Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 145746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
“It sounded like you were extremely fatigued, stopped going to class,” Dr. Simmons says, her expression neutral. “And had suicidal thoughts.”
My gaze pings between my aunts in silent accusation.
“We were just trying to help,” Aunt Grace rushes to say. “They asked us questions so we could figure out what might be going on.”
“When you started taking the antidepressant,” Dr. Simmons says, “your mood improved, correct?”
“Yeah,” I admit grudgingly. “And I’ve been fine for the last few months. I thought I was ready to start over, but I guess I wasn’t.”
“I believe that particular medication addressed your symptoms of depression,” Dr. Simmons continues. “But I’ve started something more appropriate for bipolar—if that’s what we’re dealing with—and you’ve stabilized some. Bipolar is cyclical, and usually someone cycles between depressive episodes to a period of stability we call euthymia or hypomania and then to mania.”
“And you think what just happened to me was a manic episode?” I laugh because… no way, but Aunt Grace and Aunt Roz exchange another of those quick looks, which makes me nervous.
“You’re the right age,” Dr. Simmons goes on, as if unfazed by my disbelief. “Your aunts mentioned some behaviors when you were younger that might indicate—”
“Behaviors?” I snap my eyes from one aunt to the other. “What kind of behaviors when I was younger?”
“It could be nothing,” Dr. Simmons says. “Having an imaginary friend is a common thing, but yours maybe lasted a little longer than most. They also indicated a reckless phase where you thought you could fly and broke your arm.”
“All kids think they can fly at some point,” I protest. “And have imaginary friends.”
“Of course, baby,” Aunt Grace says. “We’re trying to find any clues that can help us understand what’s going on, so we told her as much as we could remember.”
“We just want to help,” Aunt Roz adds gently.
“Having more information,” Dr. Simmons says, “is always better than having less. Your aunts simply answered the questions we always ask in cases like these.”
I’ve gone from being myself to being a “case.”
“Most people have their first manic episode late teens, early twenties,” Dr. Simmons continues. “It can be triggered by any number of things. Stress, lack of sleep.”
“Lack of sleep?” I ask weakly.
For weeks Monk chided me about not sleeping, needing rest, taking better care of myself. I thought he was overreacting, but maybe…
“Because the doctor didn’t consider you might have bipolar,” Dr. Simmons says, “he prescribed an antidepressant, but that can sometimes exacerbate mania. And since there wasn’t anything prescribed to address the mania when it came on, you may have gone into a full manic episode.”
“What’s that look like, Dr. Simmons?” Aunt Roz asks. “Maybe if you share some of what you were telling us about it…”
I look from Aunt Roz to Dr. Simmons, feeling like everyone knows what’s going on except me.
“Manic episodes can sneak up on you,” Dr. Simmons explains. “Because there is this window of time where you feel like a million bucks.”
“What do you mean?” I ask warily.
“You have more energy than you’ve ever had. You’re productive and feel like you can accomplish anything. You’re the life of the party. You might be more confident. Bolder.”
My hands shake as I recall the weeks leading up to everything going so horribly wrong. The reserve that was so much a part of who I’ve always been seemed to melt away. I’d felt invincible those last few weeks. My presentation in Professor Rollins’s class was one of the best of my life. And I literally danced on a table.
“But then it starts veering out of that sweet spot we call hypomania,” Dr. Simmons says, “into true mania. It would be characterized by symptoms like forced speech and—”
“Wait.” I hold up a hand to stop her before she goes any further. “What’s forced speech?”
“Words just pour out of you, fast and nonstop. You might talk over others because you literally have trouble not saying every thought that passes through your mind.” Dr. Simmons raises her brows as if to say Sound familiar? I stay quiet and wait for her to go on. “We often see outrageous spending sprees, being irresponsible with money, out-of-character sexual behavior.”
“Are you serious?” I gasp. “People do things sexually they wouldn’t normally do?”
“In some cases, yes, unfortunately.” Dr. Simmons offers a sympathetic glance, but speaks firmly. “If not appropriately addressed, these episodes can spiral into hallucinations, fixations, obsessions. It can become incredibly destructive.”
Destructive. Yeah, that’s one way to put it. I destroyed my college career. At least a few friendships.
The best relationship I’ve ever had.
“Your aunt Rosalyn was telling me some of your family history,” Dr. Simmons continues. “What happened with your mother and father.”
I stiffen, my fingers clawing the sheets.
“It seems your father may have been dealing with some undiagnosed SMI,” Dr. Simmons suggests, smiling wryly at my blank stare. “Sorry. Severe mental illness. We can’t know for sure what his condition may have been, but bipolarity is highly genetic, and if your father was undiagnosed bipolar, the chances that you could also have bipolar disorder would be very high.”