By any normal standards I am your next door twenty-something-year-old. My worst challenges range from chameleons to being broke, all the way to not having control over my emotions and moods. When my pockets are full, I am either looking at every green plant around me imagining ugly chameleons with horns on them or struggling to get a hold on my emotions. However, I will not dwell on the chameleons and my pockets today. Those two might be trivial when compared to my inability to control my moods and emotions.

My bipolar disorder is like this foreigner who overtime made himself at home within my system. Perhaps, too at home for my liking. On some days, I want to fight him so hard. On others, I just pretend that this foreigner does not dwell within me. But on some days, which is most of them btw, I am just too tired. Too tired to fight him. To wake up and even at times; to shower. There is just no energy in me on such days.

How has this affected my friendships? With my condition, comes the  rapid mood shifts. It so swift that sometimes it feels like the earth is spinning on its axis at a faster speed than usual. I can hardly keep up. One moment I am on cloud 9 and the next I am feeling, and seeing blue all round. I literally shoot from “hey swee, how are you today?’ to ‘you son of a philandering b****, why do you keep texting me every so often?’ in just a jiffy. It is difficult-actually impossible- for my friends to keep up with it. Or with me. I cannot blame them. It isn’t easy being around someone who can fly you to Dubai for vacation one second but be feeding your skin to the vultures the next. Really, it isn’t.

As for relationships, (insert a tired sigh), well.  I am your typical curvy African girl next door. My hips and rear are a lot on the wide end and I think my looks are okay. Come on, why am I trying to be so modest? I look pretty great. Si we said, when necks turn as we walk it is a sign that our mothers did well? But here is the catch, most of the times but I am never sure of how or even when, to break it to the guy that I have a mental condition. And even when I do, it just usually a matter of time before they bolt off. Of course, some of them come up with a polite excuse while others openly say that they cannot live with a crazy person. (insert a soft chuckle)

It used to hurt at first. Real bad. I mean am I not a woman like the rest out there? Or at least, I like to think of myself as one. So, really, can you blame me for desiring to have a normal boyfriend like every other person? Can you? But you see, over time, that hope is slowly dimming. I never bother much about dating because sometimes I am tempted to think, why worry so much when they will all walk out; just at different paces?

Career wise, I wouldn’t complain much. Save for the fact that every other time I secure a job or an internship, there has to be a section of the conversation where I go like, ‘Hey… You might want to know that I kinda, sort of, might be having this uumm condition…thingy, where my moods act a lot like the Aberdare ranges and stuff…? So… I thought you should know… you know. Just in case.’ (Make sure to insert all the dramatic pauses and gestures while reading this part hehe)

Most of them are understanding. However, there are also those who look at me with one eyebrow raised and then nod like ’An-ha, noted. That shouldn’t be a problem.’ All that time their faces are a mixture of sympathy and “what did we just get our company into?’ Mostly, the latter. Another thing about the understanding lot of the population is that they tend to treat me like an egg. I am not saying it is bad. Neither am I shunning their empathy and good intentions. No. I just think, it would be cool to treat me like a normal person a few times. Or actually, at all times if possible. Because if there is something I really crave for, it is a dosage of normal. Sometimes, being treated normal is the closest I get to feeling normal when I am having those days.

My family? You ask. I would wish to lie to save face but honestly speaking; I think my folks just ignore the whole thing. Perhaps, they are scared of facing it. Or maybe, they just don’t want to. I honestly don’t know. We never talk about it anyway. But, I’d rather the scared one: I’d make more sense. They only forget that this is a reality. My reality. One that I live with it every other day. Sometimes, every hour. The few times I might have brought it up for discussion, it either rubbed some people the wrong way or was hurriedly swept under the carpet.

Are there drugs for this disorder? Bipolar disorder can’t be treated per se. It can be managed though. Only that the drugs can be too expensive at times. Also, it would be important to know that the drugs sometimes come with side effects. They make me tired, sleepy and even grumpy at times. This affects my schoolwork to a great extent. I’ve had to miss exams, classes or even to call off the semester a few times. I also put on weight. Need I tell you about how clueless people stare at me like, ‘guess who has been eating lots of fatty foods lately?’ even when that is not the case. Listen to Juliet’s own words: ‘Thing with mental illnesses is you can start doing well. Be faithful to meds and watch what you eat, then get worse. Drugs get changed all the time. All the time.’

 

My worst fears? My inability to control my moods scares me. A little. I mean, think of the helplessness that accompanies people viewing you like this maniac who can’t get a grip on her moods and emotions. But that isn’t my worst fear. (shaking my head) No.  My worst fear is giving birth to a kid with a similar disorder. Some mental disorders are genetic btw so much as I would love to indulge myself in optimism, I cannot rule out that possibility. It scares the shit out me. Or even worse, what if I give birth to a normal healthy kid then never really be mentally present for them? I picture this perfect little human with pretty, little fingers and a mom who is not mentally present and . . . I shudder. Sometimes I bite the insides of my cheeks to keep myself from crying at the thought of it.

I have been through incidences when I visit the clinic and once the doctor learns that I do make occasional visits to the psychiatrist, they literally link my headache and common cold to my mental illness. Consequently, I am made to wait to see the psychiatrist to be given a prescription. For my headache or back pains. (soft laughter) Sometimes I just chuckle in amusement or horror and juggle my sweetly curvy ass out of the clinic and take normal painkillers to stop my headache. Because sometimes, it is just that: a head ache.

I do feel suicidal at times. (Licks my lips nervously). And I may not disclose much as of now but, seeking help-professional help- during these times helps a lot to keep me afloat. ‘What I would like people to understand about mentally unwell people is that they can’t just snap out of it. They aren’t seeking attention or just acting out of it. They are not just sad. They do not need to be stimulated. They are unwell; just like a diabetic and can only take drugs and hope for the best. They aren’t lazy and incompetent. They aren’t greedy. Neither are they too selfish. And they could definitely use a little more support from you and I,’ Juliet Achieng’

There are three types of bipolar disorders and the most common being bipolar 1 and 2. People with 1 experience mania mostly while those with 2 experience depression mostly.

~ The Kenyan Blogger

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Check our Festival Session Information: Living Whole With Chronic Illness