By Sana Ahmed
As I sat in a dimly-lit room at the emergency unit at CAMH (Centre for Addiction and Mental Health) with my sister and two of my best friends on a hot summer night in 2008, I wasn’t cognizant of how that day would change my life forever. The doctor went on to tell me, “Sana, I think you have Bipolar.” I wasn’t in the state of mind to comprehend the depth of his words, but his diagnosis has surely changed me to my core.
I am now 27-years-old. Sometimes I forget that I’m Bipolar. And other times I’m only too acutely aware of this mental illness. Bipolar Disorder involves an elevated mood or mania that alternates with bouts of depression. When I was admitted into hospital, I was a cookie-cutter example of a manic person.
Leading up to my hospitalization, which lasted for three weeks, I was myself, but in a very exaggerated way. I slept little, ate little, socialized too much, shopped uncontrollably, befriended strangers – all without thinking about the consequences of such actions. An almost dangerous streak of energy was bursting at my seams. This all happened so quickly that I didn’t have the foresight to slow myself down. It got to the point that people started noticing something was wrong with me. This behaviour lasted for approximately two weeks, before my sister, with the help of some of my friends, sat me down and told me I should go to a hospital. At first I was reluctant, but decided to go along with it.
Now, almost three years later, I’ve been relatively perfect. One of the pivotal aspects in dealing with any mental illness is knowing how to manage it. I have been very lucky because I have an excellent doctor, great family and friends as my support system and the right mixture of medications that helps me function as normally as possible.
There is a lot of research that has gone into explaining the occurrence of mental illness. Studies suggest that people are usually diagnosed in their late teens to mid-twenties. An important connection is that it runs in the family. This is where, for me personally, stigma comes in. It turns out that several individuals from my mother and father’s side have had some kind of mental illness. It is just never talked about. Perhaps if I had known about mental illnesses before I was diagnosed, I might have been more prepared and taken pre-emptive actions so I wouldn’t have gone through the manic phase.
Even today, only a handful of relatives know that I have Bipolar. My parents aren’t ready to tell them, and frankly, they probably aren’t ready to hear about it. It’s acknowledged to the extent of subsequently brushing it under the carpet. People in any community are embarrassed to admit to a mental illness because there’s so much that’s unknown about it.
With me personally, my parents have been so supportive. They are aware of the kinds of mood swings I can have and they have their own coping mechanisms. The key in dealing with a mental illness is being open in your outlook. If you feel that your child is exhibiting abnormal behaviour, then definitely seek medical advice from a family doctor, who might then refer him/her to a psychiatrist.
Fundamentally, I am the same person, but that summer of 2008 brought forth a barrage of emotions and revelations for me. I was 24-years-old and living a seemingly enviable life. My days were socially charged. I was being driven in amazingly intellectual and creative ways. Somewhere along the way, something happened. That something has contributed into making me the person I am today. And this personal evolution does not at all make me feel shameful. In my capacity as a journalist, I have always tried to bring more attention to mental illnesses and the stigma that comes with them. And it’s only with more awareness and knowledge that we, as a society, can be better-equipped to deal with this issue.
