MANIA
Bipolar disorder, a tale of two realms:
the milder strain, Bipolar II,
is my companion,
while its fierce counterpart, Bipolar I,
is an unwelcome intruder.
This saga began in my birth year, 1982,
but it wasn't until 2019
that the shadow of bipolarity emerged,
first hinted at by my therapist
and later echoed in my own readings.
◆︎ ◆︎ ◆︎
In the waning days of 2019,
a psychiatrist’s office became my confessional.
Questions answered, stories shared,
yet no diagnosis was bestowed –
My life,
seemingly untouched in work and study,
bore no visible scars of this
invisible struggle.
◆︎ ◆︎ ◆︎
But the tide turned in January 2020.
In Iran, family roots called,
but a darker encounter awaited.
Captured by the Islamic Revolutionary Guards,
solitude and interrogation were
my constant companions for a harrowing week.
Returning home to the United States,
my world had shifted –
Paranoia and PTSD,
unwelcome souvenirs of my journey.
My partner departed,
and work,
once a refuge,
now an insurmountable mountain.
◆︎ ◆︎ ◆︎
As spring blossomed into summer,
the pandemic's isolation deepened my solitude.
I reached out to my psychiatrist,
a virtual query in a disconnected world.
This time,
ADHD was the suspected culprit.
Adderall was prescribed,
a catalyst that transformed me.
Manic energy surged,
diet and sleep abandoned
for the allure of marijuana and Diet Coke.
My body withered, my mind raced –
a torrent of unceasing thoughts
and stark judgments.
◆︎ ◆︎ ◆︎
One night,
a frenzied manifesto was born,
a digital tirade against peers and industry.
In a moment of defiance,
I severed ties with my employer,
seeking solace in the familiarity of Canada.
◆︎ ◆︎ ◆︎
But the revelation dawned –
Adderall, the alchemist
turning me not to gold,
but to ash.
The mania lingered,
a tempest in my mind,
spurring me towards the edge of reason,
To the brink of life itself.
◆︎ ◆︎ ◆︎
A pilgrimage to the Mayo Clinic
shed light on my true companion,
Bipolar II.
Yet the link between Adderall and my mania
remained unseen.
In Canada, months turned to seasons
in search of a psychiatrist to help.
A year of trials and errors,
a mosaic of medications,
until at last,
equilibrium.
◆︎ ◆︎ ◆︎
Two years of stability have passed,
a time of introspection and amends.
Many have forgiven;
the burden of my actions during manic storms
has lightened.
◆︎ ◆︎ ◆︎
The lesson unheeded by my first psychiatrist –
the volatile mix of ADHD medication with Bipolar II –
was a costly oversight.
◆︎ ◆︎ ◆︎
Now,
in a dance with a controlled hypomanic episode,
I embrace travel and creativity,
echoes of a past self.
This is the heart of my story –
a journey through mental tempests
to a harbor of recovery.
Some connections were lost,
but a constellation of friends provided guiding lights.
30 March 2024
Edmonton
