Yet, this whole time, I have been sick.
I've had the suspicion that I'm ADHD for the past few years or so, but haven't been clinically diagnosed. Despite taking tons of herbs, I have been so tired, anxious and overall blah a majority of the time. It's an exhausting way to live. Spending a majority of one's energy to crawl out of bed, take a shower or just make it to your desk makes for a very unproductive day. This made me feel guilty. For not pulling my weight, for not being a better friend, girlfriend, worker, and it made me sad and frustrated.
I think to myself, I have always had these moment, the continuous oddities. I've always been unique, socially obnoxious on my high days, completely antisocial on my lows, and aggressive towards everyone on my 'rage' days. I can be ridiculously moody, and difficult and see a neutral choice, where 'normal people see a bad choice'. I've had days where I couldn't leave the house for fear of going broke due to a weird urge to go buy everything. My high days have been like a spazzy cat... super energetic, but with no direction just trying to turn fast enough so you don't run into a wall, but kept going at max speed, yet never actually going anywhere. Year by year, life has gotten just a little bit harder. Existing was hard, is hard. Grin and bear it, everyone's having a rough time.
I was wrong.
Things had gotten pretty intense the last couple of months and I'd been pretty scared at times. I'd started to wonder if my ADHD was coupled with Depression.
My whole world of 'normal' came crashing down with two little words. "You're Bipolar."
I have no idea what to believe anymore. I have been trying to strive for a concept of 'normal' that I have to now accept I may never achieve. If I can never be normal, am I just damaged, broken? Who am I about to become with treatment? Will I lose the best parts as well as the bad? Will I like her more or less than I like me now? Will I find normalcy? What is normal, anyway?
With a diagnosis and three new prescriptions to fill, I sit here, questioning everything. How many of my past mistakes (and there are a LOT) can be traced back to this diagnosis. How many of my strange fears and anxieties could suddenly make more sense if this is true. How many of these long days of heaviness and nights of pure exhaustion might I be spared in the future?
But what if she's wrong. What if they both were? I don't want to claim something that's not true, to believe something is sick if it's not. I think I won't keep any of the appoints and I'll pretend, that this didn't happen and work a little harder to keep it all together. I don't want to try only to lose hope.
The nurse practitioner told me that medication will help me be 'normal' and feel more normal. I guess that means I'll recognize whatever it is as normal when I get there. I just wonder which of my ideas of normal it will be.
Will I function like a 'normal person'? Get and keep a job? Not become a distracted mess three months in? Will medication give me an equilibrium between my highs and lows? Do I really want to take addictive medicine? Is that really necessary?
I argue myself back into disbelief and insist I'm going to stay there. There is just too much unknown, too much risk to even begin to think about mental health. Things have been fine, up and down, but tolerable. Everything is just fine.
But I can't help but wonder, to be just the smallest bit curious... what if? What if it is possible that I could do more than just 'get by'? What if I stopped dreading how many years are ahead of me and begin to embrace the life that is my future? What if the medication did help? What if the side effects are bearable, temporary and turn out to be worth it?
What if I accept I don't want to live like this anymore?
I'm planning on seeing a Psychiatrist on a regular basis so I can gauge progress and have a professional support system.
There's always hope.
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