Category Archives: Aggression and Irritability

Sent from God to the psychiatric ward

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I have heard this term referred to as Grandiosity, Delusions of Grandeur, and so many other variations, but they all mean and refer to the same thing: an elevated sense of self-esteem, sometimes leading the person to believe they are famous, omnipotent, wealthy, or otherwise very powerful (Wikipedia.org). I have often wondered why this happens, especially since it occurs more often in people with Bipolar Disorder than any other mental diagnosis. And, I have experienced thoughts of grandeur myself, to the point that during each of my two manic episodes, I have believed that I was sent from God to save humanity.

I have done some research on the causes of Grandiosity, as well as asked all of my psychiatrists, but no one has a definitive answer as to why this happens. This may sound odd, but I have even gone so far as to speculate if people back in the Biblical times who claimed to be sent from God suffered from Grandiosity. And if so, they were heralded as saints, not sent to a psychiatric ward and pumped with various meds. To make my point more clear, who’s to say I am not actually sent from God? Who’s to say my thoughts of grandeur during manic episodes aren’t a manifestation of God’s power? And what would have happened if I had lived in Biblical times? Would I be heralded as a savior?

Somehow, I doubt all of this, even as I write it. Why? Because I remember that in my manic episodes I tend to be a violent person when confronted by someone or asked to stop my delusional actions (e.g. trying to heal the sick). And from studies and research, I know that Jesus was a calm and patient person, never quick to aggression like I am during my manic episodes. So, alas, I am not sent from God, I am not here to save humanity, but I am here to get the word out on mental health and staying sane.

There’s a saying in Spanish that goes, “de poetas y locos, todos tenemos un poco.” Translated, it means “of poets and insanity, we all have a little.” And I do believe this is true, but I don’t believe I am sent from God. And if I get an inkling feeling that I am, I know it is time to up my meds and take a nap.

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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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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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.