Psychiatric Medication AKA Drugs That Keep Other People Sane

Clonazepam tablets Klonopin 1mg.
Clonazepam tablets Klonopin 1mg. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I have no idea what is going to come out in this post as I am at once both pro and con on the medication front of bipolar illness. I do know I do not like some of the side effects of the medications, but by the same token, having tried to go off the medications, I can see where they are necessary to keep everybody else around me “sane.” If I go off them, I become overly moody, paranoid, delusional, yah da yah da yah. I think they (the doctors) like to neatly categorize these effects as “episodes.” They like things in neat little diagnostic boxes. This is not to say that all the psych doctors and people in the mental health profession are bad. There are some who are quite good at what they do. What I question is why do I have to be on these medications for the rest of my life? 

I recently ran out of one of my medications and could not get it for about four days. Apparently, my HMO decided to play doctor as they have in so many other cases, most being much more serious than mine. At any rate, my HMO deemed it “too early” for a refill. I was fairly okay the first day off the medication thanks to it’s long half-life, day 2 was a little worse as I was developing extremely high anxiety, a feeling like nothing around was real, and just generally feeling strange, but I managed to hide this mini-trip into psychosis. I was out with my Mom looking for apartments, and that meant I had to deal with people real or not. Mostly, it meant I had to act “normal” which if are in a semi-psychotic state is very hard to do. So, due to physical addiction to this drug and my HMO paying God with my meds, I got to experience a mild psychosis for about 3 days.

I have also experimented with stopping Seroquel (quetiapine), and that caused a lot of agitation. and I could not sleep properly which is essential in managing manic- depression illness. No one told me any of this or about any side effects from the drug itself. Stopping Abilify did not seem to produce any side effects, but having to stop Klonopin “cold turkey” was quite another experience altogether. Thank you to my HMO for playing doctor, you nearly killed me (insert sarcasm here). There is nothing to be said about that other than I slowly slipped into severe paranoia and psychosis. It was like going down the Rabbit Hole but slippery as if coated with butter or something. Usually, I can feel it happening and try to stop it. It is not the case when you have suddenly quit a long term, high dosage “habit.”

These drugs, I am convinced, are more for other people’s sanity than for mine. Basically, they keep me in check so other people won’t be bothered by me. That’s my opinion anyway. Maybe I am becoming cynical and jaded, but my brain is addicted to these chemicals that I take dutifully every morning. I was a great lab rat. Knowing that I am very “med compliant”, the dutiful doctors tried regular anti-psychotic like Haldol, they tried anti-epileptic drugs like Tegretol (huge headache, loss of balance, etc.) and Lamictal. Patients should really be aware of Lamictal’s side effects which the “rash” is the most common side effect. What they do not tell you is that you can develop Steven-Johnson‘s Disease (a rare but fatal skin disease). That you can find on your own on the Internet.

In fact, if you are curious, you can find that pamphlet that used to come with the medication that list all side effects from least severe to rare. I have often wondered why they stopping including those with one’s medication(s). Conspiracy: pharmacies are the “girl friday” of the major drug companies and the drug companies do not want the consumer to know the big picture of a particular medication. I take 2 medications that if I were not getting low income help from Medicare, I wouldn’t be taking. The combined cost for one month of these two is about $2,000. That’s twice what I receive in Disability per month. But they have been deemed necessary so medicare covers them. I only wonder how these atypical anti-psychotics are affecting my brain chemistry. That I find of more concern than the physical side effects. I already know of one effect of long time use: physical and mental addiction. But, then, I have been addicted to some substance or another for most of my life. What’s another going to do? So, I’ll go to my grave addicted. Pleasant thought. I hope everyone who is in close contact with me is appreciative of the fact that I am so compliant in taking my medications so you can be sane, and I can be a semblance of sanity.

Yet Another Doctor's Appointment

English: Wavelength for sine wave
English: Wavelength for sine wave (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Quite possibly, the one single thing that has really begun to bug me about this having Bipolar Disorder thing that causes me to have to put caustic chemicals in my body and ultimately my brain, is the constant stream of doctor’s appointments to assess how I am doing. If it isn’t the psychiatrist (today) checking to see how well a dosage change is affecting mania or depression, it is the therapist next Tuesday to assess my emotional status. I mean, do not get me wrong, I owe a deep debt of gratitude to both them and my parents for paying for them, but sometimes I just like to be left alone to ride my sine wave, and have a good or bad day without it becoming part of a medical chart, or part of my diagnosis. If I am having a sort of bad day when I see the psychiatrist, I get labeled Bipolar Type 1 ~ “low mood”. Of course it is “low”, I am having a bad day. That doesn’t mean I am depressed or about to jump off a bridge! It means I having a bad day, not week, not month, but one single day.  If I am happy and effusive then I am Bipolar Type 1 ~ “manic”. No, not manic, just happy and content. It once again is a one day thing. 

I just get tired of all the notes taking down every word I say for further review. All the writing and prescriptions that have created a medical chart that is thicker than a PhD. thesis. Or my therapist listening for “key” words in our sessions that might be significant in some way that I do not know about. I have no idea when one thing I say prompts a flurry of handwriting or something that I consider to be pretty significant does not. It’s like I just do not know the rules of the game that I am playing and the Doctors all have the upper hand. And then there are the appointments that I go to where I have nothing to report or just do not feel like talking. Those are the most fun. I do not feel like talking and yet, there they are, pens poised in anticipation of the next “great” thing to come out of my mouth/brain. Quite honestly, I do not have something to say all the time. Sometimes, I have no thought pattern whatsoever, yet, there they sit waiting for me to say I am depressed, I feel manic, I feel suicidal….all those things they are expecting.

Most of the time I just feel pretty normal, except I do not handle stress or irritation well. But that is something that is common to a lot of people, not just those of us blessed with Bipolar Disorder. And, I do mean blessed. I would not be as strong as I am without this disorder. If I were one of those people who seem like they just glide through life, I would be at a serious loss as to what to do when the glider came to a screeching halt. I would fly due to forward momentum straight into a crisis that I would not be able to handle. People who have been tested by life seem to handle things better than those who have not. Life is not “Leave it to Beaver” land. It is difficult, testy, irritable, irrational. It is not a Toll House cookie. And, I am sick of being poked and prodded. The meds work. I am fine. I am surfing my own little sine wave, and enjoying it. If you want to knock me off, make me an appointment with a doctor so I can be poked and prodded at. My cage doesn’t even have a Hamster wheel. One of those might be nice. At least I would get some exercise. 

Maybe I just do not want to go out and drive a 70 mile round trip because it has been incredibly hot here, and even though our air conditioner is set to cycle down during the hottest part of the day, it is still at least 20 degrees cooler inside. Heat makes me chappy. I am a Fall/Winter person. I like cold. I hate hot. Now, a nice 70 degrees would be blissful. But, alas, where I live that doesn’t happen until November, and we aren’t even out of June. That’s definitely it. I do not want to drive 70 miles today. I have to attend a meeting after the appointment so I won’t even be home until 9:30 or 10:00. I just do not want to go. I am being peevish. 

Life Used To Be Simpler

My life used to be simple. I woke up, had some coffee then grabbed my bike and headed off for school. During the time when only my fiancé was working and I

mountain bike in downhill race in forest ski trail
mountain bike in downhill race in forest ski trail (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

was going to school, I used to mountain bike every morning without fail. I always went out between 9 am and 11 am (I am fair skinned, and the sun is still low enough in the sky that you won’t get burned as badly). Nothing beats the thrill of coming down that bitch of a hill that killed your legs going up. Especially if it is winding. It seems that I have always felt better on a bike.

I remember one ride where I actually hit the “zone” that athletes are always talking about. My then fiancé and I were up in the mountains and it started to storm quite seriously. I am talking about lightning and thunder at the same time. That’s how close the lightning was to us, and all I could think about was getting the heck out of there because my bike is made of carbon fiber. Carbon fiber is an electrical super conductor. So, I just started to haul ass out of there. I wasn’t into getting fried that day. It was the most amazing ride. I was one with the bike (which never happened),  I was not thinking about how I was going to make a turn or over a log, I just found a way, and it worked. All I was really thinking about was, OMG mountain storm! Get out now! I think it was my favorite ride ever. I wish it were possible to use words to describe the experience of riding your bike through the mountains with all this lightning and thunder and hail and rain. It is one of the most exhilarating thing ever, And yes, it even beat sex.

Life was just so much simpler in those times. I was happy, I was in school and doing well, I was in love, and I had a great best friend that I used to go to the mountains with after school was out. He and I were like little kids, we explored everything that looked like it might be a trail. We were joined at the hip. If one of us showed up somewhere, it was a safe bet the other was not far behind. The sun is coming up, and the sky is turning pink. It is beautiful.

Anyway, this was long before the “diagnosis” and the medication-go-round that I ended up on. This was long before I got married which I am still trying to decide if that was big mistake or not. I love my husband, please do not get me wrong, it is just sometimes he can be incredibly difficult to deal with. He doesn’t seem to want to learn about what bipolar really is; he’d prefer to rely on his past 2 experiences with bipolar women, and both were total tramps. One was a “I’ll try anything once” type, the other one just cheated on him a lot. And neither one of them would stay on their medication so they were constantly going up and down. I, on the other hand, am medication compliant, and actually start to freak out when I have run out of medication because I know what happens when I do. It is simple, take your meds, and the mood swings will be closer to those that normal people have. It really isn’t rocket science nor does it require an advanced degree in physics.

What I think is that he cannot face his own depression. He has never received treatment for it until now when we finally reach a point where marriage counseling has become necessary, and they have a treatment plan that has us doing marriage counseling every two weeks and him doing one on one therapy every two weeks. He says that he has looked at himself and knows who and what he is. Therapy will fix that. Therapy forces you to look at yourself in a new light. He is going to finally have to confront the ugly in his nature. At least he will if he is honest with himself and the therapist. If he isn’t then therapy will do him no good. Therapy can be very scary. You will have to talk about things that you have buried so deeply it can take years to work your way through the maze of emotions surrounding the issue. I do not think he gets that. I have been in therapy for about 8 1/2 years, but I had some very dark things I had to take care of. I remember one session where I spent the entire session in a fetal ball (this was a few years ago). Something had triggered me. That’s another thing he needs to learn about: triggers. Once you can recognize them, you can control how you react to them, or at the very least manage not to let them set you off.

I swear life used to be so simple.