How Are You Doing? Bipolar Edition

Some one just asked me how I’m doing.  How I’m doing…in life.  Like, in general.  How is my life going in relation to my bipolar disorder.  A fairly simple question;  “How are you doing?”

But in my head there was a BAZZILLION different angles to respond and ways to answer.

How am I?  What do you mean, HOW AM I?  Do I start at birth or from when I was diagnosed as bipolar?  Oh no, wait, should I start at when I started showing signs of bipolar disorder?

Either way, I’m still trying to answer the question.

“How are you?”

Well.  Um.  I’m good.

I’m genuinely happily married with three adorable kids.  I have a place to live that more than meets my needs.  I have a psychiatrist who is FAH-bulous.  Family and friends who are awesome. My prescriptions are currently working well for me.  God is awesome.  I’m good.

Good

I’m good.

 

But it hasn’t always been that way.  I was diagnosed in 2002.  Started to get a glimpse of stability in 2004ish and by 2005ish things really lined up.  My husband is my constant.  He keeps me grounded, together and reminds me of who I am.  He gets me.  He understands that even when I’m depressed it’s absolutely not an inadequacy on his part, but an inadequacy on the part of the chemicals in my brain, those little shits.

Pregnancies where hard.  Yah.  But that’s to be expected, I think, not taking the same medications I normally did.  That’s hard and a huge adjustment.  Not to mention hormones.  Oh the HORMONES.

But, I’m good.  I mean, I think I’m alright.

I always used to say “I’m stable” but what is stability? I mean REALLY. What is it?  I thought I knew.  I think I know… How long do you have to feel “good” to then be allowed to say you’re stable?  Now, I’m careful how I say that.  I’ve learned.  Sometimes it feels like life’s balance is teetering at the edge…maybe into stability…whoa whoa…and now BAM into a depression so deep you can’t see straight, or a mania so high you can’t stop soaring (in a bad way).

So when someone asks me how I am, referring to my bipolar, I guess the answer is… I’m still here?  I’m good.  I’m still fighting.  I’m good.  Each day is a new day.  I’m good.  I can still count my blessings. I’m good.  On the good days, it’s easy to say… I’m good.  And on rough days I can still remind myself that THIS. WILL. PASS.  I’m good.

Are you…good?

Able to say I’m good,

Mrs Bipolarity

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