Insomnia

Insomnia

Insomnia has got to be one of my least favorite symptoms of the Bipolar/PTSD/Various Anxiety disorders filled world that I live in. I hate not being able to sleep, although I have had this problem since I was a child (I was the kid reading under the covers until the wee hours).

I know all the things one is supposed to do, but sometimes I just cannot sleep. I try not to take naps, I have a sleep/wake cycle; But, no, sleep gets irritable and refuses to drop by until the  alarm goes off., and by then it is too late. Another foggy day; and although coffee is the nectar of the sleepy, there isn’t enough caffeine to make up for missed sleep.

Apparently, two of the meds that keep the world safe from me cause sleep disturbance. What’s the point of having relatively benign mood swings if your sleep patterns change? Changes in my sleep/wake cycle have been known to cause minor psychoses; it doesn’t seem to matter if I am in a depressed downward spiral, or if I am manic and just do not need the sleep. The outcome is the same; the world looks at me as if I have polka dots, and I view the world and the people in it as threats. PTSD would like to thank the Academy. Oh, let’s not forget the vital role that ADD has in this lack of my dreamworld. Which leads me to the question: Why do you wake up just as the dream is getting interesting? That just doesn’t seem quite fair.

However, I digress. My father suffers from insomnia, and has as long as I have been here (so I would assume he had it before). I wonder if it is genetic like so many other mental issues. Yes, I consider insomnia a mental health issue. There are many people for whom sleep is necessary and vital to their well-being. I am not talking about the occasional sleepless night, but days of no sleep. If you are in a manic swing up, you start to believe that you can rule the world, you call people at wildly inappropriate times, and, for me, I clean. For a while, this great burst of energy is euphoric (like being on Ecstasy; don’t know never tried it). After a few days of this, you almost welcome the inevitable crash to the floor.

At least when I crash and burn from a manic episode, I can usually sleep for a few hours at a time. But, I am always up by 6am no matter how hard I try for just one more hour; the hour eludes me like the tail end of a slipstream that I am surfing. (I tend to liken mood swings to the ocean; it is either calm or it is not).

Right now, I am running on about 4 hours of very fitful sleep, and I have to ride my bike about 4 miles home. I do not like riding tired because your attention is not great and navigation is important when dealing with cars. The people in this city simply cannot drive: half are going at least 10 mph over the limit, another group is 10 mph below the speed limit, and the rest think it is the autobahn. That’s a lot of sensory input when you haven’t slept well. Meanwhile, my boyfriend is snoring away without a care in the world (at the moment; that comes upon waking). I, myself, woke up at 4:38 am after sleeping for maybe 4 non-contiguous hours. My eyes feel as they have been ground with sandpaper or maybe a Dremel tool.

Why don’t they warn you about the basics of your mental health cocktail? No one ever said that not sleeping was part of the deal. There should be flyers covering mental health conditions just the same as there are fliers about Diabetes, Heart Health, the dangers of smoking, etc. It would have been nice to know that my very own personal cluster-fuck (sorry) of diagnoses would include periodic bouts of NO SLEEP!! I feel like I am on speed and NyQuil all at the same time. I hate this particular facet of my meds and my little cluster-fuck of mental issues; here’s to sleeping before the psychosis sets in. I am already hearing things that aren’t there. That’s why I can’t sleep; sometimes the voices will just not shut up no matter how tired the mind and body are. I thought that was the purpose of anti-psychotics?

Nervous

Today is the day I have been waiting for for about 7 months, and I find that I do not feel relief. I find that I am extraordinarily anxious and scared. Today is the day that I get to tell my side of the Bipolar story. I have no idea who will be there. I do not know if it will be one person or a panel of people. The only thing I know is that the inquisition will begin promptly at 9 am, and if I get there by 8:30 am, I can view the other side’s case file. I really do not like the fact that I get exactly 1/2 hour of “discovery” while if this were a hearing in a court of law, I would have received the case file long before this day. 

I have prepared myself. Off I go armed with a list of all the suicide attempts I can remember, the medications and the side effects, the list of jobs I have been fired from over the past few years and why, the reasons I can’t work due to a cluster of fucked up mental issues. Please pardon my use of a curse word, but how else do you describe having Bipolar I with psychotic features, PTSD, ADD, and Panic disorder with and without Agoraphobia. I am certain there are others who have it much worse than I do, but right now it feels like me against the world (or the bureaucratic Social Security system that is supposed to provide for people like me and the others who suffer everyday.)

Well, the iPhone I just had to have is informing me that it is time to get ready to have my case weighed, tested, and hopefully, not found wanting. I had better go make myself presentable but not “well groomed” as it seems that if one is “well groomed” that means not disabled when nothing could be further from the truth. I would like to see them try to live in my shoes for just a few days to see what it is like to live in mixed episode world with a healthy dose of anxiety thrown in for good measure. As if having Bipolar disorder was not enough. Oh well, off I go armed with paper and no chainmail or sword. Maybe a healthy dose of Klonopin would suffice.

Okay, I Am Starting To Get Nervous

 

My insurance company has been notified that I no longer have Medicare part B, and they sent out a letter about two weeks ago that I would no longer be eligible for the Medicare Advantage plan that I have been on for about six years now. My insurance (read: prescriptions) will end at midnight on March 31st. I have about 1.5 months worth of Abilify and about 3 weeks worth of Seroquel left. I am not going to be able to fill the Seroquel in April, and the Abilify is going to run out in mid-May, give or take. The two prescriptions combined cost about $1900.00 per month. That’s more than I get per month on disability which, if you have read the previous few posts, has been denied due to a resounding medical improvement. With all due respect to the Social Security Administration, when someone who has been on and relied upon disability to pay rent, pay for groceries, utilities and what not for about 9 years, this type of situation is going to cause a medical slide back down the hill. I do not think they recognize the severity of the situation. Since I received that letter notifying me that my benefits were to be discontinued, I have grown depressed, extremely anxious, panicky, sleepless (which really helps people with Bipolar….not), and a whole host of other symptoms that had become manageable. Now, I am back to crying at the drop of a hat, my Klonopin usage is back up to the prescribed dosage (I had managed to drop it to half), and I do not know what I am going to do when the Abilify runs out. I am going to be an untreated mentally ill person again, and that scares the living hell out of me.

I remember what it was like to be untreated. My moods were all over the place, I have been told that I could be quite the bitch, I abused drugs and alcohol in a vain attempt to regulate my moods on my own, and it just wasn’t a pretty sight. I am afraid that I am going to get suicidal again, not just of the ideation variety, but of the type that attempts it. I already have 7+ attempts under my belt, and the last one was nearly successful. I have been assured that my benefits will continue throughout the appeal process, and that data has been entered to resume my benefits. However, I have also been told that sometimes that data just kicks out of the system, and I won’t know that until April 3rd when the next check is to be deposited. This is going to be two weeks of extreme anxiety: will I get my check, will Medicare be reinstated as the liaison between the SSA office here and the Benefits Determination Services has assured me? I do not want to see what is going to happen.

Everyone keeps telling me that the Affordable Care Act is supposed to be in place to take care of these problems, but I have looked at the supposedly “affordable” insurance programs available, and unless you want a huge out of pocket expense, you won’t get a premium below about $250.00 per month. If you don’t mind having an out of pocket expense of around $6000.00, your monthly premium is going to be in the $350.00 per month range. Add $350.00 to the roughly $2100.00 worth of prescriptions I take monthly, and it is just not feasible.

Even the thought of trying to secure a job that has benefits gives me a panic attack. What if I have a depressive episode, and I cannot function at home or in the workplace? I’ll just lose another job, I guess. I have never been able to keep a job longer than two years because something always goes wrong; I make a stupid mistake, or the job is beneath my qualification level and I get bored and then I get depressed. Then I get fired for not being able to complete tasks on time, or finish them at all. I have a hard time following instructions (ADD) spoken or written. I have a huge problem with micro-management; just piss off and let me work, it will get done if you aren’t in my face every half-hour. 

I am getting nervous to the point of actually being afraid for myself. How am I supposed to live? These are not entitlements. Disability benefits are paid out of taxes that I paid into while I was working for about 17 years. I earned these benefits. I also was doing some more reading on what types of conditions are eligible for benefits: if I was a drug addict or alcoholic, I would qualify for disability benefits. I am sorry, but drug addiction and alcoholism may not be conscious choices, but they are choices none the less. Having a few mental health issues is not really a choice. It just sort of happens to people especially those with mental health problems in their families.

My parents (my mom, really, because my Father is too narcissistic to think about much other than how he plans to retire with a few million under his belt) can only help so much and for so long, and I really don’t want their help. As it stands, my mom helps me more than I would like, but it is a necessary evil. I appreciate everything they have done, and I am extremely grateful to have parents that are living at my age, as well as, having the means to help to a point. It is a very fine line. My life was built on a house of cards, and the SSA pulled one of the foundation cards out so the whole thing fell. I am seriously beginning to freak out.

Constantly Questioning ~ New Question About The Idea Of Being "Disabled"

This is another question that came to mind this morning (too much coffee mixed with Adderall 🙂 ) How much of a person’s disability are either mental disorders or developmental disorders, and how much of it is because society has told a person that they are “disabled”?

This weekend I had the privilege of meeting a young woman who has certain physical challenges, and, I think also some mental challenges. She just graduated from a private school here, and intends to start college this Fall semester with the goal of becoming a 5th grade teacher. She is clearly “disabled” or “challenged,” if you prefer, but she has a strength of will and a determination to become a teacher that I have not seen before in a “disabled” or “challenged” person.

I was thinking of her as I looked into the mirror while drying my hair, and it occurred to me that “disabled” is a social construct, and maybe, not so much a reality. I do not look disabled as all of my challenges come in the form of Affective disorders, Anxiety disorders, and one learning disorder (Adult ADD). I do not have developmental disabilities. I do not have anything that makes me look different than anyone else. If you were to meet me on the street, or in a class, the only way you would  know that I struggle daily with a host of mental problems would be to talk to me at length. Then, I may come across as different or weird due to A) being wired “backwards” (ADD ~ Can mimic a manic phase) and B) I am insatiably curious about everything or C) if I am waiting at a bus stop, I generally have ear plugs in to deter people from talking to me, but it also cuts down on the stimulation I get. I am an introverted personality, and I do not really need the adulation of the crowd. That overwhelms me.

So, does Bipolar Type I with psychotic tendencies, PTSD, Panic disorder with Agoraphobia, ADD, and having an avoidant personality make me disabled? I know to a certain extent that the lability of my emotional state can cause problems with friends, co-workers, bosses, etc. If you don’t like my mood, wait a few minutes, and it will change. I know that PTSD interferes with my life in that I am hyper-vigilant, overly aware of who is near me (I can “feel” a person behind me up to 70 feet even when plugged in), I have recurring nightmares though not so much anymore, I can relive the event that led to the diagnosis in both the third and the first person, and I have fear reactions to people who resemble my attacker (I was 16 and about 3 months). The Panic disorder with Agoraphobia thankfully seems to have abated somewhat, but I still periodically can’t mentally make myself leave my apartment, and if I try, bad things happen. ADD is just added fun to the mania of Bipolar. Mania makes my brain bounce, and the ADD joins in just for fun. So, yes, based on those diagnoses and symptoms make life very challenging, and since I am usually in a “mixed” episode ~ equally manic and depressed at the same time, I frequently get “stuck” as I am the most motivated depressed person, and the most depressed manic person. Nothing gets completely done; does that make me disabled in the workforce? I think so due to the fact I have a hard time accomplishing anything completely and on-time. Agoraphobia is just like icing on the cake as is the avoidant personality problem.

However, every time I visit my psychiatrist, I am noted to be “well groomed”, which is opposed to disheveled, I suppose. I have to be really deep down the Rabbit Hole to go out without at least clean hair, and screw the rest. But, I am a girly girl, and I like my nail polish, jewelry and make-up. So, even when I do not feel well, it is very hard to tell unless you know me intimately, or I tell you, or I just break down for no reason. So, we have visited the physiological and the psychological aspects of being “disabled” (another word I dislike). Moving along to the social notions of disability.

Here’s where I get a little bit confused. Yes, I do have markedly impaired social and functioning skills. But, how much have I bought into being told by doctors and other mental health worker’s and society (including family and friends) that I am disabled? How much of my personality has become tied up in what Sociologists call the “sick role”? In other words, am I disabled because I have some very challenging mental problems, or is it because I have these mental issues that society itself has labeled me disabled?  These are questions I just do not have the answers to. When interacting with people especially over a long period of time, they come to the conclusion that I am weird, that my thoughts are not “normal” (whatever that is; although daily thoughts of suicide probably are not normal), that I am somehow different than they are.

I guess it is because I am up for medical review of my disability benefits that these questions have popped up. I have not been reviewed in more than 7 years which according to the Social Security Administration is the cycle for people not expected to improve past a certain point, or the duration of the illness is greater than 12 months or can be expected to end in death. Bipolar disorder is one of the deadliest of the “severe” psychiatric disorders probably for it’s high rate of completed suicides. Therefore, I wonder if I am disabled because I have several different types of mental disorders, or because the doctors, the government, and society tells me that I am. Because I am damn good at hiding it 🙂 

And here’s an interesting story that aired on 60 minutes regarding the Social Security Disability program: http://www.pogo.org/blog/2013/10/60-minutes-takes-down-disability-benefits-did-they-get-the-story-right.html

What do you think: truly disabled, or disabled because our society tells people they are?

It All Started At Birth (The Drug Years) May Be A Trigger; I Don't Know

Backing up a bit, I had just gotten home; it was maybe 10:30 pm, but I had told my parents I was working that night so I could sneak out to see my “boyfriend.” I put it into quotes because it became very clear to me that night that he had no feelings for me at all. You cannot do something that violent to someone you really love. Abusers may claim they love you, but they really do not. 

My parents were angry; they had called my place of employment and were told I was not there. So, they knew I had lied. That was all they were concerned about. My lying. They did not notice my disheveled appearance, the smeared makeup, the look of utter shock on my face (I knew it was there because by this time, I had hit the “I can’t believe this happened to me” phase.) I was so angry, in shock, disbelieving, and full of hatred that I completely ignored them, told them to Fuck Off, and turned to go to the bathroom down the hall with my middle finger high in the air. Had I been a parent whose daughter had come home looking like that, I would be worried, but no, my parents (both narcissistic in their own way, one worse than the other) were concerned I had lied. That was the least important thing in the world to me.

No means NO! It does not mean I am playing hard to get, it means fucking NO!

I had just lost my virginity to a rapist. All I wanted to do was get clean, but that wasn’t going to happen that night or for several months after. I must have stayed in the tub for about 4 hours (wouldn’t that tip you off if you were a parent.) It was nearly 3 am before I emerged from the bathroom. I got in bed and tried to sleep, but I kept flashing back. I still have problems with nightmares, reliving the event, and being hyper-vigilant (which may be the only good thing to come out of this; I now have an almost innate sense when people are too close or are walking behind me,etc.) My main problem is that I did not completely disassociate the way many survivors of abuse do. I can see it from the third person watching it happen to me, and I can see it from the first person experiencing it. Believe me, I try not to go there. But, every now and again, I revisit the feelings in a dream or something, and I am very aware of who is around me at all times.

So, thus began the self-medicating. I couldn’t go to my parents and tell them what happened; they had made it quite clear that the lie about working would preclude any truth about that night.) I began to smoke pot more frequently with my neighbor, I began to drink a bit, and I couldn’t have cared less about school. Nothing, absolutely nothing mattered to me. Getting high, that mattered. Anything that would stop the flow of images, and marijuana did that quite effectively. I found more and new friends who smoked. Until then, I was the one who passed on the joint. Now, it was my savior. I began to smoke cigarettes regularly at that time, too.

I decided that I could no longer handle High School and discovered that the University here had a concurrent enrollment program; all you needed to do was get your high school’s permission, in my case, I only had 2.5 credits to graduate. One year of English, one year of Math, and a semester elective. So, I took the SAT (did not do well: 1090. Sad.) and I took the ACT (27 cumulative, much better.) So, having written an essay to the Dean of Students about why I wanted to start college early, I was admitted to college about 2 months after my 17th birthday. This all took place in the spring so I could get all the necessary paperwork approved.

During this period of time, I began to hang out at a local spot frequented by students, hippies, Deadheads, you name a group they were there; including my rapist whom I saw everyday. As if I wasn’t traumatized enough. I met a man who turned into one of my best friends there. He is beautiful both inside and outside, and has remained that way even into his 40’s. It makes me smile to think of him. I also met my first boyfriend (I do not consider my rapist as my first boyfriend.) He was not attractive in a traditional sense, but he had this sense of humor that was infectious. He made me laugh. He actually asked one night when I was running late for dinner if it would be alright if he kissed me (he knew my story.) I knew that I wanted to kiss him, but I had no confidence at the time (another theft.) I said, yes it would be okay, and he kissed me so gently and softly. He completely respected that I had been attacked and was going to be hesitant, but that was okay with him. I was 17, and should probably mention that he was 24. My parents hated him from the word go, but they did not understand how he treated me with respect and compassion, and how much he took care of me. But then again, they were unaware of how important these qualities were to me. If only they had asked one simple question: Are you okay? Things may have turned out very differently. To this day, I do not think my father fully comprehends that his daughter was sexually assaulted. It is like he has a block on everything unpleasant in this world. I could never live with such blinders.

This is when I really started getting into pot smoking. I was stoned from the time I woke up until I went to sleep at night. It quieted the voices in my head, and allowed me to relax my guard a little bit. I started skipping class to hang out with my new-found friends. My soon to become boyfriend noticed that I was not attending class in favor of getting high, and he began to walk me to class, and be there when I got out to take me to my next class. My parents never knew this about him either. They chose to believe he was bad because he had some jail time under his belt, and he was 7 years older than I was. But, if they could only had known how much love he had to give me, and respect for what had happened, and the compassion and wisdom to ask before he touched me in any form of intimate way. All they saw was an ex-con who was messing with their daughter.

Before long, my pot smoking gave way to pretty heavy LSD use, and then gradually to pills. Then I hit a mile marker: I tried meth for the first time. I had found my drug. This was not a good thing. I had a dealer living in my apartment, and he paid his rent by keeping me high. On meth, I was happy, outgoing, talkative, loved everyone, and lost about 30 pounds that I really didn’t have to lose. I cooked, I cleaned (and I do mean thoroughly.) I was super woman! For the first time in years, I felt like I had before the attack. Nothing bothered me…..I had a temper, but you really had to make me mad to get a rise out of me. Now, that I know that I have ADD, all of my reactions to meth make sense. For me it was calming, but I am wired backwards.

I do not know how it happened, considering my drug of choice is meth and probably always will be), but somehow I moved on to cocaine (this guy I knew got 97% pure Colombian), and Crack. He was a crack fiend, and need a safe place to rock the powdered cocaine. I let him do it at my apartment in exchange for about a quarter gram of pure cocaine. I mean, this stuff knocked you on your ass for about 20 minutes or so. He was usually done rocking the remainder about the same time I “came to.” Then we spent the night smoking rocks. By this time, I was also taking an unimaginable amount of valium, and shooting about 12 cc’s of morphine each day. Meanwhile, the Bipolar disorder that had been lying dormant was starting to manifest itself. I was unaware of it, but my moods were very volatile, and everyone I knew including myself chalked it up to drug addiction. And, I can’t dance around it anymore calling it substance abuse. I was an addict. I didn’t care what you had, I would buy it and take it. I loved the pure cocaine, meth, morphine and pills. Drinking was a so-so remedy (although it becomes important later.) What I did not know was that I was subconsciously trying to control the chemical imbalance in my brain. If I was down, I snorted a couple of lines of meth or coke whichever was available. If I was too far up, I shot myself up with morphine and popped some pills. Yes, I was an addict and a junkie. This has gotten too long…….I will cover the events that led me to rehab, and relapse in my next post……

It All Started At Birth (An Ongoing Story About How I Arrived Here) Warning: Potential Trigger

It all started the moment I was born with a predisposition to being moody. I was apparently a difficult and demanding baby and child. I can remember being and feeling very sensitive to others even as a toddler. I know “they” say we cannot remember that far back, but I do not believe that. I can remember the house that I first came home to from the time that I was about two. Obviously, I do not recall being an infant, but I can remember my younger sister as an infant which would put me at about 2 years of age. I can recall her nursery. It was the early 70’s, and she had shag carpet in her room. I vividly recall stepping on a toothpick in that room, and she was still in a crib. I recall feeling rejected when she didn’t want to play with me, and crying as I played alone. Loneliness and being or feeling alone are both very prominent in my life, and have been for many years. There really is not a feeling that is worse than that sense that you are alone even when you are with someone. Well, maybe there is, but I have not experienced it yet. 

So, I was born with the genes that predisposed me initially to deep depressions, and finally a diagnosis of Bipolar disorder. My paternal grandmother was a manic depressive who went untreated. Since the first approved treatment for Bipolar was Lithium in 1972, she would have been undiagnosed and unmedicated for about 63 years. One can only imagine the living nightmare that would have been. Well, actually, I can imagine it as I lived it for many years not knowing what was wrong. Or, more specifically what was causing the nightmarish shifts in mood. Perhaps she was allergic to lithium as I am, but I really think she just didn’t know what she had. There really wasn’t a diagnosis for manic depression when she was growing up, getting married, having children, and living her life. Besides I do not think she thought anything was really “wrong”. My grandmother typically would be in the manic phase of the illness, although she and my grandfather did not share a room for whatever reason (perhaps depression or extreme mania that he needed to get away from). She was always flitting around barely able to keep still making sure guests had everything that they needed or could want. She was very social during these episodes. She was also in the early stages of Alzheimer’s which also has a genetic component. That scares me due to the fact that it is her genetics that partially contributed to my mood disorder. The maternal side of my family has it’s own history of depression. So, I got it from both sides.

I think the first time I can remember being truly depressed was when I was still in grade school. I had few friends and the ones I had tended to drop me fairly quickly. In fact, I do not remember having a “best friend” that was another little girl. My best friend at the time was the step son of a man my father worked with at the University. Seems like every time I think about the friends I have had over the years all have been male. Anyway, I had one good friend, and the rest were to be avoided at all costs as they bullied me relentlessly. Perhaps that is why I tend to be a bit closed off. Or maybe, I just had not encountered The Art of War yet.

I remember not wanting to go to school, and pretending to be sick so I could stay home and be by myself. I think I was about 10 years old when I first really recall being depressed in a clinical sense. I wanted to be a cat more than anything in the world because they seemed to have it pretty good. They were relaxed (unlike dogs who need a lot of attention), they just wanted to eat, sleep in the sun and be petted. It appeared good to me.

At the time I was in the “gifted” program for students who had IQ’s in that range, and needed additional educational and creative outlets. We got to leave class for an hour and go do neat things like dissecting frogs or doing research papers on an assigned topic. I had been in the program since the age of 7, and we were all pretty much outcasts because the other students did not understand why we got to leave the regular class room. I knew one kid who could solve a Rubik’s cube (no matter how messed up it was) within about 5 minutes. He was probably a genius on some level.

Moving on….I was 10 when I first recognized that my moods and perceptions were different than others. I thought that no one could possibly like me, I was pretty convinced that my parents didn’t love or want me (I was a birth control failure), and I had an overdeveloped fight or flight instinct when faced with something that I perceived as a threat to me. If I was teased in any way, I ran. If I had to give a presentation like a book report, that triggered a strong flight instinct. I ran from almost everything, and could be counted on being found crying on the swings in the back of the playground. I appeared weird, and “not cool” to the other kids, and topping it off was that I could identify and perceive adult emotions, but I could not process them. I was too young. So it all came out in emotional outbursts, anger and aggression towards others, etc. All of which are classic symptoms of depression in a child. I also had, in my mind, decided that if I were to die that nobody would come to the funeral. Suicidal ideation in a child of that age? Probably. I could see it so clearly. The casket, the flowers, and the very random people of which there were few that actually cared to come. I definitely wanted to be if not invisible to others, then dead. Everything hurt too much. I just wanted out. I was 10, and I wanted to die more than anything in the world. My first attempt at leaving this world behind came when I was 12.

Nobody knew any of this was going on in my head; not my parents, not my teachers, not my few friends. I kept it to myself because I honestly believed that I would be better off dead, and I did not want to tell this to anyone although there was clearly something abnormal about my mood. Kids that age typically play with one another, and all I wanted to do was be alone so I could read. At the time, I was reading a lot of Nancy Drew books, and I wished I could be more like her. I could read two or three books in a day. I really do not know what my parents thought. They weren’t really around. My mother was busy as a full-time Law student, and my father did a lot of traveling for work. Of course, now I can look back and see that I was probably delusional, and operating on some form of psychosis. I just recall feeling really bad about myself and my worth as a member of this planet. Like I said earlier, I was 12 the first time I tried to kill myself. I drank ammonia mixed with soda after being disciplined by my parents for using a curse word when the soda fizzed up and out when I took off the lid. I look at it from the perspective of an adult with mixed episode Bipolar with psychotic features, and I can see how inherently pointless it was to try something like that for getting “talked” to by my dad for cursing. 

Since my word count is already in the 1300’s, I will start the next part in middle school when everything gets worse than I thought it could get…….

Absence

I know I haven’t been blogging much over the past month or so, but, I just haven’t had anything to write about. Which is odd for me. I did write a 4 page thesis in my journal about my fear of my doctors’ retiring, people passing away before me, and how I could rationalize suicide so as not to be left alone with only myself to look after me. I do not always do a great job of that.

I did have the pleasure of taking the MMPI (Minnesota Multi-phasic Personality Inventory), and it confirmed that I am nearly equally as depressed as I am manic. So, that was nothing new. My paranoia score was quite high, but this little diagnostic tool can be quite accurate if you report honestly. Apparently, I am having a hard time trusting people. I think it is that my chemical riddled brain is finally starting to process how abusive my marriage really was. Leave it to me to marry a guy who really couldn’t show emotion or attach himself to a person and has a rather banal addiction to internet porn. It is interesting, though that since I have been divorced my level of “self-worth” has ridden. Probably because I am not trying to be something that I am not. My anxiety level is higher than normal, but I chalk that up to being a slave to public transportation. Would explain the paranoia too. You would believe how many men will stop to offer me a ride. I mean, really? These guys really think I am going to get into a stranger’s vehicle. No, I value my life and personal safety too much to do something that erratic. You feel really exposed sitting on the side of a street waiting for a bus that may not come for 45 minutes especially when you are female even if you are 5’10” tall, and could probably take a potential creep down. See, paranoid.

Another blogger posed a very interesting question in his last post. He stated that many people with manic depression consider it to be part of who they are, and if there were a “magic” pill that could fix everything, would you take it? I do not consider Bipolar to be part of who I am, fundamentally. I believe that it is something that I have. It is estimated that somewhere around 3% of the population have this disorder to varying degrees. It is gender neutral and can afflict males and females equally. Hence, I am not the only person who “suffers” with this affliction. I have always been moody, and generally depressed. I had my first major depressive episode when I was about 12. I had my first nuclear meltdown when I was 30. I was diagnosed with Bipolar I with Psychotic tendencies, Panic Disorder with and with out Agoraphobia, PTSD, and Generalized Anxiety Disorder. But, I have always been anxious and a bit high strung. This is the personality that I am used to. If there were a magic pill that could take all that away, who and what would I be? People live productive lives with this disorder all the time. Just Google “famous people with Bipolar”. You’d be surprised who also has this disorder, and hide it quite well. I hide it quite well. Most people just think I am weird. 

I guess my biggest fear about a pill that could fix everything right now is that it would also change my personality which I have grown quite fond of, even if no one else is a big fan. I do not know how I feel about that idea. I mean, getting rid of the paranoia, the anxiety, the fear, and the constant mixed state so quickly might trigger something else. It’s like my father explained to me once; for each medication you take, it locks like a key into the neuroreceptors that it was designed to fit. This opens up other receptors kind of like doors. One medication closes a door, but opens new ones. The scientists do not know how most of these medications really work in the brain. A magic pill could be like the genie in the bottle. It opens, you make your wishes and hope they were the right ones. So, in response, I would have to really consider what a “magic” pill would do before I took it. Mostly, I would be afraid that it would so fundamentally change my brain chemistry that I would no longer be who I consider myself to be, and would end all of the traits that make up who I am aside from the Bipolar disorder. Your basic nature is a combination of genetics and your environment. I do not know I feel about messing with the brain at the genetic level. That freaks me out a little bit. 

In the immortal words of Forrest Gump, “…And that’s all I have to say about that..”.

Blog For Mental Health 2014

I will start with the words of the founder of this project: “I pledge my commitment to the Blog for Mental Health 2014 Project. I will blog about mental health topics not only for myself, but for others. By displaying this badge, I show my pride, dedication, and acceptance for mental health. I use this to promote mental health education in the struggle to erase stigma.” 

About 13 years ago, I was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder Type I with Psychotic Tendencies, PTSD, ADD, Panic Disorder with and without Agoraphobia, and Generalized Anxiety Disorder. I already knew about the PTSD. I could have diagnosed myself. I had been suffering from symptoms since I was a few months past my 16th birthday when I was sexually assaulted by my “boyfriend”. I was officially diagnosed when I was 20. I have never received counseling for this event, nor have I talked about it with anyone. Perhaps, that is why the symptoms of PTSD linger. I have become used to the now occasional nightmare, the hyper-alertness, the jumping when someone or a noise startles me; it is just how I live. I have also lived with the anxiety disorders for most of my life. I can remember feeling anxious as far back as age 6. I used to make myself sick because I would become so anxious about something as “simple” as going to school.

The depression that I have suffered since about the same age is what I guess became Bipolar disorder. My paternal grandmother was manic-depressive and brilliant, but abusive as she was more often than not in a manic phase. From what research I have done, I understand that one can be predisposed to the illness. I feel bad for her as she was manic-depressive when there was no such thing, and no treatment for it. Lithium did not become approved for the treatment of manic-depression until 1972, and by then she was displaying the early stages of Alzheimer’s. She was a brilliant woman as so many mentally interesting people are. She was an accomplished oil-painter who did one woman shows at museums around New Mexico. She had a Master’s in Mathematics from SCU. She was one of the most interesting people I have ever known. I sleep underneath a beautiful painting of lilacs every night, and I see it right before I turn out the light and marvel at her ability. I have tried to paint. It is not my milieu. Writing is the one thing I have consistently done well throughout my lifetime. I received my first journal at the age of 12, and have been writing my life, thoughts, opinions, and what not down for over thirty years. 

When I was first diagnosed with manic-depression or Bipolar disorder, I was diagnosed as a type II as my therapist did not feel that I had experienced a full-blown manic episode. She felt that my mania was confined to hypo-mania, but the more I talked, the harder she listened, and she came to believe that what she had initially thought were hypo-manic episodes were, in fact, mild manic episodes. I experienced a lot of bouncing thoughts, I was hyper-sexual, I self-medicated and had done so for many years, I took many risks with my health and relationships, I had no control over money; basically my life was constantly on the brink of complete and utter ruin due to manic behavior. I was also depressed a good deal of the time. Where the psychosis occurred, I have no idea. But, then that is the nature of psychosis; you do not know that you are psychotic. 

I have been hospitalized numerous times both voluntarily because I did not feel safe around myself, and “involuntarily” because others felt I was a danger to myself. I saw many different manifestations of Bipolar disorder, I saw people with Schizophrenia, people who were just psychotic for whatever reason, and I saw people who were simply depressed, had attempted suicide or were afraid that they would. When you are in the hospital, everyone is “crazy” which is a term I really do not like. I do not consider myself or others “crazy”, “nuts” or any other moniker the public chooses to attach to us. What I see are people fighting very hard to maintain some semblance of normalcy in their lives. We know we are different than “normal” people. But, that begs the question, how are “normal” people different from us? There are some pretty odd “normal” people out there. The only difference seems to be they can hide it better than most of us not so normal people can.

So, yes, I have been a frequent flyer at the mental hospital here. I was verging on alcoholism, and when I was drunk, it always seemed a good idea to take all my medication. I had a very difficult time adjusting to the diagnosis. I lost my job, I couldn’t work because the medications they gave me had horrible side effects for me, I couldn’t go to school for the same reasons. As far as I was concerned, my life was over. The only that had to be done was the physical taking of my life. And, every single time I tried, something pulled me back and I would call 911. I have done this somewhere between 11 or 12 times since I was 16, with most of the attempts coming after the diagnosis of Bipolar type 1. Like I said earlier in the paragraph, as far as I was concerned life was over, and the only thing left to do was get rid of the body and the mind.

After I came to grips with my diagnosis, and was on an effective medication plan, I realized how much grief I had put my family through. I do not believe that even at my lowest point that I could rival in feeling how my mother and my father must have felt. They were sure that some day I would succeed and they would lose their first child to a mental disorder. Children are not supposed to die before their parents. Especially when they are in their 30’s. I was an adult, not a child, not a teenager. I should have been able to control it better. Interesting thought I just had. At the time, I felt that my life had fallen apart and I was justified in dying by my own hand. Now, years later, I feel that I should have been able to control myself. I still have Bipolar disorder. I am still medicated, and have been seeing psychiatrists and the same psychologist for over 10 years, yet my statement feeds directly into the stigma that I try so hard to fight. That’s weird. I still have suicidal thoughts, I still wonder if everyone would be better off if I was dead; these thoughts are still with me, yet I feel I should be able to control them. Bipolar is not controlled, it is managed. There is a difference. 

At any rate, this is getting too long. I have not really experienced any real stigma from the outside world; even from people I have told that I do not know well. But, I am very well versed in hiding it when I am in public. The real stigma has come from a corner I would never have seen, and that is my family. My father does not talk to me or see me anymore. It has been 4 years since I have seen him, and the same since I have talked to him. Surprisingly, he called and left a message on my birthday. I did not call him back. He emailed and texted on Christmas. Out of consideration for his efforts I responded albeit rather impersonally. My uncle and his wife have not invited me to any family gathering in a number of years. My cousins don’t know where I live or have a working phone number for me. I am the oldest granddaughter. My last grandmother died last year. She was the glue that held the family together. She never made me feel different. She was very Christian, and believed that God made us exactly the way we were supposed to be. Everyone else, on the other hand, has made me to feel ostracized except my mom and her husband’s family. So, what I would have expected  from society came from a totally blind corner: my family. But, I guess they are part of society, too, and have their own thoughts about mental illness.

Been Having Thought Block

I need to write something or else I will truly go off the deep end of the pool where swimmers need little arm floaties, or some other cute way of keeping kid’s from drowning. I would very much like to know where my floaties went. Somebody took my floaties, and now here I am in the deep end of the pool trying desperately not to go under.

 All of this has to do with my ex-husband. I had expressed a desire to remain friends; we are still returning the drags of the marriage to each other. I do not understand how you can be friends when the flotsam and jetsam have not been cleared away.  I said in an email that I sent Friday (this all started very civilly on Thursday, and was deteriorating into a brawl by Saturday) that I had a doctor’s appointment at 1:30 and should be home by 3:00 pm. And, that I would just like to get this taken care of as soon as possible. He interpreted as hostile and angry sounding. Nothing would have been less true. I was typing it quickly as I had a bus to catch. This was his reply:

“I was reading your e-mail a second time because you sounded a little pissed.  And I’m trying to find out why.  You’ve made it clear that you prefer we remain “friends”.  Every time I found something of yours that you forgot & left here I put it or them in a bag & gladly gave them back to you with no problem on my part.  You still have all the keys to the house, but I haven’t pushed that issue.  Your “I really just want this out of the way” statement, has me wondering about what’s really your true intentions about us & how we will interact in the present and in the future.  Huh????”

Am I the only one who feels that email is hostile, or have I gone completely mad this time? I mean “Huh????” Seriously (insert confused look on face here)….what the fuck is that all about? I have tried repeatedly to explain to him that while I am not emotionally crying my eyes out, I am still sad and sometimes angry, and while I have achieved the heart-mind disconnect (which is crucial for my mental sanity), I can still feel hurt because my mind registers hurt in what I can only assume is a complex web of firing neurons.

Ever since this communiqué from him, I have not been able to eat, to drink fluids, or to sleep. He is beginning to sign his little missives with a short version of his name. His first email was signed with his first name. I have signed all of mine with my full name.

I have tried to convey to him that I am going to need time to heal from some of the things he has done and said.  He is verbally and emotionally abusive to those he thinks are weak.  And I have seen him beat a puppy with a switch on more than one occasion because the puppy peed on the carpet. I have to say here, the puppy was confined to a cage and an enclosure with training mats. But, unless you train the dog to go outside, it will pee in the house. It is simple. He finally was so frustrated by the behavior of his untrained 6 – 7 month old puppy that he at 1:30 am gets her in to a carrier, drives to Animal Control, and ties her to the fence with food and water. So, now she is all alone at night, tied to a fence that borders a state highway, and it is winter time.

I guess the question here is do or do I not want to be friends with someone who has abused both people and animals? I can handle the people part, but you should never, ever, ever, ever abuse an animal. All they do is love you. Can I be friends with someone that I know that about? I do not know. I think not.

 

Effects Of Bullying

I am an effect of bullying. I experienced during school and after school bullying from the time I was about 7 to the age of 16. This bullying occurred in one form or another at every school I attended from grammar school through high school. The consequences of said bullying have lasted well into my adult years. I have trouble trusting another’s intentions, I feel that people are out to hurt me for no logical reason, I suffer panic attacks and fear when in a group of people I do not know, and, consequently, I have very few friends among other effects. Following is some information I found at www.stopbullying.gov . I find it disturbing that the trend has grown to such a proportion that there is actually a governmental website devoted to the subject. When I was experiencing bullying growing up it was literally thought of as something to be endured and wasn’t very important in terms of mental and physical health. While reading some of the material I located, I was mildly surprised to find myself thinking back to those days, and identifying with much of what had been written.

Bullying Definition

Bullying is “unwanted, aggressive behavior among school aged children that involves a real or a perceived power imbalance. The behavior is repeated, or has the potential to be repeated, over time. Both kids who are bullied and who bully others may have serious, lasting problems.”

In order to be considered bullying, the behavior must be aggressive and include:

• An imbalance of power: Kids who bully use their power ~ such as physical strength, access to embarrassing information, or popularity ~ to control or harm others. Power imbalances can change over time and in different situations, even if they involve the same people.
• Repetition: Bullying behaviors happen more than once or have the potential to happen more than once.

Bullying includes actions such as making threats, spreading rumors, attacking someone verbally or physically, and excluding someone from a group on purpose. (I have experienced all of these at some point in time).

Types Of Bullying

• Verbal bullying is saying or writing mean things. Verbal bullying includes:
  • Teasing
  • Name-calling
  • Inappropriate sexual comments
  • Taunting
  • Threatening to cause harm
• Social bullying, sometimes called relational bullying, involves:
  • Leaving someone out on purpose
  • Telling other children not to be friends with someone
  • Spreading rumors about someone
  • Embarrassing someone in public
• Physical bullying involves hurting a person or possessions including:
  • Hitting/kicking/pinching
  • Spitting
  • Tripping/pushing
  • Taking or breaking a person’s things
  • Making mean or rude hand gestures

Where And When Bullying Happens

It can occur either during or after school hours. While most reported bullying occurs within the school building, a significant portion occurs in places like the playground or on the bus. It happens on the way to or from school, in the neighborhood, or (now) on the Internet.

Frequency Of Bullying

There are two sources of federally collected data on youth bullying:

• The 2011 Youth Risk Behavior Surveillance System (the CDC) indicates that, nationwide, about 20% of students grades 9-12 experienced bullying.
• The 2008-2009 School Crime Supplement (National Center for Education Statistics and Bureau of Justice Statistics) found that, nationwide, about 28% of students grades 6-12 experienced bullying.

On average, that is approximately %25 of kids aged 11-17 that have reported bullying. I would like to emphasize the word “reported”. These statistics are a) out of date, and b) the students who have reported bullying, and does not include those who do not tell anyone. That means that, in reality, the number of students being bullied may be higher, and I suspect it is. A number of students may not report bullying for fear of retaliation or simply out of shame. These students are not captured by these studies.

Effects Of Bullying

The effects of bullying both by those being bullied and those who bully others have been linked to many negative outcomes including but not limited to impacts on mental and physical health, substance use and abuse, and suicide. An interesting study conducted by the National Institute for Mental Health highlights some of the long lasting effects of bullying. http://www.nimh.nih.gov/news/science-news/2013/bullying-exerts-psychiatric-effects-into-adulthood.shtml

Kids Who Are Bullied

Students who experience bullying at school, after school, in their neighborhoods, or by technological means such as the Internet or texts on their phones are more likely to experience:

• Depression and anxiety, increased feelings of sadness and loneliness, changes in sleep and eating patterns loss of interest in activities they used to enjoy or anhedonia, and I would add low self-esteem and self-worth.
• Health complaints such as frequent headaches and stomachaches, or being too sick to go to school
• Decreased academic achievement and school participation. They are more likely to miss, skip or drop out of school.

A very small proportion of students who are bullied may react in extremely violent ways. In 12 of 15 school shootings in the 1990’s, the shooters had a history of being bullied.

Kids Who Bully Others

Students who are bullies can also continue to engage in violent and other risky behaviors into adulthood. They are more likely to:

• Abuse alcohol and other drugs in adolescence and into adulthood
• Get into fights, vandalize property, and drop out of school
• Engage in early sexual activity (the same could be said for the kids being bullied as a way of “belonging”)
• Have criminal records and traffic citations as adults
• Be abusive in romantic or intimate relationships as adults

Bystanders

Children who witness bullying tend to be more likely to:

• Have increased use of tobacco, alcohol and other drugs
• Have increased mental health problems, including depression and anxiety
• Miss or skip school

The Relationship Between Bullying And Suicide

The media often link suicide and bullying. However, most kids that are experiencing bullying do not have thoughts of suicide or engage in suicidal behavior.

Although they are at risk of suicide, other factors must be considered. Depression, problems at home and a history of trauma tend to be better indicators than bullying alone or when combined with bullying. Additionally, specific groups are more at risk for suicide, including American Indian and Alaskan Native, Asian American, and LCBT youth. The risk is highest when these groups of students are not supported by family, peer groups and schools. Bullying simply makes the problem worse.

Warning Signs And Risk Factors

There are many warning signs that a child is being affected by bullying ~ either being bullied or bullying others. Recognizing these warning signs is often the first step in stopping the behavior. Since not all children will report problems with bullying, it is important to talk to kids who are displaying symptoms. Talking to kids can help identify the root of the problem.

Signs A Child Is Being Bullied

First of all, look for changes in the child’s behavior, but also be aware that not all kids will display warning signs. The warning signs include:

• Unexplainable injuries
• Lost or destroyed clothing, books, electronics, or jewelry
• Frequent headaches, stomach aches, feeling ill, or faking illness
• Changes in eating habits ~ not eating, or binge eating
• Difficulty sleeping, sleeping too much, or frequent nightmares
• Declining grades, loss of interest in schoolwork, or not wanting to go to school
• A sudden loss of friends or avoidance of social situations
• Feeling helpless or decreased self-esteem/self-worth
• Self-destructive behaviors ~ running away, harming themselves, or suicidal ideation or talking about suicide

If you notice these any of these warning signs, do not ignore them. Get help right away.

Signs A Child Is Bullying Others

• Getting into physical and/or verbal fights
• Having friends who bully others
• Are increasingly aggressive
• Are frequently in trouble at school ~ detention and/or being called to principal’s office
• Having unexplained extra money or new belongings
• Blaming others for their problems
• Will not accept responsibility for their actions
• Are competitive and worry about their reputation or popularity

Why Children Don’t Ask For Help

Statistics from the 2008-2009 School Crime Supplement (see above for reporting agencies) show that only about 1 out of 3 bullying cases is reported to an adult. There are many reasons why kids don’t talk:

• Kids want to handle it on their own in order to regain a sense of control or they may fear being seen as weak or a “tattle-tale”
• They may fear backlash from their bullies (this is a very real concern)
• Bullying is a humiliating experience, and kids may not want adults to know what is happening. They also may fear being punished and/or judged for being “weak”
• They already feel socially isolated and like nobody can or will understand
• Kids may fear being rejected by their peers; friends can help protect kids from being bullied and they do not want to lose this protection

Risk Factors

There is no single variable that puts one child at risk for bullying over another. It is a complex mixture of environment, group identification, and others. In general, kids who are at risk of being bullied have one or more of the following:

• Are perceived as different than their peers such as being over or underweight, not having the latest cool toy or clothes, being new to school among others
• Are perceived as weak and unable to defend themselves
• Are depressed, nervous or anxious, and/or have low self-esteem
• Are less popular than others and have few friends, are socially isolated
• Do not get along well with other kids, are perceived as annoying or provoking

These are only indicators that a child may be bullied. They may or may not experience bullying as a result of these risk factors.

Children More Likely To Bully Others

In general, there are two types of kids who bully others ~ some are well connected to their peers, have social power, or like to dominate others, and some are isolated from their peer group and may be depressed (in children, depression can be expressed as aggression) or anxious, be less involved in school, or not identify with the feelings of others. They also have other existing factors such as:

• Aggressive or easily frustrated
• Have less parental involvement or problems at home
• Have difficulty following rules
• View violence in a positive light
• Have friends who are bullies

Remember that bullies do not need to be bigger or stronger than those they bully. The ability to bully others comes from a real or perceived power imbalance which can come from a number of sources: popularity, strength, cognitive ability, etc. Children who bully also may have a combination of these factors.

Who Is At Risk?

Bullying can happen anywhere, but depending on the environment, some groups of kids may be more at risk. No single factor puts a student or child at risk for bullying or for being bullied by others. The behavior can happen anywhere ~ cities, suburbs, and rural towns. What does seem to increase risk is the environment and/or belonging to certain groups such as ~ LGBT youth, disabled (mentally or developmentally) youth, and socially isolated youth. Recognizing the many warning signs that a child is bullying others or is being bullied is often the first step in taking action against bullying. Not all children will report being bullied or that they themselves are bullying others. Bullying affects everyone involved. There are many negative outcomes of being bullied, being the one doing the bullying, or simply observing bullying behavior. These outcomes may include depression, anxiety issues, substance abuse and suicide. This is why it is important to monitor kids, and ask them if bullying or something else is wrong.