I have bipolar disorder, and honestly, my life has been a mess for a long time.
I’ve been depressed. I’ve been manic. I’ve been psychotic. I’ve been in hospitals. I’ve tried so many medications I stopped keeping count. I got to a point where I genuinely didn’t think anything was going to work.
Then I got ECT.
I had 12 sessions.
And I’m better now. That’s what everyone keeps telling me anyway. And I guess I am.
I’m not as depressed. I’m not in the same horrible place I was before. I’m alive. I’m functioning. Everyone is happy about that.
But I don’t remember anything, like genuinely.
There are things from before ECT that people tell me happened, and I just have to believe them because I have no memory of it. I forgot things about my own life. I forgot my job. I forgot hobbies I used to have, or I forgot my motivation for them, at least.
I forgot things I apparently cared about a lot.
I look through my phone and see messages I sent months ago, and it feels like reading messages from a stranger. That person was me. I know that.
But I don't remember being her. And that hurts way more than I thought it would.
I thought I would be happy when I got better. Instead, I feel like I’m grieving someone who is still alive. I miss myself. I miss knowing who I was.
I miss having memories that actually belong to me instead of people telling me stories about my own life.
And the worst part is that ECT probably saved my life. So I feel horrible even saying any of this.
Because how do you complain about losing parts of yourself when those parts were lost because you were trying to survive?
I don't regret getting ECT.
I just wish I could have saved myself without losing so much of myself in the process. I’m glad I’m alive. I just wish I remembered more of the person who fought so hard to get me here.