Jim Martin speaks out about living with bipolar disorder

Living with bipolar disorder is like riding a roller coaster that you didn’t choose to get on, and one that never stops. It is a life marked by extreme highs and lows, periods of intense energy and productivity followed by phases of depression. For me, this condition has shaped my daily routine, my relationships, and my view of the world in profound ways.

I have bipolar disorder. Saying these words out loud, or even writing them down, has taken me years of struggle and self-reflection. But today, I choose to share my story, not only to unburden my own heart but also to shed light on a condition that affects millions of people worldwide, yet remains shrouded in misunderstanding and stigma.

It wasn’t until later in my life that I was finally diagnosed with bipolar disorder. It took four days of testing with a team of psychiatrists at three doctors’ offices after years of seeking help.

The diagnosis was both a relief and a burden. On one hand, I finally had a name for what I was experiencing; on the other, I had to come to terms with the fact that I had a chronic mental health condition that would require lifelong management.

The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders in part describes my condition as manic-depressive disorder, a mental health condition characterized by extreme mood swings that include emotional highs (mania or hypomania) and lows (depression). These swings can affect sleep, energy, activity, judgment, and behavior. Unlike the normal ups and downs that everyone experiences, the mood swings of bipolar disorder can be so intense that they interfere with my daily life.

If we lived in a world that had treated mental health like physical health for decades, my life would have been dramatically different. The evolving science and study of the wiring of our brains — with chemicals and neurotransmitters — have entwined my life.

I cannot be silent and allow others to suffer as I have.

By sharing my story, I hope to break down some of the stigma surrounding mental disorders. I want to encourage others who are struggling or know someone who suffers, to seek help and to know that they are not alone. Mental illness is not a sign of weakness; it is a medical condition that requires treatment and support, just like any other illness.

As a newborn, I came home from the hospital without a mother who had been admitted to the state mental hospital in Huntington, West Virginia.

Nora Gay Jamison Martin was hospitalized with a diagnosis of catatonic schizophrenia a medical diagnosis that no longer exists today. I never met her.

In the early 1950s immediately after admission, my mother received 18 electrical shock treatments and numerous insulin shock therapies which were the principal treatment therapies for her disorder.