I Thought My Energy Surges and Dips Were Normal. I Actually Had Bipolar II
Victoria Buchanan/Rachel Hobert/Carson Pierse
Carson Pierse, 32, from Bentonville, Arkansas, has lived with bipolar disorder—a condition that causes intense mood and energy shifts—her entire life, even though she wasn’t officially diagnosed until she was an adult. That’s because Pierse has bipolar II, which means her “up,” or manic, periods aren’t as extreme as those in people who have bipolar I. Even if it’s not as immediately recognizable, bipolar II is thought to be just as common and debilitating as the first type: Pierse struggled with chronic depression for long periods of time and had suicidal ideation at her lowest points. Here’s her story, as told to associate health conditions director Julia Sullivan.
As a child, I would frequently go through major energy surges and dips. I’d be go-go-go some days, constantly talking or playing in my neighborhood. Then, the next moment, I’d just want to hide away and sleep in my room. My parents didn’t think much of it at the time—lots of little kids go through ups and downs. However, after learning about bipolar disorder in my health class when I was 12 years old and noticing that I seemed to have a lot of its symptoms, I asked my pediatrician if I might have it. He told me that people with the condition often have aggressive mood swings—I was just sometimes energized and sometimes low. He told me there was no possible way I had it, and I believed him.
As I got into my teen years, I moved back and forth between periods of depression and intense productivity, but you wouldn’t have known anything was wrong: I was the president of my class, a cheerleader, and very involved. I still struggled with my energy levels, but I was able to hide it fairly well. But when I switched to a more advanced charter school, the cracks started to show. I went from taking regular classes to college-level courses overnight. I also experienced my first major heartbreak. I sank further and further into that sadness, which made my grades plummet even more. I was severely depressed. There came a point when I told my mom that she shouldn’t leave me alone—that I didn’t trust myself—so she booked an emergency appointment with a psychologist. I may have been struggling in school during that time, but I was a smart kid. Again, I paid attention in health class, so I knew enough of the buzzwords that I could talk to a therapist without them actually admitting me to a psychiatric ward.
The peaks and valleys increased in college. I would come home during breaks and cry to my mom, and then the second I returned to school, I had the “zoomies.” I felt untouchable during those periods, like I was on cloud nine. However, I was in depressive stretches most of the time. I’d spend weeks, even months, in a low, followed by a few days in mania. But I felt so powerful during those high periods, like a god, and would tell myself, “You are killing it. Nothing can touch you.” Still, I knew my depression was an issue, so I saw a general practitioner for help, who put me on an antidepressant.
In my late 20s, my symptoms reached a peak. I’d be partying in the Lower East Side until 2 a.m. and going to work at 8 a.m. while living in New York City. Drinking and being out with my friends would make me feel better. In 2020, I was living in Washington, DC, when COVID hit. My friend had also just died, so I was grieving, and we were all in our homes in isolation. I was downing a bottle of wine by myself every night to give myself something to look forward to and vaping to try to relax. Then, in 2022, I was working extremely long hours; it was a chaotic time. I started to have suicidal ideation. I remember going to work on the metro and standing on the platform thinking, What if I just walked in front of this car right now? I thought maybe I could be with my friend Ben, the one who had died. All the while, I’d still have those far-and-few energized episodes. The sun would shine and then I’d crash what seemed like seconds later.
This period really started to scare me, so I went to stay with my parents for a few months to hopefully come out of it all. But the depression just never ended. My mom made sure I was keeping doors open, checking in on me constantly. I wanted to return back home, but she wouldn’t let me. So we made an appointment with the previous GP who’d been prescribing me my SSRI. I had been on the medication for five years at that point and felt like it wasn’t working anymore. She agreed and referred me to a psychiatrist, who ultimately diagnosed me with bipolar II disorder. I ended up taking three months of medical leave.
My initial reaction was anger. I had an inkling that’s what was going on when I was younger, but I was made to believe I didn’t know what was happening in my own body. I felt so much resentment. How are we not describing that there are multiple types of bipolar disorder that can manifest in different ways, especially among women? I wasn’t gambling my savings away in Vegas over a single weekend or having outbursts, as a lot of people assume is true for anyone with bipolar. I was just chronically depressed with occasional bursts of energy.
Today, I still go through highs and lows, but they’re not as intense as they used to be—I assume these are more like the types of fluctuations a “normal” person feels. I’m on a mood stabilizer and antipsychotic for my bipolar, and medications for obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD), dysthymia (which is a long-term form of depression), and anxiety. I also saw a therapist and started going to support groups, including ones within the Depression and Bipolar Support Alliance, where I met some really wonderful people. Yoga has also become a huge part of my life. My doctor said it’s an exercise that’s been proven to help with mental health. Those two things, yoga and support groups, have really helped keep me stable. (I recently just got back from a yoga retreat in Portugal!)
Things aren’t perfect, but I actually see a future for myself now. I’ve gotten back to the point in my life where I’m terrified to die because I don't know what’s out there—I used to not care. I also spent so much of my life not knowing how to ask for help. When you’re in a dark mental state, you want to run on autopilot. That day on the metro platform, I needed a guide. It’s okay to rely on someone for help. You don’t, and shouldn’t, have to face these kinds of problems all by yourself.
If you are struggling and need someone to talk to, you can get support by calling the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline at 988 or by texting HOME to 741-741, the Crisis Text Line. If you’re outside the United States, here is a list of international suicide helplines.
Related:
3 People With Bipolar I Share the First Symptom That Led to Their Diagnoses
My Depression and Migraine Were So Intertwined, I Thought I’d Never Feel Better
Originally Appeared on SELF
