I was watching a commercial for one of the newest antidepressants one day when I thought to myself how nice it must be to suffer only from depression instead of suffering from the often-misunderstood malady of bipolar disorder.

It is days like these when I look back to a time where, except for some recurring depression during my 20’s, I was once a normal part of society. Yeah, I dared to say that I was once “normal.” How I miss those occasional but almost deadly bouts of depression where I contemplated the value of my life. Even then, life always won.

I should have known, based on my moods as a teenager, that something was wrong. Though only the depression stood out until I looked back on my life and realized that simmering just beneath the surface was an irritability that could easily turn into a white, hot rage.

The rage went away until I was in my late 20’s and at that time I realized that my rage was much more powerful than the depression. Rage has left me with many regrets based on my actions while under its influence. It is during a rage I walked down to a neighbor’s house with my dad’s loaded .357 and threatened to kill them for daring to talk badly about my dad. Thankfully, my best friend stopped me before I did anything stupid. In all honesty, I was so blinded by my emotions that I really didn’t care about the consequences of my actions.

On another occasion, I tore apart a treasured bible. I’ve also slammed doors in people’s faces and told others that I wanted them to die. I was hostile towards my siblings and they certainly didn’t deserve it. As I became an adult, I even once physically harmed someone very close to me. That was the wake-up call I needed. I now feared harming my children.

I knew I had the capability to harm someone, which was already proven but I often wondered just how far out of control this rage could get. I knew that I had to rein this thing in and fast before more people got hurt.

Even after all the apologies, I still have to live with the guilt of harming someone. That guilt is what helps me to control the rage, even now. My only option at the time was self-imposed time outs and warning those around me when the urges to lash out first started to simmer. This system worked well for me and once again, I was normal but this time with occasional, rotating bouts of depression and irritability mixed with antidepressants. I was very happy and even proud of my accomplishment of controlling, and even living with my unstable moods.

Now my depressions were always comforting to me as they were a big part of who I was. Each depression, though unique in the trigger, had the same basic components. First and foremost, I questioned the strength of my relationships. Secondly, I questioned my value to each of those relationships. Lastly, I was beset with the guilt that I was not good enough for each relationship. Eventually, I would end up on an antidepressant or taking a herbal remedy, like St. John’s Wort, while I tried to work it through.

Now before I go on, I need to reflect on the way antidepressants act with me because I don’t have the typical reaction of someone who would be unipolar. The moment I take an antidepressant, I have an ear-to-ear grin and not a care in the world. If my house caught fire, I would be toasting marshmallows. However, within two weeks of continuous antidepressant use I would stop sleeping and become extremely irritable and anxious. During most of my depressions, this became a sign that my body has had enough, I would quit the antidepressant, and then I would go on with my normal routine. The depressions came once or twice a year so my system of starting and stopping an antidepressant worked well.

One day a depression rolled around that was much deadlier than those I experienced before. I knew that I needed an antidepressant and soon received a prescription along with urging from my family doctor to see a psychiatrist. This newer antidepressant didn’t have the normal effects of past antidepressants I’ve used and since the depression was still not under control, my family doctor maxed out the dosage and again urged me to see a psychiatrist.

Still on an antidepressant, in the end for over seven months, I finally followed my doctor’s advice and went to see a psychiatrist. On my first visit I had typed out a list of family members with mood disorders, as well as my own personal history dealing with depression and rage. It was a very humbling experience to see all your abnormal behaviors aired out in a typed up graph. You can say I was grateful that everything would be held in the strictest confidence.

After looking over my information, my psychiatrist gave me some homework. She asked that I read An Unquiet Mind by Kay Redfield Jamison and see if I saw any similarities between Kay and myself. Being a good patient, I immediately purchased the book and started to read. The more I read, and highlighted, the more I saw parallels that I could draw between Kay and me. Could this be what is wrong with me?

By my second visit, after much discussion of my personal history and the parallels between the book and me, I finally was diagnosed and having bipolar disorder type II. How elated I was to discover that there was a name for what was wrong with me! In addition, with that name come medications that can actually help me to better manage my chaotic moods. Later I even discovered support groups for people like me.

Now I am not your typical bipolar person since my last antidepressant changed the course of my events. I don’t fluctuate between depressive lows and manic highs. I don’t go on spending sprees, nor do I exhibit grandiose behaviors. I don’t get giddy and I have never experienced a debilitation depression since 2006. Somehow, the antidepressant changed how my brain reacts; you could say it triggered a more complex form of bipolar, at least compared to what I have suffered from before.

Though not completely stable, I have made some great strides in my treatment. I have moments, and even days where I am sad but I don’t call it depression. I have moments where I am irritable for no reason, but it rarely explodes into rage. For the most part, on top of my medications, I must constantly take sleeping pills otherwise, I am up all night. I am anxious all the time and occasionally suffer from panic attacks. However, my biggest complaint is that I constantly clench my jaw, but I’ve learned that is also part of my sickness.

I am still waiting for the day when I have the right mix of medications to control my moods. It has been a long, slow process and there is still work to be done. Many days I am discouraged by my lack of progress but at the same time, I hold onto hope. Hope that the future will calm the storm inside my head. Hope that I can be reborn into the person I once was so long ago. And hope that I make it through each and every day with compassion and grace.