cute hand drawn young couple on a walk

How do you love with someone with bipolar disorder?

It can be hard AF.

I struggle to love me, and I have bipolar disorder.

I’ve got friends who love me though. I asked them what makes me so appealing, and they had some surprising answers,

One of my friends told me she loves me because I’m funny, I’m creative, and I’m kind. She loves me because I genuinely want to do good in the world.

My other friend had similar answers: I’m funny, honest, and compassionate.

I was once told that even though I’m a difficult person, there’s still something innately likable about me, and well, my friends’ answers prove that’s true.

My daughter loves me because she relates to the mood swings and understands when I’m struggling.

My husband shows his love for me by being kind, compassionate, and understanding.

What does that compassion look like?

He knows I love Robert Downey, Jr, so when I’m in a funk, he’ll turn on movies with him in it. I just recently watched “Sherlock Holmes,” and snuggling my husband and enjoying the movie really helped me know I’m loved. He forces me to talk when I want nothing more than to clam up. He takes me out on dates when I want to curl up in bed and sulk. He surprises me with trips for just the two of us to help me get out of my head and to have something to look forward to.

Loving a person with bipolar disorder may not always be easy. We can be unpredictable. There’s a chance we might hurt you when we’re hurting too. I inadvertently hurt a good friend of mine with my last suicide attempt, and I see the consequences of that. But I’m still innately likable. I’m still a good person, even though I do have mood swings, even though I have rages, even though I cry and sulk.

I also delight in making people happy and serving others. And people see that about me.

I’m loved because I’m quirky.

To love a person with bipolar disorder, like anyone else, you have to be willing to be hurt, you have to take a chance, you have to be prepared to roll with the punches. But there are so many good sides to loving a person with it. We can be quite creative and can help you get your house beautified or with a DIY project you’re stuck on. We can chatter your ear off for hours, and yet we can also turn around and listen when you need someone to lean on too.

Loving someone with bipolar disorder can be scary, but the person behind the disorder is worth the effort. There are layers to a person, and peeling back the layers and starting to love someone with bipolar disorder is a beautiful thing.

Like people say, if it’s difficult, it’s usually worth it. And a friendship with someone with mental illness can be difficult, but is so worth it.

If you or someone you know needs help, visit our suicide prevention resources page. 

If you need support right now, call the Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255

We want to hear your story. Become a Mighty contributor here.

Stock image by Handini_Atmodiwiryo


At present, the thing that makes me most uncomfortable is the way my body has changed due to my medications. I’m sure everyone with some kind of mental illness and going through therapy experiences changes in their bodies. I’m no different. I put on a lot of weight over the past year, and now, it makes me feel bad about myself.

How do you cope with something like that? Every time I visit my psychiatrist, I ask her to give me medications that won’t make me gain weight. Every time I’m on Google, I type “how to lose weight” or “why do bipolar disorder medications make you gain weight.” Every time I try to start an exercise routine or a diet, my mind won’t even let me get out of bed.

I know these thoughts are in my head, and they’re not healthy. It’s different for each individual. Today, I want to talk about the humiliation and loss of confidence I feel when I look at myself in the mirror. I see all the ways my body has changed in places, and I feel regret, like a sharp knife cutting through the chest into my heart. I flinch at the sight of me.

I know I have already done more harm than good to my body. I have scars to bring me back to reality every time I wander in the fantasy land where everything is “normal.” I have been told to treat my own body like a temple, but that was long gone when I first cut myself. I have taken medications that were not for me for far too long to do damage to my internal organs.

Now, when I think about the ways my mind has tortured my body, I feel ashamed. Knowing that all this time it was me who did the harm under the spell of my mental disease, I feel a pang of unimaginable guilt. It is true. I have been my brain’s most abused prisoner.

While we think others around us are most affected by our disease, we forget about ourselves. We feel guilty over everything, think about making it up to everyone, but we don’t think of ourselves. Everything that happens around us, the mistakes we make, the deplorable decisions we take, those are all as hosts to our mental illness. We pay the high price for it all, except we forget ourselves.

We don’t apologize to ourselves, our bodies. We apologize to anyone else we might have hurt or done wrong to, but we exclude our bodies.

Now that I stare at my image in the mirror, I just want to say I am sorry. I apologize for all the crap I put you through, all the unhealthy things I have taken in, all the times I hurt you, all the medications I still have to take to be normal and not hurt you.

But you know what I realized today while looking at myself? I have paid enough. I have sacrificed enough to be sad about how my body looks now. This is the price I pay to be ordinary. Because none of us are ordinary, really.

I think I said this before and I will stick to it: People with any kind of mental illness are far from ordinary. I have been struggling with the changes in my body, body shaming myself, all the while not realizing these are the medications that hold me together, hold my brain together, so that I can’t harm myself further.

If you are feeling the same thing I have been feeling for so long, then just stop. Stop and take a look at yourself again. You’re beautiful no matter how your body has changed. You’re held together tight with glue. There is no reason to hate your body. It has gone through enough. Don’t forget yourself. You’re your own little miracle no matter if your brain tells you otherwise. Don’t let your illness win this war.

If I can’t accept myself then how can I expect the society to accept me the way I am? My campaign Hope Is Good is more than a cause for me, it’s my entire life. I wish to help people, but I can’t do that if I can’t help myself. So, I have made a promise to myself: No more shame about my body. No more guilt. A promise to love myself.

We want to hear your story. Become a Mighty contributor here.

Image via Thinkstock.

For illustrator Harrison Wheeler, humor heals. Wheeler, a former vice principal turned artist and mental health advocate, creates mental-health inspired artwork based on his experience living with type 1 bipolar disorder and addiction.

Cartoon of two men. First man says "Bipolar? Really? You don't look crazy." Second man replies, "Maybe not, but you're looking pretty darn ignorant, pal."

“Drawing is my zen, it’s how I think, how I communicate,” Wheeler told The Mighty. “I’ve always been socially-minded with my art, be it comedy, writing or drawing.  [A]fter mounting my one-man show ‘Jesters Incognito,’ it dawned on me that my art could help a lot of people. Drawings are easy to share and say so much efficiently. There’s a lot of words on the internet, yet showing is so much more effective than telling.”

As a professional cartoonist, Wheeler creates a variety of images for campaigns as well as his mental health advocacy work. “I’ve drawn rather glib cartoons and more PSA comic strips on suicide – those were rough, to be honest – as well as inspirational designs,” he said.

Given his familiarity with corporate environments (many of his illustrations are dedicated to marketing and communications) Wheeler hopes his creations can help alleviated some of the workplace stigma around mental illnesses. In Canada, where Wheeler is from, an independent survey revealed 71 percent of Canadians living with a mental illness are concerned about workplace stigma.
Cartoon of two male characters in business attire. First man says "How can you possibly be so relax? This comic panel is falling apart." Second man replies, "Is it, Fred? Or is your anxiety warping your perception?"

“I approach recovery from mental health by speaking and leading workshops on how creativity helped me self-actualize, how in fact I believe mental health can be viewed as an asset for living our lives more creatively, and how communicating with compassion in the workplace is going to make for healthier, wealthier lives,” Wheeler said. “I try to approach the subject with comedy because there’s enough drama in the world.”

Illustration of people with the text "Hey. We all have mental health."

From his portfolio, Wheeler says his favorite cartoons include, “We All Have Mental Health” and “Compassion Problem.” “I dunno, I like them because they are at opposite ends of the spectrum of my style.”

Image of hearts with the text "Doctor, something's wrong. I started practicing compassion and now I've got all of these ... feeling! Can you help me?"

“It’s a strength,” Wheeler said, commenting on what it’s like to live with a mental illness. “It’s a beautiful accent to your character. Once we are able to accept it and learn to manage it, our conditions are no more limiting than an oddly shaped birthmark on our knee.”

Since I was very young, I’ve struggled with controlling my anger.

As a little girl, I’d succumb to temper tantrums often. Throughout adolescence, I’d quarrel with my parents, having meltdowns in rapid succession. When I was married, I’d fly off the handle at the smallest of infractions, becoming even more incensed when my former husband refused to engage in an argument. He’d always manage to remain reasonable and level-headed; to stay exasperatingly calm regardless of how irrational or emotional I became.

Instead of this calming me too, however, his detachment and formality only angered me further, making me feel trivialized, childish and impotent. I doubt his fighting back would have done us any favors, though. The problem, of course, wasn’t him. And it wasn’t my parents, my siblings, friends, or peers, either. It was (and is) me. Me and My Rage.

As a bipolar adult, I still struggle with rage issues. Often. Big-time. I’m impatient, impulsive and irritable. Plainly stated, I have a short fuse. Excess anxiety makes me hyper-vigilant – that is, I become startled easily. When that happens, it triggers instantaneous anger.

Of course, anger’s actually a secondary emotion to fear. I know this, as I sit here, rationally typing away. But in the moment, I don’t take a beat to carefully consider my reaction and arrive at a more appropriate, healthy response. In my estimation, there isn’t time to employ some anger management coping strategy such as counting to 10, deep breathing or using “I” statements before I totally lose it.

The medication I’m on does take a significant edge off my predominant negative emotion – anxiety – and in doing so it reduces overall incidences. Running also helps a lot because it’s so aggressive, so physical. But anxiety still happens and I struggle. The white hot anger takes control and before I realize what I’m doing or saying, I’ve lashed out, been disruptive or awful to somebody — and that’s never good.

One anxiety reduction method that’s been suggested to me time and time again is that I begin practicing yoga. Honestly, I really would like the physical and athletic benefits of a dedicated yoga practice. I know that yoga would help me with things like flexibility, core strength and correcting muscle imbalances — all of which contribute to what I’m ultimately seeking: injury prevention so I can keep running. Theoretically, it sounds great!

But as far as the spirituality part goes? The meditative piece? Bringing the hands to the heart’s center, and all that jazz? You can keep it. To me, that seems very annoying, very aggravating; all that slowing down, holding still, breathing deeply and keeping quiet. Even as I think about a hypothetical practice, I’m growing itchy and annoyed.

Yes, chaturanga dandasanas would do wonders for my delts, but how to proceed with making a yoga practice more appealing to a ferociously angry, rapid mood cycling person, such as myself? And would a traditional yoga practice even work towards eventually reducing my anxiety, that is, if I practiced regularly? Would it actually help even out my moods, grant me more patience, or make me less likely to go ballistic at the slightest affront?

Probably not, actually. Come to think of it, I know several yogis with a dedicated practice who are angry and impatient as all get out. But I’ve been hearing about all these alternative forms of yoga popping up and one particular mutation, er, interpretation caught my interest: “Rage Yoga, a brand-new, unconventional type of yoga practice developed by Lindsay Istace of Calgary, Canada who uses screaming, swearing and heavy metal music during workouts.”

You don’t say. Tell me more…

The official website defines Rage Yoga as “a practice involving stretching, positional exercises and bad humor, with the goal of attaining good health and to become zen as f*ck.” The classes are based on the Vinyasa flow, which I don’t really know much about other than it’s continual movement from one pose or “asana” to another, rather than holding the poses for a period of time. So it’s faster-paced and “fitness-y.” And there’s screaming. And swearing. And loud music. It’s, essentially, venting.

I like what I’m hearing so far.

Rage Yoga is the only yoga I could deal with at this point in my life. That said, “at this point in my life” is I’m a single gal with zero dependents. I have the theoretical luxury of visiting with my nieces and nephews, patting them on their cute behinds and then high-tailing it outta there as soon as pre-naptime fussiness begins, or worse, the full-blown meltdown.

But we’re all human, and as such we can relate to occasional feelings of edginess and hyper-vigilance, right? Ultimately, this type of yoga class sounds really cathartic and definitely worth trying. Since these classes are only offered in one Canadian city, those of us elsewhere will have to settle for the six-week online courses slated for this summer, but I’m sure copycats are close behind.

Better yet, you could start a Rage Yoga studio yourself! If you do, let me know. I’m game for some screaming, swearing downward dog.

Follow this journey on Salt and Pepper the Earth.

We want to hear your story. Become a Mighty contributor here.

Image via Thinkstock.

Lately I’ve been pondering what a beautiful thing it is to be a creative person. To think that I’ve created literally thousands of original works between my poetry, blogging, essaying, music reviewing and drawing, and not one of them is exactly like anything anyone else has ever created is intriguing, to say the least. And that’s not tooting my own horn or bragging about how amazing a creator I am — there are too many who are better at their craft than I am to even begin to count — but it is a neat thought to me, nonetheless.

Many prominent researchers have made the connection between mental illness — bipolar disorder, in particular — and the creative bug. I’m an artist and a writer, and have been both of those for most of my life. And if I’m being perfectly honest, much of my earliest “good” art (i.e. that which doesn’t make me cringe when I take a look at it) was a product of mania. I was unmedicated and the elevated mood took unbridled hold on me the summer before my sophomore year of high school, causing me to toil away on charcoal drawings into the wee hours of the morning every single day for weeks on end.

It seemed muses were inexhaustible and that ubiquitous “creative spark” was an undying blaze.

As a result of this, I believed I wasn’t a good artist well after the sickness faded; I was convinced I just got lucky with my bipolar high. But as time went on, I was adjusted to the right cocktail of meds and found the right therapist, and reached my version of normalcy. When I began getting back in touch with my artsy side, I realized I still have it in me, always have, even in my healthy periods. Mania might provide a surge of ideas and the laser focus and drive to make those ideas a tangible reality. It does not, however, provide innate talent or a deep-seated passion. I have been drawing ever since I could clutch a crayon in my little kid fist and scribble on a page. It’s just something that’s in my soul, and no amount of medication can change that.

While mania admittedly makes creating pretty things on a page more of a breeze than sanity does, my best written work found its genesis when I was at my healthiest, sanest state of being. When I’m biochemically high, there’s no way I can concentrate on a piece long enough to make it coherent and well-written. I flit from project to project and my mind is spinning too fast to make sure the storm I’m typing up is actually solid and making sense. This is not to say, however, that my mental abnormalities haven’t contributed to the “wordsmithing” side of my creativity. The majority of my writings are inspired by my struggles, and they wouldn’t be there if I didn’t have a life riddled with mental health issues.

There’s a chance I wouldn’t be the highly creative individual I am without the madness that takes up a decent chunk of my headspace. Beyond the mental aspect of creativity, my work is essentially an expression of my innermost self and a product of my experiences and point of view. If I didn’t go through what I’ve gone through and continue to experience what I experience on a day-to-day basis, I wouldn’t be myself. My art, in turn, wouldn’t be itself, either.

Ultimately, I believe that creativity is such an integral part of who I am that mental illness or not, I would always be this way. But maybe I wouldn’t have the same things that beg to be expressed, maybe I wouldn’t have the same intensity about my creative process. And because of that risk, I’ll keep the mental illness.

Three times the charm? Maybe.

I have been overly critical in the past of the film “Silver Linings Playbook.” I always knew it to be a good movie. However, the reasons for me thinking it was a good movie had nothing to do with the accuracy, which I felt the film lacked. When I watched the movie the first time, it played out as a good film with a good script, and that was all. All I gathered about the two main characters, Bradley Cooper and Jennifer Lawrence, were that they had bipolar disorder, but everything else about the movie seemed foggy not long after I watched it.

Granted, the movie was released the year I had my third breakdown. I can’t even be sure if I watched the film before or after my mental break. So depending on my mental status, my opinion of the film at the time might have been affected.

Two or three year later, I watched it again. I wanted to understand that which I did not upon my first viewing of the movie. My response? I thought the film underplayed the behavior, emotions and mentality of a person struggling with bipolar disorder. I felt Bradley Cooper’s character’s antics and excitability (ever present in almost every scene of the film) were more characteristic of a man with quirks and anger issues. I couldn’t possibly see how the audience could understand the severity of a person with manic depression if Cooper’s actions were merely written off as the actions of a quirky man who threw temper tantrums.

I felt Hollywood ripped us off and deprived the world of a great opportunity to present mental illness in such a way that people could, if not relate to, at least witness the travesties a person with mental illness has dealt with. I thought they did such a disservice to the mental health community by presenting bipolar disorder in such a comedic light.

Yes, there were scenes of drama, but much of Bradley Cooper’s antics were comical. You couldn’t help but crack a smile a little. I charged the writers and directors with abandonment of responsibility, with superficiality and an inability to give mental illness the proper platform it deserved. Here was their chance to present to the world what bipolar disorder looked like and felt like, and they blew it.

Then, I watched the movie a third time. It played on TNT last night. I wanted to watch it again, from beginning to end, to see if maybe I had missed something. Maybe I was being too critical and too overcharged with emotion to see with my own eyes what was really taking place on screen. Basically, I wanted to give “Silver Linings Playbook” another chance. A third chance, if you will.

I discovered something. Now while the average human might not understand all that is going on in the movie before them, if he or she could differentiate between someone naturally brimming with quirks and anger issues and a person who is quirky and temperamental as a result of their mental illness? Then, Hollywood will have succeeded.

Because in this movie, Bradley Cooper is a perfect example of a person with bipolar disorder (much more high-functioning than many I might add). He is not the most severe case of a person with bipolar disorder, which I think turned me off the second time I watched the film. Because I wanted the audience to see how brutal the disease can be. I wanted them to experience the trauma and the turmoil. I wanted the movie to shove it in our faces. At certain points in the film, they did.

For example, when Bradley Cooper’s character Pat starts freaking out because he cannot find his wedding video and he goes into this wild outburst, tugging at his hair, circling the room and shouting that he can’t find the wedding video. He is so loud he wakes up the neighbors. He accidentally strikes his mom in the face, and someone calls the cops on him. Lucky for Cooper, the cop only told him to quiet down. He didn’t drag him back to the mental clinic.

When Cooper’s wedding song (the song that played when he found his wife in the shower with another man) is playing when Cooper arrives at his therapy session, he asks the receptionist, “Is that really playing?” To which she responds, “We sometimes play music.” Bradley Cooper gets so infuriated, thinking for certain they are playing a cruel joke on him (oh, I’ve so been there), freaks out and rips the bookshelf off the wall.

I could relate to this particular part in this film because it illustrates the paranoia and delusion people with bipolar disorder can experience with they are in a manic or hypomanic state. Immediately, this scene reminded me of the years 2001 and 2002 when I thought the U.S. government was trying to brainwash everyone in America through the use of media, dubbing VHS tapes and changing the words in songs, movies and television scripts.

A particular song would come up and I’d think, “No! They’re trying to get to me. They’re messing with my head. Argh! I know they are.” I thought they were trying to trick me. A song like that would be called a “trigger.” It is an outside entity that causes something inside of you to connect to an old emotion or trauma and almost instantaneously bring back all previous emotions, fears and doubts you felt when that entity first caused the trauma.

Bradley Cooper is finally called into the doctor’s office and questions the therapist, “Why would you do that?” The doctor responds, “I am sorry. I had to see if (the song) was still a trigger.”

Stop. I do not think a therapist would not do that, which is one thing that really bothered me about this film. A therapist would not stealthily plan to have this song playing the moment you came into the office to see if it still “triggered” you. For one, it’s unfair to you. When you’re at the therapist’s office, your guard is up. Yet, you are still extremely vulnerable. Two, psychiatrists don’t try to trick their patients! Why? Why would they do that? So counterproductive. Cruel, even.

If Bradley Cooper came into the doctor’s office, and the doctor asks, “Can I play you this song, and you can tell me how it makes you feel or if it still has an effect on you?” Then, you give him the OK to do so? Then, yes. Play it, but to play the song when he first arrives to test him? No. I don’t think so. Sorry, Hollywood. Gotta ding you for that one.

However, I get the point you are trying to make. People with bipolar disorder can lose it if they hear a song that elicits a deep emotion or memory. I don’t physically lose it, but I find myself drowning with every word and every line redrawing incidents from my past. Bringing up feelings that left my mind reeling from anxiety.

There are a lot of little clues found in Cooper’s behavior and even in his own words that there is something off about him. Not the “off” that most people are familiar with, but rather “off” as he is mentally unstable. However, they are hard to notice if you don’t know what it means to be bipolar. These are clues I may not have even picked up on the first or second time I watched the film.

For example, when the cop comes to Cooper’s parents’ house after his loud outburst and Cooper and Robert De Niro (who plays his father) are fighting. The cop tells Cooper, “I’m going to have to write this up.” Bradley turns sadly, distraught and desperate. “No, don’t write this up!” he begs the policeman. “Nikki can’t see it!”

He repeats this several times. This is a clue to the clarity that Cooper lacks in this scene. The cop writing the incident up has nothing to do with Nikki (his wife). It’s highly improbable his wife would even see the report. One, the police wouldn’t hand it over to her. Two, there’s really no way she’d even know it would exist. Hence, there’s no reason for her to go down to the police station to ask for it.

Yet, Bradley Cooper is so much in his own world, his own reality, that he thinks everything is tied to Nikki. Someway, somehow, that police report is going to get into her hands. She is going to read it, and she is going to despise him for it. Bradley Cooper’s belief that he and his wife are still very much in love, that he only has to prove himself to her and they will be together again (despite the fact that his own wife has placed a restraining order against him and everyone in town is telling him to stay away from her) is a symbol of Cooper’s delusional reality, a reality perpetually goaded on by the presence of his illness.

His illness magnifies his obsession by 20 times. At times, he even manages to reel you, the audience, in. We are kept guessing if Jennifer Lawrence really gave Nikki the letter, and when Bradley Cooper was basically crying to the cop after the argument, “Don’t write this up! She’s going to see it!” for a moment, we empathize with him. That is, until we realize, wait. How the hell is she even going to see that police report?

For Jennifer Lawrence’s character, though she has bipolar disorder as well, it isn’t as obvious that she has a mental illness. Sure, she had a time after her husband’s death when she slept with a lot of men and wore black like a goth widow, but she is a high-functioning person with bipolar disorder, if I ever saw one. She is distinctly aware of her illness and how to manage it as well. When she shows Cooper her dance “studio,” she explains she is not that great of a dancer but it’s therapeutic and good for her. She seems of sound mind.

Both Cooper and Lawrence don’t take their meds (at least for Cooper, not until later on in the film). Lawrence can handle this. Cooper cannot, as demonstrated through his outbursts and erratic behavior. One thing I will say about Lawrence is she hardly expressed any emotion. Her face rarely wore a grin. It was either sulky, moody or expressionless. This could be attributed to the recent death of her husband, but no one really knows. It is an interesting contrast shown between the two main characters.

Now, that I’ve bored you to death, I guess I can return to my main point. “Silver Linings Playbook” is a movie that accurately depicts people with bipolar disorder. Through Cooper’s erratic, illogical and obsessive behavior, we are given a glimpse into how a person with bipolar disorder thinks.

One major hang up I still have with the movie is a lot of what happens in the film can be written off as quirky or angry charades. Yet, then again, life works in a similar fashion. One can mistake manic behavior for an odd guy with issues. He might act out at times, but that’s what he does. It can be hard to identify a person with bipolar disorder. This is mainly because most people have no idea what bipolar disorder is, and millions don’t get treated for it.

I think this film was a laudable attempt of Hollywood to step into the life of someone who has bipolar disorder. It wasn’t always clear cut. At times the audience was kept in the dark along with Bradley Cooper, but they really did to do justice to people with mental illness.

I still don’t like that it was a comedy. I feel like it took away from some of the gravity of the epidemic. However, someone once told me they made it that way so the film and the message were more accessible to people. I guess I can understand that.

I didn’t understand the intent of the writer of “Silver Linings Playbook” at first. Were they merely using mental illness as a vehicle to bring comedy onto the scene? Or did they really want people to see mental illness was no laughing matter, in spite of all the comedy? Well, I don’t know how serious the intentions of the writers and directors of the movie were, but I really do feel, in whatever magnitude, they did want people to recognize and learn what it means to live with bipolar disorder.

I do, however, feel they were asking a lot of the audience with this film. Many times, you really have to pay extra special attention to certain spots to find the meaning. You can’t help but laugh away a lot at Bradley Cooper’s antics and in the process risk losing the significance of what he is saying or doing. OK, so maybe Hollywood didn’t get all of it right, but they were headed in the right direction.

We want to hear your story. Become a Mighty contributor here.

Image via “Silver Linings Playbook” Facebook page.

Real People. Real Stories.

150 Million

We face disability, disease and mental illness together.