FIRST PERSON : Out of the Pain Comes a Rich, Rewarding Life for a Manic-Depressive

My problems with manic-depression began in high school.

After my team won our school’s annual drama competition, I was ecstatic. My self-image was increased, along with my physical and mental energies. Euphoric, talkative, humorous, I was high on life.

Little did I know at the time that I was in a full-fledged state of mania.

Soon, my high diminished and I fell into a deep, dark depression. My high spirits had left me, and I couldn’t regain them. Responsibilities overwhelmed me, and I spent the greater part of my time in a state of anxiety, which intensified into paranoia. I entered the first of four psychiatric hospitalizations and soon experienced a true living hell.

Initially misdiagnosed and given anti-psychotic medication, I was miserable, dazed and barely able to function. I was also ridiculed and threatened by other patients in the program, and treated insensitively by staff members. I got out of that hospital as quickly as possible and slowly my life returned to normal.

The mistake I made was stopping my medication. I was feeling fine, so why did I need the pills? I was fed up with the side effects (lethargy, weight gain) and I felt I was strong enough to do without my medication.

Besides, awful memories were associated with those pills. By trashing the medication, I thought I could also trash the terrible memories. So, into the trash went my pills, and a few months later, I escalated into my most serious manic episode ever.

Soon I was off to a new hospital and a new psychiatrist.

My mania was intensified by my anger over my past treatment in the other hospital. I made it clear in my aggressive, hostile manner, that no one would mess with me. And no one dared! I was screaming at the staff and throwing tissue boxes at my doctor.

When my psychiatrist told me I had bipolar disorder, I was upset and humiliated. “I’m not crazy! I feel fine!” The last thing I wanted was to be labeled with a mental illness. I didn’t want to be different.

Reluctantly, I began taking lithium, which soon diminished my manic symptoms and stabilized my mood. But the side effects irritated me, so I stopped taking it.

What a mistake! I crashed into my deepest depression ever and ended up in the hospital again. This time, I was serious about my treatment.

I realized that, because I saw my illness as an imperfection, I denied I was bipolar: I wanted no part of “imperfection.” I discovered that my perfectionism was self-defeating and began to accept my illness, began to understand my limits.

Mentally, I can only put myself under a certain amount of stress. I must slow myself down when I feel myself getting too high and take care of myself when getting low. Physically, I have to restrict my intake of alcohol--which is not easy, especially when happy hours and dance clubs are the happening places to be.

I am proud to say that I haven’t had a major episode in five years. Medication, self-esteem therapy, and a local support group of manic-depressives have helped me overcome my denial and realize that I am not alone.

I earned my bachelor’s degree in psychology and got my current job counseling adolescents and children who have unipolar and bipolar depression, chemical dependency and behavior problems. I take pride in helping make a difference in others’ lives, especially those coping with the same disorder I have. I give patients what I needed while hospitalized: respect, empathy and compassion.

Mark Hilbun is not a typical manic-depressive. Most manic-depressives who are under the care of a psychiatrist and who are taking medication are able to lead stable, productive lives. This illness is treatable, and the stability and peace one can achieve are well worth fighting for.

Many of us will experience trauma and hardship at some point in our lives. But we need not let the pain make us bitter and callous. We may learn from our pain and become stronger, better individuals because of it. Hardship does not have to work against us. By working with personal difficulties, we can direct them in our favor.

Taking a positive attitude toward my disorder has made my life enriching, rewarding and balanced. I try to make the most of each new day, and thank God for my many blessings: my health, my family and friends, my talents and my bipolar disorder. I do not consider my illness a misfortune. Instead, I choose to see it as a blessing.