by Michael Brumfield

Created on: April 23, 2008   Last Updated: April 29, 2008

I myself live everyday with bipolar disorder and I have lived with it for my entire life. My mother, two sisters, and one of my older brothers all have the same disorder as well and I have either personally experienced or seen everything that this disease can do to a human being. Before I knew I or anyone else in my family had bipolar disorder I thought that the emotions I was experiencing were normal. I always knew that I took things harder than everyone else but I also realized that it took far less for things to make me happy. I just figured that was one of the things that made me special and unique.

I was in basic training on a pay phone when my mother told me that she and my younger sister had both been diagnosed with bipolar disorder. I had only the vaguest idea of what bipolar was and my idea was completely wrong. I had formed what I had thought from skits I had seen on television shows and what little I had learned about it in high school health class. She then went on to tell me that it could be a hereditary disease and that I should go talk to some one. I assured her that I was fine and didn't need to talk to anyone about anything like that.

I was at my first duty station in England when what she had told me came racing into my mind. I had been feeling down lately and it just seemed to be getting worse. I wasn't just feeling depressed anymore, I was filled with a rage that I wasn't sure if I could control for much longer. I was standing in my shop when I began to cry for no real reason that I can remember but luckily for me my shop chief saw that I was in need of some serious help. He saw that my work had been continuously declining along with my dress and appearance.

I was sent to the mental health and awareness clinic on base and they administered a series of test before saying anything at all. After my third day there the doctor came in and told me that I was borderline bipolar and suffered from phscizophraniform, a mild form of phscizophrania. He then discussed my medication options with me and we began treatment.

Back at the shop my mood had improved along with my work. I was doing fine on the medication other than the inability to stop eating. I thought that that was the end of it until I was called into my commander's office to hear that the USAF had decided that it was best if I left with a medical discharge and that it didn't matter how I felt about it. I stopped taking the medication immediately and left quietly.

Once I returned home things only got worse. I had multiple suicide attempts and couldn't get my life together but still refused to get medication or talk to a counselor. It wasn't until my mother had me committed to a mental health clinic for seventy-two hours for observation that I reexamined my life. This time I was given a new medication and am doing fine on it. Living with bipolar disorder is not as bad as some say it is and a whole lot worse than others say but I do it everyday.

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