Will Therapy Help My Mental Journey? A Raw Perspective
I’ve been wrestling with the idea of therapy lately, wondering if it’s worth my time. Could I, someone who feels like I could teach a class on my own mind, actually gain something from sitting in a room with a therapist? I’m skeptical, but as the ancients say, even the master asks, “What more can I learn?” So, I’m diving into this with an open mind, hoping to uncover new perspectives on this thing called bipolar disorder—a label I reject. Let’s unpack it, raw and real.
The Bipolar Label: What’s the Deal?
The medical world loves its labels, and “bipolar” is one they’ve slapped on me. According to the DSM-5, bipolar I disorder hinges on experiencing a manic episode—a period of abnormally elevated, expansive, or irritable mood with intense energy, lasting at least a week (or less if it lands you in a hospital). You need at least three of these symptoms (four if the mood is just irritable) to check the box:
Inflated self-esteem or grandiosity: Feeling like you’re untouchable, destined for greatness.
Decreased need for sleep: Running on three hours and feeling like a superhero.
Talkativeness or pressure to speak: Words spilling out faster than you can catch them.
Racing thoughts or flight of ideas: Your brain’s a pinball machine, ideas bouncing everywhere.
Distractibility: Every shiny thing pulls your focus.
Increased goal-directed activity or agitation: Hyper-focused on projects (or just pacing like a caged animal).
Risky behavior: Think impulsive spending sprees, reckless hookups, or wild business ventures.
The episode has to disrupt your life—work, relationships, or safety—or include psychotic features (like hearing voices). It can’t be caused by drugs, meds, or medical conditions, though a manic episode triggered by antidepressants (and persisting beyond their effects) still counts for a bipolar I diagnosis. Depressive or hypomanic episodes often tag along, but mania’s the star of the show.
Sound familiar? Maybe. I’ve had moments where I’m on top of the world, churning out ideas, barely sleeping, and making bold moves—like writing two books or traveling the globe. But I’ve also crashed hard, lost in dark thoughts. Was I “bipolar” as a kid? Probably. The signs were there: wild energy, big dreams, and lows that hit like a freight train. But here’s where I push back.
Labels Are Bullshit—Or Are They?
Let’s get real: I think the whole “bipolar” label is bullshit. Brains work differently, period. We love to categorize anything that deviates from the norm—ADHD, obesity, alcoholism, you name it. Slap a label on it, and suddenly it’s a problem. But are we even human anymore, or just beings having a spiritual experience? That’s a question for another day. For now, I’m a being who’s been labeled, poked, and prodded by the medical system since I was 20. They wanted to medicate me, lock me into a box of diagnoses. I said no.
And thank God I did. If I’d listened to those doctors 17 years ago, I’d be dead, in jail, in a psych ward, or on disability. No question. Those meds would’ve dulled my fire, stopped me from chasing my dreams. Instead, I’ve traveled the world, published two books, and lived life on my terms. The establishment can shove it—nobody gets to tell me what I can or can’t do.
That said, I’m not blind to the chaos. The highs have led to reckless choices—spending too much, jumping into projects without a plan. The lows? They’ve cost me relationships and peace. So, maybe there’s something to this “bipolar” thing, even if I hate the label. Therapy might help me see it from a new angle, not as a cage but as a lens to understand my mind’s wild swings.
Why Therapy? Why Now?
So, why am I even considering therapy? Because even a master can learn. I’m curious if these sessions will offer tools to harness my highs without crashing or navigate the lows without losing myself. I don’t want to be fixed—I’m not broken. But I want to understand this rollercoaster better. Maybe I’ll discover strategies to channel my energy into more books, more adventures, without the collateral damage. Or ways to soften the depressive dips without numbing my soul.
Plus, history’s on my side. Some of the greatest minds—Vincent van Gogh, Virginia Woolf, even modern icons like Mariah Carey—were labeled “bipolar”. Their brilliance came from the same fire that burned them. I relate. My creativity, my drive, my life—they’re tied to this so-called disorder. Therapy might help me keep the fire without getting scorched.
My Advice: Live Big, Label Small
Here’s my take: screw the labels, but don’t ignore the patterns. If you’re like me, wondering if therapy’s worth it, give it a shot. You might find a new perspective, a tool, or just someone who gets it. But don’t let anyone—doctors, society, or even yourself—put you in a box. Go for your dreams. Take daily action, even when it’s messy. Do crazy things. Fail spectacularly, then document it. Share how you got there, even if it’s a story of what not to do.
I’m heading into these therapy sessions with a mix of skepticism and hope. Will they change my life? Maybe. Will they stop me from being me? Hell no. I’m a being, not a diagnosis, and I’m here to live loud. If you’re on a similar journey, send me an email—let’s swap stories.
What’s your take on labels, therapy, or chasing dreams despite the chaos?
Keep shining, keep fighting, and never let anyone dim your spark.
Connect... Gordon GordonBufton@Proton.me @GordonBufton