While I exhibit many of the symptoms of bipolar disorder, I'm not sure if I meet the technical criteria for the diagnosis. I share the moniker of being called "medical mystery" with my mother. We both have a history of being routinely misdiagnosed. Whether it's having some, but not all of the key symptoms, or responding to medications in the exact opposite ways that doctors would expect based on the diagnosis, Mom and I both share the frustration of never being really sure what's going on with our bodies, or how exactly to fix them.
But when it comes to sharing many of the characteristics of bipolar disorder, whether I tecnically have "it" or not, I've chosen not to consider that a death sentence. Of course, there are days that it may feel like it, but there are many days when I appreciate the heightened sensitivity, empathy, creativity and energy that are the brighter colors in the bipolar palette.
I've chosen to broaden my personal definition of "bipolar". For me, having a bipolar component to my personality/biochemistry means more than merely the existence of varying emotions spanning much of the length of the emotional spectrum. It also reflects what I believe to be a rather unique ability that I believe I share with many others who have been diagnosed with bipolar disorder, namely, the ability to view situations, objects, people and circumstances from multiple, and often opposing, points of view.
To me, it's no surprise that a significant percentage of people who are considered creative and/or artistic have also been diagnosed with bipoloar disorder. After all, what is creativity other than the ability to perceive and articulate everyday things in ways that are different from the ways that most people perceive them? The most successful writers are those that can describe a scene or a feeling that we've experienced, but in ways more eloquent than we ever could. Great artists and photographers similarly take every day images that we may have seen a thousand times, and capture just the right play of light or shadow, or touches of color, that transform the mundane into the spectacular.
I believe that many with a bipolar-type worldview are blessed, and maybe sometimes cursed, with the ability to perceive the same situation in entirely different ways. Sometimes, particularly before we are diagnosed, I believe that many of us bring to a situation the perspective that most closely mirrors our mood at the time. If we are depressed, the proverbial glass is nearly empty. If we are hypomanic, the glass is more than half full. And if we are manic, I'd imagine that the glass is overflowing.
But as we become more educated about bipolar disorder, depression and the ways in which they distort our perceptions, hopefully we are also learning how to compensate and course-correct our thinking and our responses in light of, and in spite of, how we're feeling at the time. For me, part of this process involves making a conscious effort to evaluate situations, particularly difficult ones, within the context of my spiritual faith. My "feelings" may change, from one point in time to the next, but when I take the time to think clearly about it, and more importantly to pray about it, the spiritual view of that situation remains constant.
When faced with a difficult choice, my brain defaults to trying to logically assess all of the options and develop a statistically robust cost-benefit analysis of each. Since of course I'm never privy to all of the information needed to make the "correct" choice with 100% accuracy and confidence, this process of trying to reason my way into the right decision is exhausting, in more ways than one. But, when I consciously choose to force my rational mind to take a back seat to my heart, the energy of the situation changes. Now, by "heart", I don't mean the emotional and hopelessly romantic part of me. I mean the spiritual, "ultimate truth" part of me - the part of me that desires to live a life that is consistent with my spiritual values and beliefs. When my spiritual heart takes over, something amazing happens, the choice becomes clear and although it's not always the easier choice, I know in my gut that it's the "right" choice, at least for me, at that time in my life.
But when it comes to sharing many of the characteristics of bipolar disorder, whether I tecnically have "it" or not, I've chosen not to consider that a death sentence. Of course, there are days that it may feel like it, but there are many days when I appreciate the heightened sensitivity, empathy, creativity and energy that are the brighter colors in the bipolar palette.
I've chosen to broaden my personal definition of "bipolar". For me, having a bipolar component to my personality/biochemistry means more than merely the existence of varying emotions spanning much of the length of the emotional spectrum. It also reflects what I believe to be a rather unique ability that I believe I share with many others who have been diagnosed with bipolar disorder, namely, the ability to view situations, objects, people and circumstances from multiple, and often opposing, points of view.
To me, it's no surprise that a significant percentage of people who are considered creative and/or artistic have also been diagnosed with bipoloar disorder. After all, what is creativity other than the ability to perceive and articulate everyday things in ways that are different from the ways that most people perceive them? The most successful writers are those that can describe a scene or a feeling that we've experienced, but in ways more eloquent than we ever could. Great artists and photographers similarly take every day images that we may have seen a thousand times, and capture just the right play of light or shadow, or touches of color, that transform the mundane into the spectacular.
I believe that many with a bipolar-type worldview are blessed, and maybe sometimes cursed, with the ability to perceive the same situation in entirely different ways. Sometimes, particularly before we are diagnosed, I believe that many of us bring to a situation the perspective that most closely mirrors our mood at the time. If we are depressed, the proverbial glass is nearly empty. If we are hypomanic, the glass is more than half full. And if we are manic, I'd imagine that the glass is overflowing.
But as we become more educated about bipolar disorder, depression and the ways in which they distort our perceptions, hopefully we are also learning how to compensate and course-correct our thinking and our responses in light of, and in spite of, how we're feeling at the time. For me, part of this process involves making a conscious effort to evaluate situations, particularly difficult ones, within the context of my spiritual faith. My "feelings" may change, from one point in time to the next, but when I take the time to think clearly about it, and more importantly to pray about it, the spiritual view of that situation remains constant.
When faced with a difficult choice, my brain defaults to trying to logically assess all of the options and develop a statistically robust cost-benefit analysis of each. Since of course I'm never privy to all of the information needed to make the "correct" choice with 100% accuracy and confidence, this process of trying to reason my way into the right decision is exhausting, in more ways than one. But, when I consciously choose to force my rational mind to take a back seat to my heart, the energy of the situation changes. Now, by "heart", I don't mean the emotional and hopelessly romantic part of me. I mean the spiritual, "ultimate truth" part of me - the part of me that desires to live a life that is consistent with my spiritual values and beliefs. When my spiritual heart takes over, something amazing happens, the choice becomes clear and although it's not always the easier choice, I know in my gut that it's the "right" choice, at least for me, at that time in my life.
Getting to this point hasn't been easy though. Because the "right" choice can't be judged by what I think is "right" for me, today, in this moment, given my severely limited view of the ultimate plan and purpose for my life. The right choice has to be viewed from the perspective of God's plan for my life. As a result, a choice may be the right one ultimately, although it may not result in me getting what I wanted at the time. Garth Brooks figured this out in his song that acknowledges that "some of God's greatest gifts are unanswered prayers."
So what this ultimately boils down to is making a choice, a commitment, to a course of action based on faith. I think that secularists have popularized the notion that faith is the act of believing strongly in something for which there is no (or not much) evidence. I don't believe that. While there may not be evidence to support a particular choice or point of view in isolation, I believe that those of us who exercise our faith muscles regularly acknowledge that our lives are full of evidence that God exists, and that evidence manifested in one area naturally transcends into all areas of our life. In discussing the definition of "faith", Conservapedia says that "no person in scripture described as being 'of faith' believed without evidence. They all had signs, miracles, and the word of God, and were faithful in their trust in God to keep his commitments, as well as their own commitment to keep their commitments to God."
My faith is being tested now in two very different situations - one involves a job (and possibly a career) change and the other involves a point of crisis in personal relationship that is very important to me. In both cases, I find myself defying "conventional wisdom" and pursuing a path, and a timetable, that is contrary to what many people might expect. To be honest, the path I've chosen to take with respect to my personal life is even contrary to what my rational mind would dictate. When I fall into old habits of putting on my rational hat, I find myself becoming anxious, confused angry, overwhelmed and scared. I second-guess myself and wonder if my friends and colleagues are right and that I'm going about this the wrong way. But when I take a deep breath, quiet down my mind and pray about the situation, the anxiety and the fear subsides and sense of calm and peace rolls over me.
Does this mean that I know the outcome of the situation? Absolutely not. I wish I did, but I won't know it until I'm living in the midst of it. Does it mean that I'm confident that I'm going to get what I think it is that I want? Negative. What it does mean is that I've chosen to PUSH (pray until something happens) and I faithfully believe that I will know what to do when it's time to do it. I'm human, and I'd be lying if I didn't have some idea of how I'd like the situation to turn out. But in choosing to PUSH, I've chosen to commit to the process, not to a specific outcome. And in so doing, I am absolutely convinced that no matter how the situation turns out, the end game will be to my ultimate benefit. I don't know who Sherwood Eddy was (is), but I agree that "Faith is not trying to believe something regardless of the evidence; faith is daring something regardless of the consequences."
So, for now I'm going to proudly wear my spiritual hat while I'm PUSHing. I'm going to focus on the realization that faith is not a thing. It's an act... a verb. I'm going to take the advice of Benjamin Franklin who said that "The way to see by faith is to shut the Eye of Reason." And on those difficult days, which are sure to come, I'm going to remind myself that life is not about the destination, it's about the journey. And by consciously and purposefully embracing the path I've chosen, regardless of the outcome, I can only become a better person because of it.
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