介绍： 020 | Take Me as I Am, Whoever I Am

AS a bipolar woman, I have lived much of my life in a constant state of becoming someone else. The precise term for my disorder is "ultraradian rapid cycler," which means that without medication I am at the mercy of my own spectacular mood swings: "up" for days (charming, ...

介绍： 020 | Take Me as I Am, Whoever I Am

AS a bipolar woman, I have lived much of my life in a constant state of becoming someone else. The precise term for my disorder is "ultraradian rapid cycler," which means that without medication I am at the mercy of my own spectacular mood swings: "up" for days (charming, talkative, effusive, funny and productive, but never sleeping and ultimately hard to be around), then "down," and essentially immobile, for weeks at a time.

This darkness started for me in high school, when I simply couldn't get out of bed one morning. No problem, except I stayed there for 21 days. As this pattern continued, my parents, friends and teachers grew concerned, but they just thought I was eccentric. After all, I remained a stellar student, never misbehaved and graduated as class valedictorian.

Vassar was the same, where I thrived academically despite my mental illness. I then sailed through law school and quickly found career success as an entertainment lawyer in Los Angeles, where I represented celebrities and major motion picture studios. All the while I searched for help through an endless parade of doctors, therapists, drugs and harrowing treatments like electroshock, to no avail.

Other than doctors, nobody knew. At work, where my skills and productivity were all that mattered, I could hide my secret with relative ease. I kept friends and family unaware with elaborate excuses, only showing up when I was sure to impress.

But my personal life was another story. In love there's no hiding: You have to let someone know who you are, but I didn't have a clue who I was from one moment to the next. When dating me, you might go to bed with Madame Bovary and wake up with Hester Prynne. Worst of all, my manic, charming self was constantly putting me into situations that my down self couldn't handle.

For example: One morning I met a man in the supermarket produce aisle. I hadn't slept for three days, but you wouldn't have known it to look at me. My eyes glowed green, my strawberry blond hair put the strawberries to shame, and I literally sparkled (I'd worn a gold sequined shirt to the supermarket — manic taste is always bad). I was hungry, but not for produce. I was hungry for him, in his well-worn jeans, Yankees cap slightly askew.

I pulled my cart alongside his and started lasciviously squeezing a peach. "I like them nice and firm, don't you?"

He nodded. "And no bruises."

That's all I needed, an opening, and I was off. I told him my name, asked him his likes and dislikes in fruit, sports, presidential candidates and women. I talked so quickly I barely had time to hear his answers.

I didn't buy any peaches, but I left with a dinner date on Saturday, two nights away, leaving plenty of time to rest, shave my legs and pick out the perfect outfit.

But by the time I got home, the darkness had already descended. I didn't feel like plowing through my closet or unpacking the groceries. I just left them on the counter to rot or not rot — what did it matter? I didn't even change my sequined shirt. I tumbled into bed as I was, and stayed there. My body felt as if I had been dipped in slow-drying concrete. It was all I could do to draw a breath in and push it back out, over and over. I would have cried from the sheer monotony of it, but tears were too much effort.

On Saturday afternoon the phone rang. I was still in bed, and had to force myself to roll over, pick it up and mutter hello.

"It's Jeff, from the peaches. Just calling to confirm your address."

Jeff? Peaches? I vaguely remembered talking to someone who fit that description, but it seemed a lifetime ago. And that wasn't me doing the talking then, or at least not this me — I'd never wear sequins in the morning. But my conscience knew better. "Get up, get dressed!" it hissed in my ear. "It doesn't matter if she made the date, you've got to see it through."

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