Plunging
Many think mania is fun. They are dead wrong. Mania is a dangerous symptom of Bipolar. Statistically, a manic episode presents the greatest risk for suicide. Mania detaches functional reality. No longer can a person have reasonable thoughts. No longer is there any impulse control. No longer is there any rhythmic sleep. Manic people feel superhuman. Speech becomes pressured. Words are loud and super fast. They have all the answers to all the questions. Their words penetrate others like mosquito bites on a hot humid afternoon. Conversation is nonsense. You can’t reason with them because they are unaware.
Racing thoughts turn to racing actions. Without any fortitude, they commit to dangerous deeds. Driving at high rates of speed. Uncontrollable laughter at inappropriate times. Some engage in binge drinking, drugs, gambling, and other activities. Daily hygiene is non-existent.
After several days, exhaustion sets in but it cannot be satisfied. You can’t settle enough to think or even sleep. Endless racing thoughts. Endless impulses. Endless days and nights. Those around you are exhausted. Isolation begins. No one can be near you. You are bossy, fast-talking, laughing and unable to be still. Your brain becomes completely submerged in toxic seclusion. Maybe one of these uncontrollable impulses leads to death.
My first manic episode was anything but fun. When I came down everything is blurred. I don't remember those several weeks completely. I ended up in the psychiatric ward for the first time. The psychiatric ward is a sterile environment with everything bolted to the floor. Showers are controlled by a button of five minutes of lukewarm water. There is no privacy. Food is controlled. I didn’t lay in bed all day. Beds are very uncomfortable. I couldn’t have a belt or shoelaces. I was inspected from head to toe. They examine every scar and tattoo. Endless questions on drinking and drug use. They were surprised I was not a drinker or used drugs.
What got me to the ward? I was speeding in a mall parking lot. I saw the movie The Ring and laughed through the whole movie. I clamorously laughed. The laughter was so hard the pain in my chest caused labored breathing. My laughter interrupted the others' viewing enjoyment. When they entered the ward, they administered a shot. I slept like never before. They allowed me to sleep. My therapist visited me the next day. That was nice. Daily routine is controlled: wake time, med time, breakfast time, individual therapy, group therapy, art therapy, a bit of free time, med time, lunch time, then it all repeats in the afternoon until dinner. Before dinner there are short visiting hours. After dinner, shortened group therapy, free time, med time, and then bed time.
Every day was this controlled routine in the sterile environment of the inner walls of a hospital behind several locked doors. Those that chose not to participate were compelled by an award system for extra snacks or special TV time like a young child, not an adult. Others that caused disturbances were quickly taken to the quiet room, where they were drugged and strapped to a bed. The room is sound proof. These disturbances were a volcanic violent eruption of deafening screaming and savage body movements. It took a while for the rest of the ward to recover from these. The ward is not any romantic dreamland or place of status for those suffering. Nor is mania a fun-filled adventure or a sought-after state for a thrill-seeker. Mania is difficult, even terrifying, for both its victim and for their loved ones who are watching helplessly.