You Think This is My Face

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

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.

Another Hockey Mask: Andreas Lubitz

*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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Bipolar Disorder in a Time of Hate

Faces

Shortly before my hospitalization for a mixed state came the 2004 election. I crashed and crashed hard after the results. Politics is a fascination of mine but obsessing about it is not my friend. When my expectations are high as they were in 2004 and the hope I feel is unrealized, I take it very hard. The mix of anger and disappointment plus certain medications I was taking for depression at the time pumped me up into a mixed state. One day, when I had enough of it and of other life issues, I texted my last will and testament to my wife and sat down on a log to study my veins for the right place to cut. A timely phone call from my psychiatrist saved me.

The 2004 election was cordial compared to what has happened since 2008. Elements on both side but especially the right have been whipped into a frenzy by their respective leaders. We hear stories of blatant racism and sexism, two faults that have been hidden until the recent elections. We see them not only in the political arena but also in the news media and on the streets of our cities. Some such as Fox News are instigating their viewers to greater and greater heights of denial and fear while others just give the demagogues air time by covering them without comment. We see black men strangled or shot dead with no justice leveled against their killers. And respect for the police — even the good cops — sinks lower and lower.

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My diagnosis is a blessing, yes I said it

After living with a diagnosis of Bipolar I for 9 years, I can honestly say that it is a blessing. What?!?!?! You may be asking as you read this. Yes, it’s true, having Bipolar is a blessing. Why?!?!? I will explain.

First of all, who else can say they can vacillate between moods within minutes of each other and still manage to stay sane? Who can laugh, sing, dance, and cry all while making dinner and with her toddler dancing along with her? Who can listen to a Pitbull song, and feel so moved by the upbeat tempo and meaning that she cries as she is driving to a work meeting? Who?, you may ask. This writer is who. This woman who has been called everything from lunatic, crazed, insane, impulsive, to say the least. I don’t consider myself any of those adjectives, rather I think I am eccentric, sane, responsible, and spontaneous! Take that Webster’s Dictionary!

Yet, I cannot do this alone. I have the support of my family, my psychiatrist, my friends, and now, my social media community whom I consider colleagues.

If you are reading this and have been recently diagnosed, I feel your pain. After my initial diagnosis, I was so drugged up on 5 different medications round the clock that I was a walking zombie, without emotions whatsoever. But hang in there, I know it’s easier said than done, but it is do-able because I did it and I consider myself a #Bipolar Survivor.

Bipolar Steals Your Life

Life begins at….?

They say life begins at 40, well for me it was two years earlier at 38. Two months ago, as I type this, I had my 40th birthday which was rather a dull affair – no party and just me, my fiancee, four cats and two dogs at home. This was my decision not to have a full on fortieth party like I have seen my school friends have via Facebook. I suppose I should explain why.

Bipolar diagnosis

At 38 years old I finally went to see my GP (General Practitioner) after constantly breaking down in tears one minute and then feeling on top of the world the next. The GP diagnosed me as textbook bipolar, especially as my mother has bipolar, and her mother was thought to have committed suicide due to manic depression (manic depression is now named bipolar affective disorder). Thus started the cocktail of meds I am now on. Although now I am said to have rapid cycling bipolar it is actually ultra rapid (according to my own research) but my doctor doesn’t like saying that for some reason. I can cycle between the two poles of mania and depression up to three times a day which is quite exhausting. The big problem in treating rapid or ultra rapid cycling is finding the right medication solution.

Bipolar medication

At the moment i’m taking an antidepressant, mood stabilizers and antipsychotic daily, with an occasional benzodiazepine when required. Now, this sounds like one helluva cocktail and you’re right, so how did I cope with an illness I most probably had since my early teenage years for 25 years?

Self medicating

The answer lies unfortunately with the same solution as many other victims of bipolar and other mood disorders turn to. Alcohol was my self medicating drug of choice. When I was depressed I would immediately turn to alcohol to lift my mood. When manic I would use alcohol to try and chill and even knock me out so I could sleep. So,you would think that in the stable times I wouldn’t drink wouldn’t you? Wrong! When I was stable or down I would miss the manic highs so would drink to try and find the euphoria I would feel at the top of my buzz. Although I did drink regularly, I abused alcohol rather than become addicted to it. I was however, drinking daily when I had my bipolar diagnosis.

Abstinence

Since my diagnosis I have had short periods of alcohol abstinence, and today I have had almost two months completely off alcohol even though my doctor did say I could have one or two beers a week if I fancied. Part of my abstinence is willpower of course, but its also the medication negating the need for alcohol, and also having the knowledge of why I was turning to alcohol in the first place.

Advocate and stigma fighter

I have now found my inner voice which enables to me speak openly about my mental illness, and I have even been on my local radio station a couple of times to encourage other people, especially men to seek help. A recording of one of my radio interviews can be found on my blog Latest Bipolar News, be sure to check it out.
Thanks for reading and be sure to look out for the next installment.