When My Own Brain Turned Against Me
- Stephanie Laubscher-Steele
- 19 hours ago
- 8 min read
Trying to Explain Bipolar Disorder When Words Don’t Exist
Talking about my mental health is one of the most difficult things I’ve ever done.
When I first started getting help, I felt a deep sense of shame—like I wasn’t strong enough to handle it on my own. I talked about it in hushed tones and avoided making it part of my everyday language. That was six years ago, and I’m still very much in the thick of it, trying to figure things out.
Lately, I’ve been trying to be more open about living with bipolar I disorder and ADHD, and what that actually looks like in my life. There’s a huge stigma around mental health in general, but certain diagnoses carry even more stigma. Unfortunately, bipolar disorder is one of them.
A common stereotype is that someone with bipolar disorder is kind and loving one minute and cruel the next—like they’re two completely different people. Another is the idea that bipolar disorder means swinging wildly between depression and mania, making reckless, dangerous choices during manic episodes. While that can be true for some people, bipolar disorder looks different for everyone.
If you want the clinical definition, the American Psychological Association describes it like this:
“Bipolar disorders are mental health conditions characterized by periodic, intense emotional states affecting a person's mood, energy, and ability to function… When treated, people with bipolar disorder can lead full and productive lives.”
That’s all well and good—but what does that actually look like in real life?
I have bipolar I disorder, and I’m incredibly lucky to have a great team: a therapist and a psychiatrist who help with therapy and medication management. I take mood stabilizers to help regulate neurotransmitters like serotonin and dopamine, which help prevent extreme swings between mania and depression.
What that really means is this: my highs are really high, and my lows are really low.
The best way I can describe how my brain works is this: imagine your brain is a car. When most brains press the gas, they release neurotransmitters in a controlled way. My brain slams the gas, dumps all the fun chemicals at once, then panics and yells, “CRAP—TOO MUCH,” and slams on the brakes. That crash sends me into depression. Eventually, my brain finds the right speed again and things level out.
If you were watching my brain from the outside, it would look like one of those videos of teenagers learning to drive for the first time—jerky, unpredictable, and terrifying—while neurotypical folks are out there cruising along with neurotransmitter cruise control.
Now let’s add ADHD into the mix.
My brain already runs faster than average. For example, I’m an avid audiobook listener, but I have to listen at at least 1.75x or 2x speed. Anything slower makes my brain and spinal cord itch. It makes no sense, but it’s how I’m wired.
I wasn’t diagnosed with ADHD until I was almost 30. When I finally was, so much of my life suddenly made sense—and I was shocked, because I genuinely thought everyone could read a book and watch a movie at the same time. That diagnosis also helped me learn coping strategies that actually make life easier. One of my favorites: don’t put it down, put it away.
ADHD on its own is one thing. ADHD combined with bipolar disorder is another.
They can trigger each other. During manic periods, my brain might already be running at 2.5x speed from bipolar disorder—and then ADHD kicks in and cranks it up even further. That can make manic episodes last longer and reduce my need for sleep.
One of the most important parts of any mental health journey is knowing your own signs and triggers—and surrounding yourself with people who can recognize them too. I’m incredibly fortunate that my husband is my biggest support. He’s usually the first person to tell me I’m manic: I stop sleeping and start deep-cleaning the house.
So you’ve made it this far, and you might be wondering why exactly I’m writing this. Well, here’s why, and it is extremely vulnerable.
This year, my seasonal depression hit harder than usual. I asked my psychiatrist if I could take an SSRI (antidepressant) during the winter to help get through it. She advised against it, warning that it could interact poorly with my mood stabilizers. But I was desperate, and I didn’t listen. IF YOU ARE BIPOLAR AND YOUR PSYCHIATRIST TELLS YOU NOT TO DON’T DO IT!! I should have listened. The result was the most difficult setback I’ve ever experienced in my mental health journey.
The SSRI turned me into an emotionless zombie. My husband and best friend both noticed and commented on it. That’s when I knew I needed to get off the SSRI. The come-down was brutal. I spiraled emotionally, cried at the easiest provocation, became suicidal, and completely fell apart. Since I have bipolar, here comes the slingshot, and now I’m catapulted to the highest high I’ve ever been in my life.
Normally, my manic episodes aren’t dangerous. I don’t make huge impulse purchases or risky decisions. I just have more energy and motivation. Think: a golden retriever puppy on pre-workout, crafting and cleaning the house. My productivity skyrockets. Honestly, my employer benefits from it.
This manic episode was different.
I couldn’t regulate my emotions. I felt like a raw, open wound because I was feeling all the emotions all the time. I was also angry, mostly at myself, and I couldn’t understand why. When I talked to my sister, she hit the nail on the head for why I was so angry.
“Stephanie,” she said, “you’re scared. You don’t like being scared, and this feels different.”
It was like the clouds parted. The anger finally made sense.
When I was looking for resources online to send to my family that described their extreme manic episodes straight out, I couldn’t. At that point in time couldn’t verbalize how I felt, what was going on in my brain and body. I just wanted people to understand, but I didn’t know how to make them. If you struggle with bipolar and can’t find the words to express how you feel, I hope this helps.
At the peak of this episode, I honestly felt like I was on stimulants. I’ve never used street drugs, so I can’t make a direct comparison, but that’s the closest description I have. My pupils were pinpoints. If a cop had pulled me over, the best explanation I could’ve offered was, “Sorry officer, I’m not on drugs—just my own brain chemicals.”
Despite all of this, I was still able to work. When I’m manic, I actually get more done. So ironically, my job didn’t suffer.
While all of these things are bad, one of the worst feelings for me was the lack of impulse control. I’m usually very controlled and independent, so dropping $80 at TJ Maxx and then another $60 at Ross back-to-back was wildly out of character. When you’re manic, it’s much harder to say no to things you’d normally talk yourself out of.
Luckily, I’m cheap. Everything I bought was on clearance, except one pair of shoes. For others, that’s not the case—people can drain savings accounts or max out credit cards in a single manic episode.
Knowing your triggers is crucial. For me, I’ve learned to tell myself: If this still sounds like a good idea after work or tomorrow, then we’ll talk. Usually, that pause is enough.
That usually gives me enough time to rationalize why it’s an impulse. Sometimes it doesn’t always work, but hey, we’re always learning and growing. Another way we learn and grow is to listen to our gut. Like listening to your gut, if your impulse is extremely low at that point, don’t even go into the store, just go home.
This next part might sound ridiculous to someone who doesn’t have bipolar disorder, but this is where my mania really became overwhelming.
I thought I could handle Sam’s, but I should have just gone home. The mental fortitude it took not to buy all these things because I wasn’t sure we had them at the house was extremely hard. There was also a stunning plant that I was proud to say I did not buy, go me! I went in for three things and only left with eight, so that was a win in my book. Now this next part is going to sound ridiculous to someone who doesn’t suffer from bipolar disorder, but this is where my mania became a major trigger, and I should have just gone home. The entire time I was in the store, I had to have mental arguments with myself about why we didn’t need that, and I had to list at least three reasons for a few items. If I wasn’t doing that I wasn’t having to continuously tell myself focus, focus, focus you need to go get ______.
Now imagine having all of that happening at 3x the natural speed of your normal brain function, because remember, it’s not just a bipolar disorder manic episode, it is also exacerbated by my ADHD. Keep in mind you’re not just doing this to your brain, you’re also trying to function like a normal human in a store, like not bumping into others, not being rude, and not letting others see that you’re falling apart on the inside. Needless to say, by the end of the trip, I was so close to a spiral and so overwhelmed that I about fell apart in the car. I was able to call my husband and talk myself out of it, but this is why it is so important to have a rock-solid support system behind you.
If there is someone in your life who preys on your episodes instead of protecting you, cut them out. You deserve better.
Eventually, there was light at the end of the tunnel. My therapist pushed me to contact my psychiatrist sooner, and my psychiatrist already knew something was wrong. We adjusted my medication, and I was finally able to come out of the manic episode.
I feel better now than I have since before seasonal depression hit—but it was a brutal road to get here. I’m endlessly grateful to everyone who helped me through it. I’m going to take a moment to gush. My husband was a trooper, and as weird as it sounds, these two months made us a stronger couple because they forced us to communicate better. It also forced me to rely on another person, which was hard for me. So even though it was a really hard two months, you always have to look and find some silver linings.
This is why I wanted to write the post. I was trying to find online resources for my husband and family to read while I was going through this hell of a manic episode. The best resources I could find were on the National Alliance for Mental Illness website. They have resources for people with all kinds of mental health issues, but they also have resources for people with loved ones with these mental health disorders. While these resources were great, and I sent them to my mom and husband, they still weren’t close enough to my story.
So I figured there may be someone who needs to hear my story to help them not feel like their brain is running away from them, or if they couldn’t find the words to describe how they feel. These might not be the best words to describe bipolar disorder, but they are the best words to describe Stephanie Leigha Laubscher-Steele’s bipolar disorder.