Faulty Wiring

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I have posted bail. I have arranged rides to and from jail. I have taken calls from the jail telling me to "say good-bye to the kids" for him. I have lined up medicines in Days Of The Week AM/PM pill cases and meticulously recorded the specifics of his illness and his medications on the inside with my phone number and his doctors' emergency numbers listed as well. I could only hope and pray that someone would give them to him in jail. I could only hope and pray, and call to remind him to take his meds when he was on business trips.

I have tracked him and located him in Las Vegas after he vanished from work one day, telling the staff a false story about a manager in AZ having been in a car accident. A substantial amount of money had been taken from the work account and there was none in my personal account. I made an emergency flight with my sister's credit card, had money wired to me from my parents, and left in a shaky state of fear while my sister sped up the highway from Denver to Wyoming to pick up my kids from school. I had left my baby in my daughter's Kindergarten class with the teacher.

I have sat with him, calming him down in the hallway of a hotel, while he crouched in the corner and bashed his head repeatedly against the wall, crying, begging for help, hoping to die, as a terrified maid asked me if she should call for help.

I have watched him shave all the hair off his body and become no longer able to bear the feeling of wearing clothing. I have seen him run full force across six lanes of heavy traffic. I have walked and walked and walked and walked with him at an almost run around everywhere and nowhere because there was no way he could stop. I have watched him scoop up and drink water in his cupped hands from the fish pond in a resort hotel.

I have been surprised when he reached across the car and started honking the horn while I was driving because "the people at that church back there" told him to. The people that weren't there at the church that didn't exist.

I have witnessed him experience terror so intense he was afraid to leave the house, afraid to be in the house. The doorknobs might fall off; the TV might explode; the cabinets could come crashing down at any time. I cried through Christmas shopping for my kids at Walmart while he was across the street buying a new vehicle for me because he had deemed mine unsafe.

I have fought with and sworn at hospital workers to keep him out of restraints and other forceful measures. I have witnessed facilities so dirty and wretched, they seemed straight out of a horror film. I have taken sharp medical instruments and scissors out of his hand that he grabbed off the counter when the nurse wasn't looking. I have searched for and interviewed and questioned numerous psychologists and psychiatrists trying to find some who actually had a solid understanding of the disorder.

I have seen him get physical shock waves of electric happiness. I have seen him attempt to fly. I have seen mania so intense, no thoughts were connected, his body jittery with tics and spasms. I have spent hours and hours watching the same reel of movie previews on a hotel television because his attention span couldn't handle anything longer than a preview. I spent a marriage knowing his hyper-sexuality would lead him astray.

I have held this grown man while he sobbed uncontrollably with a pain you and I have never experienced, a weight we cannot fathom from a deep and very dark place we will most likely never visit. I have quickly whisked my children outside and called a friend to pick them up while their dad sat crying on the couch, begging me to just please help kill him.

I could write volumes describing my personal experiences with Bipolar Disorder. I could write volumes more about what I have learned and read and absorbed dealing with this illness. The point, however, is that the general public's understanding of Manic Depressive illness is that it causes people to be really happy and alternately, really sad. That description is so simplistic, it would be akin to saying someone in the advanced stages of cancer "doesn't feel good".

Those with Bipolar Disorder can't talk themselves out of having the illness any more than people could will themselves out of having Diabetes or Breast Cancer.

Bipolar Disorder is a biological illness caused by a chemical imbalance of the neurotransmitters in the brain. While it is biological in origin, it is classified as a mental illness due to the effects on the function of the brain. No one with Bipolar Disorder can "snap out of it" or "be a man" and make it disappear. The medical community has made great strides in recent years in the understanding and treatment of this disorder. There is still quite a long way to go, though, before the general population truly begins to grasp the magnitude of the illness. Unfortunately, many professionals, even some psychologists, do not have a solid understanding of the vast symptoms and implications.

Cancer used to be discussed in hushed tones behind closed doors until people started to gain knowledge and awareness about the illness. People with Bipolar Disorder are referred to in much the same manner, as very few people have the facts about the causes and symptoms. Bipolar Disorder exists in the chemical makeup of one's brain, so people tend to blame the individual for the illness itself. Clearly, having the disorder does not exempt one entirely from personal responsibility, but it does require the support of others who understand the challenges and can help the person to achieve and maintain balance.

Very few celebrities with Bipolar Disorder have spoken about their illness. For most people, both those in and out of the public eye, it is dealt with as quietly as possible with a twinge of shame for having it in the first place. Two of my children have been diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder. I do not ever want them to feel ashamed because they were born with an illness. They should not have to feel flawed, inferior, or embarrassed because their disorder affects their moods, behavior & stability. I want them to know they can do great things, just as others can, but perhaps even more so, because they have also been given a gift of creativity, imagination and energy. An extra spark most of us do not possess. The key to fostering this confidence is to raise awareness about the illness itself.

Justin Furstenfeld, of the band, Blue October, is trying to break the silence surrounding Bipolar Disorder by openly discussing his own struggles with it. He is one of only a handful of celebrities I am aware of that speak publicly about it at all (Among them: Carrie Fisher, Patty Duke, Dick Cavett, Stephen Fry). It is understandable that others do not discuss it, as it is such a painful, scary and difficult to explain disorder. Justin not only pours his experiences into sound and lyricism, he reveals his personal pain and experiences in interviews and discussions with an unprecedented honesty.

Frnd.tv: Blue October Part 1 (engl.)

- Watch more Videos at Vodpod.

The first time I heard Blue October was when the song, "Hate Me" came to mainstream radio. As I listened, I turned to my son and said, "This guy is Bipolar. He must be." I had no knowledge of the band, the music, or the man behind it all, but the honesty of his song spoke volumes. It was like finding a friend in the music that understood the things no one else did.

I was given the opportunity to meet Justin Furstenfeld this past week. Due to the circumstances surrounding the meeting, my natural shyness, and my intense need to not "bother" anyone, I failed to say anything to Justin at all. I felt like an awkward, uninvited intruder, so I just tried to blend into the shadows, as is my typical M.O. I was not starstruck, I was just feeling like a party crasher. Since then, I have realized my silence was most likely rude and an egregious mistake since I have immense respect for not only his music, but also, his message, his courage, his candor.

I failed to tell Mr. Furstenfeld how appreciative I am of his efforts to bring Bipolar Disorder, Depression and Suicide into the open, to use his rock star status as a vehicle to educate and help others. I failed to thank him for his time, his energy, his music, his lyrics, all of which help us to understand and deal with the issues associated with the disorder. I will forever be grateful to him for discussing it candidly and opening himself to criticism, so that my son (also a talented Bipolar musician), and daughter, and others can look to him as hope for their own future.

Bipolar Disorder, Depression, Mania, and Suicide are things society as a whole knows very little about. Blue October is currently on their Pick Up the Phone Tour which is done in partnership with To Write Love On Her Arms, Post Secret, and National Hopeline Network (1.800.SUICIDE) to raise awareness about suicide and suicide prevention. http://www.pickupthephone.org/ http://blueoctoberfan.com/splash/index.php I am embarrassed and saddened that I did not thank them for all they are doing to remedy our collective ignorance.

Justin Furstenfeld inspires me to do even more to advocate for my children and their father and all those trudging their way through the ups and downs and mixed up in betweens of Bipolar Disorder. I will always be thankful for his courage and his music. Thank you, Justin. Truly.