Once I came to terms with being "mentally ill", the obvious second question is treatment. Medically speaking, there is no real treatment, only drugs that can help treat the symptoms. No series of drugs will cure bipolar disorder. Medical science just does not understand the mechanism that is causing these strange states of mind. The diagnosis of bipolar disorder is, in the end of the exam, the decision of the patient. The determining factor : "Do your mood swings interfere with your ability to have a normal life ?". Some drugs can prevent the symptoms, which can change the answer to this question. So, do I pop those pills or don't I ?

I spent much of my adolesence in front of counselors. It was always my largest fear that I was "crazy", and my life would eventually end in a psycotic episode. And when I would have an episode, teachers would send me to the counselors. But when my appointment would come up, the therapist wouldn't notice anything wrong with me. In fact, I was a gifted child, and very comfortable holding a conversation with any educated adult. I think that everyone thought I was using recreational drugs due to my hyperactivity, followed by periods of incredible sluggishness.

After school, this gifted child (following a short stint at college and an easy as pie divorce) began working as the Director of Development for an internet start-up. As the business realized success and growth, the stress of the position helped to amplify those same mood swings, and a number of coworkers asked if I had been diagnosed with manic depression or anything. I had my suspicions, and so I took a month off to learn more and do something about these mood swings, which were having an effect on everybody around me.

I was hoping that my thyroid was acting up, as hyperthyroidism runs in my family and can cause mood swings. The doctor determined that I was a healthy young man, and recommended a couple of books on bipolar disorder. I read the books, and met with a psyciatrist that wrote me a presciption for depakote. Depakote is commonly used for epilepsy treatment.

In the end I was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder NOS (Not Otherwise Specified). Just like in high school orchestra, the majority of people in this class are women. There are two types of NOS, cyclothomania and rapid cycling. I am a rapid cycler, with swings lasting from hours, up to a week. While lithium varieties of mood stabilizers are effective for type I and II, apparently epilepsy medication is effective on my type of the disorder. And there I stood with a bottle of divalproex sodium, and it was suppose to stop the mood swings. I began taking them, to ease the strain on my coworkers, friends, and family.

The stigma of a mental illness is big. Once my coworkers learned that I was taking medication for my moods, they labelled me "crazy". They used to say that in a kind way, before they were afraid of me. The president of the company held a special meeting about it, with my boss and my right hand man. The president and my boss asked my best friend, once room-mate, and lead in the department; if he could handle my job, he said "yes".

At the end my month off, my boss called me up. He asked if I could come back to work, but at a different office. Something away from the other employees, since my mood swings effected the whole team. These were my closest friends.

I asked them to allow me to work in the same office with the rest of the team, and they agreed; if I took a demotion. In my quest for humility, and partly because the medication in the early months made me very down and docile, I took the position with little complaint. Within a couple of months they stopped giving me work, and demoted me to another department. I was once the "golden boy" who programmed and designed the majority of the technical side of the company. Now I was help desk.

The medication had side effects. The first 60 days I was so tired and complacent. The whole world seemed cotton padded, distant. Reality wasn't. Once I got my head together, and really saw what was happening all around me, I quit that $95,000/yr job.

I found a company in Cincinatti, and spent a month working for them. In that month, my medication ran out. I called the pharmacy back home, they agreed to send my drugs. They never arrived. I came off the drugs.

I have not taken them since. I have no desire to feel that distant from the world. I have no desire to wear the mark of insanity, that little jingle in my coat pocket, and the alarm every twelve hours. Bipolar disorder might not be easy, but it is easier to swallow than the side effects of being labelled "crazy". And those pills never did stop calling me crazy.