Bipolar Me

It would be easy to say that mental wellness means not having a mental illness. The people who don’t have one have something they should be thankful for. But most of them take mental wellness for granted unless there is mental illness in their family or a close friend.

As for me, I have been through cycles of mental wellness and mental illness from my early years till now. For a long time, I was undiagnosed. A person who hasn’t been diagnosed with any psychiatric condition is generally assumed to be mentally well. That’s not always the case, however. It wasn’t in mine.

I’d have to say that I was not experiencing mental wellness during the years when I was undiagnosed. I had plenty of symptoms that were not recognized as such, partly because back in the day, bipolar wasn’t widely recognized and diagnosed.

By the time I was in high school, some people could tell that, if not actually mentally ill, I was not mentally well. But I was functioning well enough to go to college and get a degree, a fact I don’t consider a sign of mental health, just a temporary let-up in many of my symptoms—not all of them, though.

While I didn’t diagnose myself with anything after I left college, I knew something wasn’t right. I could tell I was not mentally healthy, and I started getting help. I got a diagnosis, medication, and talk therapy. The diagnosis was depression, which was certainly my major symptom.

I was able to get jobs, live on my own, go to grad school, and get married. Was I mentally healthy? By those objective measures, I was. I guess I was what you would call high-functioning. (I understand that some people object to the term as a way to classify and separate neurodivergent people.)

Eventually, I received the proper diagnosis of bipolar 2 and anxiety, the appropriate medication, and effective talk therapy. Did that make me mentally healthy?

I’d have to say no. I still have symptoms of my disorders, and they impede my life and what I can do. By my own definition, it seems I will never be truly mentally healthy. I will continue to have some reduced symptoms, be on medication, and have a therapist I can turn to if needed. I require a lot of support from my husband when it comes to tasks of daily living.

Still, though I can’t say I’m mentally healthy, I don’t feel that I am mentally ill. I’m somewhere in the middle. If there were a sliding scale with mentally well at one end and mentally ill at the other, I would be somewhere in the middle, moving back and forth between the extremes. Nowadays, I’m content to live in that middle space. I don’t beat myself up because I’m not totally at the healthy end of the scale. I’m grateful that I don’t live at the other end.

Living between the two poles can be confusing. I try not to “take my emotional temperature” too often, but I do try to monitor whether I may be closer to the unhealthy end. Then I find help or help myself to move that scale closer to the center. Most of the time, I don’t think much about it.

Am I mentally ill? Not really. Am I mentally healthy? Not completely. I’m just glad that I have more moments at the healthy end of the scale than at the unhealthy end.