Julie
A. Fast is the author of Loving Someone
with Bipolar Disorder: Understanding and
Helping Your Partner (New Harbinger,
2004) and the upcoming book, Take
Charge of Bipolar Disorder (Time/Warner,
fall 2006)
Hello. Welcome
to bipolarhappens.com. The following is
a brief history of my life with bipolar
disorder and how I and my family members
and friends use the Health Cards for Bipolar
Disorder to daily manage this illness. You
can do the same.
I
showed all the signs of bipolar disorder
from age 16. I had my first manic episode
at 17 - but as I was on a school sponsored
vacation to Europe, my family never saw
what happened. I then went to college where
I alternated between mania and depression
for a year, especially in relation to my
first romantic relationships. Once again,
I was not near any people who knew me and
when I flunked out of college and came home
it was just assumed that once again I had
changed my mind about what I wanted to do
with my life. This started the saying, "That's
just Julie!" This comment kept
me from getting the help I needed. Over
the next five years I floated around trying
and quitting school. Trying and quitting
boyfriends. Trying and quitting too many
jobs to count. And that's when the new saying
started, "Julie, you're SO SMART!
Why can't you just finish school? Why can't
you settle down? Why can't you stay in one
job? What's WRONG with you, Julie?"
I responded to all of this by saying it
was just who I was. How could I know that
it wasn't really me, but an illness? I tried
to get help. I went to therapists - one
who told me that my behavior was not very
Christian. I learned not to be codependent.
I embraced my inner child. I did everything
I could to somehow calm down my life. It
didn't work. I kept up my pattern of moving
and craving change to deal with my mood
swings. I truly had no idea what was happening
to me.
In
1987, I met a man named Dan while I was
manic and fell passionately in love. We
were married after spending less than two
months together. I went to join him in Hawaii
where he was in the army and went into a
down swing so severe that I wouldn't let
him touch me. This was in 1988. I never
recovered and our relationship didn't survive.
(To this day I don't think he understands
what happened.) So I moved to Japan. This
started years of wild swings and psychotic
behavior. And still, despite all of the
therapists and self help books and sun and
diet changes, I didn't get better. I really
believed I was the cause of my chaotic life.
I really believed that I was weak and that
everyone was right. I would never be happy.
I would never be stable. I was a failure
and a fake. I wanted to die. Then I would
have an up swing.
In
1992, I met a wonderful man, Ivan, while I
was manic. I moved into his apartment after
knowing him for ONE WEEK. I was just so much
fun! Then I went down. But we managed. I tried
to change. We moved to the United States in
1994 and by some unbelievable, unimaginable
fate, coincidence, or what ever you want to
call it, he became very ill, went into the
hospital and was diagnosed with bipolar disorder.
And still, I didn't see the signs in myself.
I wasn't so ill that I needed hospitalization.
I didn't see animals in the trees. I didn't
think that water was medicine. I didn't act
like he did. I went into a hypomanic episode
while he was in the hospital and somehow managed
to hold it together until he got home. And
then I went down. Way down. As you probably
know, there's little help for people who have
to commit a loved one to the psychiatric ward,
and I didn't survive the stress. He went home
to his mother in France and I slowly went
down more and more.
He returned in a
few months and we tried to work things out.
But I couldn't deal with the stress. So I
left him and went to China. And still, despite
all the doctors I had talked to about bipolar
disorder, all the books I had read about the
illness, I didn't see it in myself - and no
one saw it in me.
My
mother joined me in China. Another attempt
to help me the only way she knew how. She
followed me to China to make sure I was okay.
And then, in 1995, in a hotel room in Hong
Kong after a night of heavy drinking, I looked
in the mirror and said, "I think I have
a serious mental illness." I finally
realized that all the sounds I heard in my
head weren't normal. I realized that seeing
myself get killed by a car, mauled by a dog
or smashed by a truck wasn't normal. I realized
that the voices I thought were my own negative
thoughts were actually hallucinations. I realized
that I was sick. So I went home with my mom
to Hawaii and went to her general doctor.
It never entered my mind to go to the emergency
room and ask to see a psychiatrist. I still
didn't see that it was bipolar disorder. I
didn't know about Bipolar II. I didn't know
that you don't have to go completely out of
your mind when you have this illness. I didn't
know that you could have chronic non- hospitalized
bipolar disorder. I thought I had post traumatic
stress disorder due to Ivan's months in the
hospital and maybe obsessive compulsive disorder
with sever depression. I just had no idea
how sick I was and had been for over 15 years.
My mom's general
doctor put me on antidepressants, but didn't
ask me any questions from the DSMIV(the diagnostic
manual that psychiatrists use to diagnose
mental illness.) Once again, I slipped through
the medical system. At least I had an amazing
reaction to the antidepressants. The voices
stopped. I had some normal thoughts for the
first time in years. But then the side effects
started. And kept on going. This often happens
when people with bipolar II finally go see
a doctor. We are treated for depression and
not asked about bipolar disorder. This is
dangerous as treating someone only with antidepressants
can cause mania. This is exactly what happened
with me.
When you try to
write your bipolar disorder history things
seem so obvious in hindsight, but there are
often so many outside factors that keep you
from getting the help you need. Lack of knowledge
in the therapy profession. (I had many caring
therapists over the years, but none were trained
to look for the signs of bipolar disorder.)Lack
of knowledge in general practitioners. Lack
of knowledge in the community. I showed 100%
of the signs of bipolar disorder and yet I
still wasn't diagnosed with the illness- instead
I was given antidepressants by a general practitioner.
She didn't ask me any questions about mania.
She didn't ask me if I heard voices. And I'm
not sure if I could have told her the truth.
I always thought that voices were what serial
killers heard that told them to kill people.
I thought that voices would make me mumble
as I walked down the street. I was SO uneducated
and naïve. I had lived with someone with
bipolar disorder and I was blind. But so were
the professionals who tried to treat me. (Things
have changed considerably now that bipolar
disorder is in the news so much, but in 1995,
there was little talk of the illness.)
I returned to my
home in Seattle and went back to Ivan. I told
him I would get help and that things would
get better. I had medicines now and my life
would be stable- no more ups and downs. It
was just depression. It wasn't me. But the
pills stopped working. I started to hear voices
again. I became manic. I couldn't handle the
side effects and finally, 15 years after my
first signs of mental illness, I saw a psychiatrist
and was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder II
Rapid Cycling - and it only took her 20 minutes.
I was 31 years old.
Was
I bitter? Yes. But now that I had an answer
for my odd behavior, I thought my problems
were over. I would finally get help. I would
take lithium and get my life back. I would
have normal, healthy relationships. I would
go back to school and get a masters degree.
I would be able to stay on a job for more
than a year. I wouldn't move to Asia everytime
I got sick. I would settle down. I believed
in medication. I was saved.
Unfortunately, I
was not able to tolerate medications. Who
would have known that I would gain over 80
pounds, crack my teeth, lose my hair and become
truly suicidal from the medications? I found
out the hard way that there are few alternative
treatments for someone like myself. It was
scary and frustrating to realize that people
with medication problems have so few options.
And though I know that for many people these
medications work exceptionally well- I have
to ask - what about the rest of us? What about
the side effects? What about our quality of
life? What about our physical health? I had
permanent damage from the 23 medications I
tried after I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder.
I was more ill on the medications than I have
ever been in my life. I wanted to take them.
I wanted to be well, but it wasn't meant to
be.
So, in 1998 after
three years of medications, I made a huge
decision. I left my psychiatrist who didn't
have time for me because she was burned out
and frustrated from working for an HMO and
I decided that it was up to me to learn how
to treat this illness or I would be dead.
I stopped all the experimental medications
that made me ill. (If you haven't done so
already, please read my disclaimer about medications
before you go on with this history. I'm not
suggesting you stop your medications.) I found
a wonderful psychiatrist Dr. Steven Juergens
who was willing to monitor me while I tried
to get well on my own. I agreed that I would
take medications if I became too ill and would
just deal with the side effects until I got
better. And then I got to work.
I
returned to my roots in natural medicine.
I found a naturopath, a chiropractor and masseuse
who were willing to help me in my quest. I
found a therapist who understood bipolar disorder
and could help me through the changes I had
decided to make. I changed my diet and started
to exercise. I returned to yoga and practiced
my breathing- and that was just the first
step. The next step was to learn to manage
the bipolar disorder through behavioral and
environmental modification. I learned what
made me ill and what I could do to prevent
mood swings. I became so familiar with my
symptoms that they were no longer frightening.
I learned that bipolar disorder seems extremely
chaotic, but it's actually very predictable.
This was the beginning of the Health Cards.
It took only six
months to see positive changes. My brain slowed
down a bit. I slept better. The mood swings
calmed down. (At the height of my episodes
I was going up and down as much as every half
hour.) Now, I don't want to make light of
these changes. This was hard, hard work. I
monitored every single symptom, what caused
it, where I was when it happened, and then
started to think of what I could do to stop
the swings. I put my healing above everything
else in my life. I was very careful with my
diet. I became committed to never having to
go through the severe mood swings again. And
then I started to notice patterns. I started
to see connections. And that is how the Health
Cards were created. It took two years to perfect
the system. I started to use them with my
partner (Ivan) and then moved on to writing
books on the topic.
I
now know that this illness is treatable
even for those of us who do not respond
well to medications. For those who can take
medications, the tools I created in the
Health Cards can be used to take care of
what symptoms remain and may eventually
lead to a reduction in medicine dose. Through
the Health Cards, I regained my life. Because
of the Health Cards I was able to work again-
to create and maintain this web site and
to write the books, Bipolar Happens!,
Loving Someone with Bipolar Disorder: Helping
and Understanding Your Partner and Take
Charge of Bipolar Disorder. The Health
Cards truly saved my life. I went from catatonic,
psychotic depression to a more normal life
in just six months.
Life today: I still
have bipolar disorder and many symptoms of
the illness. If I don't follow my program,
I get ill. I haven't eliminated this illness.
I'm not NORMAL by society's standards. I still
can't work in a traditional environment. I
often battle anxiety, depression and psychosis.
Hypomania loves to sneak up on me. I still
have to monitor myself every single day. This
isn't a quick fix, but I have my life back.
I have fun. I rarely have more than a week
of illness at a time. (My last book deal was
overly stressful and I had a few months of
illness at a time, but I kept going.)I have
taught myself to stop and prevent many of
my episodes, including psychosis. I now have
friendships that last. I have learned my limitations
and I work to accept them. Acceptance is so
important for those of us with this terrible
illness. I have also found a few medications
I can tolerate in very small doses.
This web site is
proof that a person who thought of suicide
every single day for four years can recover
and thrive. I want the same for you. My goal
is to get The Health Cards and my other books
to as many people as possible. I have a request
for you in this goal. Let's work together.
Let's teach people about this illness. Let's
get better. I believe that the Health Cards
and the book Bipolar Happens! can
help you reach that goal as well. Good luck!
I
showed all the signs of bipolar disorder
from age 16. I had my first manic episode
at 17 - but as I was on a school sponsored
vacation to Europe, my family never saw
what happened. I then went to college where
I alternated between mania and depression
for a year, especially in relation to my
first romantic relationships. Once again,
I was not near any people who knew me and
when I flunked out of college and came home
it was just assumed that once again I had
changed my mind about what I wanted to do
with my life. This started the saying, "That's
just Julie!" This comment kept
me from getting the help I needed. Over
the next five years I floated around trying
and quitting school. Trying and quitting
boyfriends. Trying and quitting too many
jobs to count. And that's when the new saying
started, "Julie, you're SO SMART!
Why can't you just finish school? Why can't
you settle down? Why can't you stay in one
job? What's WRONG with you, Julie?"
I responded to all of this by saying it
was just who I was. How could I know that
it wasn't really me, but an illness? I tried
to get help. I went to therapists - one
who told me that my behavior was not very
Christian. I learned not to be codependent.
I embraced my inner child. I did everything
I could to somehow calm down my life. It
didn't work. I kept up my pattern of moving
and craving change to deal with my mood
swings. I truly had no idea what was happening
to me. 
In
1992, I met a wonderful man, Ivan, while I
was manic. I moved into his apartment after
knowing him for ONE WEEK. I was just so much
fun! Then I went down. But we managed. I tried
to change. We moved to the United States in
1994 and by some unbelievable, unimaginable
fate, coincidence, or what ever you want to
call it, he became very ill, went into the
hospital and was diagnosed with bipolar disorder.
And still, I didn't see the signs in myself.
I wasn't so ill that I needed hospitalization.
I didn't see animals in the trees. I didn't
think that water was medicine. I didn't act
like he did. I went into a hypomanic episode
while he was in the hospital and somehow managed
to hold it together until he got home. And
then I went down. Way down. As you probably
know, there's little help for people who have
to commit a loved one to the psychiatric ward,
and I didn't survive the stress. He went home
to his mother in France and I slowly went
down more and more. 
My
mother joined me in China. Another attempt
to help me the only way she knew how. She
followed me to China to make sure I was okay.
And then, in 1995, in a hotel room in Hong
Kong after a night of heavy drinking, I looked
in the mirror and said, "I think I have
a serious mental illness." I finally
realized that all the sounds I heard in my
head weren't normal. I realized that seeing
myself get killed by a car, mauled by a dog
or smashed by a truck wasn't normal. I realized
that the voices I thought were my own negative
thoughts were actually hallucinations. I realized
that I was sick. So I went home with my mom
to Hawaii and went to her general doctor.
It never entered my mind to go to the emergency
room and ask to see a psychiatrist. I still
didn't see that it was bipolar disorder. I
didn't know about Bipolar II. I didn't know
that you don't have to go completely out of
your mind when you have this illness. I didn't
know that you could have chronic non- hospitalized
bipolar disorder. I thought I had post traumatic
stress disorder due to Ivan's months in the
hospital and maybe obsessive compulsive disorder
with sever depression. I just had no idea
how sick I was and had been for over 15 years.
Was
I bitter? Yes. But now that I had an answer
for my odd behavior, I thought my problems
were over. I would finally get help. I would
take lithium and get my life back. I would
have normal, healthy relationships. I would
go back to school and get a masters degree.
I would be able to stay on a job for more
than a year. I wouldn't move to Asia everytime
I got sick. I would settle down. I believed
in medication. I was saved. 
I
returned to my roots in natural medicine.
I found a naturopath, a chiropractor and masseuse
who were willing to help me in my quest. I
found a therapist who understood bipolar disorder
and could help me through the changes I had
decided to make. I changed my diet and started
to exercise. I returned to yoga and practiced
my breathing- and that was just the first
step. The next step was to learn to manage
the bipolar disorder through behavioral and
environmental modification. I learned what
made me ill and what I could do to prevent
mood swings. I became so familiar with my
symptoms that they were no longer frightening.
I learned that bipolar disorder seems extremely
chaotic, but it's actually very predictable.
This was the beginning of the Health Cards.
I
now know that this illness is treatable
even for those of us who do not respond
well to medications. For those who can take
medications, the tools I created in the
Health Cards can be used to take care of
what symptoms remain and may eventually
lead to a reduction in medicine dose. Through
the Health Cards, I regained my life. Because
of the Health Cards I was able to work again-
to create and maintain this web site and
to write the books, Bipolar Happens!,
Loving Someone with Bipolar Disorder: Helping
and Understanding Your Partner and Take
Charge of Bipolar Disorder. The Health
Cards truly saved my life. I went from catatonic,
psychotic depression to a more normal life
in just six months. 
