5 Things I Lost Because of My Bipolar Disorder (and What I Didn't)

The quote from Mark Twain goes, “Of all the things I have lost, I miss my mind the most.” It’s a little annoying, at the least, when people repeat it. Those of us with psychiatric diagnoses don’t actually lose our minds, but we do often lose a lot of other things along the way.

• What is Bipolar disorder?

1. We can lose friends due to our illnesses.

I’ve certainly lost friends because of my bipolar disorder. I can think of two in particular who were very dear friends, but cut off all contact with me when I was at the depths of my depression and they feared I was suicidal. I reached out to them a few times and even sent them a copy of both my books, but got minimal response. I still miss them, though they now live in another state and it’s unlikely that we’ll ever see each other again, even in social settings we all used to frequent.

2. We might lose jobs because of our diagnoses. 

Twice I lost jobs largely because of my bipolar disorder. The first time, I had been isolating a lot, keeping the door to my office closed and barely interacting with any of the other employees. While an open door wasn’t technically a requirement of the job, I was the only editor who habitually hid behind a closed one, and it wasn’t taken well. I’m afraid I got a reputation as being difficult and uncommunicative. Finally, after several incidents where my emotions ran away with me, I was let go.

The second time was at the job I had directly after that job ended. At first, I did alright in the department I was assigned. Then my boss left and the department was disbanded. I was transferred to another editing group, and there my difficulties began. The people there misunderstood my attempts at humor. My boss didn’t understand bipolar disorder and when she asked, “What does that mean?” I was caught off-guard and made a brief, unhelpful remark to the effect of, “Sometimes I have good days and sometimes I have bad days.” I could see her thinking, “What makes you different than anyone else?”

Finally, I was put on probation, the only time in my entire career when that ever happened to me. I decided to leave before they could fire me. Then I went into a period of hypomania about not having to work there anymore and starting a freelance career, which did not turn out as well as I had hoped.

3. Our intellectual abilities can take a hit with mental illness.

I know a lot of people worry that when they have a disorder such as bipolar, or even when they take medication for it, they will lose some of their brainpower. I never felt that way, but looking back, I can see the disorder also disordered my thinking. Moods of despair and exhilaration interfered with my cognitive functions. In addition to the general dulling of feelings during depression, I also lost the ability to concentrate enough to read — formerly one of my primary and best-loved activities. Even as I mourned the loss of my reading, I was simply unable to pick up a book and follow its contents. I took to watching mindless TV shows instead — really bad ones.

4. We lose enjoyment at the hands of our disorders.

Just as I no longer found joy in reading, I no longer found other activities enjoyable or interesting as well. I used to love cooking, especially with my husband; but when depressed, I could barely microwave a cup of mac and cheese. I loved good conversation with friends, but I barely talked to anyone and ignored friends’ overtures. I enormously enjoyed traveling, but couldn’t summon the energy even for a day trip.

5. Mental illness can cause us to lose confidence.

I used to be able to do all kinds of things by myself — attend business conventions (and science fiction conventions) and write articles for publication, for example. When I was struggling the most from bipolar disorder, I could do none of these things. When I went to conventions, I needed a bolt-hole and spent as much time as I could in my room. At that point, I couldn’t write about my condition or even send emails to friends. One of my friends said, when I was considering electroconvulsive therapy (ECT), “Write about it! That’s what you do!” But it wasn’t what I did anymore. Putting pen to paper — or words on a screen — was not even a possibility. I asked someone else if she would write about it instead.

Things I haven’t lost.

Of course, most of these things came back to me once I was properly diagnosed and medicated. I now read every night, write my blogs every week, travel here and abroad, and make friends I keep in touch with. I discovered some of my friends had stuck by me, even when I was in the depths. I still can’t work in an office, but I have found work I can do from home. I enjoy travel again. And if I’m a little slower to get a joke or find a word, it doesn’t bother me so much. I know my brain is just fine, except for occasional glitches.

Losing all those things made me realize just how good my life is now that I am back to being myself. I have my mind back, if it was ever lost at all.