Boundaries and other (forced) blessings of bipolar disorder

When the psychiatrist diagnosed me as bipolar in some ways it felt as though a load of bricks  has been taken off of my shoulders. Finally there was explanation to the craziness inside of me.

I wanted so desperately to get back to normal, or at least my version of normal. In the seven years since my diagnosis, I’ve come to look at my life and the world differently. I consider this new perspective a blessing (that is unless I’m in the midst of depression, in which case nothing seems like a blessing).

This new perspective has forced me to acknowledge my own boundaries and recognize my triggers.

I used to thrive on a busy workload. At one point during college I worked three jobs and had full course load. I started my first job after college as an education reporter for a suburban paper. I covered four school districts and stayed as busy as I could. I attended school board meetings, wrote stories, and brainstormed ideas for future stories.

I thrived on this energy. I always had. But my brain chemicals betrayed me the summer I started my first full-time job.

The normal energy I had enjoyed catapulted into mania. Those of you who are bipolar type 1 know the beauty and brutality that is mania. For those of you who don’t, imagine smoking crack and tripping acid at the same time. You have infinite energy, no inhibitions, and flights of ideas. This is all well and good, until the high energy and no inhibitions you gets into trouble. And your flights of ideas transition from creative to crazy.

I learned after my diagnosis that my days of 60-hour-work weeks had to be a thing of the past. I have maintained a full time job ever since my diagnosis, except for the 11-months of unemployment that I had after a newspaper layoff. I am capable of full-time work. I’ve heard of people who have bipolar who are not able to work full time and I feel very grateful that a 40-hour work week does not put me over the edge.

But I also know that a pattern of 10 and 12 hour days does. In the post-recession America a 40-hour work week seems to be a thing of the past, particularly for salaried employees.

Every employee has to find their own work/home life balance. My bipolar disorder forces me to be firm with mine. If I didn’t have this illness, I probably wouldn’t have such solid boundaries, but I honestly look at this as a blessing.

Everyone should strive to have a balance between their work an home life. Because I know that overwork and lack of sleep can trigger mania and/or depression, I don’t feel guilty about working only eight hours during the day and sleeping nine hours at night. I know myself, and I know I function best within these parameters.

I know myself, because managing this disorder requires that I do so. And perhaps that is the greatest blessing I have received from this beast we call bipolar.