Lauren McQuade: Life, Bipolar and Me.

I never wanted to admit that bipolar had impacted my life. I think this is because I have always fought so hard to be ‘normal.’ I did not disclose my diagnosis to employers because I feared being ‘seen in a different light’, and always tried my best to keep up with my peers.  

I was diagnosed with bipolar over 20 years ago during my early twenties. Since then, I have experienced five acute episodes, which meant I had to be hospitalised. With each of these episodes it was as if I had to build up my life again from scratch. My confidence took a battering, my relationships were affected, and my professional life too. Each one of these episodes caused me and those around me acute suffering. I think of Diana and when she said ‘there were 3 of us in the marriage,’ and that’s exactly what it’s felt like at times - there was me, my life and bipolar.  

Thanks to a strict work ethic, I graduated from school, then from University-twice, I held down jobs and started two businesses, but over the years, my struggle was at times evident. I have taken hits - financially (primarily due to large spending sprees during manias), personally (making poor choices in relationships) and professionally (failing to admit to employers that I was struggling).  

For nearly two decades, I lived in denial because admitting I had a condition felt like a sign of weakness and made me a failure. Why? I feared the stigma from others, society and most notably myself - yes, it is possible to stigmatise yourself. In fact, here is a definition; ‘self-stigmatisation - the process in which a person with a mental health diagnosis becomes aware of public stigma, agrees with those stereotypes, and internalises them by applying them to the self.’  

If I’d been diagnosed with a serious heart condition, would I have driven myself so relentlessly?  Most likely, no. But with a mental health condition, I didn’t want to admit, let alone accept that something about me was ‘different’.  

But after years of fighting, and thanks to my work as a peer support worker with Bipolar Scotland,  I decided to end this internal war. I am not defined by bipolar, far from it, instead I now choose to acknowledge it and cut myself some slack at the same time. The powers that have helped me do this are acceptance, self-forgiveness and most importantly, self-compassion. 

By denying my bipolar, the stories I have told myself have included themes of self-blame, shame and guilt for a lot of the times I struggled and my life went awry. Something must be wrong with me. And over the years, I have sought ‘the solution’ in countless books, therapy sessions and courses. Now I know that nothing is broken to fix, but rather a relationship that needs to be healed - namely the one I have with myself. 

Nowadays, thanks to training in Mindful Self Compassion, I treat myself more kindly, and I’m much more forgiving of my perceived faults. It doesn’t negate or excuse that at times when unwell, my behaviour has been unacceptable but, it explains it and allows me to move on.  

I now work in the field of mental health & wellbeing, and I feel privileged to say that,  thanks to living a life with bipolar in it, I have found my purpose. I now teach the life-changing,  self-affirming skill of self-compassion, both to those who have suffered from mental health difficulties and those who haven’t.  

Today life is good, and my mental health is better than ever. There are a couple of pieces of the jigsaw that are yet to fall into place, but I have every faith that they will. I feel happy and content,  and most importantly, I feel at peace. My self-compassion practice is my resilience training. It shows me how to support myself during the tough times and tune in to my needs so that I can live my life in comfortable equilibrium - something that my bipolar diagnosis has also taught me to greatly value.

I’d like to close this article by emphasising that, contrary to what I believed 20 years ago, being given a diagnosis of bipolar is not the end.  Accepting the condition takes courage, but as Brene says, ‘when we own the story, we can write a brave new ending.’ A powerful message for me and my community of 1 million people in the UK with a bipolar diagnosis. And, that’s what I fully intend to do.