Once upon a time, I was a high school hero. I was an athlete; I played for four years on my high schools varsity football team. I was a fantastic student; I had a 4.0 GPA throughout most of high school and scored a 33 on my ACT, and I never once studied for anything. I was a performer; I starred as the lead in both of the school musicals my high school had while I was a student and have been performing at the Broadway Academy of Performing since the seventh grade. I was popular. I was confident. Most of all, I believed that I was the greatest there would ever be. I look back on high school and find myself wondering what happened to the person I once was.
That all changed during the second semester of my senior year. At the time, I blamed it on my ex-girlfriend (For that, I am truly sorry.) Little did I know, there was a demon within me I knew nothing about. The once confident man I had been seemed to have vanished; I couldn’t even get out of bed to go to school without anxiety medications. Anxiety? What the FACK was that?! I hadn’t been nervous since, well, I couldn’t honestly remember. Yet there I was, spending all of my time alone in my room wishing, praying I never had to leave it. I knew something was wrong, but refused to accept that it was me.
I left for college the day after my graduation. I had paid my dues there and I was leaving and never coming back. For awhile, everything was good. Better than good, it was perfect. I had met an amazing girl; she was beautiful, smart, and fun to be around. I was in a whole new world; I left a small town where everyone knew my name to Norman, OK, just twenty minutes from Oklahoma City. My life was golden, or so I thought. Once college started, it got even better. I had met the most amazing friends in the entire world (Dude Bruhs, you know who you are) That first semester was filled with ups and downs – and when I say ups and downs, I don’t mean good moments and bad moments. I mean I went from being on top of the world and believing I was God’s gift to all of humanity to wondering how in all of the heavens could such a colossal mistake have been made like giving me the gift of life. Still, I refused to accept I was the cause of this. I blamed any and everything I could think of. Ex-girlfriends, past friends I wasn’t in contact with anymore, you name it. It was there fault I couldn’t stay happy. Not mine. It was there fault I was failing classes. Not mine. If I knew then what I know now, everything would have made much more sense.
It wasn’t until the beginning of my second semester that I finally grew the courage to ask for help, and boy, am I glad that I did! I was able to withdraw from OU due to medical reasons – a medical leave of sorts – with the understanding that once my health was in check I would return to the University able to make up for the mistakes I had made in my first semester. I was going to change. I was finally going to get down to the bottom of the problems that had been plaguing me for the past year.
Going home ended up not being enough; after being back in my mothers home for a couple of weeks, I wasn’t getting any better. In fact, some might say I was getting worse. It was time for something big; an all or nothing assault. I voluntarily admitted myself to a short stay mental health institution. February 20, 2017 is a date I will never forget. That was the day that I, Logan Meek, High School Hero, Real Life Zero, was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder I. Suddenly, everything made sense. I realized that all of that on top of the world stuff? That was just an EXTREMELY manic episode. I looked back at all the horrible things I had done; the things I said, the people I hurt for no reason and had no explanation as to why? It all made sense. The depression? Falling from the giant pedestal of light I sat upon into the deep, unending darkness? Everything now makes sense.
The Bipolar Storyteller was created as a way for me to express myself; to tell my story in the hopes of helping anyone affected by a mental illness in anyway that I can.
So who am I? I’m someone who was blinded by the light of mania and the darkness of depression, who is now trying to find the balance; a gray area where I can see clearly. I’m a teen who was dealt a crappy hand and has decided not to let that stop me from playing this game. Because I am going to play it, and I am going to win. That’s a promise.