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by Alexandra Mansilla

Ali Cha’aban On Living With Bipolar I And Dissociative Disorder

9 May 2024

It is hard to imagine that someone you chat with, who is always smiling and laughing, constantly creating and evolving, could actually be struggling with some really dark stuff. People who are used to setting the bar high for themselves often find it even harder to admit they are not okay. That is what happened to Ali Cha'aban. He is sharing his story now, hoping it will resonate with others who might see themselves in his experience and get the help they need in time.
P.S. Thanks to Bashar Belal for the photo above.
I am diagnosed with Bipolar I and Dissociative Disorder. I think both of them are innate because mental illness runs in our family. My dad had Alzheimer's, and my sister Rasha had Bipolar as well; she passed away at the age of 32.
I started noticing that something was wrong when I was 29, right before my 30th birthday. I said something to my girlfriend back in the time, “I wanna get out of my own skin because I’m starting to hate Ali.” I also get easily irritated by small things. One time, I was washing the dishes, and I just looked at one glass cup and, without any thought, threw it at the wall, followed by another cup and a dish… That was my first episode. The feeling during these episodes is daunting; it is like you got hit by a car; you are too weak to move. Initially, the episodes lasted a bit, only a couple of hours or so. Over time, it rose to a couple of days or even a week.
On January 21st of last year, I reached the critical point: I realised that I didn't want to live anymore. I can’t even recall any details; I literally dissociated from it. From there, I decided to seek a PTSD psychiatrist, who normalised medicine for me and made me feel ok to rely on medication. Eventually, I embraced the idea that “it is okay not to be okay,” which really helped humanise this daunting experience.
I only started my therapy last year after that experience. I had never gone to a psychiatrist or psychologist before. The thing is, growing up, I was really preoccupied with my studies, then my job, then my “career”. Which I feel is one of the reasons that has hindered my relationships; it is always been career-first. So, I have been named “a narcissist”, “an abuser”, or “emotionally unavailable”.
Of course, my disorder affects my daily life. But you know, you are the one who chooses how much you let it affect you. Because of my disorder, I can decipher information differently from others, as well as empathise with certain situations better than others. Because of your vulnerability, you tend to be more in tune with yourself and have things more under control. There are certain days when you just wanna shun everyone out and be alone with yourself, and that is also normal. There is no proper formula to handle this, but you pick up the pieces as you go.
How do I manage my disorder now? Medication and routine. I can’t stress those two enough.
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Photo: Ali's personal archive

You know what I have noticed? You can often recognise someone with a similar diagnosis intuitively. People with bipolar disorder tend to be empaths; we are highly attuned to others' energies, and traumas and disorders resonate around us like vibrations. I am always able to connect with someone right away, and it often turns out that they have anxiety, depression, or similar traits; sometimes, we even share the same medications.
People with these disorders often wear what we call “the mask” when we prepare to go out to places that might make us uncomfortable. That being said, our masks tend to overcompensate for our presence because we try to hide our anxiety. According to this “mask theory,” people can recognise each other's masks if they are experiencing the same issue.
Of course, realising that something is wrong with you can be difficult to determine in time, and it feels different for everyone. However, if you sense something off, pay attention to that feeling. First, consider how you behave with your friends and whether you are overly dependent on others for emotional support. My advice is to always rely on yourself for improvement rather than depending on anyone else. Second, think about the thoughts that come to you the moment you lay your head on the pillow at night. Are they dark, cryptic, or just plain weird? If you recognise these patterns, it might be time to consider seeking help.

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