Hello again all.
I decided recently to open up about my personal struggles with manic depression. It hasn't exactly been easy to talk about most of this, but I'm doing it in hopes that someone comes across it, and it will help them to cope with their own and also realize that we can change the stigma surrounding it.
In a prior article, I stated that those of us who struggle have been made to feel ashamed, and often feel like we are lesser than others because of the limitations that we have. I'd like to encourage any of you that struggle with depression, mania, or any of form of mental illness to just be who you are. The struggle is real, as they say.
So, I'm going to start with the first time that I was was hospitalized due to manic depression.
It was spring 2000. The thing about manic depression is that no matter how hard you try, you can't stop it. It's going to take hold at various times. Anyway, it happened so fast that first time that I didn't even stop to question what was going on. Everyone around me knew that something wasn't right. I was downing whole bottles of any kind of alcohol I could get my hands on, and even though I was smoking a ton of weed everyday, it was no matter. I think the stress of jobs i had in 98 and 99 was what led to the mania. I wasn't feeling close to anyone anymore. Feelings of complete and total isolation.
One day, I just quit sleeping.
And that was what led to the manifestation of full blown mania.
It all happened so quickly.
Next thing I knew, I was in a hospital emergency room screaming at the admitting nurse that my sister was the one with the real problem. Nearly jumped out of her car on the way to the hospital. Lost so much weight that I couldn't fit into any of my clothes. I stopped eating. Quit sleeping.
Just constant self medicating to hide the pain of never feeling good enough for anyone. Back then, I was afraid to tell anyone how miserable and alone I felt. The stigma I spoke of earlier was so real. I felt completely on my own. Even with someone who totally loved me and knew what everyone around me knew as well. That something was really wrong.
I don't think I've been the same since that day. It hurt so bad knowing that everyone could see the change in my behavior but me. All I wanted to do was listen to music and I never wanted to hurt anyone. I just felt so isolated, because no matter how hard I tried to relate to people, something was just missing. It was an empty space that nothing in my life could fill.
I woke up in a hospital room in a complete fog, wondering what led up to all this. There was really no one that I remember at the hospital telling me what was going on. They just prescribed medicine, then sent me home after a week.
I remember going home hoping that my weed stash was still in my closet. I was so paranoid that I hid it really well, because I was so paranoid that someone was going to steal my ounce of weed.
My sister had went to great lengths to make our apartment welcoming and to make me feel right at home. But, I had so much residual anger from what I felt she had done to me, that I couldn't see it. I started calling home a lot more, and reconnecting with old friends. I felt that they had more to offer me than anyone in the city where I was living at the time.
I was so paralyzed by fear that I couldn't even think of going back to work. The medicine was so strong that I just wanted to sleep. And when I was awake, all I wanted was to smoke weed, listen to music, and just generally be left alone. I started taking frequent trips back home, because I felt abandoned by my sister and all my partying friends.
I remember listening to DMX a lot back in those days. Especially after I came home. A neighbor downstairs had given me The Source Hip Hop Awards 1999 and Hip Hop Hits Volume 3. They both had a lot of songs that I was digging in 98 and 99. I especially loved the DMX and Ruff Ryders stuff that was on there, along with Redman and JT Money, Naughty by Nature, and Busta Rhymes. Music was my refuge in those dark days after I came home. I got my income tax refund not too long after that and blew a lot of it on music and weed. I felt like that was all I had anymore.
After the hospital, I just completely turned on my sister. I blamed her for everything. Looking back, I realized how hard it must have been on her. Taking her little brother to the hospital. I'm sure it was devastating for her thinking that she was never gonna get the old me back. But none of that mattered to me. I couldn't get past my own anger enough to realize what this had done to her. She fixed up my room to make it better for me while I was away, and all I could do was yell at her about ruining my life. Writing this makes me feel horrible right now, because she was the one person that cared enough to get me some help. I'm sorry sis. I know that I really hurt you.
I'm kind of tired from writing this, but I hope it helps someone in need. Please share it with others.
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