unionmary
Member
-- Life as a Bipolar
Definition of Bipolar Disorder
Bilpolar disorder: A mood disorder sometimes called manic-depressive illness or manic-depression that characteristically involves cycles of depression and elation or mania. Sometimes the mood switches from high to low and back again are dramatic and rapid, but more often they are gradual and slow, and intervals of normal mood may occur between the high (manic) and low (depressive) phases of the condition. The symptoms of both depressive and manic cycles may be severe and often lead to impaired functioning.
A pretty basic definition I discovered on the internet, Net Medicine site, not sure of the credentials behind it, but most definitions you read are similar, this one catching the basic gist of things to a tee. Now to the average Joe this means a whole lot of nothing, maybe to someone writing a psychology paper, doctor, or some other medical professional...but the most interested party is the sufferer, myself, who has read and reread this, until it was ingrained on my brain...shaking my head wondering what and why is this happening to me? Someone stop this rollercoaster, I wanna get off.
Life with a mental disorder is one of the most misunderstood events a person could have to deal with. Lack of medical knowledge about the brain, our bodies central computer system, with all its intricate little neurons and synapses, that are back firing when messages are launched, causing havoc that no one can identify nevermind understand. The overall behavior patterns that result range from ohhhhh really distressing to friggin disasterous.
Bipolar disorder...was my diagnoses, as well as Borderline, but thats a whole nuther issue, was back in 2000 I think. Time has kinda melded together for me, a symptom of my hell so they say, and it is easier, soooo much easier for your mind to accept that it is part of your condition, as well as the rest of your irractic behavior. But that doesn't make things any easier, figuring out why you are doing the things you do, doesn't make it any easier at all. All you can do is hope and pray that it will end, did i say end? No, sorry it doesn't end, control is the word i should be using...controlled enough so you can function with some sort of semblance to your life.
I write this story for all bipolar sufferers, exposing my off the map behavior, my grief, my pain...to better help you understand some of this wretched disease, to try to inform you and your families, your friends, lovers and mates, that you really aren't looney, that the real person you have always been is tucked away inside, screaming to get out. I write this story for my own personal therapy, thinking i can better come to terms with some of results that have occurred in my life because of bipolar, and maybe, just maybe, if i document them, see them in print, then set them on fire to watch them burn, well maybe they will be gone from my mind forever****sigh, i wish that could be true. If in trying to describe what went on in my brain and is still going on to some degree, can help a teensy weensy bit in some bipolar's life, then it has all been worth it, and "my" therapy may be part of yours.
I'm not quite sure where to begin, and i do tend to ramble, this i don't know if i can blame on bipolar or not, i may have always been a rambler. You see, that is indeed one of the most distressing parts of the disorder... you totally lose track of who you are or were, so determining the here and the now, indeed becomes confusing.
As far as i can remember, my first panic attack was my beginning. A bipolar panic attack, is kind of a separate entity from the manias and depressions, but another affliction of this disease for some, ahhhhh probably most at one point anyhow. It comes with a whole package of physical side affects. Sweating palms, heart thumping in your chest, thoughts jumbling in your head, rapid speech, so rapid the simple process of expressing thoughts becomes an unreachable task. To sum it up, I thought I was having a heart attack or something else life threatening.
I can remember washing dishes at the kitchen sink, 1999 or maybe 2000, and this episode of all the above mentioned symptoms struck me with a force. Seeking help, I went out to the garage to beg my husband's assistance. Yes, at one point in my life i was married, and had quite a normal life, three bedroom home, two sons and a cat, never was a dog person. I was totally lost on how to explain what I was feeling. We had words earlier, anger that i am sure was mood disorder related, but heck, I didn't know that, my disorder had been creeping in for some time, i guess. Now my husband was not a man to understand emotion, especially emotion that had gone astray. Lack of communication was a constant issue in our marriage, my disease might have been part to blame. I was in tears of course, and I get a bit hyper when emotionally overwrought. My husband becomes more distant. I was probably starting to lose my temper and shout at him by this time. I was really scared and he couldn't understand. He could offer nothing to help me through this crisis. Closeness had also become a thing of our past, another bipolar effect? Damn who knew. Overall my marriage had already been deteriorating, bipolar may have been the tip of the iceberg. Anyhow it was Sunday and my own doc, a wonderful man wasn't available.
At this point, I just wanted someone to take me out to the pasture and shoot me like an old horse, put me out of my misery...the unknown creates such fear. My husband had offered me a run to the emergency, but the idea of sitting there for hours and getting no where, was not at all appealing to me. But I knew I needed someone's help. My husband convinced me that a call to the local crisis center was our last option. I thought their services were for suicidal people....and I certainly wasn't that, but i agreed to a call. Soooo, husband contacted someone for me and we began to chat. Being crisis, their first question was "are you suicidal" of which i confidently could answer NO, i was not...i was very, very scared. After chatting to Kathy for 15 or 20 minutes, i became calmer and I was able to regain control of my mind and body. She made a date to come by and see me within the next couple of days, to offer me whatever services and a wisp of understanding into what the heck may be happening to me. The date came and went, and Kathy was a really nice gal, but i was still totally in the dark as to what was going on in my brain.
What and why is this happening to me?
...and this is the million dollar question. After consult with my family doctor and him replying "this is not my field Mary-Anne, I will have to refer you to a psychiatrist" . I respected that, I trust this man with my life. He had an inkling of what was happening and he knew my situation required drugs he was not capable of prescribing. This man has seen me thru thick and thin. OK cool,,,,I was gonna go to the horse's mouth right? Only trouble is, I live in Thunder Bay, northern Ontario...where psychiatrists are not a dime a dozen...the wait list was 6 - 9 months long. Sheesh...I had to hang on. Was me and my computer til then...research, read, websites, worry, fret and wonder.
I did find out that mental disorders are primarily genetic and if you have a family history of nucking futs, chances are you may also be. I queried my mom, the staunch Brit she was, immediately denied loonies in her family. Now my dad's side, big bunch of drunken Frenchmen, who knows what may have been cooking there. i couldn't ask, he had died years ealier. Mom assured me that this could not have been a genetic thing.
Physical trauma was also a contributing factor and ahaah, I had suffered a severe concussion back in 1983, automobile accident, that to this day, I believe was the root of my new evil. I am thinking the reason it didn't surface for such a long time, was because my life was busy...it was full. I had returned to work after my accident, I had married and moved to an old farmhouse in the country ( i mean old...outhouse and all). We had dreams of building our dream house, by cash of course. Gave birth to two premature sons, another big trauma. One was only 3.5 pounds at birth, the second was 6.6, i did improve somewhat on my gestation. Survived a marital separation, reunion, move to town, re-education and return to work. The whole time recovering from a brain injury that believe you me, took at least 10 years of my life. A lot of miserable and painful years. Yes, my life was busy and the lives of my husband and children was contingent to me being in control. I was needed and needed badly. There was no time for me to be weak. Don't get me wrong, I am sure I did not live mood disorder free, was prescribed anti-depressants a few time by my gp, both of us thinking I was still recovering adverse affects from my brain injury....but ke sera,sera...what will be will be. Where the heck this friggin disease came from, was not my most important focal point...diagnosing and getting help for it, was.
And the answer is...hey, what was the question?
Tick tock tick tock...weeks pass by, months pass by and one day I hear from my doc. He wants to know if I will consent to be part of a new satellite doctoring scheme. If the shrink happened to be in town, he was from Hamilton, Ontario, on the day of your appointment you would see him face to face, other wise my diagnoses would be done by TV...how novel. As luck would have it...I got to meet this doc face to face. I must admit I was not entirely impressed with this guy, but hell beggars can't be choosers, right? He was kind of a weasel in the looks department, strike one, and he kept trying to dig up skeletons from my past. Claiming my disorder was happening because I came from a pretty poor family and my father was a drunk. i assured him that I had come to terms with my past and they were not at all the reason for my mood swinging from euphoric to very down without any rhyme nor reason whatsoever. You see from the research I had done, I knew exactly what i was going through. I had all the symptoms to a tee. I didn't need a medical degree to see this. I needed his diagnoses and a prescription to balance out the ping ponging chemicals in my brain. Well after an hour or so of laying things on the line with this Doc, i walked out of the psych ward of the local hospital...my prescription for lithium, a mood stabilizer, and luvox, an anti-depressant, in hand.
And life goes on...in a perfect world, maybe...
Now I have the drugs that I need and believe truly that I am going to be fine...I can't remember if that were my case or not. Maybe i was fine for a while...we probably had to fiddle with the doseage, several times, you see finding the right drug cocktail mix is crucial to proper brain function of anyone with mood disorder. I have a medicine cabinet full of castoffs, drugs that just didn't work for me or the side affects were just too extreme.
You really start to feel like a medical guinea pig, it gets kind of depressing, sheeesh my down side is peeking in. My doc did tell me to expect some side affects and to decide whether these side affects outweighed the benefit the drug had on my brain, in other words, put up with them. Side effects for me always ranged from sleep disorders, dry mouth, upset bowel function, poor memory and eventually a feeling of total
disassociation with my body, almost as though I were looking in on myself. Not too plleasant but hey, my mood wasn't swinging right? So things rolled on for a while and like I say no mood swings...but, but, I felt dead. I had no desire for anything besides survival. My family thought I was fine. I was functioning, doing what was required of me. Getting up in the mornings, going through the motions, work was manageable, life moved forward, but things for me were just too meaningless. I missed the euphoria of my manias. That being one of the biggest dangers to a bipolar. So like all naughty bipolars and kinda against the advice of my doctor, my gp, I had no therapist to help me deal. I gave up the drugs for a while, cripes they we making me a zombie. My doc had warned me I would be thrust in to a manic phase and asked me if my family were prepared for that. I agreed to return to the drugs if things got to out of control. So I discontinued the meds and surprise, surprise, I was almost immediately thrown into the euphoric state of mania...
Let me try to describe mania to you...
I am out on an errand, driving down Memorial Avenue and this super big smile breaks across my face. I feel wonderful, I love the world and all that comes with it. No warning, just happens, like I am a chosen one...wow, it is such a grand feeling of elation. The door has opened, I enter mania. I have got thoughts racing through my head, music stirs within my soul deeper than ever, just can't get enough. I become more talkative, far more, and in my opinion much more brilliant. I can dicuss anything from occupying toddlers to current world politics, one in the same to me. Quite a variety, depending on my company. "Company" human contact, that is something you need, like desperately need, urgently crave and deeply desire. Gawd, You can't possibly do without it, or you will indeed perish.
Now that is where my trouble came in. I wasn't getting the company I needed at home, although I stressed the importance of it to my family and to bear with me...but they just didn't get it. I guess they tried, and I can't fault them. This was not something easy for myself to understand, nevermind them. With mental disorders, as the cliche goes,,,you really have to be there.
I wasn't getting my social needs satisfied at home....so I started to go out. i asked my husband to accompany me many times at first, and him being a homebody had no desire. I really don't understand how our marriage survived as long as it did. On my own again. Soooo, I soon got very tired of his rejection, I went out myself. And what better place to go to socialize than your local bar. People, laughter, dancing...just what the doctor ordered, in my mind. Now another big symptom of bipolar is alcohol consumption. Not a problem actually, I became very good at it. Your body is so wired, tis kind of like a cocaine buzz...yes i will admit it, I have tried cocaine twice in my life...and you know i kind of did enjoy it. but i knew it was not a path I wished to travel. Anyhow bipolars can consume staggering amounts of beer before they become drunk...and of course you have no recollection of being drunk. You are at a bar...who cares if you are drunk, you fit right in. You see, I was having fun and my actions weren't hurting anyone,,,were they? i was feeding my mania exactly what it needed. My outings got more frequent and i would stay out later and later...sneaking in quietly sometimes as the sun was rising. Hey, did I mention promiscuity is a symptom of mania. i am too ashamed and embarassed even to admit where that took me. Even if my marriage was on the rocks I was still married. I was compromising morals and values that I held high.
Can't say i was entirely proud of my behavior but it was something I just had to do...hey try to wrap your mind around that one...all bipolars could I bet, its the self medicating process. Anyone else would assume it was an addiction...which of sorts it was....but they would be thinking you were a plain old alcoholic. Alcoholism not being an addiction held in high esteem, they would be shaking their heads thinking "come on eh, get your act together" It was something i was hearing from those close to me over and over. One of the saddest moments in my life was when my 21 year old son, thru his tears, was begging me to stop drinking, stop killing myself and I just couldn't do it. Bipolar was ruining my mind, this disease was taking over my life. The alcohol was necessary at this time, I thought. Damn, it was my answer to lessening the pain of my illness...i am ill, can't anybody understand that?
Yep, I had the wonderful excuse that my alcohol addiction was due to my bipolar, what the heck i was nuts anyhow, right? and I badly needed an excuse to justify the mess I was making of my life. You see mr. booze was indeed my self medicator. When i was feeling anxious, not quite a panic attack, but close to it, the more I drank. Alcohol being a depressant, it would calm me. Good old alcohol it made me feel better.. cigarettes helped too, they have that glorious calming effect when you smoke one, but it isn't long after you butted it out your body is looking for more of the same. i would sit in front of the computer and drink a dozen beer and smoke a pack of smokes. And I thought it was the least of my worries.
After realizing i couldn't carry on being a gad-about, drinking beer and partying up around town, I once again turned to the computer. The internet became my be all, end all. I didn't have to leave my home, didn't have to face the inconvenience of picking up my car in the mornings and I was getting tired of the whole scene anyhow. I had figured out that these people didn't care about me, I was just another bar fly...i needed to be cared for. Romantically loved, something my marriage lacked badly. Hey do you know about the wonders of meeting people on line? They say in todays modern world one in eight relationships begin in cyberland. Thats where my next bipolar addiction took me. A whole new world at my finger tips.
And in the mean time...
This story takes place over a good eight year span and like I have said bipolars and time and memory are a total mess. When you add in the factor of age it is hopeless. List lady I have become. I carry a notebook with me at most times, unless i forget it, haha and anything my mind deemed important, i would write it down. It works pretty good and to this day, I resort to it somethimes. One of the coping strategies I have been forced to develop to deal with this illness.
I had been back to the doc several times, put on new drugs..saw new therapists and psyciatrists, but this is Thunder Bay and seemed as soon as I found a therapist i could relate to, they packed up and moved their practice on me. Bigger and better things for them, leaving me in a lurch. Once again, Thunder Bay, really nice city if you don't need health care services. Somehow we make due.
All i really had was hope in new drugs and I hated taking the drugs and having that as my only hope. Lithium eventually messed my liver, I was sure the beer I was drinking didn't help either. Was hospitalized for severe edema and my liver was diagnosed as having had suffered somewhat, but not enuff to cause me alarm. My bipolar was my main concern. You see i felt that if i could deal with this, mylife and my health would all fall into place. And maybe rightly so.
Depakote was another mood stabilizer they had me try...this one gave me ovarian cysts. Which for three years I had monitored by ultrasound at 3 and 6 month intervals. All you ladies know what an internal ultrasound involves and to top it off my tech was a guy I went to high school with. I was given Ativan for my anxiety attacks, an addictive drug...but I only took as required when beer couldn't calm me. and a multitude of anti-depressants. Because I was having so much trouble finding a stabilizer drug, my mood was still swinging. Up and down, round and round...it was such a tiresome ordeal.
This ride from hell, will it ever end. I just want my life back. Puuuuuhleeeease, won't somebody allow me that?
Depression was the down side of things...it sucks big time
Its hard for me to even go here, has me in tears when I think about the lonely days and nites I spent, by myself thinking that the world, my family, all who had put up with my moods...would be so much better off without me to worry about, wouldn't they? I am lucky, these funks, as I called them, only made me feel slightly suicidal. For some i am told coping is very, very difficult. I had my sons to think about, my wonderful, beautiful boys. They are my world...of all that I have done with my life, yes, they are my greatest contribution to this world of ours. They make me proud and I smile every time I think of them. I tried so hard to keep them informed of what I was going through and they in turn tried so hard to understand. But it was a no win situation. But honestly, they kept me going. Them and my job...i was so lucky i was able to do my job, otherwise I would have had no reason to get out of bed in the mornings...and I probably wouldn't have.
When I was depressed I seemed semi normal...my sons believed they had their mom back. I functioned to the best of my abilities, kinda. They had no idea of the pain i was feeling inside, the lonliness and despair. Just how hard it was for me to crawl out of bed in the mornings and why? Was it worth facing another day? Why do I have to do this anyhow. Very hard to be you, very confusing and very undesireable.
I lost all contact with people. I hated it when the phone rang, scared to answer, it might be for me. i would have to talk to somebody, no way, I couldn't do that and hell, I sure didn't want to try. Talk about your self confindence taking a vacation, mine had deserted the scene. My only escape became reading, you can get totally lost in that, don't yah know. One year my depression lasted nine months...and i was taking my drugs, doing what i was medically advised...was this what my life had amounted to. That nine month period, I must have read over 200 novels and funny thing is, i don't remember doing a whole lot more that year. Even my internet cronies were put on the back burner. You see I only need contact when I felt good,,,when i was down, being with people, I didn't need, cripes I could hardly even tolerate. This was not how I wanted my life to be.
i give kudos to a chat room I found on the net in 2002. "Mixed Nuts " its called. Appropriate eh? A room for people with mood disorders, a room where people collect to chat. They come for a bit, some become quite regular. Guess I am considered an old timer there. All who come have some form or another of mental illness. Coming to have questions answered and to receive support from people who have been there and know and understand what its all about. More so than any doctors, psyciatrists, therapist I have seen thoughout this illness, these people have helped me immeasurably, they have become my friends. People from all over the world and every walk of life. Letting me know, that I am not alone. They have helped alot in my ability to carry on. Yes, depression truly sucks.
And to sum things up...in a nutshell
I dream about a normal life...but it has gotten to a point where I haven't a clue what that means. I feel kinda like me these days, I am level, not swinging moods. I am happy...am I me? the person i stuggled for so long to get back too? Life has come so far and so much has changed...maybe I am me. Whatever, life as a bipolar is an errrrr interesting experience i can honestly admit. It is lonely, it is sorrowful, it is desperate, but it can also be up-lifting, if you can relate to that at all. I am damn mad i am bipolar, but i am very happy, i think I have conquered it. I have found a drug that works for me. Bipolar no longer rules my life! and hopefully will not, for evermore.
Mary-Anne
Definition of Bipolar Disorder
Bilpolar disorder: A mood disorder sometimes called manic-depressive illness or manic-depression that characteristically involves cycles of depression and elation or mania. Sometimes the mood switches from high to low and back again are dramatic and rapid, but more often they are gradual and slow, and intervals of normal mood may occur between the high (manic) and low (depressive) phases of the condition. The symptoms of both depressive and manic cycles may be severe and often lead to impaired functioning.
A pretty basic definition I discovered on the internet, Net Medicine site, not sure of the credentials behind it, but most definitions you read are similar, this one catching the basic gist of things to a tee. Now to the average Joe this means a whole lot of nothing, maybe to someone writing a psychology paper, doctor, or some other medical professional...but the most interested party is the sufferer, myself, who has read and reread this, until it was ingrained on my brain...shaking my head wondering what and why is this happening to me? Someone stop this rollercoaster, I wanna get off.
Life with a mental disorder is one of the most misunderstood events a person could have to deal with. Lack of medical knowledge about the brain, our bodies central computer system, with all its intricate little neurons and synapses, that are back firing when messages are launched, causing havoc that no one can identify nevermind understand. The overall behavior patterns that result range from ohhhhh really distressing to friggin disasterous.
Bipolar disorder...was my diagnoses, as well as Borderline, but thats a whole nuther issue, was back in 2000 I think. Time has kinda melded together for me, a symptom of my hell so they say, and it is easier, soooo much easier for your mind to accept that it is part of your condition, as well as the rest of your irractic behavior. But that doesn't make things any easier, figuring out why you are doing the things you do, doesn't make it any easier at all. All you can do is hope and pray that it will end, did i say end? No, sorry it doesn't end, control is the word i should be using...controlled enough so you can function with some sort of semblance to your life.
I write this story for all bipolar sufferers, exposing my off the map behavior, my grief, my pain...to better help you understand some of this wretched disease, to try to inform you and your families, your friends, lovers and mates, that you really aren't looney, that the real person you have always been is tucked away inside, screaming to get out. I write this story for my own personal therapy, thinking i can better come to terms with some of results that have occurred in my life because of bipolar, and maybe, just maybe, if i document them, see them in print, then set them on fire to watch them burn, well maybe they will be gone from my mind forever****sigh, i wish that could be true. If in trying to describe what went on in my brain and is still going on to some degree, can help a teensy weensy bit in some bipolar's life, then it has all been worth it, and "my" therapy may be part of yours.
I'm not quite sure where to begin, and i do tend to ramble, this i don't know if i can blame on bipolar or not, i may have always been a rambler. You see, that is indeed one of the most distressing parts of the disorder... you totally lose track of who you are or were, so determining the here and the now, indeed becomes confusing.
As far as i can remember, my first panic attack was my beginning. A bipolar panic attack, is kind of a separate entity from the manias and depressions, but another affliction of this disease for some, ahhhhh probably most at one point anyhow. It comes with a whole package of physical side affects. Sweating palms, heart thumping in your chest, thoughts jumbling in your head, rapid speech, so rapid the simple process of expressing thoughts becomes an unreachable task. To sum it up, I thought I was having a heart attack or something else life threatening.
I can remember washing dishes at the kitchen sink, 1999 or maybe 2000, and this episode of all the above mentioned symptoms struck me with a force. Seeking help, I went out to the garage to beg my husband's assistance. Yes, at one point in my life i was married, and had quite a normal life, three bedroom home, two sons and a cat, never was a dog person. I was totally lost on how to explain what I was feeling. We had words earlier, anger that i am sure was mood disorder related, but heck, I didn't know that, my disorder had been creeping in for some time, i guess. Now my husband was not a man to understand emotion, especially emotion that had gone astray. Lack of communication was a constant issue in our marriage, my disease might have been part to blame. I was in tears of course, and I get a bit hyper when emotionally overwrought. My husband becomes more distant. I was probably starting to lose my temper and shout at him by this time. I was really scared and he couldn't understand. He could offer nothing to help me through this crisis. Closeness had also become a thing of our past, another bipolar effect? Damn who knew. Overall my marriage had already been deteriorating, bipolar may have been the tip of the iceberg. Anyhow it was Sunday and my own doc, a wonderful man wasn't available.
At this point, I just wanted someone to take me out to the pasture and shoot me like an old horse, put me out of my misery...the unknown creates such fear. My husband had offered me a run to the emergency, but the idea of sitting there for hours and getting no where, was not at all appealing to me. But I knew I needed someone's help. My husband convinced me that a call to the local crisis center was our last option. I thought their services were for suicidal people....and I certainly wasn't that, but i agreed to a call. Soooo, husband contacted someone for me and we began to chat. Being crisis, their first question was "are you suicidal" of which i confidently could answer NO, i was not...i was very, very scared. After chatting to Kathy for 15 or 20 minutes, i became calmer and I was able to regain control of my mind and body. She made a date to come by and see me within the next couple of days, to offer me whatever services and a wisp of understanding into what the heck may be happening to me. The date came and went, and Kathy was a really nice gal, but i was still totally in the dark as to what was going on in my brain.
What and why is this happening to me?
...and this is the million dollar question. After consult with my family doctor and him replying "this is not my field Mary-Anne, I will have to refer you to a psychiatrist" . I respected that, I trust this man with my life. He had an inkling of what was happening and he knew my situation required drugs he was not capable of prescribing. This man has seen me thru thick and thin. OK cool,,,,I was gonna go to the horse's mouth right? Only trouble is, I live in Thunder Bay, northern Ontario...where psychiatrists are not a dime a dozen...the wait list was 6 - 9 months long. Sheesh...I had to hang on. Was me and my computer til then...research, read, websites, worry, fret and wonder.
I did find out that mental disorders are primarily genetic and if you have a family history of nucking futs, chances are you may also be. I queried my mom, the staunch Brit she was, immediately denied loonies in her family. Now my dad's side, big bunch of drunken Frenchmen, who knows what may have been cooking there. i couldn't ask, he had died years ealier. Mom assured me that this could not have been a genetic thing.
Physical trauma was also a contributing factor and ahaah, I had suffered a severe concussion back in 1983, automobile accident, that to this day, I believe was the root of my new evil. I am thinking the reason it didn't surface for such a long time, was because my life was busy...it was full. I had returned to work after my accident, I had married and moved to an old farmhouse in the country ( i mean old...outhouse and all). We had dreams of building our dream house, by cash of course. Gave birth to two premature sons, another big trauma. One was only 3.5 pounds at birth, the second was 6.6, i did improve somewhat on my gestation. Survived a marital separation, reunion, move to town, re-education and return to work. The whole time recovering from a brain injury that believe you me, took at least 10 years of my life. A lot of miserable and painful years. Yes, my life was busy and the lives of my husband and children was contingent to me being in control. I was needed and needed badly. There was no time for me to be weak. Don't get me wrong, I am sure I did not live mood disorder free, was prescribed anti-depressants a few time by my gp, both of us thinking I was still recovering adverse affects from my brain injury....but ke sera,sera...what will be will be. Where the heck this friggin disease came from, was not my most important focal point...diagnosing and getting help for it, was.
And the answer is...hey, what was the question?
Tick tock tick tock...weeks pass by, months pass by and one day I hear from my doc. He wants to know if I will consent to be part of a new satellite doctoring scheme. If the shrink happened to be in town, he was from Hamilton, Ontario, on the day of your appointment you would see him face to face, other wise my diagnoses would be done by TV...how novel. As luck would have it...I got to meet this doc face to face. I must admit I was not entirely impressed with this guy, but hell beggars can't be choosers, right? He was kind of a weasel in the looks department, strike one, and he kept trying to dig up skeletons from my past. Claiming my disorder was happening because I came from a pretty poor family and my father was a drunk. i assured him that I had come to terms with my past and they were not at all the reason for my mood swinging from euphoric to very down without any rhyme nor reason whatsoever. You see from the research I had done, I knew exactly what i was going through. I had all the symptoms to a tee. I didn't need a medical degree to see this. I needed his diagnoses and a prescription to balance out the ping ponging chemicals in my brain. Well after an hour or so of laying things on the line with this Doc, i walked out of the psych ward of the local hospital...my prescription for lithium, a mood stabilizer, and luvox, an anti-depressant, in hand.
And life goes on...in a perfect world, maybe...
Now I have the drugs that I need and believe truly that I am going to be fine...I can't remember if that were my case or not. Maybe i was fine for a while...we probably had to fiddle with the doseage, several times, you see finding the right drug cocktail mix is crucial to proper brain function of anyone with mood disorder. I have a medicine cabinet full of castoffs, drugs that just didn't work for me or the side affects were just too extreme.
You really start to feel like a medical guinea pig, it gets kind of depressing, sheeesh my down side is peeking in. My doc did tell me to expect some side affects and to decide whether these side affects outweighed the benefit the drug had on my brain, in other words, put up with them. Side effects for me always ranged from sleep disorders, dry mouth, upset bowel function, poor memory and eventually a feeling of total
disassociation with my body, almost as though I were looking in on myself. Not too plleasant but hey, my mood wasn't swinging right? So things rolled on for a while and like I say no mood swings...but, but, I felt dead. I had no desire for anything besides survival. My family thought I was fine. I was functioning, doing what was required of me. Getting up in the mornings, going through the motions, work was manageable, life moved forward, but things for me were just too meaningless. I missed the euphoria of my manias. That being one of the biggest dangers to a bipolar. So like all naughty bipolars and kinda against the advice of my doctor, my gp, I had no therapist to help me deal. I gave up the drugs for a while, cripes they we making me a zombie. My doc had warned me I would be thrust in to a manic phase and asked me if my family were prepared for that. I agreed to return to the drugs if things got to out of control. So I discontinued the meds and surprise, surprise, I was almost immediately thrown into the euphoric state of mania...
Let me try to describe mania to you...
I am out on an errand, driving down Memorial Avenue and this super big smile breaks across my face. I feel wonderful, I love the world and all that comes with it. No warning, just happens, like I am a chosen one...wow, it is such a grand feeling of elation. The door has opened, I enter mania. I have got thoughts racing through my head, music stirs within my soul deeper than ever, just can't get enough. I become more talkative, far more, and in my opinion much more brilliant. I can dicuss anything from occupying toddlers to current world politics, one in the same to me. Quite a variety, depending on my company. "Company" human contact, that is something you need, like desperately need, urgently crave and deeply desire. Gawd, You can't possibly do without it, or you will indeed perish.
Now that is where my trouble came in. I wasn't getting the company I needed at home, although I stressed the importance of it to my family and to bear with me...but they just didn't get it. I guess they tried, and I can't fault them. This was not something easy for myself to understand, nevermind them. With mental disorders, as the cliche goes,,,you really have to be there.
I wasn't getting my social needs satisfied at home....so I started to go out. i asked my husband to accompany me many times at first, and him being a homebody had no desire. I really don't understand how our marriage survived as long as it did. On my own again. Soooo, I soon got very tired of his rejection, I went out myself. And what better place to go to socialize than your local bar. People, laughter, dancing...just what the doctor ordered, in my mind. Now another big symptom of bipolar is alcohol consumption. Not a problem actually, I became very good at it. Your body is so wired, tis kind of like a cocaine buzz...yes i will admit it, I have tried cocaine twice in my life...and you know i kind of did enjoy it. but i knew it was not a path I wished to travel. Anyhow bipolars can consume staggering amounts of beer before they become drunk...and of course you have no recollection of being drunk. You are at a bar...who cares if you are drunk, you fit right in. You see, I was having fun and my actions weren't hurting anyone,,,were they? i was feeding my mania exactly what it needed. My outings got more frequent and i would stay out later and later...sneaking in quietly sometimes as the sun was rising. Hey, did I mention promiscuity is a symptom of mania. i am too ashamed and embarassed even to admit where that took me. Even if my marriage was on the rocks I was still married. I was compromising morals and values that I held high.
Can't say i was entirely proud of my behavior but it was something I just had to do...hey try to wrap your mind around that one...all bipolars could I bet, its the self medicating process. Anyone else would assume it was an addiction...which of sorts it was....but they would be thinking you were a plain old alcoholic. Alcoholism not being an addiction held in high esteem, they would be shaking their heads thinking "come on eh, get your act together" It was something i was hearing from those close to me over and over. One of the saddest moments in my life was when my 21 year old son, thru his tears, was begging me to stop drinking, stop killing myself and I just couldn't do it. Bipolar was ruining my mind, this disease was taking over my life. The alcohol was necessary at this time, I thought. Damn, it was my answer to lessening the pain of my illness...i am ill, can't anybody understand that?
Yep, I had the wonderful excuse that my alcohol addiction was due to my bipolar, what the heck i was nuts anyhow, right? and I badly needed an excuse to justify the mess I was making of my life. You see mr. booze was indeed my self medicator. When i was feeling anxious, not quite a panic attack, but close to it, the more I drank. Alcohol being a depressant, it would calm me. Good old alcohol it made me feel better.. cigarettes helped too, they have that glorious calming effect when you smoke one, but it isn't long after you butted it out your body is looking for more of the same. i would sit in front of the computer and drink a dozen beer and smoke a pack of smokes. And I thought it was the least of my worries.
After realizing i couldn't carry on being a gad-about, drinking beer and partying up around town, I once again turned to the computer. The internet became my be all, end all. I didn't have to leave my home, didn't have to face the inconvenience of picking up my car in the mornings and I was getting tired of the whole scene anyhow. I had figured out that these people didn't care about me, I was just another bar fly...i needed to be cared for. Romantically loved, something my marriage lacked badly. Hey do you know about the wonders of meeting people on line? They say in todays modern world one in eight relationships begin in cyberland. Thats where my next bipolar addiction took me. A whole new world at my finger tips.
And in the mean time...
This story takes place over a good eight year span and like I have said bipolars and time and memory are a total mess. When you add in the factor of age it is hopeless. List lady I have become. I carry a notebook with me at most times, unless i forget it, haha and anything my mind deemed important, i would write it down. It works pretty good and to this day, I resort to it somethimes. One of the coping strategies I have been forced to develop to deal with this illness.
I had been back to the doc several times, put on new drugs..saw new therapists and psyciatrists, but this is Thunder Bay and seemed as soon as I found a therapist i could relate to, they packed up and moved their practice on me. Bigger and better things for them, leaving me in a lurch. Once again, Thunder Bay, really nice city if you don't need health care services. Somehow we make due.
All i really had was hope in new drugs and I hated taking the drugs and having that as my only hope. Lithium eventually messed my liver, I was sure the beer I was drinking didn't help either. Was hospitalized for severe edema and my liver was diagnosed as having had suffered somewhat, but not enuff to cause me alarm. My bipolar was my main concern. You see i felt that if i could deal with this, mylife and my health would all fall into place. And maybe rightly so.
Depakote was another mood stabilizer they had me try...this one gave me ovarian cysts. Which for three years I had monitored by ultrasound at 3 and 6 month intervals. All you ladies know what an internal ultrasound involves and to top it off my tech was a guy I went to high school with. I was given Ativan for my anxiety attacks, an addictive drug...but I only took as required when beer couldn't calm me. and a multitude of anti-depressants. Because I was having so much trouble finding a stabilizer drug, my mood was still swinging. Up and down, round and round...it was such a tiresome ordeal.
This ride from hell, will it ever end. I just want my life back. Puuuuuhleeeease, won't somebody allow me that?
Depression was the down side of things...it sucks big time
Its hard for me to even go here, has me in tears when I think about the lonely days and nites I spent, by myself thinking that the world, my family, all who had put up with my moods...would be so much better off without me to worry about, wouldn't they? I am lucky, these funks, as I called them, only made me feel slightly suicidal. For some i am told coping is very, very difficult. I had my sons to think about, my wonderful, beautiful boys. They are my world...of all that I have done with my life, yes, they are my greatest contribution to this world of ours. They make me proud and I smile every time I think of them. I tried so hard to keep them informed of what I was going through and they in turn tried so hard to understand. But it was a no win situation. But honestly, they kept me going. Them and my job...i was so lucky i was able to do my job, otherwise I would have had no reason to get out of bed in the mornings...and I probably wouldn't have.
When I was depressed I seemed semi normal...my sons believed they had their mom back. I functioned to the best of my abilities, kinda. They had no idea of the pain i was feeling inside, the lonliness and despair. Just how hard it was for me to crawl out of bed in the mornings and why? Was it worth facing another day? Why do I have to do this anyhow. Very hard to be you, very confusing and very undesireable.
I lost all contact with people. I hated it when the phone rang, scared to answer, it might be for me. i would have to talk to somebody, no way, I couldn't do that and hell, I sure didn't want to try. Talk about your self confindence taking a vacation, mine had deserted the scene. My only escape became reading, you can get totally lost in that, don't yah know. One year my depression lasted nine months...and i was taking my drugs, doing what i was medically advised...was this what my life had amounted to. That nine month period, I must have read over 200 novels and funny thing is, i don't remember doing a whole lot more that year. Even my internet cronies were put on the back burner. You see I only need contact when I felt good,,,when i was down, being with people, I didn't need, cripes I could hardly even tolerate. This was not how I wanted my life to be.
i give kudos to a chat room I found on the net in 2002. "Mixed Nuts " its called. Appropriate eh? A room for people with mood disorders, a room where people collect to chat. They come for a bit, some become quite regular. Guess I am considered an old timer there. All who come have some form or another of mental illness. Coming to have questions answered and to receive support from people who have been there and know and understand what its all about. More so than any doctors, psyciatrists, therapist I have seen thoughout this illness, these people have helped me immeasurably, they have become my friends. People from all over the world and every walk of life. Letting me know, that I am not alone. They have helped alot in my ability to carry on. Yes, depression truly sucks.
And to sum things up...in a nutshell
I dream about a normal life...but it has gotten to a point where I haven't a clue what that means. I feel kinda like me these days, I am level, not swinging moods. I am happy...am I me? the person i stuggled for so long to get back too? Life has come so far and so much has changed...maybe I am me. Whatever, life as a bipolar is an errrrr interesting experience i can honestly admit. It is lonely, it is sorrowful, it is desperate, but it can also be up-lifting, if you can relate to that at all. I am damn mad i am bipolar, but i am very happy, i think I have conquered it. I have found a drug that works for me. Bipolar no longer rules my life! and hopefully will not, for evermore.
Mary-Anne
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