Bipolar, Musings, Personal, Stories

First Signs

The first signs that I can piece together are memories of myself as a child being repeatedly told that  I was born difficult. That I came out of the womb strong willed and opinionated (however an infant can be opinionated). In fact, on one of my first t-shirts my mother had imprinted the words “no way” to display to the world the disposition of her little terror. I was reminded of this repeatedly as a child. For example, my parents, avid church goers, reminded me time and again about how a gentleman approached me to say “hi” after the Sunday service and I, in all my charm and poise as an 11 month old hauled off and slapped him across the face. Of course this was used as an example of how I was born with a difficult and somewhat rotten personality throughout my childhood. I believed it. It hurt.

As young as I can remember I remember feeling a heaviness. A tiredness and sadness that was unrelenting. As young as the third grade I remember constantly fighting the urge to cry, particularly if an adult, like a teacher for example, would talk nicely to me. It was like I was holding in so much pain and sadness that I was always about to explode. Unfortunately, it usually ended up releasing in anger and rage. I was ashamed to cry.

This continued right through high school. I was a high achiever in academics, athletics and music and I remember dragging myself to every single practice, day of school, event, everything! How did I do it!?

There was a lot of fighting every day in my home all throughout my childhood and I believe that might have sparked the illness that I was predisposed to. The depression started early in childhood, and became deeper and deeper as I got older. It became so deep and confusing that I never actually believed that I had friends. I was a very popular teen in high school, but somehow I just never felt like my friends actually liked me. I know better now that I am sorted out, but how strange looking back on it. A paranoid depression where  I believed that those closest to me were inviting me out and wanting to be with me just to make fun of me. It was truly delusional, I know now. I feel sad for my younger self. These were many years of turmoil both internally for me and externally in my home life. This life continued until just after I graduated from high school, then something unexpected happened. It was like an epiphany, a revelation! A freedom that I had never felt or experienced. It was what I know now to be my first Manic episode.

More about that in my next story….

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