Daily Archives: December 11, 2013

Annabel Lee ~ Edgar Allan Poe

  Edgar Allan Poe who has been a favorite author of mine since childhood (maybe that accounts for why I can be so “dark” as some people have put it) was believed posthumously to have suffered from Manic Depression as evidenced by the moodiness he displayed along with other symptoms of the ailment. This is […]

YouTube Channel Coming In January 2014!!!

It’s coming…   Are you ready for another beauty blogger? Are you tired of partial product reviews, from sponsored endorsements? Does it make you anxious to watch someone feature 7,000 products in one video? Furiously rushing through one product after another – looking stressed out in the process? Do you just want to relax, and […]

The Transient Mind

Sunday and Monday I was barely functioning.

Tuesday things shifted and I took out trash and dared to face the mailbox. I was functioning but still in that dark place. I went to a darker place come evening where I just wanted to be warm and stare at tv.

Wednesday-today- I am functioning but at a low level again. I did dishes, but I am avoiding the mail box and regarding the phone as toxic waste.

Four days. Four different mind frames. Like a homeless person who never settles at an address and just keeps moving from place to place.

The transient mind.

I have no idea where it will be tomorrow, which is irritating to others, but their irritation cannot trump my own frustration. It’s hard to have a life when the one place you’re supposed to be in control of-your own mind- is the one thing that is constantly changing the locale on you. Whether you like or dislike someone. Whether you feel confident or insecure. Whether you have a good sense of humor or are humorless. Whether you are vibrant and energetic and charismatic and fun..Or whether you are quiet, withdrawn, listless and a husk of yourself.

People who meet me during my manic;/stable period generally like me, think I am wacky and fun.

People who meet me during the bad seasonal depressions find me depressing, aloof, cranky, and no fun.

People who know both sides of me prefer the fun side and have no use for the sad side. The few who tolerate me make that much clear, including my own family.

It’s like having a split personality at times. I never know who I am. The seasonal phases are a gauge but not constant because the meds fail or fuck you up and it can throw you into either side of polarity. You’re never sure what way is up.

So when I am subjected to,secondhand, a ‘pep talk’ given to a depressed friend by their friend who claims to know what depression is like…It makes me irate. Ignorant people are the bane of my existence. If you want to understand something, LEARN about it. And get off your high horse just because something worked for you and you’re pissy that it’s not working for others. Personally I think zoloft should be dumped into hell to melt in the burning pits because it messed me up so bad…Not ruining it for all the people it helps, tho. EVERYONE IS DIFFERENT.

So why oh why can the ignorant sheeple not get it?

And why am I bent over something that didn’t happen to me personally?

Because my mood has shifted yet again and now paranoia is creeping in, assuring me people are indeed out to offend me, out to get me, and the second I think they’re not, I’m gonna be emotionally eviscerated. I know it’s wrong but it’s actually proven right so many times that shutting it off is not in my skill set these days.

Who knows where the transient that is my mind will relocate to next. I never do so I can’t give you a heads up. So if there’s a message in this post…

If you’re kind enough not to judge homeless people…Be kind enough not to judge those of us with wandering, transient minds. We’re just down on our luck, too.


Depression Abounds

STNG1071

I’ve been reading a lot of posts on the Bipolar Blogroll this morning and it seems like a Lot of people are suffering right now with severe depression. Like the type where you just want to die or hide out from those in your life, or tell all your friends to go away and leave you alone. Bad stuff. It hurts to read all these posts because they’re so close to home for me right now.

I’ve been in a depression for weeks now I guess. It’s so hard to tell sometimes. I just feel bad and out of it. I wake up crying every day and not just for me, it’s for the world and all the suffering in it. I cry at the strangest things and at the most inopportune times. It’s gotten worse as I’ve gotten older. Too much pain and sorrow to have seen.

But I know I’m not alone in this. There are so many of us who suffer from this horrible disorder. Sometimes it feels like my whole being has been taken over by an alien life form and I don’t know who I am anymore. I used to be a happy person in my life, didn’t I? I think so. Or at least I could fake it well enough to get by.

But faking it is real hard right now. I try to write about it but I just get stuck and can’t say what I want to say. I’ve deleted my last two posts here because I just hated what I was writing so much. I wonder how many others do that, or do they just let it be and see what happens. I can’t risk that I guess.

I feel too vulnerable already. Like my world is falling apart. And the strange and awful thing is that my life is really pretty damn good. I have a lover and partner who loves me and a house to live in and food to eat and even have mental health care that’s pretty good. I have a lot of good things in my life, but I’m still suicidal. Why the Fuck do I feel this way?

Going up and down all the time gets so old. It’s so hard on you and takes away your sense of self and your ability to just feel OK. It’s a cruel disease and I’ve read that they’re now being able to image it on a MRI when someone is having a bipolar episode. Maybe it’ll be better if we can “Prove” we’re sick, but I dunno.

There’s so much stigma against mental illness. I’m pretty open about it to people who I feel safe with, but it’s a difficult call and I’ve been burned more than once by being honest. So I watch who I tell but I tell everyone I can. Does that make sense? See, I figure that only by telling our stories will we ever gain the respect of the world and let them see us as humans who are damaged and sick and need help instead of ridicule.

So I keep trying to stay OK and not kill myself. It’d be way too hard on my partner and my few friends. I’ve lost most of them over the years due to this disorder because it does have a chilling effect on relationships at times. Especially when they don’t see you as sick.

That’s why I wrote about this as an Invisible Illness. It’s not often that people see me as sick or ill in any way let alone in my head. I hide it really well and I function well enough to be able to pull it off. Hit in my weaker moments when I’m all alone and feeling bad about myself and none of that matters. All that counts is the way I feel at this exact moment.

My counselor tells me that I’m in a depression when I feel this way and that it’ll change. I know that. I guess that’s the one awareness that keeps me going. But I don’t believe it much when I feel this bad. It’s hard to stay positive tho that’s my usual attitude. But sometimes it’s just too hard as I’ve spent days being depressed every single day lately and it’s being way hard on me. I want to die so badly.

But I won’t do anything rash or kill myself. People care about me even if it’s not that many. I’d leave a big hole in my social circle if I wasted myself, so I won’t do it. I did try it once and failed, fortunately, but I could try again and I sort of made a pact with myself that I wouldn’t do it so this is all so much more anguish because I can never end it.

If I thought I’d stop it by dying I would, but I doubt it’d end the suffering , it’d just transfer it to someone else, and that’s not cool. Other people would be hurt and I can’t do that to them. They’ve cared too much for me to betray that confidence they have in me now.

I do love myself and I’m so grateful for all the good things in my life. But I sure wish the depression would give me a break. I want to stop my antipsychotics so I’ll get hypomanic but I know that’s a bad idea. I’ll just get irritable and angry if I do that, too manic. I would love to feel Good like I used to when I’d get hypomanic. I used to revel in it but these days it’s so rare and damaging it scares me. And it’s “just” hypomania not full blown stuff. It’s bad enough.

They say Bipolar II is “Bipolar Lite” sometimes because we don’t have full blown manias, tho I have had them but never got caught in one…. So I was diagnosed with BP II and it fits me cause I’m so depressed so much. I can’t imagine thinking this illness is anything like “Lite” tho. It’s so hard on me how can it be a light disease? It kills people damnit.  It’s not an easier way to be than BP I. It’s just different.

I have a lot of rapid cycling and mixed states, when I’m either going up and down all the time or I’m in both places at once. It’s not supposed to be possible with BP II but there it is. I do have mixed states a lot and they’re so dangerous. I have plenty of energy to kill myself and the desire too, so watching out is the way to proceed.

I just need to keep it up. With the pain and the depressions I have a lot to deal with. But I have a lot of good help and support too. Without it I’d be dead for sure. So I’m grateful and thankful for my life despite all the traumas and dramas. It’s a good life and it’s mine. What else do I need?

Struggling with the rest of you,

Steve


Filed under: Bipolar, Chronic Intractable Pain, Depression, Mental Health, Rapid Cycling, Relationships, Self Harm, Stigma Tagged: Bipolar, chronic intractable pain, Invisible Illness, mental-health, recurrent depression

I still love you but you’ve got Bipolar!


The impact of a mental illness isn't just confined to those who have it. It can be just as devastating to those around us. Most of the devastation is born out of ignorance and boy were we ignorant.
I sat at the kitchen table in my old house. I looked around and nothing had changed. Everything was exactly the same. The only thing I could see that was different were some pictures of him and her. He sat opposite me. I could see one of the pictures over his shoulder. I didn't feel upset, I just thought how bizarre. I couldn't stop looking at them. Three years since I left and it was as if I hadn't been away....except for those pictures. When I went to the loo the bathroom was the same. I looked into the lounge...exactly as I'd left it.
So he wanted to explain. Explain it from his point of view. Set a few things straight.
He said he still hadn't moved on even after all this time. He said he still felt guilty for what he'd done to me. He said he knew it was wrong because I was so ill and couldn't help it. He said he still loved me and always would. He said he still felt guilty that he couldn't cope with the fact that I had a mental illness. He talked about how for months and months he didn't know what was happening to me. How he was constantly walking on eggshells in case he did or said the wrong thing. He couldn't cope with coming home to find me sometimes so upset and inconsolable, or full of anger, or "too happy", never just "normal". He was scared to walk through the door. He said he tried to help but after months and months of me pushing him away and not knowing what was wrong with me finally led him into someone else arms. He stayed away because he didn't know what to do. He said that it had a huge impact on his work having to keep taking time off to take me to appointments and having to lie about what was wrong with me. He said it had a huge impact on everything. Years of hiding the fact that I had a problem from friends and family and then the "embarrassment" of having a wife who was mentally ill. He tried to explain how when he took me to appointments with the psychiatrist it made him sick to the stomach. He didn't want to know about it and he didn't want help to understand it....he just wanted to ignore it and hoped it would go away.
He said the whole situation was devastating. He said life was just turned upside down. He just didn't know what he would come home to, so he often chose not to come home. He said when he was with her he could just forget about everything. He said he knew it was wrong.
I don't really know what he wants from me. It's obvious he still loves me but I'm always going to have Bipolar and he will never be able to come to terms with that. He said he wants me to know that he'll always be there for me and he wants me in his life. I don't know if that's wise.
I asked him if he really loved her. He looked at me blankly then said yes but not in the same way he loved me. I asked if it bothered her that he wouldn't make a commitment . He said it bothered her that I still had such a hold over him. That's not my doing.
I told him I've forgiven him. I really have. I think he was weak and selfish but I know he didn't set out to hurt me.  He said he'll never forgive himself. It sounds awful the way he treated me but that really is how mental illness can affect people. I know 100% if I'd had any other illness we would still be together. There is still a huge stigma attached to mental illness. It is still something people find so hard to deal with and to admit to. When it just creeps up on you it really is devastating. I could tell by his face and see it in his eyes that he was telling the truth. I know he feels disgusted with himself for feeling that way. The thing is we were both ignorant when it came to mental health and we were both battling to find answers. We still are. I do still love him, I never stopped but I could never be with him again. I would never trust him and I can't change who I am.
I don't know what will happen. Sometimes I do wonder what on earth is it all about.
I always thought nothing could get in the way of true love....I guess Bipolar can.







I still love you but you’ve got Bipolar!


The impact of a mental illness isn't just confined to those who have it. It can be just as devastating to those around us. Most of the devastation is born out of ignorance and boy were we ignorant.
I sat at the kitchen table in my old house. I looked around and nothing had changed. Everything was exactly the same. The only thing I could see that was different were some pictures of him and her. He sat opposite me. I could see one of the pictures over his shoulder. I didn't feel upset, I just thought how bizarre. I couldn't stop looking at them. Three years since I left and it was as if I hadn't been away....except for those pictures. When I went to the loo the bathroom was the same. I looked into the lounge...exactly as I'd left it.
So he wanted to explain. Explain it from his point of view. Set a few things straight.
He said he still hadn't moved on even after all this time. He said he still felt guilty for what he'd done to me. He said he knew it was wrong because I was so ill and couldn't help it. He said he still loved me and always would. He said he still felt guilty that he couldn't cope with the fact that I had a mental illness. He talked about how for months and months he didn't know what was happening to me. How he was constantly walking on eggshells in case he did or said the wrong thing. He couldn't cope with coming home to find me sometimes so upset and inconsolable, or full of anger, or "too happy", never just "normal". He was scared to walk through the door. He said he tried to help but after months and months of me pushing him away and not knowing what was wrong with me finally led him into someone else arms. He stayed away because he didn't know what to do. He said that it had a huge impact on his work having to keep taking time off to take me to appointments and having to lie about what was wrong with me. He said it had a huge impact on everything. Years of hiding the fact that I had a problem from friends and family and then the "embarrassment" of having a wife who was mentally ill. He tried to explain how when he took me to appointments with the psychiatrist it made him sick to the stomach. He didn't want to know about it and he didn't want help to understand it....he just wanted to ignore it and hoped it would go away.
He said the whole situation was devastating. He said life was just turned upside down. He just didn't know what he would come home to, so he often chose not to come home. He said when he was with her he could just forget about everything. He said he knew it was wrong.
I don't really know what he wants from me. It's obvious he still loves me but I'm always going to have Bipolar and he will never be able to come to terms with that. He said he wants me to know that he'll always be there for me and he wants me in his life. I don't know if that's wise.
I asked him if he really loved her. He looked at me blankly then said yes but not in the same way he loved me. I asked if it bothered her that he wouldn't make a commitment . He said it bothered her that I still had such a hold over him. That's not my doing.
I told him I've forgiven him. I really have. I think he was weak and selfish but I know he didn't set out to hurt me.  He said he'll never forgive himself. It sounds awful the way he treated me but that really is how mental illness can affect people. I know 100% if I'd had any other illness we would still be together. There is still a huge stigma attached to mental illness. It is still something people find so hard to deal with and to admit to. When it just creeps up on you it really is devastating. I could tell by his face and see it in his eyes that he was telling the truth. I know he feels disgusted with himself for feeling that way. The thing is we were both ignorant when it came to mental health and we were both battling to find answers. We still are. I do still love him, I never stopped but I could never be with him again. I would never trust him and I can't change who I am.
I don't know what will happen. Sometimes I do wonder what on earth is it all about.
I always thought nothing could get in the way of true love....I guess Bipolar can.







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Wednesday’s Quote: Elizabeth Wurtzel

In a strange way, I had fallen in love with my depression. Dr. Sterling was right about that. I loved it because I thought it was all I had. I thought depression was the part of my character that made me worthwhile. I thought so little of myself, felt that I had such scant offerings … Continue reading »

There’s No Place Like Home…..

…..until you can’t LEAVE, that is.

It’s Day Six of our captivity, going into Day Three without water. We’re getting Hulk muscles from lugging 5-gallon buckets full of water around, we’re rationing our drinking water so we don’t have to use the bathrooms as often, and we’re beginning to smell funky. On top of that, the weather forecasters are expecting an ice storm before it finally warms up, so we’ll be fortunate to keep the electricity on in that event.

The misery index is rising with every day. The temperature struggled mightily to make it to freezing for about five minutes today, which is progress of a sort but of course did nothing to thaw the pipes, and tomorrow isn’t supposed to be much better. What’s sad is that even if we’re able to get out of the driveway tomorrow, neither of us really wants to because we’d be too self-conscious about the stink! Of course, if we could get out we could go to our son’s place to shower, which is what our daughter and her family did this past weekend when THEIR pipes froze.

Yes, the “off-the-grid” lifestyle is way overrated. I want to shower whenever I feel like it (and even when I don’t). I want to be able to wash my hands with hot water and real soap, instead of relying on hand sanitizer and the bowl of ice-cold water I’m keeping in the sink to rinse my hands in when things get too real. I want to be able to flush the toilet—EVERY time I use it—without having to heft buckets that weigh almost as much as the amount I’ve lost in the past year. I want to mop the bathroom floor with bleach water where one of my grandsons missed the mark.

I want this whole ordeal to be over with already.

As I may have mentioned before, I am soooo not the pioneer-girl type. I like my conveniences, thank you, and if I’d been around back in the days when the West was young, I’d never have left St. Louis. I don’t even like to camp. I went once, and when I dropped the big five-cell flashlight down the hole after stumbling a quarter of a mile to the outhouse in the middle of the night, I decided that “roughing it” wasn’t for me. (The damn thing is probably STILL down there, lit.) Now my idea of roughing it is a Motel 6.

Eventually, of course, all of this will end and we’ll be back to the notorious gloom and cold rains of winter in our little corner of the world. At this point, forty-five degrees sounds positively balmy, and I can hardly wait till the rain returns so that the pipes can thaw out and life can go back to normal.

Speaking of which: I have once again managed to strike a balance between mood states, which is downright handy under the circumstances. I could’ve been a total bitch if these hardships had happened in October and November when I was riding on the crazy train, but we all lucked out on this one. As it stands now, I feel completely sane, and even though my patience is being tried pretty severely I’m being relatively reasonable. It’s nobody’s fault that I’m sitting here on a snow-covered hill without water……

I know what you’re probably thinking: “Uh-oh, she’s ‘normal’ again……next thing you know she’ll think she’s cured”. Umm, no. Those back-to-back mood episodes coupled with the hallucinations I experienced during the manic part have pretty much laid that idea to rest for good. Maybe that’s why I had them in the first place; I must’ve just needed a little more convincing is all.

In the meantime, life goes on, and it’ll be a lot more pleasant once we can get a shower and stop smelling like goats. Honey, can you go out and see if the road is clear? Maybe we can stay at the Motel 6 in town till the water comes back on…….