ONE Article: Bipolar, Part 1

It was 1:15 in the morning. I grabbed my wallet, my keys and my watch and headed for the door. I yelled, “I just have to get out of here.” My wife, Lori, who had been sound asleep moments before tried to get to the door before I did. I beat her out the door and jumped into my Honda. As I was pulling away she tried to jump on the corner of the hood – anything to stop my leaving. I threw the car into reverse and watched her slide off onto the ground. I punched the gas and sped away.

The speedometer was pushed past 80. I didn’t know where I was going. I didn’t really know why I was going. I just felt in some deep seated part of my soul that I had to run. As I got out to Highway 75 I noticed that a car was gaining on me and the driver was flashing her lights. I knew it had to be her. “Why doesn’t she leave me alone?” I shouted to my empty car.

I went over another hill and lost her in the rear view mirror. I saw a side road and I turned sharply, skidding around the corner. I drove a few hundred feet, took my foot off the gas and turned off my lights. I saw her fly by. Finally. I’m alone.

The relief was short lived. It’s the middle of the night and I’m on some side road that I’ve never been on before. I really need to just drive. I’ve got to get on the Interstate. But which way would I go? I’m from Seattle, so people would look for me to head west. I could go north, but Lori has family that direction. What about south? No logical reason not to go south, I said to myself. Even in the midst of my madness I still believed myself to be logical.

Seven months earlier I had been in a locked mental facility.

I sort of feel like I’m in prison. I’m not allowed to go for a walk or go outside. Ironically, all I want to do is go outside for a walk. Lori’s always bugging me about wanting to go for walks – if only she could hear me now.

I’m sitting here in my room at a mental hospital. I just talked with Lori and she told Mr. Nickels* where I was. He said he was proud of me. That’s what everyone has told me. I don’t feel proud. I just feel out of place. I don’t belong here.

After journaling those words I went to sleep. My life was about to be changed forever.



*names have been changed

Introduction

My name is Kevin Daniels and I currently live in Hays, Kansas. I am a husband, a father and a pastor. I am also bipolar.

I write a column in a local monthly magazine called ONE, which is published and distributed by the Hays Daily News. In that column I have been writing about living my life being bipolar. Currently you can only read my articles in hard copy or at www.facebook.com/ecmaone. Since I have had some people ask to get copies of the articles online who aren't on Facebook, I decided that putting them up on a blog would be a good solution.

As I state in my first article, everyone's experience being bipolar, or any mental illness, is unique and can't be experienced by any other person. My hope with this blog is that I can share my story and maybe someone will realize that he/she is not alone. I know that when I was in crisis with this I felt alone; I didn't believe that anyone could understand and I didn't believe anyone could help.  Maybe this can help someone out there realize that there is someone else who has gone through something similar and you don't have to be ashamed.

Being bipolar is just like having any other illness. I didn't choose to be bipolar, I didn't do anything to become bipolar, and I'm not a lesser person just because I am.

I'll try to post a new entry at least every couple weeks, and of course, I'll post the magazine articles as they are published. I'll put the first article up tomorrow. Feel free to contact me if you want to.

Kevin