“Two Million”
by Kathi
At any given time, manic depression (or bipolar disorder) affects two million Americans. I've read that statistic many times, but today it hit me in a different way. Note, that's two million Americans. It doesn't say how many people in other countries; how many Chinese, French, Swedish, Panamanians ....
I can't even count to two million. I can't conceive of two million of anything, much less two million daily routines being disrupted throughout their lifetimes. Then there are the families and friends whose lives can be affected.
All my life, I felt as though I was the only one, and for 20 years, I had no name for what was happening to me. I coped as best I could with any means possible —legal and illegal.
I have worked with people in human services for a long time, and always believed in my heart that mental illness is not a crime, or a choice. I fought against the stigma and tried to strengthen my clients to deal with it. It wasn't until I found myself in a locked ward with my life spiraling out of control that I was challenged to "put my money where my mouth is." I met a former patient there, and a per diem nurse I had worked with, and someone visiting another patient that I knew, but didn't know I was mentally ill. I wasn't a professional with the keys, able to walk out whenever I wanted. I didn't have the answers. It was a truly humbling experience.
I knew about this support group at its beginning. I'm not sure why, but I never made it here until two weeks ago. I walked into a room full of people who probably could've finished my sentences.
All this time I've struggled alone, and now, it's like I've come home.
There are at least two million others out there. How many do we see on a daily basis, that we don't know about? In documentaries or news shows, there's often a caption on the screen telling who the person is, and what they do. In real life, people don't appear that way — with a subtitle — telling you they're bipolar or depressed. How do I know that the person at work who's driving me to distraction, isn't bipolar, or depressed or otherwise mentally ill?
I'm not alone. Somehow, I needed to learn that on more than an intellectual level. I feel a great sense of relief and gratitude. Thank you for showing up each week, even when you don't want to go out and you're tired. Just your being there is a valuable support, whether you are up or down, you are needed.