Bipolar disorder is the third most common mood disorder after major depression and dysthymic disorder (morbid depression and anxiety with accompanying obsession). It affects about 1 percent of adults during their lifetime. Studies have indicated that bipolar depression is genetically inherited, occurring more commonly within families.
Symptoms typically begin during adolescence or early adulthood, and continue to recur throughout life, with both men and women equally likely to suffer. Without effective intervention, bipolar illness leads to suicide in nearly 20 percent of cases.
There are treatment options. But because bipolar disorder is often not recognized by the patient, relatives, friends, or even some physicians, people with bipolar disorder may suffer needlessly for years... perhaps for their entire lives. Depression is not fully recognized by most health care insurance providers; most will pay only 50 percent of treatment costs for outpatient care, as well as limiting the number of visits.
I have come to believe that, at least to some extent, a young teenage girl I knew had been experiencing this bipolar train ride for all of her life; She lived in a perceived world of surreal highs and devastating lows. Very early on, this created for her a feeling of separation from others and from the world, a phenomenon she would later try to numb with drugs and alcohol.
This is, in fact, very common; an estimated 60 percent of all people with bipolar disorder have drug or alcohol dependence. It is my belief that fellowship-oriented substance abuse recovery groups are inhabited by an inordinate number of those who suffer not only from their very real addictions, but also varying levels of bipolar disease.
Shame a Factor
Sadly, shame also plays a factor with many of who don't want others to know about their secret suffering. Where does this irrational shame come from?
I can spout lots of technical jargon and use psychoanalytical language to describe some things science can understand and some things it does not. I'm supposed to have some understanding of neurotransmitters and receptor molecules, but all that cannot completely explain how people sometimes become lost to themselves and lost to the rest of us.
And I believe in unseen darkness and demons, too, and I'm not at all sure where one set of beliefs leaves off and the other takes up. All I know for sure is that God exists, that there is a world beyond what we can see and touch and feel, and that within that world evil exists, too.
And I believe that for some of us in obvious ways and probably all of us in more subtle ways the disease thrives and makes its home in more than just our flesh, and medicine alone rarely cures us.
For a few years this young teenage girl I knew recklessly tried to fulfill this false destiny with the most destructive of behaviors, and attempted to take her own life. But then... then something happened. She discovered that at the source of her aching emptiness lay a soul dying of loneliness. And, crying out to the God she had spent her whole life running away from, she discovered He had been there all along.
Returning to the Flock
Why are we so afraid to open ourselves to others, to uncover our wounds and let them see, let them touch? Why do we so often succumb to this shame that keeps us in bondage? I believe it is because we allow the shame to isolate us, to cut us off from others and therefore perpetuate the illusion of our being alone. Only by culling us from the flock, so to speak, can the enemy kill us.
And so, the lies draw us deeper into the deception of self-loathing. Christ - and those who truly share His nature - wait to welcome us Home. But lost in this darkest of places, on this seemingly unstoppable train barreling down the mountain, we simply have trouble believing we can ever jump to the safety of His arms.
How do we abandon ourselves to such trust? We must learn to reach out.
First, we need to seek professional help. The new generation of psychotropic drugs is far less dangerous and much more effective than those drugs used in the years past. We look for doctors who understand the multiplicity of this disease dynamic. These professionals, if they fully understand that drugs alone are not the ultimate answer, can give those suffering from depression a fighting chance, a helping hand out of the pit, thus enabling them to do the physical, emotional, and spiritual work necessary for long term recovery. Ultimately, those who battle this thing can re-engage with the world, with life... with Christ.
Then, we need a support system, a fellowship, a safe place for connecting with those who have lived some part of their lives suffering from the pain of similar wounds. We move beyond our comfort zone and, one day at a time, seek the healing face of Christ, often in the faces of strangers who are seeking their own recovery. This is a biblically sound principal, yet one sometimes looked down on by those in the Christian church.
These days, some of the people I work with both inside and outside the church walls have trouble with the whole "recovering" thing, as if true healing is somehow less miraculous when performed as a process rather than an event. But to me, nothing could be more beautiful or meaningful than a God who is willing to meet me on my knees every morning, and to walk with me one step at a time, this friend Jesus who seeks intimacy rather than waving a magic wand. And, by connecting with others suffering from similar hurts, we open ourselves to His deeply relational - and uniquely beautiful - healing.
Come Aboard
This Bipolar Express is indeed like a runaway train. Often, it is little more than a far-away whistle, a faint rumbling through the wooded night. But sometimes the brakes fail, and the black machine lunges forward, out of control. It is then we learn we cannot face this thing alone. We need help.
I encourage you to reach out. The ride can be scary. But there is always hope in Jesus...there is always healing for the broken spirit. Jesus never tells us that the journey will be without suffering. But He promises that, should we but dare to fall into His arms, we need never again travel alone.
Come aboard. Together, we're heading Home.
…A dedication to Jessica who is in my constant prayers.
Sincerely,
Mrs. P
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