It comes like a wave.
Sometimes it’s a gentle lapping on the shores of my life.
Other times it’s a freaking tsunami, taking out everything in its path, the underwater explosions invisible to the people around me who only see the destruction that’s been left as the waters recede.
This is what it’s like living with bipolar disorder.
The path to my diagnosis
My mental health journey began when I was eleven years old. It was 1991, and Kurt Cobain hadn’t stepped up to the mic to sing “All Apologies” yet. He hadn’t smashed one guitar out of rage in public. Hadn’t yet dyed his hair purple in a fit of mania for all to see.
At eleven years old I was supposed to be all bubblegum and board games. Riding my bike and laughing with friends.