Boom or Bust

I remember recognizing sudden mood swings in elementary school. If I was disengaged, it was obvious enough that teachers would notice. I missed a ton of school. I didn’t know how to explain my anxiety, so I faked a lot of stomach aches. I didn’t want to go to school but I didn’t know why. It felt safer to stay home with my grandmother and watch Murder She Wrote, As the World Turns, and The Price is Right.

On the other hand, I enjoyed school. I was competitive. I had friends, rivals, and bullies. I was driven.

I don’t imagine any of this is unusual. It’s common to want to skip school; who wouldn’t prefer TV all day to sitting in steel chairs connected to steel desks. It’s also common to want to do well in school and experience different kinds of social groups. But I struggled with the in-between moments. I was either really into school, or I wasn’t. I was either competing or not bothering to show up.

My school attendance improved dramatically after my grandmother died when I was in third grade. She lived with me and my parents and played a significant role in helping to raise me. After she was gone, there was no one to watch me during the day and my parents couldn’t afford to miss work at the rate I had been missing school.

I lived so much of my life in extremes. When I was a teenager, I was mostly really outgoing on a daily basis, but I struggled to act the same way during more formal or special occasions. When the situation called for a change in routine, I felt stuck and reclusive. Leading up to each event, I built up the pressure in my head to the point where I froze. The less time I had to think, the better.

As I got older, I faced a lot of self-imposed adversity. Interestingly, I believe I responded well, more often than not. Some part of me preferred pressure because it forced me to act rather than over-analyze. The downside was that I was creating a cycle of boom or bust events I was consistently trying to navigate.

• Related: Bipolarity is Relative

College was a lot like elementary school. I skipped more class than most people I knew, and not because I had better things to do. I didn’t want to go and be seen by other people on campus. I dug myself a hole academically but cared enough about a few subjects that I could procrastinate my way to good (enough) grades most of the time. I only seemed to work in binge mode, spending a couple of days at a time leading up to an important paper or exam trying to learn everything on 2.0 speed.

• Related: Describing Mania

• Related: Describing Depression

I grew accustomed to working harder, not smarter. The process taught me that I had a decent tolerance for exhaustion, but struggled considerably with going through the daily motions. I wasn’t a genius or a slacker; I was capable, with bad habits and inefficient strategies. I didn't know how to study or pace myself--just how to cram. Mentally, I was a sprinter who got bored with training. It was only a matter of time before my brain tore a muscle.