It All Started At Birth (Ages 12-16) Warning: Potential Trigger

I left the telling of this long story about how I came to experience madness at the age of 12. As I mentioned in the first part of this tale, this was the beginning of my series of trial and error attempts at killing myself. This one would be the first attempt. I used ammonia to try and poison myself after being reprimanded for cursing at the explosion of the soda bottle upon opening it. At the time, I was prepubescent, very emotional, unhappy at school, and had a general sense that something must be wrong with me due to the fact that I reacted to most things with emotion rather than rational thought. A rational person would not have done what I did in reaction to being reprimanded, however, I think it was a result of built up tension and the anxiety that I constantly felt. I was never good enough. I never could seem to reach the bars set for me by both my parents, and the even higher bars I set for myself. I literally set myself up to fail. I didn’t see that at the time, though. However, it is still a very early age to be contemplating suicide, and impulsively carrying the thoughts into reality. That should have been a warning signal to the adults in my world that something was off kilter about how I perceived the world and my reactions to it. It took the Principal of my middle school/junior high school calling a parent-student meeting, and explaining that I was having trouble with school, that I was being bullied, and seemed socially isolated (which I was). So, my first suicide attempt didn’t appear to have set off warning bells in the adult’s brains, but my behavior at school did, and led to my first therapist. 

The first therapist I saw was truly no match for me in every sense of the word “match”. She was a rather large woman who complained constantly that she had to go to Dallas, Texas to purchase clothing as there were no stores in this city that catered to the “plus-size” professional woman. At 12, I saw a logical answer to the having to go to Dallas to buy clothes: Lose weight. Seemed logical to me, so, upon having learned that my parents had seen fit to tell her that I still sucked my thumb (I did up until a few years ago while I slept, but not while I was awake), and her telling me I was too old for that behavior, I told her I would make a deal with her. If she stopped complaining about the shopping issue she had and lost some weight, then I would make a conscious effort to stop sucking my thumb. Seemed reasonable to me, but apparently it was an offensive bargain to her. That was the last time I saw her. That was the last time I saw anyone for about 4 years. Apparently, I was not cut out for therapy, at least at that time in my life. The next 4 years would be integral in shaping who and what I became for the next 20 years, give or take a few on either side.

I found myself at the age of 12 nearing my 13th birthday taking tests to get into a private school. My parents had decided to remove me from the public school system so that I would be more intellectually challenged (I was really bored at school), and so I would not be knocked around by the other kids. I had no idea that I was going to have to learn to swim with sharks. I remember the first day of school at the “new and improved” private school. My father brought my younger sister and myself to school early that morning. I was crying and telling him that I wanted to be taken back to my old school, that I didn’t want to be at this much smaller and “elite” private school.  I think that somehow my instincts were telling me that I was a bad fit for this school; that I had better get back to my old school where the violence was physical and not psychological. I knew how to handle physical violence. I was ill prepared for what these kids could dish out. I somehow just knew that everything about me from the clothes I wore to the music I listened to was about to go under the magnifying glass, and that I would not pass muster. I was right. I did not pass go, and I did not collect $200.00. My clothes were all wrong, where I shopped was all wrong, my hair wasn’t right. and I most definitely listened to the wrong music (I just couldn’t get on the 80’s British New Wave invasion train; I was a rocker, not a whiner).

This was where it started to get really bad. If I thought that what I had endured for the past few years was bad, I was so very, very wrong. I was in the shark pool now, and I did not know how to swim. I was now at the mercy of a bunch of rich kids who thought money could buy everything including people as long as they were worth buying. I was not worth much therefore I had few friends for the first year. It did not help that I left school for three months to travel to Japan to live for a few months. When I left in early January of that year, everything was fine. When I returned to school later that year in the spring, everything was different, and tense. My few friends were not really my friends anymore. Or at least that is how it felt. I had yet to experience what they were really capable of doing to a person. I found that out a couple of months into my freshman year where I became an “Upper” class student (yes, this school was that bad. You didn’t go to high school, you became an “upper” class student, and those below you were “lower”class students. Caste system?). 

When I was 14, I was a “popular” kid for about 2 months of the very beginning of the school year. Then I said the wrong thing to the right person, and everything changed overnight. I had no idea that sharks had a calling tree. Go figure? I went to school the next morning, and I had no friends at all. I started receiving phone calls at random times after school with the voice at the other end wondering why my mother hadn’t had an abortion, why I didn’t just kill myself and put everyone out of their misery, and other choice things. I began to have anxiety attacks whenever the phone rang. Being ignored at school made it even worse. Most people do not consider ignoring a person as a form of psychological warfare, but it is, in fact, a very effective tool that can really make a person question their worth. Thus began the first major depressive episode. I did not talk to people including my parents, I did not eat, I slept all the time, and I had some physical symptom as well.

Eventually, I made friends with a girl who had been a freshman when I was in 8th grade. She had returned to this elitist, preppy hell of a school after something happened in another school. She was in my computer class, and was continually falling asleep in class for a reason I did not know. I just thought it was weird. as it turned out she and I shared musical tastes, and that was enough to start a friendship that lasts to this day. She knew the guy I really liked who worked at the big video and record store back in 1986, when I was much younger and much less “experienced” than I am now (yes, I returned the vinyl recording of Pink Floyd’s “Dark Side of the Moon” four times claiming there was a scratch on it just so I could see this long-haired rocker guy…..I had it that bad). She introduced me to him, and I was beside myself. With her I began to hang around a completely different crowd; people who were odd just like me. I met a guy I liked, and we became boyfriend and girlfriend.

Then the worst thing in the world happened. I was at his apartment, and no one else was home. We were fooling around on the couch and somehow found my self on my back with tugging my jeans off. He assaulted me that night. I was just barely 16 and a virgin. Afterwards, he thanked me. how sick is that when you have just raped your girlfriend. I told him that I was a virgin, asked him why he was all bloody, and then I backhanded him so hard his head whipped around. I got home to find my parents waiting for me, however, I think I will stop here and post the next installment soon……

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.

Bipolar Disorder Seems To Eat Friends

I just found out through my student loan provider of all sources that my “best” friend no longer wishes to be used as a reference for me. I think that this individual could have at least done me the courtesy of letting me know themselves, but it would appear that mental “interestingness” eats friends without you knowing it. I haven’t even really talked to this person in years so I know that it isn’t the “neediness” factor. It’s not like I am calling this person at midnight when in manic mode, or bawling uncontrollably while in depressive mode. I do not bother anyone with my problems any more. Not since my mom cut me off for a year and a half about 6 or 7 years ago. I was not allowed to call her, go to her house, do laundry at her house, nothing, nada, zip. I learned my lesson, and now I do not bother people because even if they care, they do not want to hear it. Hell, I do not want to hear it, and I have to live with it. 

I guess I have more lessons to learn. So much for having a support network. This stupid illness is very alienating. I had a friend, and now I do not have a friend. Well, I guess Christmas time is as good a time as any to learn through a third party that your friend has been eaten. There are many reasons why people do not like this time of year. I suppose I just added a new one. Hmmmmpppphhhh. We had been friends since high school, but I can only assume that the lost friend just doesn’t want to be friends anymore. At least that is the way it appears. Of course, I may be entirely off the mark. I often am, and tend to filter everything through the most negative lens available to me. That’s something to be worked on. I don’t know. Maybe the friendship has outgrown it’s commonalities. My life is nothing like theirs and likewise. So, my illness has consumed another. 

 

I Seem To Be More Agitated Than I Thought (Damn Mixed Episode) ~ Warning: Profanity

So, I have been experiencing the dreaded “mixed” episode for about a month now. This one has been particularly bad. The last one I had that even comes close was 8 years ago. The main problem with the mixed episode is that you cannot medicate yourself out of it the same way that you can a psychotic or manic episode. Depressive episodes are a category all their own. I would gladly give a body part for this to go away. The main problem with the mixed episode is that you are stuck between mania and depression. Your sleep habits change, your eating habits change, your whole structured life is ruined; this helps the mania, but does little for the depression.

I am freaking annoyed and pissed off at people for no other reason than that they cannot seem to understand that I am trying as hard as I can just to survive this. Another one of my little tells that let me know where I am on the Richter scale: Am I listening to Alice in Chains? And…….wait for it……wait for it…….the answer is yes. My absolute all-time favorite I am pissed off at the world so I am going to listen to songs that are as angry as I am. Yes, I realize this is childish. But, so is contemplating the amount of medication I have at my disposal. No, I am not suicidal, so do not get your panties in a bunch. I am just exceedingly tired of feeling like this. I am tired of presenting the happy face to the world. I am tired of pretending that I am not really that sick so people will leave me alone, I am just tired. What a cliche ~ I am sick and tired. Except it is true. I am sick. I am tired. It takes a lot energy to appear as if you are in remission (because it never really goes away, now, does it?) or at least to appear to be functioning, and that you do not mind that everything about your life is fucked.

Yeah, I can pretty cheerfully say, “Oh, I really do not mind having no car in a city where public transportation is a joke” or “No, I don’t mind hauling 50 pounds of food on foot one mile to my apartment” and “No, I really don’t mind living on $6.00 an hour”. I can easily and believably say all this bullshit, because that is what it is. Bullshit comes easy to me. If I can make the head of Children’s Psychiatric services at the University Hospital here believe that I am okay and that I don’t need to see him anymore, and then turn around two weeks later and try to kill myself (I was 16, and it was my first serious attempt), then I can make anybody believe anything. This guy was supposed to be a professional. I also had convinced that I didn’t do drugs as I sat stoned in his office. Am I that good, or was he just that stupid?I think, personally, he was just that stupid, because I sure as hell am not that good. 

And, I am tired and absolutely sick of people telling me I need to get a car, and a job. Well, people, if I had a normal fucking brain like the rest of the sheep on this planet who want nothing more than a 9 to 5 job, a house, 2.5 kids, and a dog, then maybe I wouldn’t get fired from every job I have ever held. I have been fired from a Temp agency. How the fuck do you accomplish that? How many people do you know that have been fired not just from the temp assignment, but from the agency itself? I mean, that takes skill. Serious skill.

How many people can honestly believe that I do not want to work? I have taken to talking to myself just to keep myself from going absolutely insane as opposed to the semi-sane state that I am currently in. Why can’t people see that? What is it that makes the people in my life so fucking blind that they can’t see that I am pretending to be well? I am not well. I am manic, I am depressed. Come on people, I don’t sense things the same way you do. My perception of emotion is fucked up. I don’t just have a bad day, I have bad years. I don’t have good days. I rise to heights that would scare tightrope walkers and I spend weeks there. And, somebody wants to employ that combination? What the fuck planet are you from? I do not even want to live that combination, but here I am, living it as successfully as I know how. Fuck you all…….get back to me when I am well…..or maybe when you are not operating under some delusion that I am just like everyone else. Everyone else does not see the world through a chemical cocktail designed to keep you as level as possible. Everyone else does not have wild, unpredictable mood swings. Everyone else is not addicted to anti-anxiety drugs that you take just to get through the day without having some form of panic attack. Everyone else is not on anti-psychotics that are supposed to keep you grounded to this planet, and wreak havoc on your body.

Come on, you fucking normal people, try to get a clue about the different people in this world and your life. I am sick of fucking “normal” people telling me what to do. Just because I look “normal” with my painted nails, made-up face, straightened hair, and well thought out clothing choices does not mean that I am anywhere near freaking “normal”. I am just a well-groomed freak. I am a well-groomed waste of space. But, at least I am well-groomed. That’s not even funny. Talk to me about being “normal” when the voices in my head have stopped talking, and my moods are not on a see-saw. I do not even know where I am going to be on the scale from moment to moment, let alone for my whole life. Yeah, I am fucking employable. At least, I don’t have any more monkeys on my back. That may be the only healthy thing about me right now. Please get a clue, step outside for a minute and realize that I am pretending to be okay. I am most definitely not okay. Far from it.  But, I will be. I always am. Because I have to be. I apparently have no choice.

 

It Is A Beautiful Fall Day Here…..

Bipolar Affective Disorder (Photo credit: tamahaji)

 

so why do I not feel excited about it? I could have gone bicycling, taken a walk, something to be able to experience this beautiful fall day. But, I chose to stay inside, doing nothing of any importance, and trying to wrap my head around the fact that I am going to have to start the whole relationship/dating thing all over in my 40’s. I thought it was bad enough in my 20’s. Now, I have been diagnosed as Bipolar, with PTSD, and associated anxiety issues, and ADD. So, I will have to find a man that is not an alcoholic/drug addict, or trying to relive the 80’s, lives at home (although there are exceptions), does not want to have to do any research on Bipolar disorder, and will love me just the way I am. I am approaching 43; I am pretty set in the way I do some things, and you won’t get me to change (a mistake my ex made), So, I figure I have already ruled out about 98% of the eligible male population in my age range where I live. I think I’ll just be that weird cat lady that everyone talks about but never talks to. 

 

I really want a different diagnosis. Because it does come up. I do not think it fair to not tell a person that I am serious about who is serious about me that I have Bipolar disorder. See them run screaming for the door, next please…. I think i am just depressed a little bit. Yuck, I hate feeling icky. 

 

One Thing I have Never Blogged About: What Exactly Is Bipolar Disorder?

I have never actually blogged on the subject of Bipolar Disorder in and of itself. I have written numerous posts about how I feel about it, or how it is affecting me and others on any given day. So, here goes. Most of this information comes from the National Institute for Mental Health. I am going to break this into pieces as it became something of a dissertation on Bipolar Disorder in all of its lovely forms.

Part One:

What exactly is Bipolar Disorder?

Also known as manic-depressive illness, Bipolar disorder is mental disorder belonging to the DSM category Mood Disorders. It is characterized by unusual shifts in mood, energy levels, activity levels, and the ability to carry out day to day tasks. The symptoms of Bipolar can range from mild to severe. The symptoms of Bipolar Disorder vary greatly from the experience of “normal” moods. They are far different than the usual ups and downs that most people experience from time to time. The symptoms of Bipolar Disorder can interfere with relationships causing sometimes irreparable damage; they can cause poor school or work performance, and even, at its most extreme, suicide. People with Bipolar have a high rate of death by suicide. I do not know the exact statistics, but they are higher than those of Major Depressive Disorder and other mood disorders, and even Schizophrenia. The good news is that Bipolar disorder can be successfully treated so that people who have the disorder can lead full and productive lives. This is not to say that a “treated” bipolar is not going to experience the world the same way as a person without the disorder, they will still experience “bipolar moments” from time to time. However, the episodes tend not to last as long, and seem to be less detrimental. Many people with manic-depressive illness may go for months without an episode if properly treated with a combination of medication and therapy. It is important to remember this is a lifelong illness. It may go into a “remission” of sorts, but it is still there, and people will still experience episodes from time to time.

Causes

While there is no general consensus on what causes Bipolar disorder, scientists do believe there are a number of factors that work together to produce the illness or increase the chances that a person will develop the disorder. First, we will look at role that genetics plays in the onset of the illness.

Genetics

It has been determined through self-report and the organizing of family mental health “pedigrees” (a chart of all relatives who either have problems with depression or have the illness itself), that Bipolar disorder has a strong genetic tie. Some research has determined that people with a certain gene are more at risk for developing the disorder than others. The NMIH literature states that children with a parent or sibling with the illness are more likely to develop manic-depression than those who do not have a close relative with the disorder. However, most children with a close relative with the disorder will not develop it.

An aside on the genetics model, I believe that Bipolar disorder can skip generations as long as one or both parents carry the gene predisposing one to manic-depression. The reason for my hypothesis is that my Father’s mother (my paternal grandmother) had untreated Bipolar disorder (Lithium didn’t come into play until the 1970’s). As far as I know there are no other close or immediate family members on his side of the family that have Bipolar disorder although I know very little about that side of my family.

Researchers are also pursuing illnesses with similar symptoms such as depression and schizophrenia to identify possible genetic differences that may increase the risk of a person developing Bipolar disorder. However, genetics may not be the only cause. A combination of predisposition and environment has been posited as creating a risk factor. Scientists do not fully understand the duality of genetics and environment in the risk for developing the disorder.

Brain Structure and Functioning

Some imaging studies using MRI’s and PET images have shown possible differences in the actual structure of the bipolar brain. One MRI study found that the pre-frontal cortex in people with Bipolar disorder may be smaller than that of people without the disorder. This is the “decision” making and problem-solving part of the brain. It is linked to other parts of the brain which come to full development in adolescence which may be why most people will present with manic-depression in their teens or early 20’s. Scientists are still working on how these brain structures combined with genetics may predispose a person to develop Bipolar. With more research, scientists may be able to better “predict” what types of treatment will be most successful.

Signs and Symptoms

People with manic-depression experience intense emotional states that are called “episodes.” An episode has to be a drastic change in the person’s normal mood and/or behavior. A “depressive” episode is pretty self-explanatory if you have ever experienced any form of depression. It is just a more intense form of depression and can last a very long time with detrimental effect. A “manic” episode is a different animal altogether. Manic episodes are characterized by abnormally high energy levels, lack of a need to sleep or no sleep at all, “flight of ideas” (a state where your mind is so active, even the Bipolar can’t keep up, it’s like ADD on steroids), pressured speech (an extreme need to speak), and eventually irritability and even psychosis due to the lack of sleep. There is also the “mixed state” which is what I usually present with. It isn’t exactly depression in the classical sense nor is it mania in the classic sense. It is both at the same time. I describe it as being the most unmotivated manic person, and the most motivated depressed person. It sucks. People with manic-depression can be very irritable and explosive while experiencing an episode be it depressive, manic, or mixed (which I have heard is the most dangerous of the mood episodes). Psychosis can appear in all mood episodes which frequently leads to a misdiagnosis of schizophrenia. I, myself have Bipolar disorder Type I with Psychotic Features which means I periodically (usually while depressed experience a break from reality). I do not think I will go into all of the symptoms and resulting behaviors because I have pretty much covered them.

 

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.

Why Is Everything My Fault?

Washington DC – Foggy Bottom: Watergate Complex (Photo credit: wallyg)

I would like to know when I became responsible for an irresponsible person. I am not in control of bill paying anymore, and somehow, the bills are not getting paid. Now, we are low on coffee creamer because I have bipolar disorder and when under heavy emotional stress, I do not sleep well, if at all. So, now that’s my fault too. Did I have anything to do with the Cuban Missile Crisis? Yes, even though I wasn’t even born yet. I do not think my parents were even married at the time, but it is my fault that Castro almost blew us from here to kingdom come. Trickle down economics didn’t work, because something about me wouldn’t let it. Never mind that I was like 10 or maybe 12. I still had some influence on that misguided idea. Do not how, but I am responsible. Oh, and the biggie, the Watergate scandal. i was responsible for that too. No one knew that a toddler plated those tape recorders. Toddlers are dangerous. Better watch out for them, especially if they are walking. They are so impressionable at that age. 

I cannot wait until I am completely moved out of this hell-hole. I have never in my life felt so beaten down for reasons I do not understand. i cannot get anything right. Everything is about my having bipolar disorder. NO IT IS NOT!!!!!!!! Most of the time, if I am mad about something, I have a legitimate right to be angry. If I am happy, them I am just happy. It is not a manic episode. If i am sad, then I am simply sad. No depressive episode in sight. Most of the time recently I have just been irritated beyond my capacity for stupidity. I have never suffered fools lightly, and I can no longer put up with the behaviour of my soon to be ex husband. He is acting like  small child. Placing blame on external sources, when he is a Nichiren Buddhist and should know better. Your problems and solutions are within not without oneself. 

Maybe I am the irrational one. Fuck if I know! Maybe my reaction to his childishness is irrational, but I have done my best to keep things low-key. I am beginning to lose my grip on things. I feel like throwing stuff that breaks. That would be satisfying. My attempts at rationality are reaching their end. Not that I would ever do this, but I think he needs smacked upside the head to see how immature and stupid he is acting. I have had it. I can no longer sleep right, I never know when the next verbal or emotional attack is going to come from and for what reason. Let him play on the online dating sites. I only wish I cold find a way to tell these women that he is a façade and nothing else. He comes on charming and smooth, reels you in, and then his true nature starts coming out. Okay, girls, i warn you that he will be spending about 8 hours a day looking at other naked women. You are going to end feeling as sexy as a fat cow. He will never tell you that he loves you. He will never tell you that you are beautiful; forget your girlish notions of romance. You are in a world of hurt if you get close to him. He is a loser. 

There, I feel better. i am no longer responsible for the deficit. 🙂

The Long Road To A Correct Diagnosis ~ Why Rapid Cycling Is Hard To Identify Part One

Bipolar Disorder (Photo credit: SheriW1223)

Okay, for anyone who doesn’t know me or my blog: I have rapid cycling Bipolar type I with psychotic features, PTSD, and Generalized Anxiety disorder with and with out Agoraphobia, oops, forgot Adult ADD. Basically, all this means is sometimes I can’t leave the house without having a panic attack, I am very jumpy, hyper-vigilant, and can recall the incident that caused the PTSD vividly in both the first person and the third person. It has been 24 years, and while I largely do not think about it, I do have dreams every now and again.  It is part of my past that I live with much like the Bipolar type I with psychotic tendencies diagnosis. The whole purpose of this blog is to help me better understand how to manage this illness, and to let the reading public know that we are just as ordinary as they are.

Okay, so Rapid Cycling Manic-Depression is a symptom of the illness in which the Manic-Depressive experiences 4 or more distinct episodes of either depression or mania within a year. That‘s the “official” explanation. People with Rapid Cycling Manic-Depression can cycle faster. I find that I tend to cycle faster when I am under extreme duress like I am now. That’s a whole other story altogether. Maybe I will tell it when I stop crying about it. I actually diagnosed myself with Rapid Cycling Manic-Depression because after reading the symptoms, I saw myself in those pages. I tend to cycle very rapidly. I have roughly 7 or 8 major depressive episodes per year, and about 3 manic episodes. I usually write when I am manic. Most of my blog is fueled by mania, and partially by severe, bone crushing depression which has recently been the case.

Rapid Cycling Manic-Depression is often very difficult to diagnose because the patient usually presents in the depressive phase. Frequently, a diagnosis of Unipolar Depression is given, and the doctors set about treating the depression which can paradoxically cause a manic episode. More women than men present in the depressive phase. My guess is that the manic or hypo-manic high feels good for a while so men don’t see the need for treatment, but there is always the crash, and it is painful. One day you are on the top of the world, and the next you are crying and depressed for no real apparent reason.

I, myself, presented in the depressive phase along with Agoraphobia. I hadn’t been to work in 11 days. I refused to speak to my supervisor. I left voice mails to say that I wouldn’t be in that day. I eventually lost my job due to the fact that I missed so many days of work. I had not yet been diagnosed with Manic-Depression type I with psychotic tendencies. I knew from previous experiences with severe depression that this was not a normal depression for me. I have been having major depressive episodes since I was in Grammar School, and this was not like any of those. I was paranoid, and I couldn’t leave my apartment for fear of a panic attack. I was paralyzed with depression and fear. This wasn’t right or normal for me. I always went to school, and even completed college (albeit on the 7 year plan). The Agoraphobia was new and different. Different enough that I compiled a list of psychologists, and sent it to my primary care doctor to see if he knew of any of them. I wasn’t going to be tossed around between different docs like I was in my teens. I wanted someone who could understand me, and understood what was happening to me. I was, at this point, 31 years old and had been an untreated Manic-Depressive for about 14 years. I was always treated for depression.

As it turned out, one of the therapists on the list had worked under my Primary Care Physician, and he recommended her to me as I am pretty eccentric, and so is she. She also happened to specialize in mood disorders. So, on 09/03/2003, I drug my depressed, agoraphobic self out of my apartment, got in my car and drove to her office which was a lot further than I wanted it to be. C’est la vie. I spewed out everything that I had been through as a teen, as a pre-teen, and as a child to her. I really do not where it all came from, but I sensed that maybe this was someone I could finally trust. She seemed very, very bright which for me is essential since I can convince most docs that I am fine and do not to see them anymore, and then turn around and swallow a bottle of aspirin. I have not been able to do that with her. 

This was wonderful! I finally had met a psychologist who could help me. She was certainly more eccentric than I was. I made another appointment to come back the next week. She administered the Minnesota Multi-Phasic Inventory; no one had done that before. The test measures levels of trust, paranoia, depression, mania, and is a wonderful diagnostic tool when you are trying to figure out a diagnosis. She was doing something to try to figure out what was actually wrong with me. All the other psychologists I had seen were too easy to manipulate, and what are teenagers are really good at: manipulation.

She actually listened to what I said very carefully. It took about 6 months, and then she dropped the bomb: Manic-Depression type II. So, she and I went over the DSM criteria for that diagnosis. It was almost right. A couple of weeks later, I graduated. I was given the diagnosis (label) of Manic-Depression type I with psychotic tendencies. WTF!?!?! Me! “No, absolutely not” my brain screamed!

That began a series of hospitalizations for suicidal ideation, and suicide attempts. This stage of “acceptance” went on for several years. I was not adjusting well to the diagnosis. I felt like my life was over. Everything I had read and heard about Manic-Depressive illness that had gone untreated as long as mine had made the diagnosis sound like a death sentence. I had learned that it was important to catch it early when symptoms first present themselves because Manic-Depression is a progressive disorder; it gets worse with time if it goes untreated. I was really freaked out. 

I Just Don't Understand……Maybe I Really Am As Dumb As I Feel Sometimes

You Don’t Understand Me (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

I do not get some people. It isn’t for lack of trying. Every person I have spoken to today has either been very snide or has outright yelled at me. Which tends to make me really irritable. I am already having a “manic episode” which means that I am not sleeping, eating, or anything else I supposed to do to keep myself healthy. What I do not get is why other people cannot seem to see when I am “sick” (I hate that term), and that is when they choose to get strange on me. 

 

I have no one to talk to about what is happening to me because nobody wants to hear it; they’ve got their own, much more important problems to deal with. I am being sued by my student loan provider, I am on the verge of being sued by my other student loan provider, if they win the payment amount per month that they want, I will be homeless because I simply can’t make nearly $300.00 in loan payments and pay rent. I figured it out. If I pay as the plans stand, I will have $662 (roughly) to pay rent, utilities, and try to feed myself. That’s impossible. I will be homeless. I will lose everything I have worked so hard to accomplish both socially and privately. Material possessions can be replaced eventually, but once you have been knocked down, it is really hard to stand back up.

 

I am going through a divorce and trying to live out the lease with my soon to be ex-husband. I can’t talk to him about how I feel about that. Most of the times, I feel okay about it. Neither of us were happy. But, then there are days like today where I really need someone to just listen to me. I feel very sad and lonely (as per the usual) today. I didn’t want to file for divorce, but it was the only thing that would resolve the entire situation between us. We fought all the time, made snide remarks about each other, he always defined me by my mental “interestingness”, but never by who I really am which is a normal person who feels life more intensely than most. I wrote him a note today trying to explain to him that I was not doing this out of malice, or that I can no longer tolerate him, but rather it was out of love for him and concern for his welfare that I was stepping out of the picture before I do any more damage, Apparently, it is very difficult to have a relationship with a bipolar person. I say it is very hard for a bipolar person to have a relationship with a chronically depressed person.

 

I basically have no friends anymore because he isolated me from them through very subtle emotional and verbal abuse. But, I am just as much to blame on that front. Sometimes, I think we fought about nothing just so we could hurt each other. It was really good for about the first year and a half, and then very slowly, it started to go downhill. Then it picked up momentum, and became it’s own living entity. But, how do you fight something you cannot see? How do you fix something when the other person is blaming you for nearly everything that has gone wrong, but they cannot see their own contribution to the demise of something that was once beautiful? 

 

I am feeling very uncomfortable today. I cannot seem to say anything right to anyone I have encountered today. I have been flat out yelled at by another mentally “interesting” friend who is really struggling right now. Nothing I said was right, she shot down everything I suggested as “impossible,” she put down any idea I had that might have helped. I even offered to help her clean and organize her apartment, But, that was met with more yelling. I tried to tell her that people are willing to help her, but that she pushes them away by repeatedly turning down their offers to help her. Eventually, people will get tired of getting shot down every time they try to help her, and they will stop offering. Why beat a dead horse?

 

I feel very alone in this. I know that I will be okay in the long run, but the short run is a bitch. I feel like the wicked witch of the west. I feel like he was right all along; that the destruction of this relationship was mostly me. I changed him, I damaged him, I hurt him, I didn’t show enough affection, I didn’t do this and I didn’t do that. He never stops to think that he did two very important things: he spent hours on the Internet watching and collecting amateur porn which I felt very disrespected by, and he didn’t open a single book written by the people who are the experts on mood disorders to find out how to support me, or even to just understand me. To me, that shows a lack of real caring. It tells me that his love was conditional on my not getting upset about his porn addiction, and just let him carry on his merry little way thinking that he understands the multitude of bipolar manifestations.

 

I cannot talk to anyone about this. Everyone I know is happily married. When you are getting divorced, the last thing you want to do is talk to someone with a functional marriage. It just makes everything that iota worse than it already is. I find myself questioning whether I have made the right decision, or if I really am as dumb as I feel.