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For 2016, I promised myself a number of things, not the least of which was getting a better handle on my bipolar disorder. I’ve resolved to have a healthier mind in the hopes that it would lead to healthier relationships with everyone in my life. Sadly, I’ve already broken my resolution and I’ve realized that I have a habit of using bipolar to push people away.
The first test of my new found relationship health came during a visit to my family in Massachusetts. My dad and I had planned to see my uncle and cousin in Boston, a trip that I’d been looking forward to for a few weeks. A little history here: I hadn’t seen my uncle and cousin — my father’s family — for about five years, since a family funeral. My dad wasn’t very close to his brother when I was growing up, so I wasn’t close to him either, nor his daughter, my cousin.
Recently, my dad and his brother renewed their relationship, and with it the desire for me to reconnect with the family. This is hard for me because my uncle and I disagree on many things. He’s a minister and conservatively religious to the point of being impractical. So whenever we talk I get a lecture about wearing pants and watching rated R movies and riding in cars with strange men that aren’t my husband — otherwise known as “going on a date.” I’m 43. I don’t need or like anyone passing judgement on my life, even if they are family. Needless to say, seeing my uncle is exhausting and stressful.
So, I actually decided to pass on the trip to Boston. After various holiday gatherings and a 10-day visit from my dad, I was exhausted. I told my dad I wasn’t feeling well, which wasn’t a lie. No amount of pleading or guilt could make me change my mind. My rationale was that some people might be able to power through several weeks without spending any time alone; I wasn’t one of those people. I have bipolar, and I’m an introvert, both of which make it hard for me to deal with an onslaught of personalities for too long at a time. Sounds good, right? Well it isn’t, because I was using bipolar to push people away. This time it was my family.
Part of having a mental illness is knowing that you have the right medications to buffer against emotional volatility or extremity. But the medication doesn’t — or shouldn’t — take away regular feelings. If my meds are working properly, I should be annoyed when people annoy me and sad when sad things happen. I should also be able to handle situations when the annoyance or sadness becomes overwhelming. But the meds don’t handle those situations for me, I’m supposed to handle them myself.
Going to my uncle’s house when I was already feeling volatile, and when I expected to experience some discomfort based on his views, I would have had the perfect opportunity to test my resolution for better relationships and a healthier mind by regulating my emotions. But I hid at home instead and missed an opportunity to bond with my family.
Don’t get me wrong. Staying at home works sometimes, and perhaps this was one of those instances when being at home by myself was the best option for me. But I won’t ever know if I should have pushed through my discomfort to see what would’ve happened.
I’m sure I’ll have other chances to use my coping skills to push through my uneasiness instead of using bipolar to push people away. In the meantime, I’ll firm up my resolutions for the year, talk to my therapist about how to power through the difficult times, and hope for health and growth in 2016.
Tracey Lloyd lives in Harlem, where she fights her cat for access to the keyboard. You can find more of her experiences living with bipolar disorder on her personal blog, My Polar Opposite.
