The best advice I had ever gotten in regards to my diagnosis came from my father. It was a dark and gloomy day, in those long months between winter and spring. “You need to spend less time fighting your bipolar and more time working with it.” He said. “It’s how you would work with a difficult person, you could make that person work for you - why not your diagnosis?” He asked. I remember sitting back into the seat I was sitting in and settling in to those new thoughts. ‘Why not my diagnosis?’
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Recently I had a book signing for my recent book. Following the reading portion of our event, I opened up the floor to a question and answer session. It was fabulous, lots of fantastic questions and ideas tossed around the room in a conversation-like format. Something stood out to me during that group conversation that I want to share and elaborate on, something that took me a long time to get, but once I got it, it changed my life.
“What do you do when someone calls you crazy?” A quiet voice asked from the middle of the room.
“And now we will inhale, and as you exhale, move forward to Down Dog.”
The voice of the yoga instructor was an octave too high and the cantation style tone of her voice was almost painful as she chirped her way through this short session of televised yoga. As I shifted my hips into the air and positioning my head towards the floor, I grumbled and felt put out by her requests.
I’ve said it in many other posts and even in my book, but the day I received my diagnosis and was told I had Bipolar Disorder, I truly felt alone. The days that followed, the feeling remained. The more I searched online and the more I dug, the worse I felt. I longed for someone to tell me that things were going to be okay. That life wasn’t over.
The day I received my diagnosis for Bipolar Disorder, I felt so alone. I remember it vividly, because it was so incredibly painful. I didn’t know anyone with Bipolar Disorder I could talk to about it. The people I knew that had anxiety and depression were so trapped in their own issues, I didn’t want to burden them with mine.
Danielle Workman is based out of Salt Lake City, Utah. She has been writing for almost twenty years now, with forays into poetry, fiction, fan-fiction, journalism and blogging. She has finally found a niche in creative non-fiction and that is where she found the love and inspiration for her first book, Beautiful Bipolar.