Chapter 3 • Starting My Life Over Having Bipolar.

After my 10 day psych ward stay, I was discharged back to my parents’ house. We had a meeting at the hospital with my father, stepmother, and the team I was under the care of while in the hospital. The psychiatrist explained to my family that my mood would be slightly heightened and manic for a few days, but I would level back out.

My parents set up strict guidelines I had to follow once I got home. I wasn’t able to go out with friends for a few weeks, couldn’t drive my car for the next month, had to take all my meds as prescribed, and I’d be attending an outpatient program for a few months.

My first few days home, I wasn’t allowed to stay home alone, so I constantly had to be with someone to watch over me, which was very frustrating to deal with. I went from an independent 18 year old only a month prior to now being treated like I was incapable of taking care of myself.

One big thing that got me through all this was about a week before I ended up committed to the psychiatric ward. I had adopted a kitten named Tony. Honestly, without having him in my life at that time, I dont think I would have handled all the stress that came along with adjusting to having a bipolar diagnosis. As much as I saved him by adopting him, I realized he saved me more.

I was discharged from the hospital on a Friday, and my outpatient program started the following Monday. I was a bit nervous to be 6 of group therapy with a bunch of adults I didn’t know. Also, while in the hospital, when we had open communication therapy type groups, I stayed completely silently.

As a child who grew up with an alcoholic drug addict mentally ill mother, I was never allowed to express how I felt. If I did ever open up in anger over what was going on, my father would always say “ Shut up about it. Everything is fine. You’re acting crazy just like your mother”! So I had no idea how to even express myself to anyone ever. It even took a lot for me to open up to any of my close friends. I always feared what type of response I’d get in return.

So, being so used to shutting down all my emotions and feelings for my entire life, I was worried how group therapy would be. I was panicking, and they would force me to talk, so I had major anxiety over going the following Monday.

I basically kept to myself all weekend and stayed in my room with my cat, only coming out to shower, eat meals, and have my parents watch me take my medications. To think a month ago I was enjoying my summer working and hanging out with my friends, and now I was on house arrest all, because a creepy older man at my job chose to sexually assault me and alter my life completely.

Finally, it was Monday morning. I woke up, took a shower, and ate breakfast, and then my grandparents picked me up to bring me to my outpatient program. I remember the drive up the driveway to the program, and my heart started racing. My mind was flooded with worry and anxiety of not knowing what to expect.

When I entered the program, my grandparents and I were brought into an office to fill out papers to voluntarily sign myself in to be a part of group outpatient services. Seemed like they gave me the never-ending pile of paperwork to read and sign along with a folder full of the daily schedule as well as a journal and pen to keep.

Soon after I signed all the papers, I said goodbye to my grandparents. At this time in my life, I was a bit of a heavy smoker, and my addiction to smoking cigarettes only worsened since my hospital stay. All the trauma I experienced made it difficult to not crave a cigarette.

So I asked the worker if there was a designated smoking area and asked if it was ok for me to step outside to smoke a cigarette before I went to my first group. The worker said that’s fine and commented. I seemed a bit anxious.

I sat outside and smoked 2 cigarettes, and then the worker came out and politely asked me to come in so I could join the first session of the group for the day.

When I walked into the group room, I saw everyone in the group was much much older than me. Not a single person was anywhere near my age. So that was super intimidating to find out.

During the first group each of us did a check in to say our names, our current diagnosis if we were comfortable sharing, and since I was new I was asked if I would like to say a bit about myself to introduce myself to the group. I just remember everyone staring at me, waiting to talk. I felt so overwhelmed. I just blurted out “ I’m Julia I’m 18 years old, and I just graduated high school, and I recently had my first hospitalization”! That’s all I could muster up enough courage to say. The group was very kind towards me and said, “Welcome to the group.”

During that first session, I heard so many people share their personal stories. Some people had bipolar disorder just like me. Others were alcoholics or drug addicts, and one woman discussed that she had an eating disorder. It just seemed like everything they all shared I was able to relate to.

I was asked if I’d like to share, but I declined and said if “ if it’s ok. I just want to listen today”! The group leader said that’s fine it’s not mandatory to ever speak, but it can help with recovery if I were to share my feelings.” She said “that’s a way for me to get feedback from other group members that may very well be extremely helpful.” In that moment I wished I could share with the group, but like I said having the childhood I had and being neglected by every adult in my life to open up about how I felt I was nowhere near comfortable sharing my feelings with a room full of people I just met.

After the first group of therapy, I was pulled out by the art therapist. She said she was told by the team that I enjoy doing art, so she wanted to do a private session with me. We sat and talked for the first 15 minutes, and then she gave me a piece of paper and a container of colored pencils. She asked me to draw whatever came to mind.

I drew a large open window with curtains looking out at nature with trees, a sun, clouds, and a bird. I took my time creating my drawing because I felt so calm and peaceful while I was drawing.

Once I was finished, the art therapist said she would like to see what I drew. She then read into my drawing, and I was amazed at how much she could pick up on my emotions simply by looking at a piece of art that I created. I remember her telling me I am someone who likes to keep to myself and hide when things get difficult and that inside I’m crying out for people to hear me and also that I’m struggling to really feel ok with expressing my emotions. I told her that’s all very true.

After that we sat and talked for a half hour. For some reason I just felt so comfortable opening up to her that I told her about the sexual assault I experienced that lead me to a nervous breakdown and that’s how I ended up in a psych ward and that’s why I’m now attending this program. She was just such a calm and peaceful woman, and I could sense she actually cared about everything I was saying. I even asked her if I could just do art therapy while I’m here and said I’m not ok being in groups. She explained that she could try to do more individual sessions with me, but a big part of the program was being in group therapy.

After art therapy was over, I went back outside because it was break time from groups. I sat at the picnic table and smoked a cigarette. A fellow group member came over and asked if he could sit with me. Seeing he was an older man, I felt a bit nervous because I was now associating all men with the man who sexually assaulted me.

He sat across from me, also smoking a cigarette. He was very kind and said I don’t seem like someone who would need mental health services, but said he guesses who really does look the part anyway.

We talked for the entire break, and just by talking to him, I felt more comfortable being a part of the group and hopefully would be able to open up to the other group members eventually.

After break, I went inside for the next group. This group people shared about our mental health related experiences. I remember an older woman talking. Her story was so relatable. She discussed how she was an alcoholic drug addict since she was 18 years old and she turned to drugs and alcohol due to growing up in a dysfunctional household . She then talked about how she knew her addiction was affecting her relationships with both her children and how she wished she could always be a more responsible parent, but she can’t seem to break her addictions.

After she talked, I thanked her for sharing. I then decided to open up. I talked about some parts of my childhood and how my mother was once an amazing mother, but then what seemed like over night she was an alcoholic drug addict who tore my entire family life apart. I told the women hearing her talk as a mother about her relationship with her own kids and how she wished she could do better for them both, made me feel like I was in group with my own mother and wondered if my mother opened up about me or my siblings when she was in rehabs or psych wards.

I was extremely proud of myself for being able to open up and speak about myself for a bit, it was very freeing to be apart of a group with people who didn’t judge me as well as knowing all of these people understood what I’ve gone through.

After the third group let out we had a lunch break, then we had two more groups for the day. I quickly began to realize therapy is very emotionally exhausting, I just could wait until I could go home and nap.

The next two groups went well. One was more of an open discussion to discuss traumas we’ve experienced. I felt this was the group I needed to share in. I didn’t feel as nervous as I did when I attended the first group of the day. I spoke about my recent sexual assault experience going into detail of exactly what happened and how I turned to drugs to cope and how that caused me to have a manic episode . I said I regret not perusing filing a police report. A woman in the group said it only happened to me a month ago, so I have every right to go to the police station and file a report. She said now that I’m stable and clearer headed, this is a better time to handle such a big thing.

So that’s when I decided I’m not going to simply allow Don to get away with what he did, I’m going to talk to the town police again and all I hoped was that it would go better then the first time I tried to report it.

The last group was more of an educational group. Overall, I really enjoyed the program and was grateful the staff was much more kind and compassionate than the staff I encountered while in the psych ward. I began to realize I’d get a lot out of being a part of this program.

After the last group went out, I went back outside to smoke a cigarette. This time, I was surrounded by most of the group members, and we were all talking. They were all very kind, and I was grateful I didn’t have to stress out over being a part of this program.

Soon, it was time to leave, and my grandparents came to pick me up. They asked how my day 6. I told them it went really well, and I’m happy to be a part of this outpatient program.

I ended up falling asleep on the short ride home because, like I commented, group therapy is emotionally exhausting.

The second I got home, I went right to my room to lay in bed with my cat and take a nap.

At this point in my life, I couldn’t change what had happened or taken away my current situation. So now was my time to learn who I was or who this new version of myself would become. I still wasn’t at all comfortable excepting I had a mental illness, but I reminded myself I can’t change it, so I have to learn to live with it.

To be continued….