Fifty Years as Bipolar
by Mary Hartinger

The summer of 1953 was very hot in Barrington, Illinois (45 miles from Chicago). My summer job at Jewel Tea Co. became very stressful as my boss gave me additional responsibilities in addition to acting as hostess and giving tours of the plant to visiting route men. However, I was accustomed to anxiety as it has always been a part of my life as long as I can remember. I tried to concentrate on going back to Michigan where I would finish my final year at a small Catholic Women's College (Siena Heights). I loved school and planned to become a social worker.

Gradually, that summer I would lose my ability to concentrate on my job and I became more anxious. Not knowing what to do once my job was finished, I took the train to Chicago and went to St. Peter's Catholic Church. I went from confessional to confessional telling my story of anxiety, confusion and depression to every priest who would listen. Finally, one priest gave me a medal and prayer to St. Dymphna, the patroness of people afflicted with mental and nervous disorders. I was comforted for the moment, but only for the moment, as I know so well now after fifty years - mental illness is a biological disease and must be treated both with medicine and an active spiritual life.

That Labor Day weekend of 1953 I went back to college. Well, I only lasted one week at college and my good priest friend, Father Burke, told me to go home and get help. The next week I was in Mercyville Sanitarium in Aurora, Illinois. Once again religious were there and that was comforting. I was introduced to the 1950's version of electro-convulsive or commonly called shock treatments. Not a pleasant experience, but they temporarily helped snap the deep depression.

All this time I prayed daily and said the prayer to St. Dymphna in the hope something would help. After a month, to my mother's embarrassment, I came home and tried to put my life together. My mother would give me no support as people did not talk about in mental illness in the 1950s.

Fortunately, my priest friend from college came to visit me and recommended his sister who was a social worker for Catholic Charities in Chicago. I found a temporary job and for the next six months. Prayers and Ramona with her good, steady weekly counsel would keep me from giving up.

Suddenly in May, 1954, the depression, confusion and anxiety was gone and I was my old cheerful self again. I would learn many years later that I had an episode of acute manic-depression. Oh how I thanked God and St. Dymphna and dismissed that difficult year as a "nervous breakdown" -never to return. Manic-depression was never mentioned at that time as psychiatry was still unknown to the majority and never talked about.

I had no way of knowing then in August, 1954 when I first met my wonderful husband, Seb, that mental illness would again be part of my life. Little did I know when I told him of my "nervous breakdown" that it would again rear its ugly head after the birth of our third child in 1961. From 1961 on he would steadfastly walk a difficult road with me with never a complaint.

From January to June 1962, I would be hospitalized at St. Mary's Hill Hospital in Milwaukee and have shock and insulin shock treatments. Two things helped: Seb came to visit every Wednesday, and I could go home for occasional weekends when I was good enough. There were sisters there and a priest chaplain and once again I stormed heaven's gates and turned to my familiar saint, St. Dymphna. When they discharged me in June of 1962 they told my husband there was nothing more they could do for me. But God had different plans and by August the depression would disappear and I would learn again much later that I had another attack of acute manic-depression.

In the fall of 1962, Seb and I went back to our church activities. We were members of CFM (Christian Family Movement) or laughingly called Can't Find Mother. The movement flourished in Milwaukee Catholic parishes. Actually, it was a nationwide movement and was founded on three basic components - Observe. Judge, Act. I especially liked being with a group of faith-filled people as we read from scripture at our meetings in different homes. We met many couples in our parish and many good actions were performed. Also, in the 60's we became active in the civil rights movement and joined with faith-filled African-Americans.

But I must return to the main theme of my story, or maybe you have seen how faith had and has a dominant role in my life. Spiritually, I think I grew every day in my activities from 1962-1969 as we are our brother's keeper. I've always believed God placed each of us on this earth with a role to play if only we tried to listen to the call and then try to live each day to the fullest.

In 1970, I would finally be diagnosed for the first time as manic-depressive. However, there would be one important change - the depression did not go away in a year. I became chronically manic-depressive and would be told by a great psychiatrist and teacher that I would have to learn to live with this illness, probably for the remainder of my life.

He counseled me for six years, removing a great deal of emotional baggage from my dysfunctional youth. So for the last thirty-four years I have learned to cope with this strange illness that afflicts almost three million Americans. In the 1980's, I decided to go public with my illness as, if only one person were helped, it would be worthwhile. Now I speak to all the ninth grade health classes at Kettle Moraine High School about mental illness and tell my story and try to answer their very straightforward questions.

It is with deep gratitude to God that in 1964 I didn't know anything about mental illness as Seb and I were given God's gift of our fourth and final child. We would have missed so much if I would have had to take medicine (really not much available) that would have interfered with the pregnancy. In December, she will be 40 and is the loving mother of two of our delightful grandchildren.

Yes, I had my problems along the way with bipolar illness, but my faith, medicine and good psychiatrists have allowed me to live a full and purposeful life. Now that I'm seventy-one, my journey has come full circle. My twenty-year-old dream of having a support group for persons suffering with mental illness is now a two-year-old reality at Holy Apostles Parish in New Berlin. Seb and I co-facilitate our monthly meetings. We receive great support from our pastor and the chairperson of the Human Concerns Committee. This would only have become possible because God brought me in touch with Dr. Barry Blackwell and his dream of "Faith in Recovery". Seb and I are now part of the core group and hope to bring "Faith in Recovery" groups to many parishes.

Where my bipolar journey will take me I do not know, but I put each day in God's hands. I have the love and devotion of my wonderful husband, Seb. I have always felt that when Seb and I work together we are an unbeatable team. In conclusion, I quote the title of Maya Angelou's book as it so accurately describes my feelings, "Wouldn't Take Nothing for My Journey Now".

Story edited by John Veierstahler and published by HopeToHealing.com
with permission of Mary Hartinger.
© 2004 Mary Hartinger