There is a reason I titled this article the way I did. It would be easy, expected even, to title it The Truth About Bipolar but there is more than one truth when it comes to bipolar disorder. Each person with bipolar has their own story - their own truth. This is mine.

I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder sometime between 2004 and 2006. Not very definitive, I know, but it's the best I can remember. What I do remember about the start of this whole journey is the endless amount of mood surveys, for lack of better term; a seemingly endless amount of questions phrased similarly to "on a scale of 1-10, with 10 being the best, how do you relate to [insert feeling or mental state here]." And let me say this, it's very hard to rate your mood, happy or sad, on a scale of 1-10 when you can't even wrap your head around what you are feeling. The beginning of this journey as a person diagnosed with Bipolar also included countless doctors appointments, numerous tubes of blood for numerous blood tests - blood tests to check the level of medication in my blood as well as my overall health. Here's the thing though, this journey started much earlier than my official diagnosis.

I remember being in elementary school and being told that I likely had ADHD. It was a diagnosis that made sense, especially considering my age, because to be perfectly honest, a diagnosis of ADHD makes sense for a 6 year old who had more energy than an only child should have and who had a hard time sitting still and concentrating on one thing at a time. What I've realized looking back after having done some research on Bipolar disorder and going through mental health first aid training is that when I was diagnosed with ADHD, that was the first signs of the Bipolar disorder rearing its ugly head - at least the mania side. The depression side of my bipolar showcased itself about a year later when I became a big sister. The depression itself had absolutely nothing to do with my sister - the day she was born was on of the best days of my life - and everything to do with my inability to adequately deal with change.

Fast forward back to 2004 or 2005 and I'm now dealing with an official professional diagnosis of Bipolar disorder, Bipolar 2 to be exact. Bipolar 2 trends toward the depressed end of the spectrum. That's not to say that I don't have my manic episodes; I most definitely do. I have days where my brain goes faster than the rest of me can follow, days where my thoughts move too quickly for my words to keep up. Those are the days where I doubt the good moods and the normal feelings. I want so much to be normal that I second guess when that's how I feel. To me, normal is feeling slightly fatigued, being plagued by self-doubt and worry, not being sure if I can trust my feelings at face value. That's part of my truth.

I try to keep myself together and functioning at 100% and, even though I'm not proud of it, I sometimes settle for functioning at 90%. One of the main challenges is when I'm forced to accept functioning at 75% or even close to 50%. There's nothing quite like battling your brain in an attempt to function while simultaneously battling your mind as its telling you that functioning is overrated and you won't be able to succeed no matter how hard you try. That is also part of my truth.

Long story short, my truth is this - I have days where the depression spectrum of my bipolar reigns supreme. On those days, I am a walking zombie. I battle fatigue and self doubt like a pro (so to speak). I have days where the manic spectrum breaks through, days where I feel like I can conquer the world. Those are the days where I try not to doubt my own thoughts and try to remind myself that its OK to feel normal, to feel happy, and that the other shoe isn't necessarily going to drop. That is my truth, and I'm oddly proud of it.