has 32 years of wisdom to share regarding coping and thriving with the condition. She has twenty-five years experience working in the psychiatric field. Carol is the author of the Sweet Minerals cosmetic company Beauty Blog (www.sweetminerals.com), as well as Girlfriend’s Guide to Good Mental Health (www.smoothsailing289.com), a blog dedicated to mental health, beauty, and poetry. Her work has been featured in the Gift of Second, a website dedicated to suicide loss survivors, and The Mighty. Carol is herself a survivor of suicide loss, having lost her brother. She is a Field Advocate for the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention. Everything she does for mental health promotion and suicide prevention is dedicated to and inspired by the memory of her brother, Jefferson Joseph Blanton-Harris.