Daily Archives: March 23, 2016

Maybe Not

On Monday I started seeing a new therapist for the first time since I was in high school. I have been with the same person, a LPC, for a long time, and I really enjoy seeing her but I felt like maybe I had been with her for too long and it was time to […]

A sad old Urdu song :-/

Jaane Woh Kaise Log Lyrics and Translation

Jaane woh kaise log the jinke pyaar ko pyaar mila
I wonder what kind of people find their love reciprocated
Humne to jab kaliyaa.N maangii kaa.NTo.N kaa haar milaa
Whenever I asked for flowers, I received a garland of thorns

Bichharh gayaa har saathii dekar pal do pal kaa saath
Every companion gave me a few moments of company, and left
Kisko fursat hai jo thaame diiwaano.N kaa haath
After all, who has the time to hold a crazy person’s hand?
Humko apnaa saayaa tak aksar bezaar milaa
Even my own shadow is often weary of me

Isko hii jiina kehte hai.N to yuu.N hii jii le.Nge
If this is what they called life, then I will live like this
Uff na kare.Nge, lab sii lenge, aa.Nsuu pii lenge
I will not sigh, I will seal my lips, and swallow my tears
Gham se ab ghabraana kaisaa, gham sau baar milaa
After all, how can I be concerned by sadness? I have met sadness a hundred times

Humne to jab kaliyaa.N maangii.N kaaTo.N kaa haar milaa
When I asked for flowers, I found a garland of thorns
Jaane woh kaise log the jinke pyaar ko pyaar mila
I wonder what kind of people find their love reciprocated


IMG_0144

Osteoporosis meds, terrible!

Medication for osteoporosis, such as Fosamax, Prolia, and Boniva actually make your bones weaker and more brittle, and women who are on them experience breaks in bones such as the femur, the thigh bone, one of the strongest, thickest bone in the human body.

Why do they do that? Well these medications inhibit a class of cells called “Osteoclasts.” Osteoclasts are the cells in our bodies that eat away old brittle bones and they are needed to do that before “Osteoblasts” can put down new, fresh bone. So when osteoclasts are inhibited, old, brittle bones are not eaten away, and fresh new bone cells cannot be put down. So taking these “medications” effectively makes your bones old and brittle while the turnover to fresh, new bone is inhibited. So people get very old brittle bones and things like breakage of femurs (previously unheard of) and osteonecrosis of the jaw (https://www.drugwatch.com/fosamax/side-effects/) this is bone death of the jaw and can lead to horrible disfigurement, can occur.

These are horrible side effects and are exactly the opposite of what a medication for osteoporosis should do! I am totally beside myself that knowing these things can happen, people are still being told to take these awful “meds!” It’s like handing someone a hammer and telling them to hit themselves till their femur breaks as a treatment for osteoporosis!

I grant that the idea to suppress osteoclasts (cells that eat bone) may have originally been a good one. No osteoclasts, no bone thinning, that may well have been the logic. But when it was seen what was actually happening, they should have stopped prescribing these awful “meds” but they haven’t. They continue to prescribe them.

I was given a prescription for Fosamax and Prolia. Prolia was going to cost me $400 for one 6 mont shot. Prolia (Amgen) was willing to cover my copay, all except $25. But I refused to take them after I read what I have just told you.

Still can’t believe they are still prescribing these awful compounds.

 

 


Why Acting Strong Is Really Weak

A troubling theme that I come across in my work as a therapist—and in observation of people in general—is the belief that we should always act strongand hide our insecurities and fears. The damage that this “common wisdom” perpetrates is incalculable. It decimates true self-esteem and damages our relationships.

Acting strong is still acting. When we act or pretend to be different than who we truly are, we abandon our real self by putting on a mask. We do this in an attempt to control what we hope others will think of us. So we manipulate and camouflage our self as we seek the approval of others, or at the least try to avoid their disapproval. This sets up our primary betrayal of our genuine self.

We derive authentic self-esteem from our relationship with our own self. If we contort our personality to seek recognition or approval from others, we’re pursuing what I call other-esteem, because it doesn’t come from within, but is sought from outside of us. We’re trying to feel better about ourselves by being disingenuous. How do you think that’s going to work out? The more we do this, the further we move from genuine self-esteem. This is the opposite of what we should be doing. We should be embracing our vulnerability.

What do I mean by vulnerable? For me the word vulnerable doesn’t elicit weakness, butopenness. Don’t construe it to mean fragile. As humans we all experience vulnerable feelings, like insecurity, doubt and fear. In moderation these are common emotions. But due to our misinformed cultural meta-narrative that demands the appearance of strength, we decide to hide these feelings from one another. So we live out our lives falsely thinking that our shortcomings or self-doubts are unique to us. The sad irony is that those same individuals whose opinions we are so worried about are very likely doing the same thing. So the vast majority of people are disempowering themselves, thinking that others are more confident and secure. This tragic myth terribly limits our lives.

Hiding our true self from others is what makes us fragile. Being yourself makes you strong. When I encourage this transition people may ask, “but what will they think of me?” How will they see me? This is a common concern for people who grapple with revealing their genuine self. I’d offer that I want to be seen—as I truly am—as my authentic self.This is the path to a powerful self-esteem.

When we accept our vulnerability, we have nothing to hide from others and this in turn makes us genuinely powerful. You can find the key to a resilient self-esteem by embracing your vulnerability; your fears and insecurities. In doing so, you liberate yourself from setting up others as your judge, as you have nothing to hide. You must embrace your vulnerability to attain inner strength. Releasing your concerns by bringing them into the light allows them to dissipate, masking them cements them into your being.

Who is my judge? Why is it more important to us what someone else thinks of us than what we think of ourselves? When we subordinate our self-worth by setting up another person as our judge, we perpetuate emotional abuse on ourselves. Other people aren’t your judge; why appoint them that power? Everyone has opinions for sure, but to elevate someone’s opinions to the power of a judgment is irrational and without merit. What you’re doing is judging yourself and then projecting that power of judgment onto someone else. I’m fond of saying that the only person who has the right to literally judge me wears a long black robe and presides in a courthouse.

For relationships to thrive we must experience emotional intimacy(link is external). What I mean by this is a transparent and safe sharing of our feelings. When we obscure feelings that we think others will criticize or scrutinize, we block emotional intimacy.

We all just want to be loved, but to be loved you need to be lovable. Most of us struggle in actually being lovable. When you need to act strong, you erect a defensive wall that doesn’t allow others in. You become impenetrable and therefore, unlovable. Others most often see vulnerability—openness—as lovable. In my work with couples and families, when someone expresses their softer vulnerable feelings, others not only listen—they care.

Isn’t it insane that we hide the very qualities that could make us feel validated, affirmed, and loved? Embracing rather than hiding from our vulnerability makes us authentic and powerful. It suggests that we accept and value ourselves as we are, without fear of what we think others may think of us.

We’ve clearly been playing from the wrong game plan.
My forthcoming book, The Possibility Principle: How Quantum Physics Can Improve the Way You Think, Live and Love (Fall 2017, Sounds True) will provide more detail on this subject. In the interim please enjoy related articles atMelschwartz.com(link is external).

Mel Schwartz is a psychotherapist and couples counselor based in Westport, CT. He is the author of The Art of Intimacy, The Pleasure of Passion and his more than 100 articles have been read by over 1 million readers. You can reach him at Mel @melschwartz.com (link is external)He also works globally with people via Skype or telephone.


Laughter and Bipolar Disorder

Laughter and Bipolar Disorder To me, Bipolar Disorder is a serious disease that is taken too seriously. I love to laugh. I mean really love to laugh. What makes me laugh? I like slapstick, dark humor, children’s jokes, knock-knock jokes, dirty jokes, puns and more. You know what else I love to laugh at? Jokes […]

The post Laughter and Bipolar Disorder appeared first on Insights From A Bipolar Bear.

Quicksilver Quicksand

Breathe easy, folks…I am not gonna rail on the fundraiser in this post.

No, it’s been days since I had a good rant and venting is required so…fasten your seatbelts or don’t read any further…Venom and frustration are about to fly.

I have done more running around town in the last four days than I normally do in a month. I am fucking exhausted (as evidenced by three days of stomach troubles signifying my stress threshold has been exceeded.) Saturday morning was spent at the wonderful Department Of Motor Vehicles. Oddly busy for a weekend day. Yay. So I sat and waited. And got all paranoid that I didn’t have enough money for the plates and sticker and taxes. Cos ya know, that’s how my luck goes. Get quoted one price, charged another.

Around me, others were getting licenses and such…and though it’s just standard issue stuff they have to ask…I kept hearing the DMV employees ask, “Do you take medication that could cause you to become drowsy or fall asleep while driving? Have you spent time in a psychiatric center in the last four years…”  And I’m just like….Yeah, you’re kinda begging for people to lie to you. Answering truthfully would put half the country on foot simply for admitting we take meds that could make us drowsy while driving. FFS.

But I made it out alive. I was sweating bullets with the Chevy, cos I had to keep putting a gallon of water in it to get where I was going, another gallon to get back home. I dared to stop at Dollar Tree and then my dad called, I assumed they were ready to bring my kid back so I rushed home. They didn’t bring her home for three more hours. So what the fuck was the point of calling me to come home, you cockweasels?0319161323-00Anyway, they shelled out ten bucks to have her picture taken with the Easter bunny. Odd how they can spend frivolously while still claiming to be broke, yet if I had wanted to spent the ten bucks for the picture…I’d have gotten a lecture on managing money more maturely. Assclown family.

Sunday was spent running to two different automotive stores, all the while having to keep pouring water into the Chevy. R and his son in law were working on the red car and they needed a liter of this high dollar oil treatment. I fetched it. Then had to go back cos I got the wrong stuff. (Yeah, give me crap about being a dumb girl, how about next time I ask one of them to go get me maxi pads, in a blue package…Vague much????)  Then they sent me to the other auto store all the way at the opposite end of town while I sweated bullets over the radiator situation and the gas gauge. The store wouldn’t refund the money on the part they wanted returned. So I had to break into the money I had put back for my kid’s Easter basket and spend it on that crap. Take it all the way back to R.

The drivers in this town are hybrids of a cockweasel and an assclown. Cockweaselassclowns. Nearly got hit cos everyone is on their phone or suffering a cranial rectal inversion.

Monday I was expected to come to the shop and keep him company, ya know, working off the fees for his time and automotive work. I had to go get insurance first. Weirdly, the agency is in the building my old dentist used. I had root canal flashbacks cos I remember that window view from all the appointments and work I had done there.

Then I had to go to the shop and wait while he piddle poked and worked a little, then finally  he pulled the stereo from the brown car. (Fuck leaving a perfectly good Pioneer in a car most likely to end up in a demo derby.) Then I finally got to go get my red car. I just parked the brown one at mom’s and walked to where Ursula lives.

I was reminded, painfully, that I need to quit smoking so I can breathe and I am out of shape. (LIES! Round is a shape!)  I took this picture. Not sure why. Maybe to prove this is about as exciting as the scenery here is.

creekProof that I am a jinx: I was walking away so my back was turned and I didn’t see it but I heard a screech and a smash and glanced back…Two car accident had just happened. I can’t even go for a walk without bad shit happening!

I got to Jezebel finally, huffing and puffing, of course. (But I love my ciggies….) I put the plates on her and felt like an independent adult for the first time in two years. One thing to drive mommy’s car at sixteen. In your forties…It sucks. I finally have my very own car now.

And then I got in it. The door panels are held on with protruding screws. There’s no blower motor so no heat or air, some genius yanked all that to install some thud thud thud speakers then removed those and fucked things up worse. It has some sort of death rattle R thinks he can fix. THINKS. Oh and I also have no thermostat, the formers fucked that up as well cos ya know, the stereo trumps all. (Big car stereos are just making up for small penises and girls with daddy issues.) There’s an exhaust leak, which is pretty unpleasant with the windows down. Oh but wait, the driver’s side window doesn’t roll down. That has to be fixed, too, which means tearing the door panel and all that open. And the auto locks? Ha, I don’t have a button, I have a hole in the door with this gob of wires and plastic piece I can click on. Now normally I wouldn’t give a fuck. But this car has that child protection thing where the doors won’t open while the car is running unless you pop them. Made dropping my kid off yesterday comical as neither of us could figure out how to get out of the stupid car.

Now for two hundred bucks, I don’t expect to be getting a chariot. But this is ridiculous. It’s noisy from inside, rides like traveling on brick road, it loses power and won’t go for a minute or two no matter how hard I hit accelerate. (My old Grand Am did the same thing, shifted oddly and cut out like that and I told R and he insisted the problem was the driver, so if the transmission on this one blows up…I am screaming in his face I TOLD YOU SOMETHING WAS FUCKING WRONG.

The body needs some work, which is the least of my concern but already I’ve had people ask me how I managed to “break” a car I just got. Um…It was purchased this way.

0305161609-01Now if I wanna go miss mary sunshine…It has four good tires worth the two hundred bucks alone. That’s literally it’s only saving grace except for having a cup holder. Oh, well, work in progress. Point A to Point B is all I need.

Yesterday I had to go to public aid and fill out the food stamp paperwork since I missed the deadline. The woman saw where I am now getting child support and my stomach went wonky. I think they’re gonna deny the benefits or cut them to the point of not helping much. I am aware how vapid that sounds but feeding and clothing and school trips and pictures and all…That costs money, too. If I lose the food stamps, the child support will then be for food and I am gonna be worse off than I started out. Would it kill the system to just work in my favor? Lots of people are in the same boat. Then you get hosers who shouldn’t even be getting help and they squander and misuse it…GRRR.

Frankly, I wish they’d just enact a policy where to get benefits you have to work and they assign you the job. Cos my bipolar resume got me only two nibbles when I was stable for a few months and felt well enough to work…I’m not lazy. Just unstable. Fuck you, bipolar.

So yeah…digressing. I went to the shop yesterday as being his “friend” and listening to him rant earned me the service of him installing the Pioneer stereo in the red car. (Mind you, I didn’t pay for that Pioneer, it came with my old Grand Am, I would never ever spend that much money on a stereo for home or car.) I figure, ok, I am being shallow wanting the stereo put in, but the car is so noisy I need something to distract me from its death rattles so my nerves don’t fry.

Last night was my kid’s spring music concert. Oh, yeah, after the last few days, that was just what I wanted. To drive six miles out of my way and sit in a packed auditorium. Oh and my daughter invited my mom so I had to pick her up. From the moment she got in the red car, she began to complain. “I can’t believe your dad bought this piece of shit….I smell exhaust….This thing rides rough…It’s noisy…That exhaust is going to kill Spook…This isn’t safe to drive..” On and on she went, to the point I was so rattled I missed my turn and went half a mile out my way before realizing I’d missed the turn to the auditorium. So I had to turn around and then she yells that I pulled out in front of someone (I had plenty of time) and she was having heart palpitations…

The program was cute. I was both insulted and relieved that someone mom knows has a kid in class with mine so she was there and sat and talked to mom. Of course, I tried to do the polite social thing and participate so mom wouldn’t accuse me of being stuck up…Once again, outside looking in, cos what could I possibly contribute to a conversation….

I was proud of my kid, the show was cute, but getting my mom out of the car and getting home never felt so good….

I was gonna watch a movie but wait, my internet still keeps going up and down. Since last week’s tornado touchdown nearby service has been absolute shit.

R came over. Pointed out my internet is shitty and I need to call them. These people don’t realize how hard it is for my anxiety ridden ass to make a simple call at times. I tend to avoid that which causes me to panic for as long as I can.

To top my night off…we were watching some Red  Dwarf and Rimmer was ordering up what the new Holly should look/act like…And the ever sensitive R said, “I don’t care if they’re blond or fat or dumb, as long as they’re not bipolar.”

YES. He said this. To me. Knowing I am bipolar.

Fuck a big fancy bag of poisonous snakes.

So…that’s the last few days of my shitty life. If you made it this far…Have a funny video.


Trouble In Paradise

Well, I wouldn’t exactly call my life paradise, but it sure beats anything else I can think of.

I’ve got way too much on my plate though. The first week of April is going to be a doozy and I’m already over-amped and anxious. My oldest son is getting married on the 2nd, and while I question the wisdom of an outdoor wedding in early April, I’ll just have to bring an umbrella and hope for the best. Then we have three of Will’s siblings coming in from all over the country to see him, one on the 5th and the others on the 8th, which will entail multiple trips to and from the airport and living arrangements which have yet to be worked out. Then, in between all of that, I’m supposed to squeeze in a final med check with Dr. Awesomesauce and another session with my psych NP.

These are all good things. It’s just that it’s a bit much to deal with all at once and I’m trying not to freak the f##k out. I also ran out of Klonopin on Sunday night and am having to use expired Ativan, which doesn’t work as well as the vitamin K but will keep me from going through withdrawals until I can get that script filled. I usually have to fight either the pharmacy or my insurance for that particular drug, and I think that’s what happened this time too. Dealing with controlled substances is a pain in the ass and I wish I didn’t have to, but it can’t be helped—I need that medication!

Still, I can’t put the blame for this squirmy, unsettled feeling on two days sans Klonopin because I’ve felt this way for the past week or so. I’m irritable and distractible (it took me over four hours to write this post). I have a restless energy that can’t seem to be channeled into meaningful activity—the mind says Go, and the body says oh HELL no—so I sit here in front of the computer tapping my feet and bouncing my legs endlessly. I also can’t get to sleep before one or two in the morning. Truth be told, it’s been a while since I’ve felt bipolar-ish, but I’m getting there.

There’s never a good time for this sort of thing, but this is a particularly bad time to say the least. These visits are probably going to be the last for everyone concerned; no one needs me going totally ape shit. So I’m going to utilize the breathing techniques I learned in the hospital and picture the beautiful blue-green waters of the Caribbean in my mind whenever I feel myself getting overstimulated. I don’t want to tweak my meds, and I’m not in crisis so I’m not going to pester my providers.  If I were to end up losing my shit after all, I can always call my therapist and get an early appointment. But I won’t need to, because I’m going to be just fine and everyone will be happy to be together and it won’t rain on my son’s wedding day.

That’s what I keep telling myself. Now I just need to believe it. Haha!

 

 


Trouble In Paradise

Well, I wouldn’t exactly call my life paradise, but it sure beats anything else I can think of.

I’ve got way too much on my plate though. The first week of April is going to be a doozy and I’m already over-amped and anxious. My oldest son is getting married on the 2nd, and while I question the wisdom of an outdoor wedding in early April, I’ll just have to bring an umbrella and hope for the best. Then we have three of Will’s siblings coming in from all over the country to see him, one on the 5th and the others on the 8th, which will entail multiple trips to and from the airport and living arrangements which have yet to be worked out. Then, in between all of that, I’m supposed to squeeze in a final med check with Dr. Awesomesauce and another session with my psych NP.

These are all good things. It’s just that it’s a bit much to deal with all at once and I’m trying not to freak the f##k out. I also ran out of Klonopin on Sunday night and am having to use expired Ativan, which doesn’t work as well as the vitamin K but will keep me from going through withdrawals until I can get that script filled. I usually have to fight either the pharmacy or my insurance for that particular drug, and I think that’s what happened this time too. Dealing with controlled substances is a pain in the ass and I wish I didn’t have to, but it can’t be helped—I need that medication!

Still, I can’t put the blame for this squirmy, unsettled feeling on two days sans Klonopin because I’ve felt this way for the past week or so. I’m irritable and distractible (it took me over four hours to write this post). I have a restless energy that can’t seem to be channeled into meaningful activity—the mind says Go, and the body says oh HELL no—so I sit here in front of the computer tapping my feet and bouncing my legs endlessly. I also can’t get to sleep before one or two in the morning. Truth be told, it’s been a while since I’ve felt bipolar-ish, but I’m getting there.

There’s never a good time for this sort of thing, but this is a particularly bad time to say the least. These visits are probably going to be the last for everyone concerned; no one needs me going totally ape shit. So I’m going to utilize the breathing techniques I learned in the hospital and picture the beautiful blue-green waters of the Caribbean in my mind whenever I feel myself getting overstimulated. I don’t want to tweak my meds, and I’m not in crisis so I’m not going to pester my providers.  If I were to end up losing my shit after all, I can always call my therapist and get an early appointment. But I won’t need to, because I’m going to be just fine and everyone will be happy to be together and it won’t rain on my son’s wedding day.

That’s what I keep telling myself. Now I just need to believe it. Haha!

 

 


Trouble In Paradise

Well, I wouldn’t exactly call my life paradise, but it sure beats anything else I can think of.

I’ve got way too much on my plate though. The first week of April is going to be a doozy and I’m already over-amped and anxious. My oldest son is getting married on the 2nd, and while I question the wisdom of an outdoor wedding in early April, I’ll just have to bring an umbrella and hope for the best. Then we have three of Will’s siblings coming in from all over the country to see him, one on the 5th and the others on the 8th, which will entail multiple trips to and from the airport and living arrangements which have yet to be worked out. Then, in between all of that, I’m supposed to squeeze in a final med check with Dr. Awesomesauce and another session with my psych NP.

These are all good things. It’s just that it’s a bit much to deal with all at once and I’m trying not to freak the f##k out. I also ran out of Klonopin on Sunday night and am having to use expired Ativan, which doesn’t work as well as the vitamin K but will keep me from going through withdrawals until I can get that script filled. I usually have to fight either the pharmacy or my insurance for that particular drug, and I think that’s what happened this time too. Dealing with controlled substances is a pain in the ass and I wish I didn’t have to, but it can’t be helped—I need that medication!

Still, I can’t put the blame for this squirmy, unsettled feeling on two days sans Klonopin because I’ve felt this way for the past week or so. I’m irritable and distractible (it took me over four hours to write this post). I have a restless energy that can’t seem to be channeled into meaningful activity—the mind says Go, and the body says oh HELL no—so I sit here in front of the computer tapping my feet and bouncing my legs endlessly. I also can’t get to sleep before one or two in the morning. Truth be told, it’s been a while since I’ve felt bipolar-ish, but I’m getting there.

There’s never a good time for this sort of thing, but this is a particularly bad time to say the least. These visits are probably going to be the last for everyone concerned; no one needs me going totally ape shit. So I’m going to utilize the breathing techniques I learned in the hospital and picture the beautiful blue-green waters of the Caribbean in my mind whenever I feel myself getting overstimulated. I don’t want to tweak my meds, and I’m not in crisis so I’m not going to pester my providers.  If I were to end up losing my shit after all, I can always call my therapist and get an early appointment. But I won’t need to, because I’m going to be just fine and everyone will be happy to be together and it won’t rain on my son’s wedding day.

That’s what I keep telling myself. Now I just need to believe it. Haha!

 

 


Trouble In Paradise

Well, I wouldn’t exactly call my life paradise, but it sure beats anything else I can think of.

I’ve got way too much on my plate though. The first week of April is going to be a doozy and I’m already over-amped and anxious. My oldest son is getting married on the 2nd, and while I question the wisdom of an outdoor wedding in early April, I’ll just have to bring an umbrella and hope for the best. Then we have three of Will’s siblings coming in from all over the country to see him, one on the 5th and the others on the 8th, which will entail multiple trips to and from the airport and living arrangements which have yet to be worked out. Then, in between all of that, I’m supposed to squeeze in a final med check with Dr. Awesomesauce and another session with my psych NP.

These are all good things. It’s just that it’s a bit much to deal with all at once and I’m trying not to freak the f##k out. I also ran out of Klonopin on Sunday night and am having to use expired Ativan, which doesn’t work as well as the vitamin K but will keep me from going through withdrawals until I can get that script filled. I usually have to fight either the pharmacy or my insurance for that particular drug, and I think that’s what happened this time too. Dealing with controlled substances is a pain in the ass and I wish I didn’t have to, but it can’t be helped—I need that medication!

Still, I can’t put the blame for this squirmy, unsettled feeling on two days sans Klonopin because I’ve felt this way for the past week or so. I’m irritable and distractible (it took me over four hours to write this post). I have a restless energy that can’t seem to be channeled into meaningful activity—the mind says Go, and the body says oh HELL no—so I sit here in front of the computer tapping my feet and bouncing my legs endlessly. I also can’t get to sleep before one or two in the morning. Truth be told, it’s been a while since I’ve felt bipolar-ish, but I’m getting there.

There’s never a good time for this sort of thing, but this is a particularly bad time to say the least. These visits are probably going to be the last for everyone concerned; no one needs me going totally ape shit. So I’m going to utilize the breathing techniques I learned in the hospital and picture the beautiful blue-green waters of the Caribbean in my mind whenever I feel myself getting overstimulated. I don’t want to tweak my meds, and I’m not in crisis so I’m not going to pester my providers.  If I were to end up losing my shit after all, I can always call my therapist and get an early appointment. But I won’t need to, because I’m going to be just fine and everyone will be happy to be together and it won’t rain on my son’s wedding day.

That’s what I keep telling myself. Now I just need to believe it. Haha!