Today, Bipolar Disorder Is A Curse

I have been having a few problems with crying at “inappropriate” times lately. It is like my whole wounded inner child is exposed to the world and there is no scab or band-aid covering her. And, my outer adult doesn’t know what to do to help this poor child. It is like a science fiction movie where you can push a button and the force field goes up or down. I would really like to find this button so I can put the force field back up. But, it is either hidden or stuck. I have become the walking wounded. I think I know why, on the bright side, if there is one. 

The death of Robin Williams hit me in the gut. Not because I know the man personally. Not because he was one of the brightest stars we have seen in both acting or comedy. It is because he was just another fellow human being fighting a losing battle with a sometimes fatal disease that was exacerbated by his addictions to cocaine and alcohol.

That could be anyone I have met on many hospital wards. The young woman who was so manic that she had become psychotic and believed the rest of us were all members of the management team at her apartment complex. I was her manager, and she kept telling me that she would pay the rent as soon as she got back from her “vacation.” The young woman with Schizoaffective disorder who believed that she and her twin brother had been separated at birth by the CIA, and saw conspiracy in everything. She left the group one afternoon during “free” time telling us as she left that she was going to kill all of us. This missive seriously upset another patient who was there because of a suicide attempt and deep depression. She wasn’t like the rest of us who had severe psychiatric problems, and she really believed this other patient, She whispered to me, “Does she really mean that?” I told her “No, she didn’t. It was just part of her illness.”

There was the young man I met during my first hospitalization who was Borderline and Bipolar who bragged that he had tried to commit suicide 5 times in one month (that’s something you write home about), and the old Viet Nam vet I had made friends with told him without looking up from what he was doing that during the war, the rest of the platoon sent guys like him out “on point.” The kid didn’t get it, and asked what he meant. I responded, looking up briefly, that guys sent out “on point” were the ones who drew enemy fire so the rest of the platoon knew where to aim, and that these were the guys that were perceived as suicidal by the rest of the group. The kid looked taken aback (as he rightly should have), and that was the last we heard of his magnificent accomplishment. I guess the Vet scared some sense into him.

However, I think it really bothered me because Robin Williams could have been any average joe battling a very difficult and hard to navigate (thanks to the mental mine field) illness. Yes, Robin Williams was a star, yes he was rich, yes he could have done anything and gone anywhere he wanted. However, where ever you go, there you are. There is no escape from this illness. Yes, you can drug and drink yourself into oblivion. I have done that. Oddly enough, upon waking with the worst hangovers ever, I was still there with Bipolar, navigating the minefield of my mind. Clearly, it didn’t work for him. I do not think it helps anyone to try to drink yourself out of the highs, or coke/speed (my drug of choice) yourself out of the lows. I have found that once you come down from the high or sobered up from the binge, you are still there battling an illness and trying to navigate the minefield that are the thoughts that can eventually kill you. Robin Williams could have been me or any other person I have met along the paths of hospitalization, partial normalcy, and back to the hospital.

I have gone six years without the serious intent to end my life, and I have not been hospitalized for two. This is not to say I haven’t lined my pill bottles up and tried to decide whether there was enough medication to get the job done. I have done that numerous times, and each time I do that, I remind myself of the vow I made six years ago that I would never again try to take my own life. And, who knows or can tell whether I will become suicidal enough to warrant a trip to the hospital (although I now live right across the street from the psych ward; I can walk there. No ambulance necessary). I think about suicide at least once a day, especially when the meds aren’t working well. And, right now they aren’t working. They are keeping my head above water so I don’t drown in my thought process. While I may consider Bipolar disorder both a blessing and a curse, it has become most definitely a curse as of late. I am finding myself pretending that I am fine so my mom won’t worry about me (even though she is), I pretend I am fine so I won’t worry my therapist (very antithetical to the concept of ‘Therapy’), and I pretend I am fine so I do not worry myself. But, that’s not working because I cannot just leave my emotions somewhere and walk away. Those damn things trail me everywhere I go. And, right now, they are saying some very negative things. So, I keep pretending as I imagine many people afflicted do. It is a way of controlling the insanity.

Robin Williams ~ His Death From A Different Perspective

This is a link to great, in my opinion, commentary about Robin William’s suicide. It is written very sensitively with a great deal of respect for the actor as a human being. as well as the humanity of all of us. I would be very interested to hear other people’s take on this, especially within the confines of the blog post. Does this change your mind, at all? The author of the blog, Peter DeGiglio, makes a perfectly rational and sound argument. Did this change your mind?

https://madmimi.com/p/292b25

Robin Williams Suicide

As a person living with rapid cycling Bipolar disorder Type I with psychotic features, AND as a person who has tried at least 10 times to end my life (with the last attempt nearly completed) AND as a person who thinks about suicide at least once per day and has a plan if I ever decide to carry it out, I find that I am very ambivalent about the sensation the media has made about the suicide of Robin Williams. Yes, I understand he was struggling with severe depression, and he was having difficulty staying sober, however, in my mind he is just another suicide. The only difference between his and the suicides completed by who knows how many people every day is that he was a star. I will not disagree that he was brilliant, a genius with language and was keenly aware of his environment which he used as the fuel for his manic performances. He was all those things and many more, but so is the “average joe” who is struggling with Bipolar depression and sobriety. 

I and many others struggle to live daily with the pain of depression. In my case, I am often in a “mixed” episode and can alternate between mania and depression in a matter of minutes, or I can be the most motivated depressed person and the least motivated manic person you’ve ever met. Every day when I wake up in my Seroquel fog, and after I have hit a few door jams and walls, I make coffee, and a conscious decision that no matter how bad the depression feels or how the mania is driving me to psychosis, I am NOT going to act on any suicidal thought that may pass through my mind. I do this every single morning. Every single morning I make a conscious decision to live through that day. Why couldn’t he have done that instead of making the most selfish decision of his life?

I think what is causing me to be so ambivalent is that the media just cannot leave it alone. They are reporting graphic details of exactly how he did it, and that just isn’t necessary. All they really needed to say was that Robin Williams was found dead of an apparent suicide, and left it at that. His suicide was no more or less hurtful, harmful, or confusing as any  other. A suicide is a suicide; it doesn’t matter who you are or were. The results are the same. Had I actually died in my last attempt 6 years ago, the people who love and care about me would have been left feeling the same way as his family; wondering why they didn’t see it coming, why didn’t they do something before it got that far, and an immeasurable sense of loss. Suicide leaves a hole in the survivor’s lives that you could drive a truck through.

I think I am actually quite pissed off at him. As someone who had experienced many depressive episodes, he would have know that eventually the pain would abate, and more normal emotions would take their place. If I, living on Disability (which is less than minimum wage per hour), can wake up every morning not knowing what kind of mood state I will be in and out of that day and make a conscious decision to live regardless of whether I can see the light at the top of the hole I have dug to hide in, then so could he. I have also had my own problems with drugs and alcohol (see older post on Self Medication), I dream about doing drugs sometimes, when I first got sober it was the most painful (emotionally and physically) thing I had ever done. All I wanted was my drugs back. I have had my relapses, but that is what happens. It is not a reason to go and off yourself. There is never a good reason to do that. I have learned that through experience.

Well As I Seem To Be Headed Down The Rabbit Hole…..Again

I don’t know if I have posted this before, I may have a long time ago, but as I feel that I am off to tea with the Mad Hatter and The Red Queen has most definitely lost her head, I thought it might be appropriate. So, much for stable madness….I am moving towards the unstable madness. My SSDI is being reviewed, and being the “optimist” that I am, I am certain they are going to take it away. Hence, the deepening depression, and the falling down the Rabbit Hole. Here’s Jefferson Airplane’s take on the matter of tea, oh, and always beware of the Frumious Bandersnatch:

 

 

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 (Age 16 ~ This Part Is A Bit Rough) Warning: Potential Trigger

Where was I? Oh yes, my parents were waiting for me, and they were angry although not quite as pissed off as I was. However, I may have been in shock by the time I got home. All my parents had to say was the equivalent of “Where the hell have you been”? I didn’t answer. If I remember correctly I told them to fuck off, and gave them the finger as I turned around and headed down the hall to bathroom. All I wanted to do was bathe…..for hours. You would think one of my parents would have found it odd that I stayed in the bathtub until about 3 am. If I were a parent, this would worry me. I had obviously been crying, my whole demeanor had changed in a matter of an hour or so, and I told my parents to fuck off which I had never done in my life. But, life was different now. Something had been stolen from me that night that could never be replaced; my innocence, faith in people, belief that most people were decent at heart. I knew differently now. People, including my parents, were not to be trusted in any way, shape, or form. I cold not believe that my parents had yelled at me for being late especially when there was something clearly wrong; I mean, who takes a four hour bath at 10 at night. Clue number one, and they chose to ignore it. Loss of interest in school, running away, staying out all night without calling, and the beginning of my experimentation with alcohol and drugs. And, they couldn’t see anything was wrong. I never did tell them what had happened to me that night. They would not have believed me. They thought I lied all the time, and the more dramatic, the better.

I am still pissed off at them for not taking time to find out why I was late, and why I seemed so “out of it”. Parents are supposed to support and protect their kids as best as they can, and mine yelled at me for being late because I was too busy being assaulted. Something died in me that night, and it has never grown back. It has a simple name: trust. I couldn’t trust my own parents. I couldn’t trust anybody. To this day, I have this thing about being as clean as possible, and I still do not trust anyone that I do not know well. I look over my shoulder when walking down the street, I have an exaggerated startle reflex, I have infrequent (thank all the powers that be) nightmares, I always feel like I am being followed, or that everyone has an ulterior motive that is bound to hurt me. The thing that has always bothered me is that I can see the whole episode as if I am floating above it, and I can feel it in the first person. So, I have the disassociated third person view, and I have the first person view. It is pretty nifty. I didn’t repress any of the attack. It is as fresh in my mind now as it was then. This incident probably shaped who I was then more than anything else that had occurred up to that point.

Bullies at school be damned; I had just survived something far worse than bullying, and it was made so much worse by the fact that I could not count on my parents to listen. They didn’t actually find out or even believe it had happened until my therapist told them. I guess it took someone with a Ph.D. for them to truly believe, and this was about 17 years after the fact. Sad, just freaking sad on so many levels. 

As I stated earlier, This marked my initial foray into the world of what became a really bad substance abuse problem. At first, it was smoking pot on occasion with a friend of mine. Then the pot smoking became a regular thing. It helped me deal with what had happened. Like I said, I didn’t tell anyone for about 2-3 years. The only thing that was apparent was my grades fell dramatically. If I had wanted to die before, I really wanted to die now, and I really didn’t give a flying f*&^ what happened to me after that. Sexual assault is one of the most devastating events anyone can live through. It is completely different than any other form of physical violence because in a matter of minutes, your whole life and outlook change. Hitting someone is one thing, and yes, it can break a person down over a period of time. Sexual abuse makes the survivor feel dirty, ashamed, guilty, and like it was somehow their fault. And, you know intellectually these ways of thinking and feeling are not right, but your heart and soul don’t know that. So that was the opening of my 16th year on this planet. Not a good start. The “drug years” follow, but they are hazy…..very hazy….

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.

 

Lost And Confused

From confusion comes opportunity. (Photo credit: wasabicube)

 

 

So, I am not feeling particularly bad about divorcing my ex-husband right now. In fact, we belong to the same Buddhist community and he introduced to this form of Buddhism. Our community is divided across the city into smaller groups or Districts. I am now and have been the Women’s District leader for the group he had practiced with since moving here about 8 years ago. Upon the divorce, he made the choice (thank the powers that be) to move to another District because I sure was not going to give up my group because of him, although I did try for other reasons. But, I was shot down. So, at any rate, for the past month or so, I have been in and out of a fairly intense mixed episode. I cry at the drop of a pin, I am manic as all hell with the motivation of a seriously depressed person. It’s cool. Fucking rocks (pardon my French)……the problem is I still have to do shit.

 

Actually, sitting here listening to Pearl Jam’s “Ten”, the song “Alive” is playing. Always one of my favorites, ever since it was a new song (yes, I am an aging Gen-Xer, and was around to see the very beginning of alternative rock and Grunge.I am getting old…er). Anyway, this particular lyric has always gotten to me, probably because I have been Bipolar for 20+ years and did not know it. At any rate, here’s the lyric: “…..Is there something wrong, she said. Well, of course there is. You’re still alive, she said. Oh, and do I deserve to be? Is that the question? And, if so….if so… who answers…who answers….” (Pearl Jam, Ten “Alive”) For some reason, this lyric has always touched a nerve. Maybe because I don’t feel worthy of life, worthy of happiness (my marriage certainly validated that feeling), worthy of a happy life. Somewhere along the path of my growing up, I decided that psychological torture (both by self and by others) seemed to define the “norm” of my life. This is how confusion has been reached. Confusion is not a state I find my self in often. At least not about emotions. I just choose to not have them if I can possibly avoid them. 

 

However, confusion and complete discombobulation is where I find my self. I do not like it. I do not enjoy this. I choose not to feel for a reason. Feeling has caused me nothing but pain over my lifetime. I do not hold much hope for the same reason. Every time I have dared to hope, it has gone dramatically and catastrophically awry. I seem to find my self in a position where I am actually feeling bad that I divorced my ex. Neither of us put much into marriage counseling (it, I believe was too far gone by then), and as a consequence we paid co-payments for psychologists that couldn’t help by that point. Initially, I thought, he was falling asleep on the couch because he was staying up too late, and then, it gradually dawned. He didn’t want to sleep in the same bed as me. I have these questions that goes around and around and around in my mind: was it his porn addiction or my having Manic Depression that caused the rift? Was it a combination of both? Was it my reaction to what he saw as normal and healthy? He blamed the whole thing on me, always telling me that I was all talk and no action (I had actually been thinking of divorce for a year or so). 

 

Then, the “deal-breaker” fight happened and he threatened me with bodily harm. Lethal bodily harm. I have PTSD. I have an intense fight or flight mechanism; it depends on the situation which one steps up. I also have a fairly “distinctive” career as a substance abuser (see post: “Self-Medication” in the archives). When he said that I was lucky there were no lethal weapons in the house, he was clearly thinking about guns. Idiot. I felt this really scary calm come over me. I have only felt it a few times, and it always involved a threat to me of some sort. I just looked at him, and found him pathetic. I, mean, how dare he threaten my life? As if I was going to let him hurt me? So, I looked at him much like you look at a specimen of algae in Biology class. He had become a non-entity; something to be disposed of. I looked around the room from my position on the sofa, and I could clearly see at least 10 lethal objects not to mention the knives in the kitchen. I asked very calmly what did he mean there were no lethal weapons in the house, that I could see about 10 from where I sat. He was clearly out of his element. I had been a fairly violent child, and it got even worse as my substance use led me further and further down a very dangerous path littered with human land mines. I told him the conversation was over, and I was going to bed. It was 2:00 am. I spent an hour trying to fall asleep, and in that hour decided that I was leaving. He really fucked up when he threatened me because a vital part of my self shut down, and part of that part was my love for him.

 

Which gets me to where I am now. Confused. And emotional. I feel bad for divorcing him because I know he thought I would put up with his shit forever. No, sorry, even my self esteem has a point at which I say no more. I mean, he clearly was hiding from me. He would spend all day locked away with his computer and his porn. Didn’t leave much room for me. So, I filed the first of the paperwork 4 days before my birthday and one month after our anniversary. I have always had a great sense of timing. I think what is bothering me now is that I just don’t feel that bad about it. In my eyes, I was protecting my self from further damage. I isolate the word “self” for a reason. It was the “self” that was being attacked and damaged. I have spent far too much time in therapy, in the hospital, getting medically “stable” to watch it all go down in flames. Maybe that makes me a cold person, but I do not think so. It makes me a survivor, and it makes me someone who wants a life. I feel bad for him, but, at the same time, I do not feel anything. That’s new; I have never just not felt anything. Maybe its because it is the Holidays, and I feel so much that it feels like numbness.

 

Just Finished a New Book About How To Manage Bipolar Symptoms

BiPolar – What’s Up? – Dunno, I’m kinda Down (Photo credit: Creativity+ Timothy K Hamilton)

I am sure that most people in the Bipolar world have heard of Julie Fast. She has been living with Ultra Rapid Cycling Bipolar II with psychotic features for about 15 + years. It’s not that far away from my own diagnosis of Bipolar I with psychotic features except i am usually in a mixed state which is just the worst. You are the most motivated depressed person and the least motivated manic person. They sort of bleed into one another.

Anyway, the book is Bipolar Happens! and it has a very unique outlook on managing Bipolar symptoms such as anxiety (I knew there was a connection), depression, mania, paranoia, and other subtle symptoms of Bipolar.

She starts the book with that familiar saying and complaint: “I just want to be normal.” She states that people are often taken aback by that statement. People often ask “What is normal?” or “is anyone really normal?” which personally I would find somewhat offensive because there is such a thing as “not normal.” She states it is not normal to not be able to hold a job for more than two years (hmmm, been there), or taking 8 years to finish college (hmmm, been there too). She says it is not normal to hear voices that tell you that you are worthless and you should just die.

She states in return to these statements that everyone is abnormal to some degree, but there are normal people out there. She knows that because she knows what it means to be NOT normal as I suspect many people with mental interestingness would attest to. She points out that “normal” people think about one or two thoughts at a time, not twenty (flight of ideas) whirling around inside your brain. Ms. Fast writes that it is not normal to break down every behaviour looking for the negative meaning. It isn’t about hearing voices that tell you that you’ll never amount to anything so why bother trying (I have experienced those voices for many, many years, and I would dare say that most people with Bipolar have also to some degree). 

One thing that really resonated with me is her writing that normal people live day-to-day while Bipolar people have a tendency to live in the past and feel that there is no hope for the future. I am guilty of that. Especially of reliving my childhood where I was a weird kid, but not a Bipolar person, yet.

She writes a great deal on depression and how to combat it in the book (maybe because women are more likely than men to have depressive episodes). One thing that she talks about that I had already discovered on my own is how truly beautiful this world is. Instead of walking with your head down looking at all the garbage this world produces, look at the sky, the bees collecting nectar, the unsual arrangement of pots that make up a planter; of course it helps if you don’t have a car, but I have seen more beautiful things that I would have missed had I been driving. I have met some very interesting people as well.

She asks the question: are you looking up and seeing the beauty of the world and feeling better, or are you looking down and letting depression get you? I know it is hard when you are in the throes of depression to see any beauty in anything, however I have found that getting outside and walking can be very spirit lifting. Basically, she says you have to tell the depression NO! and fight it like an enemy. She suggests writing down the symptoms of your depression so you will know it is the illness talking and not something else. Basically, you have to learn your behaviours so well that you can feel them coming, and you can take action to stop them.

Another topic she writes on, which I think is terribly important, is for your friends and family to be educated about the illness so they can see when you are ill, and take steps to help you rather than as one person I know put it when I asked them to take me to the hospital, “I am so sick and tired of all of your drama and chaos!” That wasn’t what I needed to hear from that person. If a Bipolar is asking to go to the hospital, just take them. They know what condition their condition is in, and they are asking for help not being screamed at. At the time of the above occurrence, I had all my meds lined up in a row an the counter in the bathroom, and I was wondering if I had enough to kill myself. So, yes, I think it is extremely important for those who care about you and whom you care about to be educated about this sometimes fatal illness. 

She writes on how to recognize the early stages of a manic episode and how to stop them. Of course, this is very personal in how the mania manifests itself. The are a myriad of ways that mania can insidiously crawl into your life. And, it can be a very destructive force in relationships, financial matters, work place etiquette, etc. It is important to know what triggers your manic episodes. 

Basically, this is a fast read, and many of the techniques she describes are ones I have tried and been successful with. If you had asked me 5 + years ago how I was doing, I would have had to lie, and say fine. And, since I am really good at hiding my illness from others, people believe me, and are then rather shocked when I become so depressed I can’t get dressed or bathe. However, I find that sticking to a regular sleep cycle, always taking my meds, trying to eat right and exercise, and doing things I enjoy seem to help. All are mentioned in her book. I guess when you have been an untreated bipolar for 15 years and treated for 11 years, you sort of work out your own “health” plan. I do, however, recommend this book. It is short, simple and to the point. And, it makes a lot of sense. She does not claim to be “cured” just very well managed.

Bouncing Brain ~ The World Looks Different Through The Lens Of Insomnia

A Love Hate Masquerade (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I am tired of so many things……something has got to give and it better not be me. I just wish the world would wake up one morning and realize that while we all may hold different beliefs, lead different lifestyles, eat different food, pray to different divine beings/powers, we are all the same at the core. We all desire to be loved and happy and have friends and a sense of belonging somewhere. We all love our families and our children, and would do anything to keep them out of harm’s way. But, no, people have to be petty and put a stop to any disagreement within their ranks, sometimes with deadly, militaristic force. That’s not going to solve anything in the long run except to determine who had the better weapons and who had the better allies. I find it all frighteningly petty.

There is so much more that people could be doing than having to fight their own governments while their governments hang onto their power by using chemical agents on their own people. Even we have done it. Look at the guys who came back from Desert Storm and started showing up at clinics with mysterious ailments. There are times when I get so discouraged that anything will change because that’s just the “way it has been.” Well, why can it not be “that’s the way it was?” I think I need sleep tonight. My brain is starting to bounce, and I am starting to think aloud and on “paper,” so to speak.

I would love to set up a world-wide contest of sorts to see who could create a country with a government that not only worked, but worked for its citizens, and where diversity was completely embraced as being part of life because no matter how much you stomp your feet and scream and cry, people are going to be different than one another. Accept it, embrace it, get over it.

I am just so extraordinarily pissed off today. About everything. I just do not understand why people hurt the people they purport to love like the air they breathe. I do not understand why people form exclusive little groups and if you don’t belong, then you might as well cease to live. That is what bullying is all about. And, on the subject of bullying, does it seem more prevalent today than when you were in school (provided you have graduated college by now)? I mean, the kids can’t even escape it at home. In my day, you were bullied at school and maybe a little bit by crank phone calls. Now, these kids have iPads, smartphones, they are on the Internet for as many hours as we used to watch cartoons. They can’t escape it. It is insidious and everywhere. Why are 12 year olds committing suicide? What can be so bad in a 12 year long life that rather than struggle through it, they choose to take their lives? I wonder, because I was that kid. You know, the one that was slightly off, but you couldn’t put a finger on it. I was harassed from grade school until I left high school, and yes, I did try several times to take my life. But, I couldn’t do it. Something has kept me alive for many years for some reason that I have not figured out yet. I should be dead. I should not be sitting here letting my mind dance over the million thoughts I have in one minute of an average person’s life. I hate having Bipolar and I hate having ADD, and I hate being anxious so much of the time and I really hate the paranoia that comes with all of them, especially the bipolar and the PTSD which I hate also primarily because of the way I came to develop it. I just really do not like much of anything today. I fell off the sine wave.