I am, I have.

Bipolar Blog Posts, Bipolar Disorder, Blog, Mental Health, Personal reflection /

Do you say I am bipolar, or I have bipolar.

How often do you have to say this? I don’t find that it comes up often enough to worry about it much. Unless we are talking about how we internally think about our disorder, in which case, I think about it constantly. I understand the comparison: people don’t say “I am diabetes,” but they do say “I am diabetic”; they don’t say “I am a broken arm,” but they might say “I have a broken arm.” Yet, just as likely, they may say “I am injured.” Would we stop them and say, “You’re not injured, you have an injury”? If we believe it is a lifetime chronic illness, then once we experience the symptoms, get diagnosed, and accept that we have to manage it for the rest of our lives, it becomes a part of us. I don’t think that whether you say “I am bipolar” or “I have bipolar” affects the person you are telling. How they handle that information is based on their attitude toward mental health. If we are saying it a certain way to reframe it in our own minds, is the reframing to remind ourselves that it wasn’t our fault? Is it because we have a stigma about it? A person might say, “I have HIV,” or “I am HIV-positive”; either way doesn’t lessen the severity of that statement for either the speaker or the listener. I know that a person with cancer doesn’t say “I am cancer,” but when they beat it, they say “I am a survivor.” Which is what you are. You are/have bipolar, and you’re a survivor. Ultimately, since it is your illness, your responsibility, and perhaps even your gift, call it whatever makes you happy.

Your Manic Depressive Friend,

Conrad

When Mania Hijacked My Dream: A Journey Through My First Bipolar Episode

Bipolar Blog Posts, Bipolar Disorder, Blog, Mental Health, Personal Journey, Personal reflection, Podcasting /

For 15 years, I’d been chasing a podcast dream. My friends, my second cousin, and I had been creating comedy shows, pouring our hearts into something we believed was special. We might not have found mainstream success, but we had passion. Then came the Okay Taco Company – our attempt to merge our podcast with a business venture.

March and April of 2023 changed everything.

It started on Groundhog Day, when we opened our Route 66 taco shop. That second night, something fundamental shifted inside me. I describe it like being hit by lightning – a moment where my brain’s circuit breakers blew, and I felt like I’d died and been reborn.

The mania crept in slowly, then consumed me entirely.

I started exercising obsessively. Not just regular workouts, but extreme, punishing routines. Running stadium stairs with my eyes closed. Sprinting miles on railroad tracks. Pushing my body to impossible limits, feeling like I was battling some internal demon.

My mind became a kaleidoscope of delusions. I believed I was a reincarnated Native American warrior with a cosmic mission. Every coincidence felt significant. The triangular shape of our property, the town’s devil mascot, even the songs on my AirPods – everything seemed like a message from the universe.

One morning, dressed in a Spider-Man hoodie, I ran to my children’s school. I kicked a ball over the fence, danced on the school’s devil mascot statue, and felt like I was fighting unseen spiritual battles. When police stopped me, I was convinced I was facing a life-or-death spiritual test.

Our taco shop dream ended. But my podcast dream? That survived.

I was diagnosed with bipolar 1 in April 2024, understanding retroactively what had happened to me. Now, I’m sharing my story – still creating, still connecting, still chasing that podcast dream that has always been my true passion.

This podcast is my way of turning a challenging experience into something meaningful. A way to connect, to understand, and hopefully help others who might be going through similar struggles.

My journey isn’t about the destination. It’s about keeping the dream alive, no matter what obstacles appear.

AI Tom Hanks

Bipolar Blog Posts, Bipolar Disorder, Creative Process, Humor, Personal reflection /

Finding humor in the world of mental health seems like searching for a haystack on a needle. Apparently lifelong battles with one’s own mind doesn’t always bring out the

The funny side of life—I do think it’s possible to embrace it. The hard part for me is separating my symptoms from my personality. For instance, I know I’ve had periods of mania and depression, but that isn’t me. Yet sometimes, I feel like if I start joking again, those around me will think I’m not being serious enough—like I have to be serious to prove I’m aware of my bipolar brain.

It’s a bit like seeing a divorced person dancing at a wedding. People might think, How can they dance like that? They’re divorced. They should be sad. Divorced people can’t have fun. That’s how it feels. I become hyper-self-aware and think, I better not joke or poke fun—it’ll be like letting my guard down to the shame of my disorder.

I’m working on this. My goal is to be able to share my musings with anyone who wants to listen, to prove that even after a mental breakdown, we can still wake up and make fun of the Today show. It’s our right.

So, look forward to intense arguments and deep thoughts about why it’s totally appropriate to put ketchup on a hot dog or the wild theory that Tom Hanks actually died while filming Forrest Gump and has been AI ever since. It’s thoughts like these that make life what it’s supposed to be—fun.

Chasing Dreams: Overcoming Obstacles in Pursuit of Passion

Bipolar Blog Posts, Bipolar Disorder, Mental Health, Personal Journey, Personal reflection, Podcasting, Uncategorized /

I know we have to put in the work. I’ve heard all the sayings, and I’ve bought into the notions. I’ve put my head down and plowed ahead, dreamed big and kept it to myself. I’ve dreamed big and told everyone. I don’t know if there’s a secret to success, but I do know how to blow up a project—my last attempt at pursuing my passion proved that.

I thought that if I created something familiar, like a restaurant, I could embed my passion within it and gain an audience that way. Turns out, that’s a lot of work just to get someone to listen to your podcast. By the way, when people go to eat a taco, they don’t go to listen to a podcast.

I’ve been putting myself out there for years, trying every tip and trick in the book. And yet, here I am, still searching for an answer to the question: What do you want to do for a living?

I want to do a podcast. I want to do a blog. I want to express myself.

But then there’s that voice: Yeah, but no one cares what you have to say.
That’s a tough way to make a living. You’ll never make it. No one will pay to hear you.

I’ve heard it. I’ve felt it. For 15 years, the naysayers have been right. My last attempt ended in a chaotic manic episode and a bipolar diagnosis. So, should I even be trying again?

If this is what I’ve always wanted to do, how can I stop? The truth is, I can’t stop trying.

I want to live up to the idea that if you work hard and don’t quit, it will all work out. I want to show my children that persistence pays off, that they can be whatever they want to be—not that their dad is a crazy bipolar madman who tried, lost his mind, and quit when things got tough.

That doesn’t have to be my story. I get to choose how I continue after a manic break. I get to try again. I get to believe—despite all evidence to the contrary—that if you want something bad enough and don’t quit, things will work out.

The quitting monster already tried to get me. Falling into a bipolar depression after my manic episode took me deep into suicidal ideation—the phase so many of us with this disorder fight. It took me to the psych ward. It took me to a place of embarrassment and shame where I didn’t want to get out of bed, let alone get behind a microphone and talk about what I know.

But I don’t want to let that define me.

I am here for a reason.

The voice inside me keeps pushing me to get up, keep going, trust myself, and believe in my purpose.

The Best Decision, in My Worst Year

Mental Health, Personal Journey, Personal reflection /

What positive events have taken place in your life over the past year?

In an attempt to focus on the positive during a year full of challenges, I’d have to say that the best thing I accomplished was quitting drinking. I was a daily drinker for many years, with vodka being my drink of choice in the evenings. After being diagnosed with bipolar disorder following a year full of manic episodes, I realized I couldn’t handle this new mental health challenge alongside a daily drinking habit.

So, I quit in June. Surprisingly, it wasn’t that difficult—maybe because my entire identity was already falling apart. I knew I had to change and rebuild myself somehow, and giving up drinking for the sake of my “new self” seemed like the only logical choice. At a time when I wasn’t making very logical decisions, this was a good one.

What’s strange is how my life now feels like two entirely different existences: before the diagnosis and after. While I still feel like “me,” when I think back to the way I was, it seems foreign, like that was never really me. I don’t know if it was the drinking, the disorder, or a mixture of both and more.

It’s not that I think I was a bad person before—I don’t. I had good qualities, although at my most manic, I acted in ways I’m not proud of. But even beyond those moments, it’s as if my entire value system shifted. The things I care about now are so different—or maybe it’s more accurate to say that I don’t care about a lot of the things I used to care deeply about. Now, I’m trying to discover what I do care about.

I still feel like I’m searching for my purpose—or perhaps rediscovering it. But one thing is certain: the best thing I did this year, in a year where everything fell apart, was quitting drinking.

Distracted, Loved, and Blogging Anyway

Behind the scenes, Bipolar Blog Posts, Bipolar Disorder, Creative Process, Mental Health, Personal reflection /

I’m working on the blog as much as I can. Oddly, the writing part seems to come easy—or naturally—probably because I’ve been bottled up for so many months, searching for a way to express myself without making those around me think I’m “going into a crazy zone.” It’s a delicate balance.

The part that doesn’t come naturally is the functionality of the blog. It’s like the more I mess with it, the more I screw it up. I just want a clean website that includes a blog and a podcast page. Sounds simple, looks easy, yet if you aren’t familiar with the tools, you stumble around trying to do things that you know you can do—or maybe even have done before—but now seem impossible.

At some point, the site will be as close to perfect as I can make it. When that will be? I’m not sure. That’s just how it goes when you’re chasing a vision that feels complete in your mind, but as it starts to come together, you think, “Wait, why don’t I do this too?” And then that decision affects everything else.

It also doesn’t help that I’m building this in the dining room, where my presence apparently invites random curiosity and persistent distractions. Even though those distractions come from a place of warmth and love, they can still be, well, distracting. I try to accept them as part of the process and not outwardly show how annoying it is to be patted on the shoulder every time someone walks by, causing me to stop, say, “What’s up?” and hear, “Oh, nothing, just love you.” I love you too. I’ve said that three times in the past hour.

Ultimately, I suppose I’d rather have the intermittent love check-ins than none at all, so I’ll stop complaining. I’ll get it done. And yes, I do expect a pat on the back for doing it.