Daily Archives: December 16, 2013

When did you start taking the Bipolar seriously?

How long after you being diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder (BD) did it take for you to take your mental illness seriously? Because i don’t believe it happens overnight. I know mine didn’t…my taking it seriously.

I think as far back as 8 years old I can recall having insomnia and excessive energy. I recall staying up watching cars drive in our neighborhood. And at christmas time I would have hallucinations of Santa in our living room. I woke my brother up once to see Santa and he told me Santa wasn’t real so I went back to bed and watched the old man until I fell asleep. I was about 8 years old.

Soon my behavior warranted my school to send me to counseling which I did but I did not take it seriously. I lied to the therapist about everything I could as a mental game of one upmanship.

At 13 I was put on sleeping/anxiety meds and by the time I was 18 I was diagnosed Bipolar. But I didn’t take it seriously until I was maybe 23. Patrick (my man) made me want to get well. He made me believe I could be well.

What made you think you could be well? I am so curious as to how things developed for those out there suffering.

(Update: my meds have been keeping me regulated mentally and emotionally. Go meds!)

Imagination or Knowledge?

Albert Einstein said: “Imagination is more important than knowledge.” Do you agree or disagree?…

On Difference

Before I begin my extensive research into topics which affect people with bipolar disorder, I wanted to make a generalized statement to you all.


I’m humbled at the outpouring I’ve received over the last five days. There have been so many responses to my philosophies found in public internet forums, in private messages, as well as emails. Via twitter, Google+, Facebook, my website, and email I have heard from so many of you, and I’m grateful that a dialogue has begun and that people have taken the time to interact with me. I am actually exhausted by it all at the moment. Such a wonderful windfall of information and new connections is a very rare gift. I feel very alive, although drained from the pure effort of absorbing the many conflicting opinions and suggested reading.


It should be assumed that people are passionate about the topic of bipolar, and mental health as a whole. Given that, it is not surprising that I have heard from supportive voices whom align with my ideals, well educated non-subscribers, and mud-slingers alike. I am genuinely respectful of all of them. I do accept that by expressing my opinions I must contend with uninvited hostility, by those who haven’t had the opportunity to learn how to disagree respectfully. I’m more than willing to pay this small price, in order to share with people my take on this thing called ‘life’ which is complicated so heavily by bipolar.


I have no doubt that I will produce work that will be considered a blunder by some and an epic success by others, both of which are undoubtedly wrapped up in a single simultaneous moment. This is inevitable, and to be expected.


I want to speak about the notion of inclusion within our community. When I say “our community” I am referring to those who have either been diagnosed with bipolar, or those who recognize an existential difference within themselves, and who refuse to be labeled. Regardless of how you define your “illness” (or lack thereof for some) we have all experienced turbulent emotional distress, and some find it powerful to share those experiences with others, and relate. We are all survivors who can learn and grow from each other, and therefore we are a community in my eyes.


There is connection between us all. It is like a secret-handshake-club where only those who have endured an emotional crisis can truly relate. Here’s the rub: How we approach our dysfunctional states of being are quite varied, and often controversial.


And here’s my point to all of you: Accept diversity of thought. You might learn something that improves your life, or someone else’s.


The state of living itself is a subjective experience only known to the individual, and when you sprinkle in a bit of madness, things really get interesting. Since we know full-stop that one medication can affect (or not affect) people differently, then you can conclude that directing a single course of treatment for everyone would be asinine. Simply stated, what works for me, may very well not work for you. That could be due to biology, value sets, accessibility, or even personal goals. Whatever the reason is for differences in treatment strategies and outcomes, well, it is actually quite irrelevant. What is relevant is that there are choices, and we all should have autonomy in that decision making process.


What I would like to see, as I begin to really explore specific topics, is a level of acceptance within our community for one another. I have heard much from the pro-psychiatry part of the world, and I have heard yet more from the anti-psychiatry cohort. It has this feeling of republican v. democrat. It is fractured beyond belief, and leaves little room for the truly powerful experience of sharing and relating to one another. I feel like I should hand out team jerseys to each side, or draw lines in the proverbial sand.


Let me make my ideals known. I am a fence-straddler. Like that term? I’m sure it’s not proper English but it serves my point well. I am sitting upon the bold red line, which separates these two camps, one ass-cheek on each side. Bam. There I am. Also, I’m probably not moving. I can’t say for certain that my opinions won’t become better developed over time leading me to scoot left, or right, here, or there. But, you will not find that I align solely with the modern medical model for treatment, because I do not refute the potential improvement found in “alternative” methodologies, or combinations of the two. It does us no good to be on one side, or the other! Since we can (hopefully) agree that there is not one treatment that will guarantee “wellness” in us all, whatever that means to you personally, then why can’t we accept that people will go about this differently?


I can only speak for myself, so that’s what I will attempt to do now. I have been saved by modern day psychiatry. I have also suffered greatly while going through the crude routine of “trying” medications. I don’t blame anyone for this however as it was my choice to continue looking for a solution via this method. I take full responsibility for that, and I’m glad I endured it. I feel it is simply where we are in terms of scientific progress and I accept it’s imperfect. I also feel that as a result of that work, I am now in a place of comfort, and peace. I am so very grateful for that, more than I can possibly convey at this moment. I’m grateful for my patient and caring physician, my family and their continuous support, for those who spoke with me, and for my strength of will.


So while I subscribe to the theories that my psychiatrist has discussed with me, others may not. I think there has to be room for either choice to be respected within our community. So-called alternative treatments often have a founded basis in science, so who is to say that adding these to a medical model, or solely relying upon them is wrong? Whatever you “do” that improves your stability, and does not produce harm to others, is a-ok with me.


There is only one notion that I feel is imperative to living with struggle and emotional distress: Make a plan based on your values that will promote wellness, and attempt to execute that plan, to the absolute best of your ability. You deserve it. All those who suffer should explore their options, and act upon their choices. I believe this firmly. To sit passively and be consumed by that which attempts to ruin you, is to give up. I don’t have the ability to give up, I never have. I wish each and every one of you the inner strength to fight.


I detest the forced separation of those who do not subscribe solely to the medical model. This fractures our community and leaves scattered sub-cultures existing on the fringe of society. We are already minimized and feared by society. We are already misunderstood and disregarded as “unwell” and “crazy” and “scary” by so many. What if we could unify these groups with their various beliefs and choices? We would have a more powerful movement if that were possible, and a genuine message of inclusion in society, versus a false double-standard which currently applies.


This concept means everyone needs to exercise tolerance though. It is the same tolerance that we hope our society will grant us, so let’s begin by offering an olive-branch to each other, regardless of your chosen path towards the dream of wellness. I hope you can all, at the end of the day, be able to respect another person’s autonomy.


My next bit of writing will begin to explore the many topics at hand. I’ll be discussing ECT, parenthood, diagnosis itself, testing advances, pharmaceuticals, and much more. Stay tuned. Thanks for reading.

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 […]

Annoying Things People Say That Hurt (My Addendum)

This is my addition to The Bipolarized post regarding the insensitive things people say to Bipolars that hurt. I have no job, no car, I use public transportation, and bum the occasional ride with friends. So, last night, and on other occasions, a friend of mine says “Why don’t you just go out and get […]

Moods in a Blender

Saturday was  a good day. Nothing happened. That made it great. No abrupt mood shifts, no panic attacks, no paranoia. Got stuff done without the moppet underfoot hindering me. Was not filled with self doubt and loathing.It was AWESOME. I live for uneventful days.

Yesterday was okay for awhile. Neutral, functioning. Even ventured into the petri dish, although I was irked that we got so much snow I had to hook up the sled dogs. Okay,creative license, I just had to dig my car out and in my uber preparedness…I had no ice scraper. I improvised and use the case from a Rob Zombie cd. Not optimal but it worked. More or less.

Toward the end of the day the clouds rolled in. I got cold. I got edgy. Dad brought Spook back. They decided to visit. I do not like anyone, family included, invading my safe space. It triggered anxiety and paranoia. I tried to paste on the happy face but I became a bundle of nerves and it was just like nails on a chalkboard.Ick. This is how I know I am not in my right mind. I am not social at all but when the paranoia and defensive anxiety set in…The mind is edging toward The Bad Place.

Still it was good to have my kid back. Evening became business as usual. Supper, shower, story, bed. Then I thought I would write.

My mood had other ideas. It crashed into the abyss. No reason. Just did. Trudged through necessity, curled up in bed, tossed and turned and my mind churned and dug up every single thing that sucks and could drive me insane.Joy. Finally zonked out…Only to wake at 1:30 am. I was too cold to bother moving.So we did two more hours of toss and turn and mental self torture. (Gotta love how the mind knows how to twist a knife so artfully, reminding you of that time in sixth grade when you looked at Susie Q’s test because you were too busy listening to Madonna to study.) All for the culminating effort of convincing you that you are a bad person and should kill yourself as a public service.

It’s all  depressive ass trash. The depressed brain LIES constantly. I’m not a great person but in the words of Malcolm Reynolds from Firefly…I’m ok.

Ok will work.

Today…the jury is still out. Not liking this bus stop deal with my kid. I do not like the cold, I do not like waiting with other people who are not friendly, don’t like. But I am sucking it up. Like when they brought her home wearing pink COWGIRL boots. Omfg. It’s an affront to all that I hold dear. But hey, she likes them and they’re her feet and I didn’t have to pay for them so whatever…It’s been 41 years coming but it seems I am finally growing the fuck up and getting over myself. It’s a relief. Life is less suckage when you realize there are things in it bigger than you. Like putting yourself aside because you love something else so much more.

Except when my mood is vile then I am, as the donor called me, a nasty piece of work. I own it.

I’m figuring in a week, I’m gonna be a nasty piece of work. Cryptmas does not bring out my best. I did put a tree up for my kid. But the family stuff and all the materialism and religious connotations…I could pass. I am a grinch. Speaking of, I bought a Grinch t-shirt. I think I will wear it to the family thing. It’s green so it’s festive.

That’s my story and I am sticking to it. Til the next mood swing.


The Great Depression and Stimulus Programs (A History Lesson)

Sorry to disappoint, but this is not a history lesson about the Great Depression in terms of world history, but in terms of my own history.  Me.  The Great Depression of ’06.  Yikes!  Something just occurred to me.  How long did it take the nation to get back on track following the initial stock market crash?  OMGOSH!  I hope it doesn’t take that long for me to become mentally stable.  Seriously, this thought just occurred to me.  All righty, then.  Yeah.  Okay.  Need to take a breather.

Okay.  I’m back.

My crash didn’t quite rival that of the stock market back in 1929, but it sure as heck felt like it to me.  The lithium injected into my system was like a fake market stimulus, one designed to quickly turn the tide, but in the end…ineffective.  No government project works a la President Roosevelt.  Not even a government bailout a la President Obama!  Just a switch to another med. 

Keep in mind, this was back in ’06.  2006.  Though my kids might argue the point, I wasn’t around in 1906.    And when I first started this journey I had no idea I would be one of the lucky ones (yay, me!) who has hard to treat depression.  It’s kinda like my thyroid.  Apparently it and my neurotransmitting (no, it’s not a word but I can pretend) system took off for the Bahamas together.  I do hope they’re having a good time.  Goodness knows they left a mess behind for me and my docs to try to fix.

So, anyway, my mom was the one who was great at keeping notes and keeping track of stuff.  Remember me saying that I actually thrust my purse at my psychiatrist to show him what it looked like, comparing it to the way my brain felt?  Well, my mom was at the other end of the spectrum.  She loved purses with lots of pockets and compartments.  Everything had its place and there was nary (I pulled that word out of my hat.  Pretty cool, huh?) a scrap of stray paper in sight.  She kept track of all of my brothers’ illnesses and that of my sister and me, noting medications that worked and treatments that didn’t.  She kept track of which bills needed to be paid and when.  She was that kind of person.

Now, had I known the journey I would be on with regards to medication I might have at least made an attempt to keep track of medications and side effects.  I’ve been on a bunch over the years, and several combos.  Sadly, my former docs had a tendency to throw the baby out with the bathtub.  “Let’s try something entirely different!” rather than “Let’s tweak this and see if we can make necessary adjustments.”  My current doc does the latter.  I’m crazy about him.  Note I said I’m crazy about the doc, not crazy in general, though a case could be made…

Anyhow, since my crash and hospitalization, I haven’t been stable enough to finish school, let alone be able to work.  I’ve changed my dream from having that teaching career to just having a good idea how I’m going to feel from one day to the next.  And hopefully feeling decent from one day to the next.  My dream is to now have the energy each day to care for my home and family, a dream that, sadly, doesn’t come true more often than it does.  I feel that I fail my loved ones on a regular basis.  Hubby says that’s the depression talking, and anyone who’s suffered from depression knows depression lies.

But enough of the negative stuff.  After several days of sleeping almost nonstop I’m actually awake!  And it’s a glorious feeling.  Youngest son put up Christmas trees and I think I may actually do some decorating today.  Hoooo-ray!!! 


Have a wonderful day.  I’ll meet ya back here soon!

The Great Depression and Stimulus Programs (A History Lesson)

Sorry to disappoint, but this is not a history lesson about the Great Depression in terms of world history, but in terms of my own history.  Me.  The Great Depression of ’06.  Yikes!  Something just occurred to me.  How long did it take the nation to get back on track following the initial stock market crash?  OMGOSH!  I hope it doesn’t take that long for me to become mentally stable.  Seriously, this thought just occurred to me.  All righty, then.  Yeah.  Okay.  Need to take a breather.

Okay.  I’m back.

My crash didn’t quite rival that of the stock market back in 1929, but it sure as heck felt like it to me.  The lithium injected into my system was like a fake market stimulus, one designed to quickly turn the tide, but in the end…ineffective.  No government project works a la President Roosevelt.  Not even a government bailout a la President Obama!  Just a switch to another med. 

Keep in mind, this was back in ’06.  2006.  Though my kids might argue the point, I wasn’t around in 1906.    And when I first started this journey I had no idea I would be one of the lucky ones (yay, me!) who has hard to treat depression.  It’s kinda like my thyroid.  Apparently it and my neurotransmitting (no, it’s not a word but I can pretend) system took off for the Bahamas together.  I do hope they’re having a good time.  Goodness knows they left a mess behind for me and my docs to try to fix.

So, anyway, my mom was the one who was great at keeping notes and keeping track of stuff.  Remember me saying that I actually thrust my purse at my psychiatrist to show him what it looked like, comparing it to the way my brain felt?  Well, my mom was at the other end of the spectrum.  She loved purses with lots of pockets and compartments.  Everything had its place and there was nary (I pulled that word out of my hat.  Pretty cool, huh?) a scrap of stray paper in sight.  She kept track of all of my brothers’ illnesses and that of my sister and me, noting medications that worked and treatments that didn’t.  She kept track of which bills needed to be paid and when.  She was that kind of person.

Now, had I known the journey I would be on with regards to medication I might have at least made an attempt to keep track of medications and side effects.  I’ve been on a bunch over the years, and several combos.  Sadly, my former docs had a tendency to throw the baby out with the bathtub.  “Let’s try something entirely different!” rather than “Let’s tweak this and see if we can make necessary adjustments.”  My current doc does the latter.  I’m crazy about him.  Note I said I’m crazy about the doc, not crazy in general, though a case could be made…

Anyhow, since my crash and hospitalization, I haven’t been stable enough to finish school, let alone be able to work.  I’ve changed my dream from having that teaching career to just having a good idea how I’m going to feel from one day to the next.  And hopefully feeling decent from one day to the next.  My dream is to now have the energy each day to care for my home and family, a dream that, sadly, doesn’t come true more often than it does.  I feel that I fail my loved ones on a regular basis.  Hubby says that’s the depression talking, and anyone who’s suffered from depression knows depression lies.

But enough of the negative stuff.  After several days of sleeping almost nonstop I’m actually awake!  And it’s a glorious feeling.  Youngest son put up Christmas trees and I think I may actually do some decorating today.  Hoooo-ray!!! 


Have a wonderful day.  I’ll meet ya back here soon!

Lenore ~ Edgar Allan Poe

Yes I know I just posted a poem of his the other day, but the Holidays find me melancholy. Melancholy frequently leads my mind to wander to the darker and more macabre corners of the human brain. Edgar Allan Poe knew these corners all too well, and perhaps, lived among them. I know that I […]

I’m Baaaaack!

I hate Windows updates.

As it turns out, the last series was what fouled my computer to the point where it didn’t recognize the router at all. I tried several different (expensive) devices to try to reconnect, but it just wasn’t having it. You’ve gotta love it when your troubleshooter keeps directing you to try different websites when you can’t connect to the Internet.

So, I’d just bundled the latest device back into its little box to take back to Radio Shack when the thought struck me: what if I used my old trick of restoring my computer to the last day that it was fully functional? That would have been about Dec. 10, so I used the ninth as a restore point, held my breath while the changes were made, and hoped it would work.

Well, since I’m typing longer paragraphs, you can guess how it went. And all I can say is, the Internet is another thing that you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone. I’ve been typing out my posts on my tablet and even my iPhone, and believe me, those methods are painful! The tablet isn’t all that user-friendly, but the smartphone is even less so when it comes to making long posts……for one thing, the screen is small, and for another, my vision is getting so bad that I almost need a magnifying glass to see the keys. (I’m going to have to do something about that once I have health insurance again.)

Anyway, I’m back online, I’ve got water, and life is good again.

And I can hardly WAIT to start my new job. I was talking to my soon-to-be manager the other day, and she was telling me about how they’re fixing up my cube and my computer and getting ready for my start date on the sixth of January. I guess I made a decent impression on the panel after all, because she told me that folks are looking forward to my arrival–”They really like you,” she said.

Did I mention how eager I am to get going?

Not only because I’ve wanted this for a long time, but because I’m getting a fresh start in a place where no one knows that I have bipolar, and I’ve got a sneaking hunch that it will do much to help me gain some semblance of control over it. This job will literally force me to be disciplined and practice good self-care, because I will not be disclosing my illness….and that means doing everything I can to suppress its symptoms. No burning the midnight oil or skimping on sleep (thanks for the curfew, Dr. A), no taking on too many projects at once, and DEFINITELY no waiting until things are spinning out of control before hollering for help.

What a difference there is between this year and last. Last December I was in a deep, dark depression that pretty much ruined Christmas and didn’t lift until mid-January; this year, it was two weeks in November, and all it took to get out of this one was a little bit of medicine and finding out that my life isn’t over after all.

Now I’ve got water, Internet, and a renewed sense of purpose…..yep, I’m baaaaack!