Up until April/may last year I thought I had completely taken control of my bipolar and began to question if I was really bipolar at all. My “cure” – Running, hindsight being 20 20 it was becoming obvious to friends and family that I was becoming obsessed with running. I was working 4 days a week as a tree surgeon and running seven days a week, some days twice a day. running would calm me if I felt manic and would pick me up if I felt low. The icing on the cake was I started winning races and joined a team, aged 39 I was running faster than I had ever done before with a huge grin on my face.
During a 5k race which I won I felt a pull in my lower abs – thinking nothing I got back to the car, I tried to run the following day but it was obvious something was seriously wrong. At this point things began to unravel, rapidly.
by July I was in a full blown manic episode and I was admitted to a PICU (physciatric intensive care unit) this lasted till October despite being on a large amount of medication.
The past four months have been pretty tough, a manic episode is like a bomb going off, not just for me but all those around me. When it finally burns out the reality of what’s happened slowly creeps in along with guilt, shame, and sorrow for the damage I have caused.
I am now on a better set of meds which is slowly helping me to gain control and get better insight and understanding of my illness – it no longer feels insurmountable its tough but I know there is light at the end of the tunnel no matter how dull.