How exploring childhood memories and facing trauma through therapy helped one writer manage bipolar disorder.
“Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.” ~ George Santayana, 1863–1952
Most of us are familiar with this famous quote and likely learned it in school in the context of major historical events, such as wars, famines, disease, or human cruelty. Much of my struggle with learning to manage bipolar disorder has been understanding that the sentiment applies not only to events, but to all of us — as family members, friends, and most importantly, individuals.
Despite years of working in desperation to learn about and benefit from various methods of mental health treatment — or just muddling through as best I could — I only realized after digging into my personal history through psychotherapy that bipolar disorder, at times, left me feeling unable to function, caused trauma, and brought terrible confusion. Before that, I was at a loss as to why I was in so much pain, again and again — and how to make it stop.
Growing Up With Undiagnosed Bipolar Disorder
Growing up, I was often called “moody.” It’s a heavy label to carry as a young child, especially when, in my case, I already felt like my head was full of intensely happy, sad, and deep thoughts — most of the time, anyway.
I suppose it’s quite common at age 5 or 6 to spend hours lying on your back on the ground, staring at the sky, watching the clouds, and seeing the animals and faces they form. I don’t know how ordinary it is, though, for a little kid to do that while at the same time wondering about her true existence, which I recall doing quite a bit: Am I really here? Is this really happening?
I was also a talker, for sure, because I had so much inside my head that just had to be let out. Color was intense for me all the time — except when it wasn’t, and then everything shifted to gray. People confused me: They liked me, called me smart, but then told me to hush.
I established an early theme of believing that others did not hear or understand me. As my brain-based condition developed and expanded in my teens, these feelings took hold of my psyche.
During my young adulthood, my behavior became increasingly disruptive and topsy-turvy. My bipolar disorder, the “wiring” or whatever preexisting condition I had, was exacerbated by the chronic cycling of traumatic experiences brought on by having an undiagnosed psychiatric condition.
Being Diagnosed With Bipolar Disorder and PTSD
For years, I tried varied treatment options, including a number of different psychotherapies — at last count, 14 different types and methods, not including medications (I can’t even begin to count how many of those I’ve tried!). It all came down to a proper diagnosis of bipolar 2 disorder and PTSD in 2004, and then years of searching for appropriate care, until I found, a decade later, that what works for me is psychotherapy focused on healing trauma.
It works because it goes far beyond simply addressing thoughts and changing behaviors, which aren’t inherently bad. This approach examines the history, forgotten memories, and traumas that caused the thoughts and behaviors in the first place.
For me, this was a game-changer that has allowed me to understand why my brain automatically does what it does. My brain trained itself to survive — but still react negatively to — historical, traumatic events. It was a cycle within the cycles of bipolar.
What I’ve Learned in Trauma Therapy
Now, after years of intense therapy, I’ve learned that I was and am greatly loved and cared for. Those around me in the past were just as well-meaning and yet fallible as I was and am, but in different ways. They did their best. So did I.
That’s another part of remembering: It’s easy to place blame where it isn’t deserved. Learning — and really absorbing — one’s history in relation to healing is more about figuring out the causes, finding acceptance, and offering forgiveness than it is about comeuppance.
I get it now.
Author William Faulkner wrote, “The past is never dead. It’s not even past.” We are made up of our experiences, our memories, and the lessons we learn (or don’t) from them. We live with our past every day. If we wish to be healed and to stop cycling, we have to know where we came from.
UPDATED: Originally printed as “On Second Thought: History Lessons”, Spring 2015