Rollercoaster

“OK. Um, so, Lia, can you tell me your diagnosis?” Charlie asks, fumbling with his pen. I wait till he looks ready to take notes before I say, “Dr. Halpern says I have bipolar disorder.” “What do you think that means?” “It means I go from high to low, sometimes very high to very low,” I say, “and not a lot of just plain all right.” “How long have you known your diagnosis?” “About a week.” “Do you think it's accurate?” “I don't know,” I say honestly. “Some of the things Dr. Halpern and Annie Jo have told me about it sound like me, and other things don't.” “Can you give me some examples?” “Well, I don't know about being manic,” I says slowly. “Sometimes I just think that means I feel good, and what’s wrong with that? But then I get to feeling depressed, sometimes, and I know there's something wrong with me.” “How are you feeling now?” “Depressed, mostly,” I say. “Restless. Tired.” “Are you taking any medication for your illness?” Charlie asks. I have to laugh at that. “Yeah, I've been talked into it,” I say, winking at Annie Jo. “I don't remember the names of what I take, though.” “That's OK,” he assures me. “Can you tell me how you feel about having to take medication?” “I hate it,” I say immediately. “I hate feeling like I'm sick and I hate the thought of being on meds for the rest of my life, which Dr. Halpern says could happen. I hate that. But I have to admit, they seem to be working, or starting to,” I add, nodding at Annie Jo. “What's your biggest fear about your illness?” I stare at Charlie in shock. He expects me to tell him that? He expects me to know? I must stare for a long time because Charlie’s smile falters and Annie Jo steps in. “You're doing great, Lia,” she encourages me. “Just be honest.” “I guess…my biggest fear would be…” That my friends will abandon me? That the demons will win? That I'll spend the rest of my life locked up? What? “Yes?” “That people will hate me because I'm not normal,” I say in a rush. “Do you think they will?” Charlie asks. He is not making fun of me, he really wants to know what I think. “I think…yeah, some of them might.” “What would you do if someone told you they hated you because you weren't normal?” What would I do? What did I do when Kevin broke up with me? I got mad. And then I cried. "I don't know," I say. “Would you say, ‘Screw them’?” “I doubt it,” I answer. “Would you be hurt?” “Probably.” “Why?” Why? Is he serious? Why wouldn't you be hurt if someone hated you? And then I think of Jenna, and how she doesn’t like me but I seem not to be hurt by it, and I ask myself why that is. “I guess…because I want everyone to like me,” I say, which is true, but not as true as it once was. I don’t care if Jenna doesn’t like me, for example. And I don’t care if Kevin is such a loser that he can’t see what a treasure he threw away. “What is your definition of normal, Lia?” “Huh?” What is Charlie getting at? He shrugs. “I just wondered what you think normal people are like.” “Not like me,” I crack, and suddenly I am laughing, really laughing, for the first time in three days. “Then what are they like?” Charlie asks, smiling. “I don't know—like you, maybe. Or Annie Jo. People who don’t have all these weird behavior things going on.” “Lia,” Charlie says softly, “Do you know why Annie Jo was so anxious for you to talk with me?” “No.” “It's because I have bipolar disorder, just like you.” My eyes open wide and I stare at him in shock. “No, you don't.” “Yes, he does,” Annie Jo says. I turn to her. “How do you know?” “Because he was a patient at this very hospital ten years ago, right when I started working here,” Annie Jo says. “One of my first cases, weren't you, Charlie?” “That's right,” Charlie says. “See, Lia, having a mental illness is not the end of the world. When you’re asymptomatic—that means not having issues—you’re just like everybody else. It took me longer to complete high school and college than my peers, but I got there. And now I’m almost done with my courses in clinical social work, and pretty soon, in the next year or so, I’ll be able to help kids like you. Kids like I was.” I am so taken aback, and so inspired, and so—so—everything, that I burst into tears. Having a mental illness is not the end of the world. Isn't that what Josh was trying to say, too? Maybe there's hope for me after all.