Hypomania can blur decision-making and weaken confidence. Here’s what I’ve learned about my own impulsive habits.
Looking back at my behavioral ups and downs over the years, it’s clear to me that I’ve made some unfortunate and destructive decisions since my mental health challenges began.
Had it not taken 12 years to get the correct diagnosis (I’ve been treated for depression since my daughter was born), then I’m sure I would have made fewer mistakes. None of us is infallible, but I’m sure that with the proper diagnosis, my mistakes would have been far less serious and financially costly.
Doubt and Uncertainty Following a Bipolar Diagnosis
Faced with this new information, how do I now make decisions? How can I trust my thought processes and my ability to weigh pros and cons effectively? How can I be sure that my desire to do something, buy something, become something, isn’t my brain’s elevated state leading me down the wrong path yet again?
Having been a life coach for a number of years (in amongst the depressive periods), I know how to set goals, plan the stepping-stones to success, and work out the “why” behind doing something.
Yet when I’m in a hypomanic state, all reason goes out the window, and I can easily convince myself that I need to buy a $400 desk, start a new business, or, as it happened, study for a degree in psychology.
Big Ideas and Impulsive Excitement
This came about after a session with my psychotherapist; during our session, she said that she loved working with me and that I would make a great therapist. That was it — the seed was planted and, like creeping ivy, it took over, choking out all rational thought and sensibility and winding through my brain like a parasite.
I came home, full of excitement and energy, and immediately checked out online courses for distance study. I spoke to others with a psychotherapy degree, pummelling them with questions. I borrowed books, planned a study schedule, and imagined myself with letters after my name.
Facing a Much-Needed Reality Check
After a few days, having spent numerous hours filling in enrollment paperwork and seeking proof of prior learning, I sat down and had a serious talk with myself.
How funny that I could suddenly recognize a pattern in my behavior that I’d never before had the ability to see. I asked myself if I actually wanted to spend six years studying, followed by two years working under another therapist, only to struggle to find a job in our town. I asked myself if I wanted to commit to paying back a student loan.
Most importantly, I asked myself what I actually wanted to be doing with my life and my precious time. That was one thing I was very clear on; I wanted to help people just like me, people who struggle with:
I wanted to help people take control of their lives. I wanted to create connections with people that were real, raw, and authentic. And I wanted to help people find a better sense of self-worth and purpose.
Did I need a degree to do this? Absolutely not, I decided. Did I need to take six years to do it? Again, a resounding no. Did I need letters after my name? Absolutely and unequivocally not. I’m already doing what I love — working with people who are struggling — coaching, writing, speaking, and running workshops.
Learning to Spot the Warning Signs
What does this mean for the future? Will I now be able to catch myself in the throes of impulsive, poor decision-making, or will my brain occasionally get away with running rampant with my emotions and my bank account? Will I be able to recognize the warning signs:
- The sudden rush of excitement
- The numerous reasons I can validate my choices
- The extreme desire to spend money I know I mustn’t spend
Who knows? But I do know this: Knowledge is power.
Yes, I could have continued through my life in ignorant bliss about my bipolar disorder, or perhaps chosen not to accept the new diagnosis or treatment, simply pretending that I was just overly sensitive.
The reality is there’s nothing blissful about my elevator moods (penthouse, basement, penthouse, basement, ad infinitum). There’s nothing enjoyable about riding that elevator constantly, and whilst sensitivity is a great quality to have, there are limits to its benefits.
I don’t know what the future holds, but I know that with acceptance comes a better understanding, with reflection comes better choices, and with a new desk comes better productivity. Just kidding, the desk remains in the shop.
UPDATED: Originally posted November 10, 2015
