Daily Archives: May 25, 2014

Off To The Races

I hate it when I can’t get my thoughts to congeal, as evidenced by my inability to pay attention in church this morning or concentrate on writing for the past couple of days. I’m fine otherwise, but there’s this constant flow of ideas which slip away just as quickly as I become aware of them…..although every now and again a random concept will sneak out of my mouth like a brain-fart: “Hey, Honey, have you ever thought about why men have nipples?”

I had to apologize to God several times during Mass for being so distracted. I was trying to keep my mind on His business, but I’m worried about a dear family friend who’s in the hospital across the country with blood clots in her lungs, and it hasn’t done my ability to focus a bit of good. So in between stray thoughts about elephants and whether or not I’ll land that job I interviewed for last Friday, I prayed for my friend and tried to listen to the priest, who (I think) was talking about relationship—between God and man, and of course between humans.

I looked at Will and briefly contemplated the 34 years of our relationship before I was drawn offsides again by the memory of last night, when our oldest son—the one who didn’t speak to me for six months—and his girlfriend came to see us and take us to dinner. I don’t want to jinx it by saying too much, but I think that kid is FINALLY starting to get his act together a bit. He’s actually sticking with a course of action (college classes) and has been with the girl for quite awhile, which is only the second time that’s happened in his whole life. It’s a start…..which is a helluva lot more than he had going for him last fall.

OK, there’s one whole idea completed. Yay. My thoughts usually don’t race this much when I’m in a normal state, but of course they always do to some degree. As many of you know, my brain has only two speeds: fast, and Power Ranger, and there is no OFF switch. Right now it’s just making it damned difficult to write, but that could be merely because I don’t really have anything to write about. I’m a “no-drama mama”—there’s nothing major going on in my life at the moment, only lots of little things, so why my mind is chasing itself round and round and playing hide-and-seek is something of a mystery.

And again I wonder…..why do men have nipples??


*Doinks Brain*

There’s a lot going on up there. A fair amount of it is unapologetically polemic, and some of it is scattered, and all of it is buried under a layer of fatigue. While I’m still doing pretty well on the whole mentally, I keep having to remind myself that I don’t have a lot of reserve for dealing with people. Soon? Soooooon. I’ve got my ramp-up doses of Seroquel measured out in a pill caddy for after this kiddo is born, and I have a dearth of words to express my joy for that. But anyways, there’s stuff in my brain, and I hope I let it out here in the near future. If I can make it make a bit of sense. *nodnods*

Past that, kiddo is baked enough to be called full term, though there’s still a few weeks until the due date. The midwives agree that childling will probably come near to said date due to the fact Lilbit was exceedingly prompt (I knew my dates yo, ha ha). It’s strange to think this rather uncomfortable body trip is almost at an end, but I expect the transition will be smooth enough. Or something. *waves tiny flag of optimism*

Right, I should like… try to sleep or something. Emphasis on something; sleep is not a convenient or easy thing in this particular evolution. This too shall pass, I remind myself. And yanno, the passing of this phase is pretty close, so. Woo.


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So Ive been pretty pissed off and snarky the past few days. Pretty severely, actually. Part of the reason why I haven’t been writing, because I was afraid of dredging up who knows what just by exploring the emotion. I’ve been somewhat rationalizing it through a conversation I had with my therapist during this week’s session. At the time I was kinda beyond panicky/anxious/tense/hypervigilant and was surviving by just sort of shutting down. She advised me that that reaction was actually an okay coping/defense mechanism based on everything I was going through. She also warned me that when those emotions/feelings started to die down I would most likely “crash” and end up very tired etc, and not to assume I was immediately bombarding into depression land, that it was my body trying to recover/reboot.

When talking to my mom about how I was feeling (after me snarking at the local newspeople on TV and trying to explain how I’m constantly becoming physically ill with no apparent trigger), her probing questions lead me to the possibility that I was angry at my illness – kinda like the phases of grief…denial, bargaining, anger, etc – and I thought I was just sick and tired of being sick and tired, that I was furious at having to battle this every second of every day, that I was simply out of spoons.

Then today I reached out to a friend a few hundred miles away who is also bipolar who immediately sort of laughed and said “I know exactly what you’re going through. It happens to me. It’s called dysphoric mania” and proceeded to tell me exactly how I was feeling without me giving her a single detail. Apparently dysphoria has all the qualities of the more ‘classic’ mania except for the euphoric bit – its hallmarks are rage and anger. Eureka! This must be what I’m going through! At least it has a name and I can feel more settled about it, knowing its an actual thing, has a name, etc.

Then I looked it up, and the first THREE websites I clicked on featured the guy with the orange hair who shot up the theater packed with people in Aurora, CO during the midnight screening of the Batman movie.

Dysphoric mania, also known as agitated or mixed mania is a bipolar disorder mood swing that is often missed due to confusing symptoms.

Dysphoric mania is the opposite of euphoric mania- it’s still a chemically elevated (in terms of energy) mood- but it has none of the good feelings associated with euphoric mania.  Dysphoric mania is very confusing for the person in the mood swing.  The anger can be so quick and so real.

I called my friend right back, a little concerned. Again she just sort of laughed, assured me that this was the absolute worst case scenario, and that I was not likely to manage something similar due to the shreds of rationality I was clinging to for dear life.

So now… I research. And remain hermit-like as to not hurt anyone (with words, not with an axe or anything). Has anyone out there who normally experiences Euphoric Mania ever suddenly switched and experienced Dysphoria?


Tacsun Shinowot?


Tacsun Shinowot. Tacsun Shinowat. It’s just bouncing around in my head. It’s fun to say out loud! But who in the fuck is Tacsun Shinowat? A quick Google search reveals that Thaksin Shinawatra is the exiled Prime Minister of Thailand. Because there was a coup in Thailand, ya know? Sorry, Thaksin. But your name is so fucking fun to say! It’s a curse! Thaksin Shinawatra! It’s an accolade! Thaksin Shinawatra!  It’s an expression of sympathy! T h a k s i n    S h i n a w a t r a  .  .  .   On this Memorial Day weekend here in the US of A, I wish you all Thaksin Shinawatra.

Filed under: Bipolar, Bipolar Disorder, Psychology Shmyshmology Tagged: Bipolar, Hope, Humor, Mental Illness, Psychology, Reader, Thaksin Shinawatra

Moving On

Strength, for me, is fleeting.  The strength I may feel on any given day will most likely not be duplicated on the following day.  Weakness, however, seems to be a constant.  Each and every day there will be multiple occasions where I decide that I just can’t do it anymore.  I can’t try, I can’t fight, and I certainly can’t win. 


From time to time, I can feel it as it comes on.  It’s almost as if someone comes along and drops a 100 pound weight on me.  Thud.  There it is.  Wasn’t I just washing the dishes?  Didn’t I just answer my emails?  I vacuumed not 20 minutes ago, right?  Gone.  It’s as if none of it ever happened. I can’t even take comfort in the fact that I did accomplish these things, because the weakness is so much bigger than any of that. 


I know that the me I once was still exists.  I have to believe that or I will never get out of bed again.  I strive every day, even for just a moment to find her.  She seems lost forever.  So, I beat myself up.  I relive every second of every horrible thing that has happened to me in a flash. 


One of the worst parts about it is the loss.  I have a handful of people that I can trust or rely on, and that list gets smaller every day.  Pretty soon the handful will become a thimble full, and then there will be none.  Nobody knows better than I do how overwhelming it is to have someone who suffers from depression in your life.  I have never once asked that anyone change or be forced to adapt to my life.  I did however anticipate that, at the very least, my family would be there.  I guess I need to let that go and move on. 


If strength is gained from each and every painful lesson, I have nothing to worry about.  I have absolutely no shortage of painful lessons.  I suppose I just look in the mirror sometimes and have no clue who I am looking at.  If you take anything away from this post, remember not to allow yourself to get bogged down by the “should” or the “could”.  As someone once told me, you have to learn to forgive yourself sometimes. 


Consider that depression does not equal weakness.  Weakness is a side effect at times, but that doesn’t mean that you are weakness.  I know that it all seems so very overwhelming.  That is where you have to come to the realization that you may not ever be the exact person that you once were, but perhaps you are a better, stronger version.  You just have to be willing to let it happen.  I have to be willing. 


If today isn’t the day, then it’s alright.  Perhaps it will be tomorrow or the next day.  Any of these are an option, and a reason to carry on.  Look back on the past from time to time, but don’t get stuck there.  Big mistake…..HUGE mistake.  It takes a strong person to admit that.



I can feel the crazy creeping back up on me…

I had a good six day run of mania and functionality. I was awesome, in fact.

I was also high as a kite on a manic episode so pretty much all that “happy fun ball” Niki that came out was an illusion. Kind of like the way alcohol can be liquid courage. Mania is instant social skills. Because who doesn’t like someone bouncing off walls and emanating all those happy high vibes for the emotional vampires of society to feast on.

I think I’ve hit the wall today. Which is common with manic episodes. It was a busy week, lots of anxiety, lots of happy fun ball feelings. Feeling confident and calm and laughing so easily and so genuinely…I hate coming down from those manic episodes. Because it could be months before I have another and that is long time to feel weak and vulnerable and down on yourself and not laugh or enjoy things.

This is where the term “bipolar depression” applies. Crash landing from being in the clouds to face down on the concrete.

It’s okay. Been through it more times than I can count. It sucks but I’ll live. But the crazy IS coming. My spidey sense is warning me in the form of clenched jaw, teeth gnashing, jumping at every sound, looking over my shoulder because I am sure I heard something or sensed something. Yesterday my mindset was “Hey, maybe not everyone is out to get me, and even if they are…I am awesome so I don’t care what they think.”

Today I want to wear my ass trash tiara and lick my wounds because I am pretty sure I am not awesome, I am pretty sure I fucking suck. Because I can’t even manage to hold on to a good mood for more than six goddamn days. Nothing traumatic has happened. Things have actually gone well beyond my wildest dreams. And still…The crazy creeps back up on me like a stealthy ninja and all the good feelings and confidence abandons me and I am stuck in Ass TRashville, depression capitol, population me.

Yes, it will pass. When is the question. I am not fun when I am in this state of mind. I know Bex will get it but I don’t. I just want to live in the same headspace every day. I take all these stupid pills and they do help to an extent but when you crash this hard…It’s like the pills are a placebo.

Off to stare into space like a drooling zombie and ride this storm out. I hear crazy knocking at the door, sticking its tongue out me, mocking me because I got a taste of sanity and happiness and now it’s back to kick my ass.

Bipolar never runs out of fresh hell to throw my way.