Category Archives: Bipolar and Schizoaffective Disorder

Did the Meds “Erase” My Personality?

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The thing I don’t like about being angry is that it isn’t the me that I want to be. It’s a nuclear fireball, a complete eradication of the rest of my personality. For a few seconds, everything that I love becomes less than a memory. The witnesses to my explosion see a six foot six inch tall brute with a beard screaming at the top of his lungs and waving his arms about. Wouldn’t you be scared? Wouldn’t you keep that memory in your head purely for reasons of defense?

These scenes came more frequently when I was soaring in and out of manias and mixed states. It isn’t hard to see that my anger could be tied to my suicidal inclinations. Because I could not and would not destroy the objects of my ire, I turned that impulse towards myself. One time too many it brought me to a place where I was studying the veins on my wrist. Beyond the eradication of myself that was caused by my disease, lay the prospect of self-annihilation as punishment or revenge.

Maybe now you can understand my reaction that came while I was planting vinegar weed at the Native Seed Farm. I had done something stupid — I had mentioned my involvement in the Depression and Bipolar Support Alliance in a passing comment. Most people let it drop, but this one woman wanted to know more. What were the people like? Was I ever scared? And then the most stigmatizing thing someone can say about someone who takes his meds faithfully: don’t the meds erase your personality?

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A World Bipolar Day Rant

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Bipolar and unhappy about it

sign saying rant

Bipolar is quite a large part of my life, of that there is no doubt. Trying to find the sweet spot of correct medication is challenging with some meds making me incredibly tired all day. I take an antidepressant which works well, and also Lithium works very well for the mania. Although I still have the occasional manic period and sleeplessness so need an antipsychotic, and it is this that is wiping me out. This in itself is making me feel very low and just for this reason alone I wouldn’t wish any type of bipolar on anybody.

My GP has been trying to prescribe me medications with minimal intervention from my psychiatric consultant. This is a bit of a joke as I have never seen this consultant but apparently she has been allocated to me. She is reported to by my GP and CPN (community psychiatric nurse) regularly but very rarely replies to them unless it is for a change of medication.

My own fault?

I should say that I am one of those people who doesn’t really complain too much, as I feel if you complain too much there is a chance you can be easily overlooked as being a pain in the neck. However, I have begun to show how annoyed and upset I am with varying degrees of success. All of this though is another story.
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You Think This is My Face

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I’m not wearing this mask because I live with bipolar disorder. I wear it because you fear my real one.

hockeymask

Go to any costume store and you will see plenty of masks purporting to depict psychotics. If you are to believe the manufacturers, we are deformed and rabid creatures that are part animal, part alien, and part degenerate. People buy these with a mind to having a good drunken laugh at my expense and that of everyone who shares my affliction or has another related condition such as schizophrenia, borderline disorder and even depression!

Because of this, we wear another kind of facial covering — invisibility. Coupled with this is Silence. We do not talk about our illness much with outsiders — which can include our members of our own family — it is much too dangerous. You deny us jobs, decent housing, and even friendship because you fear an imaginary ax murderer lurking inside our skins.

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Stigma

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Happy World Bipolar Day!

If someone asked me one word that pops into my head when asked the question “What does bipolar mean in your life?”, stigma would be the first thing that pops into my head.  “An association of disgrace or public disapproval with something, such as an action or condition”, according to Google.  It’s stigma that keeps me secretive.  Stigma that requires me to keep what I consider to be such a large part of my life a secret to all except those really close to me I know I can trust to keep it to themselves, and to not judge me for it, to see me in a different fashion.

Even to those I do tell, the response seems to be the same, “Wow, I never wouldn’t guessed that about you.”  Partly because I’m medicated to function.  Partly because I’m required to act as if it doesn’t exist, even on days when I’m all over the map (I’ve grown increasingly more skilled at masking it).  But I think largely more than anything else, they just don’t know what it MEANS to be bipolar.  They know the stigma, they know that bipolar people are crazy, that they’re moody.  They don’t truly know what that entails in detail, how it effects your life, etc.

I will openly admit that I suffer from GAD, OCD, because those are “socially accepted” mental illnesses.  I can even joke about them.  There are some I know who suffer from anxiety and can relate, but none with bipolar, aside from my support group.  I wish for a day to come where the stigma could be lifted, that people would understand that with the proper treatment, someone with bipolar is no different than anyone else (for the most part, we all have our challenges), just like someone with OCD untreated can go completely off the reservoir.

Bipolar in my life means medication.  It means secrecy.  It means never truly being able to be myself, to not fully fit in with my colleges, with my friends.  I wish a day would come where stigma was not an issue, and people would become more educated, that the illness would gain more limelight.  Perhaps it will happen in my generation, but I don’t see it happening any time soon.

Self-Compassion

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I wonder if people who read these blogs know the difference between being an ally and simply supporting. I can support many causes, but to be a true ally is to feel the pain of someone else as your own and still feel compassion.

Compassion is when you not only tolerate, but also accept someone for who they are, in their entirety. And it takes a secure and confident person to be compassionate because you have to admit to yourself that you are human and are prone to err, and so are others.

I strongly believe that if we spent more time being compassionate, without pity, rather than just tolerant, we would be a less violent society. And I mean violent in all its aspects: verbally violent, physically violent, emotionally violent, etc.

You may disagree with me, and that’s okay, but there is no need to be verbally aggressive and accuse me of being who knows what. Rather, we should strive as human beings to really truly see the good and move towards compassion. Compassion for others, but more importantly for ourselves.

How many times haven’t I counseled someone on the importance of self-care, yet do not take my own advice and end up almost burned out? That’s not self-compassion.

We cannot forget ourselves and forget to be compassionate towards ourselves as well. And what does self-compassion even mean? It means whatever you need to be right with yourself and with the world. To me, it means taking breaks once in a while to write, read, and be alone so that I can be a better person, mother, wife, daughter, employee, etc.

What does self-compassion look for you???

Another Hockey Mask: Andreas Lubitz

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*TRIGGER WARNING*

I must tell the truth here: I do not understand what Andreas Lubitz did. In my suicidal fugues, I thought of many ways that I might kill myself that involved others such as throwing myself in front of a truck or crashing my car into a tree or driving it off a cliff, but the idea of taking others with me — that wasn’t the self-annihilation that I planned. When I came close,I found a secluded place where someone would eventually find me. That was the maximum involvement of another that I planned. Though I thought capital punishment might work for me — and send a message to those who loved me — I did not want to assassinate others.

>Rumor has it that Lubitz was going through some catastrophic issues with his girlfriend. He knew that he was ill and he was seeking treatment for it. The day of the crash, his psychiatrist issued a sick leave note. Andreas did not use it, however, and his doctor could not call the airline to tell them that he was at risk. But Lubitz did not stop at ending his own life:

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The InterNet Argument Addict

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Difficult to end when I am feeling stable but energized and impossible when I am manic, InterNet disputes are a drug of choice for me. I just ended an exchange that went on for over an hour with someone on Facebook. She would not stop and neither would I. It seemed to me that no matter what I said to refute her, she kept repeating the same thing over and over. My ire was up: I had a defense to make and, equally important, someone to skewer. Then in the middle of it, I realized that I had become a Facebook Mr. Hyde, shared one last anecdote, and announced the end of my participation. Others have responded to the thread since then and I have not read what they said. Whether they indict me or stand up for me, I shall not involve myself anymore.

Someone is wrong on internet

Long ago — on the abUSENET, I learned that it was a waste of time arguing against the trolls and cranks of the Net. If I spent a long time preparing an intelligent rebuttal to something they said, they’d dismiss it with a brute-force remark or lame witticism. Some even went so far as to create robots that would repeat the same argument every time certain key words appeared anywhere in the newsgroups. You could easily exhaust yourself fighting these. I gave it up for the Web because I realized that the newsgroups were a waste of time.

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The Medical Marijuana for Bipolar Lie

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Everyone seems to have a friend who has been helped by medical marijuana. When my wife had chemotherapy, we had it as a backup in case the anti-nausea drugs did not work for her. Glaucoma is a disease with medical research proving the effectiveness of medical marijuana. But the medical marijuana industry goes beyond what is proven by science. It welcomes those who use it for many other diagnoses despite the absence of peer review studies. In other words, if you can get a doctor or a nurse practitioner to write you a script, you can get high legally for any disease you can name. And the worst of the lies medical marijuana prescribers and retailers let fly is the lie that marijuana helps the symptoms of bipolar disorder.

Here is my full disclosure: First, I do not oppose legalization of marijuana provided it is regulated at least as well as alcohol. There need to be laws governing its sale to minors, bans against driving under the influence, etc. But other than that, I have no problem with seeing it available as a leisure drug. There’s considerable evidence that the liquor industry does not want this, but alcohol is worse than cannabis in some regards. Second, I have smoked marijuana. Here is where my strong feelings about the subject come from. When I was in college, I was talked into toking by my peers. They did not force it down my throat, they did not blow smoke into my lungs, they did not deceive me in the sense that they told me things that they knew were not true. I started using the drug by my own choice.

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From “normal” to Bipolar

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Before the diagnosis of my illness, it was already apparent to those around me, in my later years, that I may suffer from manic depressive, or bipolar disorder.  I’ve always been a more emotional person, and was seen as just that.  Angry one moment, seething with rage, and the next extremely apologetic.  Labeled as nothing more than a highly emotional teenager, I like to feel that my illness was untreated for years.  It wasn’t until a triggering event that the true, more severe symptoms of my illness became colorfully apparent, which leads me to the belief that triggers cause the illness to escalate.

My wife had an extremely debilitating pregnancy, to make a long story short, and we became more distant with one another, but I still cared deeply for her.  I had a feeling in the back of my head that something was off with her though, even though she acted like her normal self would.  Doing what I still regret, I violated her privacy and snooped through her email, to find interchanges of an adult nature between her and an old time friend.  Overcome with emotions I had never felt before, I immediately confronted her.  She was stoic in her response, which made my emotions that much more volatile.

She left the room, I asked her politely to stop, she didn’t listen. I grabbed her shoulder, she shrugged it off.  I “lunged” at her, using her words.  In that moment, emotions shifted, I collapsed down a set of maybe 6 stairs, completely bawling my eyes out at what I’d done.  This was the moment I think I truly realized that there was something truly wrong with me.  Wrong may not be the right term, but at the time that was what I felt.

I suffer from rapid cycling in my bipolar disorder, my moods can go from manic one moment, in this occurance also referred to by some as black rage, to extreme emotions on a completely different spectrum. It has lead to mixed episodes (a mix of both mania and depression simultaneous), to hypomania, to severe depression, all throughout the period of a day.

I immediately sought out help for my condition.  I tried a plethora of anti depressants, but they all had an adverse affect on me.  When my psychiatrist finally put me on a mood stabilizer called Lamictal, that’s when I started on the path to treatment for my disease. After it started to take effect, I noticed more control over my moods.  I still cycled through various moods, but I could recognize that my moods were off from my baseline.

Now, I’m currently on a combination of Klonopin for my anxiety, and Lamictal and Abilify for my Bipolar Disorder.  It’s an ongoing battle to make sure that my medication properly treats my disorder, and I have to keep track of my moods and communicate with my doctor, to make sure we appropriately adjust my medication as it becomes less effective.

But as time goes on, I feel like I’ve come to understand my illness better, and that makes it more manageable.  However, the illness never goes away.  I still experience shifts in my mood, however light.  Some days are more severe than others, but I’ve learned to cope with a combination of my medication and the help of my peer support group.  It’s a hidden struggle that everyone with Bipolar Disorder battles in their own way.  As for myself, I’m still carving out my own path.