Imagine trying to explain gravity to somebody before Isaac Newton and the whole apple thing. How would you do it? Is it some magical force that pulls things to the ground? Or is it some unseen force that naturally pulls objects of a smaller mass towards an object of much larger mass? Or is it something different? Scientists seem to have a way to describe things, that being math, but how would you describe it to us regular people?

Would you describe how gravity affects the things around you? Could gravity be perceived differently by different people? Now imagine explaining gravity to somebody who has never experienced it before. That’s what describing Bipolar Disorder feels like to me when trying to explain to somebody who has never experienced a mental health condition.

On an episode a few weeks ago, I shared that I entered a manic phase for about a week. For some who are familiar with Bipolar Disorder or other mental health conditions, you might understand that that meant I entered a cycle of unusually increased energy, insomnia, impulsive behavior, and quick temper. Though this can be true, these symptoms aren’t exclusive to a manic episode or phase.

On the other end of Bipolar Disorder, there’s depression. Most people understand depression as extreme feelings of despair, low energy, little interest in daily activities, and feelings of worthlessness. This can also be true, but Bipolar is so much more than just mania and depression. For me, the symptoms of mania and depression can happen at the same time. These are called mixed episodes, and that’s what I experienced a couple of weeks ago.

I’ve been in treatment for over ten years. That’s over a decade of finding the right combination of medications to make my symptoms manageable. Endless hours of individual and group therapy sessions working to address previous trauma and problematic behavior. Not to mention multiple substance abuse interventions.

It’s been a journey. And all of this treatment has taught me something very important: I am responsible for my condition. So when I entered that manic phase a couple of weeks ago, I fell back on my knowledge and training to help cope. I noted the change in my energy levels, which increased to the point of restlessness. My thought patterns turned my focus away from my responsibilities at work and home and to mistakes I made in the past and regrets that I’m unsure why I hold onto. I went from a healthy sleep schedule of seven peaceful hours per night to two or three hour bouts of nightmares and vivid dreams where I can taste alcohol and blood.

That’s where I found myself a couple of weeks ago. Awake at 3:00 AM, depressed, and craving a nice whiskey or scotch… to help me sleep, of course.

If this were ten years ago, and honestly even a few years into my treatment, this is the moment where I would relapse. The temptation to drink myself to sleep was too strong to overcome. Consequences, family, and work be damned. I didn’t have the skills then that I have now to identify the phases of my condition, much less how to intervene to avoid a relapse.

But I held strong, and just as I had done for several years now, I got ahead of it. Awake very early in the morning, sitting at my desk with the imagined taste of alcohol on my breath, I made a decision. If I can’t sleep, I’m going to explore. Instead of the destruction of impulsive decision making, I’m going to be deliberate in how I expend this energy. Instead of falling into despair and feeling guilty about the things I blame myself for, I’m going to focus on helping those who need help. People like me. Because now, I have RockMental.

I’m not going to sit here and say that it’s easy. It’s not. Addicts don’t stop being addicts. Relapses can happen at any time. How many famous artists have died from overdose after decades of sobriety? For one, Chris Cornell was sober for 14 years before his relapse that ultimately lead to his death.

What I can say is that when taken seriously and treated like an investment, mental health treatment will give you the skills and knowledge to help navigate the symptoms so that you can cope without relapse. The medication can help make the symptoms manageable, but many experts will tell you that it will take months, sometimes years, before finding a combination that works.

My message to you is that it is a lot of work managing my Bipolar, especially knowing that I can’t cure it. But thankfully, therapy and treatment have given me the tools I need to take ownership of my condition so that I’m in control, and the resolve to tame my symptoms so that addiction doesn’t control me. If my punk ass can do it, so can you.

Disclaimer: I am not a mental health professional. I am sharing my experience with Bipolar Disorder, and nothing stated above should be considered mental health advice. Please consult with a mental health professional to address any symptoms or issues you may be experiencing.