It’s technically spring break for me, but that distinction doesn’t really matter once you’ve been out of school and have other things going on in life aside from school. Even if that’s the case, it is still nice to get a little breather. So, what have I done with my day today? Nothing. I had grand plans to get a whole bunch of things done this week, but thus far, the plan isn’t working out too well. I guess I still have the rest of the week to achieve my goals.
I’m once again sitting in one of the single leather couches at a Starbucks nearby my house. What I should be doing instead is be at home and cleaning every inch of my house. My mother is coming in from Japan next week and is planning to stay for several weeks, and my place is currently not suited for habitation. I’m glad to have her come over but I’m a little nervous about having her around. One thing I meant to take care of by the end of last week was my periodical appointment to have ECT. I was supposed to get ECT last Thursday, but due to my sister’s schedule, I had to move it to next Thursday, which means my mother will be around to have to take me to the hospital that day. Why am I so nervous about having my mom take me to this appointment? I mean, she’s the one that took me to all 15 of my initial treatments.If anything, I should be most comforted by having her around on those days. But I’m not.
Currently, I have ECT only once every six weeks or so. When I do have them, I don’t really make a mention about it to my parents. So, when my mother comes next week and have to take me to get this procedure, it’s kind of like my fantasy bubble of being normal is broken. I once again go back to be seen in their eyes as a sick person…at least, that seems to be how I see myself. I don’t actually know what my parents think about my still having ECT, but in my world, not having to discuss the ECT with them somehow protects me from having to deal with the fact that I don’t really feel comfortable with myself when having this treatment. And it’s not just the ECT I don’t discuss. I hide all my pills when my parents are around and take them in hiding, as if I’m taking illicit drugs. It’s not like they don’t know that I take medication for bipolar disorder, but maybe a part of me wishes I wasn’t dealing with any of this—not just the treatments, but the illness itself.
It was in the news today that the United States has the highest percentage of diagnosed bipolars in the eleven nations that it studied. According to this study by the NIMH, Japan has a surprisingly low bipolar rate. Reading this study did make me wonder, had I stayed in Japan, would I have been diagnosed as bipolar, even given showing the exact symptomatology?