It’s not a topic anyone wants to talk about. In fact, a quick Google search produced only one good resource for parents dealing with a situation like mine. I was a child with a disease that sometimes manifested itself with hyper-sexuality. No one really knows what it looks like, what it means. I thought it was time to shed some light on a closeted subject.

Wait. Let me back up. I have Bipolar I. Bipolar is a mental disorder that’s characterized by two opposing swings of the moods. A person with Bipolar will have periods where their mood is normal like anyone else. Then there will be periods of depression and periods of mania. Most people know what depression is. Mania is what most people would think of as downright “crazy.” At least that’s how I feel. Grandiose ideas, wild shopping sprees, hallucinations. Everyone has their own special flavor of Bipolar, and no two people will present exactly the same symptoms, even during the same side of the swing.

On top of having this lovely disease, I have what’s called the early onset version of it. That means it came about when I was a child. Most people aren’t born Bipolar. It happens in early adulthood, even sometimes late adulthood. Me? I came out of the womb nuts.

Childhood Bipolar looks a little different than adult Bipolar because often children will rapid cycle, meaning there may not be “normal” periods for more than a few hours at a time. It also means the depressive and manic periods can swing back and forth from hour to hour, even minute to minute. Sometimes it’s all one big mixed blur. It becomes very difficult to diagnose in a child, and there’s still a lot of research going on about it.

If you read about childhood Bipolar, you may come across a list of symptoms. One of these will be “hyper-sexuality.” You’ll notice no one goes into what the heck this means exactly, just that it exists. Of course, no one goes into it because no one wants to talk about a five year old having sexual urges that they actually act out on. So let me go into it for you, or at least what it was for me.

In my mind, I like to imagine what a normal person’s life must look like. I imagine most people have a first memory of Christmas, or a birthday, or a picnic with family. For me, it was trying to figure out how to masturbate in my parent’s bed when I was around four. I remember waking my parents up, and them asking what I was doing. I didn’t tell them. Maybe I lacked the verbal skills, or maybe I was smart enough to know I probably wasn’t supposed to be doing that.

At five, I was a bit more social with my sexuality. I would ask the neighbor’s dad what his penis looked like. Could he take off his pants and show me? I would rub myself up against my friends, trying to kiss them. I tried to figure out what it was that sex was. You’d be surprised at how few boys and girls at age five are interested in kissing. They hated me. They thought I was weird. I suppose, looking back, they were right.

I drew pictures of naked people. I apparently blocked some of this out. I didn’t know until I was older when my mom pulled out drawings I had done. I was in Pre-K. I had just learned to draw, and I used my new-found talents to make porn.

I stalked the boys at my school. They called me boy crazy. That was an understatement. There were times mothers came to school and told me to please stop harassing their sons. Teachers had talks with me. I ran after them. I groped them. I told them I’d do whatever they wanted, I’d make them happy. I guess it’s good I was saying these things to boys my own age and not pedophiles, or I’d have been in a heap of trouble.

By six or seven, I learned inserting things felt good, too. I was running to the bathroom every few minutes to try something new. I was insatiable.

My decidedly overt sexuality continued. I was the slutty kid, if that can exist. My mouth was foul. I talked about sex all the time. I wanted it, but no one was interested at a young age. When I learned terminology, I was unstoppable. I read about sex online. I racked up phone sex bills at my grandparent’s house when I stayed over. I stole porn from friend’s parents.

I had done all of this before age 13.

My mom, if you ask, will tell you I was a normal kid. You’ll note I’m an only child, and most of her friends don’t have children to compare to. When I looked at other children, I knew I was different. They were content to play with Hot Wheels and Barbie. Maybe they’d play “show me yours” every now and again, but that wasn’t good enough for me.

I suppose it’s awkward for people to think of things like this. It’s something for adults. Something that comes with puberty. A toddler overly self aware is usually the sign of sexual abuse. With Bipolar, when there’s no sexual trauma to explain it, it’s scary. It’s embarrassing to explain to the neighbor why your four year old is trying to grope them. Why they run around with their hands in their pants all day. It’s frightening to think that the overtly sexual nature will put the child in harm’s way. For the record, it did for me, but that’s a story for another day, perhaps.

Despite the awkward nature of the subject, it’s something that does exist, and perhaps not in as small of a minority as some may hope. To those who remember a childhood like mine, you are not alone. We are the unspoken of ones, yes, but that doesn’t mean we need to be such a silent group. Perhaps if more people spoke out on this subject it would help diagnose other children with Bipolar as Bipolar and not ADD or Borderline, or whatever else they want to label things before they finally get the right thing. Hyper-sexuality is, after all, a pretty Bipolar specific characteristic.

Here’s to breaking the stigma, something those with mental illness deal with enough. Let’s not also make those with illness feel like they are sexually dysfunctional, as well.

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