I’ve promised myself that I’m going to be more positive in this blog. It’s not good to keep ranting and raving and going on because I’m miserable. I’m going to focus on the positives in life and I’m going to use Tony Robbins to do it! Only because I can get free videos on YouTube and his talks usually last as long as my journey home. Bonus. See how positive I am?!
I was reading an interview with Executive Producer and Writer, Bob Lowry. He stated that he had been in therapy a lot over the years and that one therapist once said to him ‘Most people don’t wake up until they know they’re going to die.’ Ok, so this isn’t taking the cheery turn I had hoped for but I’m going to try hard to save this blog. Bear with me. Well what Tony says is similar to that way of thinking but he applies a little more to it. He states that not taking the opportunity to make the right choices for you can lead to depression and people wanting to end it all, because they’re miserable.
I think both of these statements are true. In one statement the results of impending doom can lead to a more positive outlook. In the other, positive changes early on can help to avoid a negative outcome. I expect most of us sleepwalk through life. I know I do and I put that down to the fact I wasn’t medicated for bipolar until 2 years ago. I have achieved a lot in those 2 years now that I have some clarity in my head but I know that I could have achieved more if things had gone differently. For others illness isn’t a factor but normal, everyday things can be. How many of you are putting off living your dreams while you raise your children, which could potentially take 20 years away from you while you wait. How many of us go to work every day and dream of being something else? Have you signed up to a course so you can start that degree or is money holding you back? Let’s face it, none of us ever have enough time or money and we use these obstacles as a reason for not moving forward with our dreams and desires.
Since I started this blog I’ve been reliving my dreams from my teen years of becoming a professional writer. The fact that I don’t know where to start, how to approach newspapers, can’t finish a novel to save my life, struggle with storylines in scripts and have major problems with tenses (you’ve probably noticed) isn’t going to stop me! I have a plan. I’m going to research tense and really try hard to perfect that as it affects every aspect of my writing. Then I’m going to send any articles and blog links to various appropriate papers, magazines and forums for review. It’s not a glamorous start but it’s a realistic one. And on top of it all it gives me a goal to work towards and a positive outlook on my future, which has helped with my depression a little.
https://www.facebook.com/myfamilyandjanice?ref=hl#!/AForayIntoPsychology/photos/a.252429588193012.38575.178422632260375/436848546417781/?type=1&theater
As Tony says, the key to starting to resolve issues in your life and feeling as if you’re taking some control is to take a problem and keep it realistic. We are all capable of dramatizing and catastrophising which blows our problems out of all proportions. An example of this, say you’re overweight. You may feel there’s nothing you can do about this. You justify that by saying ‘I’m big boned.’ Think about this reasoning for remaining unhappy with your weight. You’ve basically said there is nothing you can do about your situation. You can’t change your bone structure, size or weight, so you’re NEVER going to be happy about it. A better way of looking at your situation is to be realistic. You eat badly, but you don’t’ know how to change that. That’s understandable. I had no education in nutrition and a bad upbringing which left me with anxiety about hoarding food and overeating. I know changing these aspects of your life is not easy. But making a doctor’s appointment is easy. Speaking to the doctor and admitting that you just don’t know what to do to change this and would like some dietary advice is a small step in the right direction, and suddenly you’ve taken some control. This is a basic example but it does show how we over-think things and put obstacles in our own way at times.
Please let me know your thoughts.
Saturday, 20 September 2014
Saturday, 13 September 2014
31. Desperately Seeking Normal
So you’ll be pleased to hear that I had my psychiatrist’s appointment this week. It went as well as it usually does. I met my new doctor. They change every 6 months because they get moved from one trust to another, I guess it’s done so that they pick up as much experience as they can get. I’m sure this is good for the doctors but I’m not so sure it’s always good for the patients. Personally I feel like I never know what I’m going to get when they change. Some are nice, some can’t make a decision to save their life (or mine) and some are just plain dismissive.
I went in to my appointment wearing jeans and a smart top plus my usual make up and jewellery which was my first mistake. I look far too stable when I do that. The key to getting good NHS care is to act as nutty as you feel. Some of the people I met (and had to step over) in the waiting room had this down to a fine art. They shook, they shouted, they drank red bull after red bull to get their energy levels to peak performance. One guy read my ‘Wellbeing’ magazine over my shoulder, which was fine, personal bubble not excluding, until he started to dribble. Luckily I’m relatively fit because I found the only way to get away from him was to straddle the coffee table and edge myself down the room.
When Dr G called my name he seemed genuinely ok. I shook his hand and he offered me a seat. Polite, friendly smile, this is all going well so far, I think. He started our meeting by asking me how I’ve been. I told him about my new job, how I’d experienced a hypo-manic episode during the first six weeks and how I was now feeling quite depressed most days and was thinking about taking a handful of pills next Friday (to be specific). He wrote these things down as if he was writing a shopping list. Carrots, chicken nuggets, suicidal tendencies.
Then he used the word that no person who DOESN’T have to live with bipolar should EVER be allowed to use on someone who is afflicted with it. He told me that ‘This is all quite NORMAL for bipolar.’ Normal. NOR-MAL. What the f**k does he know about normal and bipolar?! How can that word even apply to the life I lead? NORMAL!!!!! *Starts shrieking at the laptop as she types furiously*
*Deep breaths.*
*Licks an M&M all over like a long desired lover.*
And calm.
Then he asks me if I’ve heard any voices or seen anything strange.
‘Yes, I say,’ thinking back to the last time I heard from Janice. ‘In February.’
‘No,’ he snaps. ‘I mean in the last week.’
Oh I’m sorry. I didn’t realise that when it comes to hearing voices in your head there is a time when it really does become passé for everyone else around you to keep hearing about it! Next time I’ll keep my delusional behaviour current or I’ll keep it to myself.
It’s at this point that I dare to ask whether there is anything the NHS can do to help me through this difficult time. Do they, for example, provide some sort of counselling service for people who are feeling so low they wonder how much vodka they will need to drink before their liver finally gives out? He looks me in the eye and states that the NHS doesn’t offer anything as basic as counselling. The best he could offer was CBT (cognitive behavioural therapy) but why don’t we wait until I have my next blood test for lithium levels? I think this must have been the point at which I snapped because I just remember there being a lot of snot and tears from then on. I’m not quite sure how a blood test will help him decide that I’m actually sick enough to warrant some attention here but his next suggestion just floors me.
He states that I seem to get worse when I’m feeling lonely so the other option he can suggest is that he hospitalises me. But he then tells me that I’ll only be even lonelier in a hospital. As if this is supposed to make me feel cared for in some way.
As I try desperately to calm down through the sobs I notice that my right eye has begun to twitch. The way a serial killer’s might.
So my options are, do nothing, let nature and my paring knife find their own way or go into hospital and be strapped to a bed where I’ll suffer endless loneliness and never be allowed out because my condition only ever seems to deteriorate. Brilliant. Psychiatry at its best.
Anyway, I just had to get all that off my chest. Please feel free to let me know your experiences, NHS based or otherwise. Personally I’m starting to understand why so many turn to drink and drugs.
I went in to my appointment wearing jeans and a smart top plus my usual make up and jewellery which was my first mistake. I look far too stable when I do that. The key to getting good NHS care is to act as nutty as you feel. Some of the people I met (and had to step over) in the waiting room had this down to a fine art. They shook, they shouted, they drank red bull after red bull to get their energy levels to peak performance. One guy read my ‘Wellbeing’ magazine over my shoulder, which was fine, personal bubble not excluding, until he started to dribble. Luckily I’m relatively fit because I found the only way to get away from him was to straddle the coffee table and edge myself down the room.
When Dr G called my name he seemed genuinely ok. I shook his hand and he offered me a seat. Polite, friendly smile, this is all going well so far, I think. He started our meeting by asking me how I’ve been. I told him about my new job, how I’d experienced a hypo-manic episode during the first six weeks and how I was now feeling quite depressed most days and was thinking about taking a handful of pills next Friday (to be specific). He wrote these things down as if he was writing a shopping list. Carrots, chicken nuggets, suicidal tendencies.
Then he used the word that no person who DOESN’T have to live with bipolar should EVER be allowed to use on someone who is afflicted with it. He told me that ‘This is all quite NORMAL for bipolar.’ Normal. NOR-MAL. What the f**k does he know about normal and bipolar?! How can that word even apply to the life I lead? NORMAL!!!!! *Starts shrieking at the laptop as she types furiously*
*Deep breaths.*
*Licks an M&M all over like a long desired lover.*
And calm.
Then he asks me if I’ve heard any voices or seen anything strange.
‘Yes, I say,’ thinking back to the last time I heard from Janice. ‘In February.’
‘No,’ he snaps. ‘I mean in the last week.’
Oh I’m sorry. I didn’t realise that when it comes to hearing voices in your head there is a time when it really does become passé for everyone else around you to keep hearing about it! Next time I’ll keep my delusional behaviour current or I’ll keep it to myself.
It’s at this point that I dare to ask whether there is anything the NHS can do to help me through this difficult time. Do they, for example, provide some sort of counselling service for people who are feeling so low they wonder how much vodka they will need to drink before their liver finally gives out? He looks me in the eye and states that the NHS doesn’t offer anything as basic as counselling. The best he could offer was CBT (cognitive behavioural therapy) but why don’t we wait until I have my next blood test for lithium levels? I think this must have been the point at which I snapped because I just remember there being a lot of snot and tears from then on. I’m not quite sure how a blood test will help him decide that I’m actually sick enough to warrant some attention here but his next suggestion just floors me.
He states that I seem to get worse when I’m feeling lonely so the other option he can suggest is that he hospitalises me. But he then tells me that I’ll only be even lonelier in a hospital. As if this is supposed to make me feel cared for in some way.
As I try desperately to calm down through the sobs I notice that my right eye has begun to twitch. The way a serial killer’s might.
So my options are, do nothing, let nature and my paring knife find their own way or go into hospital and be strapped to a bed where I’ll suffer endless loneliness and never be allowed out because my condition only ever seems to deteriorate. Brilliant. Psychiatry at its best.
Anyway, I just had to get all that off my chest. Please feel free to let me know your experiences, NHS based or otherwise. Personally I’m starting to understand why so many turn to drink and drugs.
Saturday, 6 September 2014
30. Pretending To Be Me
More and more lately I’ve been feeling the effects of depression in between the moments of feeling nothing at all. I’m acting a little bit like a pregnant woman right now. I can go from nought to snot inducing crying phase in sixty seconds. And in those moments that’s when the world turns into a dark place. All my fears come rising to the surface, all my pain comes to call and my mind throws things at me which make me feel entirely worthless.
It’s at times like these that I wonder whether I can keep going with all this bipolar nonsense. It’s not as if having an understanding of this condition makes it any easier to live with. It’s not as if talking provides a cure. I’ve come to the realisation lately that there has never been a true moment of clarity in my entire life where I’ve known that the decisions I’m making are mine and mine alone and that I’ll stick with them. I’ve never been happy because from one week to the next something inside me keeps changing the rules. It’s like playing a game that you’re never going to win. And not a cool game like Super Mario or, during the speedier times, Sonic. No, it’s like playing Monopoly over and over again. Or as my husband calls it, Monotony. There is no winning. There’s just hard choices and times when you’re functional and have money and property then times when you can’t function and find you’ve lost everything. But just like the pieces on that board, you’re pretty much alone the whole time.
And the loneliness. Oh how I love that feeling. Not being able to connect to others because you can’t even bring yourself to like what you are. Well thanks for that one, Universe! And what’s the alternative? A ten minute session once every 3-6 months with a trainee psychiatrist, carrying on as best you can, pretending that you are the person you present to everyone, or giving in to it and becoming the insane, vibrating, paranoid, debilitated by OCD fruitcake who needs around the clock care that you know lives just a centimetre or so beneath your skin. There have been so many times in my life when I’ve thought about giving in to that but I’m not sure that giving up would be any better. It seems to me it would take less work to give up than to keep going and from what I understand there are drugs like Diazepam on tap in hospital, which is an incentive, but I’m not sure there’s any coming back from that state. No coming back and no way out.
So I live the lie. The one in which I work to the best of my ability, the one in which I embrace my fate, take my pills every day, wonder quietly about whether I will ever actually make a decision I can live with forever and tell people that I wish there was a cure for bipolar. But even that’s a lie. I don’t wish there was a cure. I wish there was a way to balance the chemicals in my brain so that I was always productive, creative, full of energy and able to do everything in life with ease. I want to be in a permanent state of hypo-mania. Sometimes I wonder whether my constant desire to have the things I can’t reach is born of those times when I’m in a hypo-manic state.
I’m reminded of Tennyson’s poem, ‘In Memoriam A.H.H.’ in which he states ‘Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all’. And in contrast, Hunter S. Thompson’s quote ‘You can’t miss what you never had.’ That is my life all over, it seems. The polarity of these two statements mirrors the polarity of my entire existence.
Let me explain.
Tis better to have loved and lost. Tis better to have experienced a period of hypomanic behaviour during which you were productive, creative, happy, wild and carefree than never to have experienced one at all. Then, when you lose that feeling, despite feeling as if your wings have been clipped and the ensuing depression which takes over and the reminder that you once had a hell of a lot more control over your life, this is still a better state to be in, than to NEVER have experienced this state.
You can’t miss what you never had. You never experience hypo-mania, you never know that there is any other way of feeling than the normal range of emotions you go through. Your life is generally calm and collected with no dire need for excitement, no possibility of hallucinations and no desire to leave your life as it is and start a new one in a commune in LA.
So you can see which statement I feel more of an affinity with. Because let’s face it, it really IS worse to have experienced something amazing and then have it taken away from you, despite the fact that state also comes with hallucinations and other such novelties.
So will I ever be happy? Will I ever be content with my lot in life? It would appear this is something I should put to the latest trainee psychiatrist and see what they think. I’m sure they’ll have the answer I seek!
It’s at times like these that I wonder whether I can keep going with all this bipolar nonsense. It’s not as if having an understanding of this condition makes it any easier to live with. It’s not as if talking provides a cure. I’ve come to the realisation lately that there has never been a true moment of clarity in my entire life where I’ve known that the decisions I’m making are mine and mine alone and that I’ll stick with them. I’ve never been happy because from one week to the next something inside me keeps changing the rules. It’s like playing a game that you’re never going to win. And not a cool game like Super Mario or, during the speedier times, Sonic. No, it’s like playing Monopoly over and over again. Or as my husband calls it, Monotony. There is no winning. There’s just hard choices and times when you’re functional and have money and property then times when you can’t function and find you’ve lost everything. But just like the pieces on that board, you’re pretty much alone the whole time.
And the loneliness. Oh how I love that feeling. Not being able to connect to others because you can’t even bring yourself to like what you are. Well thanks for that one, Universe! And what’s the alternative? A ten minute session once every 3-6 months with a trainee psychiatrist, carrying on as best you can, pretending that you are the person you present to everyone, or giving in to it and becoming the insane, vibrating, paranoid, debilitated by OCD fruitcake who needs around the clock care that you know lives just a centimetre or so beneath your skin. There have been so many times in my life when I’ve thought about giving in to that but I’m not sure that giving up would be any better. It seems to me it would take less work to give up than to keep going and from what I understand there are drugs like Diazepam on tap in hospital, which is an incentive, but I’m not sure there’s any coming back from that state. No coming back and no way out.
So I live the lie. The one in which I work to the best of my ability, the one in which I embrace my fate, take my pills every day, wonder quietly about whether I will ever actually make a decision I can live with forever and tell people that I wish there was a cure for bipolar. But even that’s a lie. I don’t wish there was a cure. I wish there was a way to balance the chemicals in my brain so that I was always productive, creative, full of energy and able to do everything in life with ease. I want to be in a permanent state of hypo-mania. Sometimes I wonder whether my constant desire to have the things I can’t reach is born of those times when I’m in a hypo-manic state.
I’m reminded of Tennyson’s poem, ‘In Memoriam A.H.H.’ in which he states ‘Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all’. And in contrast, Hunter S. Thompson’s quote ‘You can’t miss what you never had.’ That is my life all over, it seems. The polarity of these two statements mirrors the polarity of my entire existence.
Let me explain.
Tis better to have loved and lost. Tis better to have experienced a period of hypomanic behaviour during which you were productive, creative, happy, wild and carefree than never to have experienced one at all. Then, when you lose that feeling, despite feeling as if your wings have been clipped and the ensuing depression which takes over and the reminder that you once had a hell of a lot more control over your life, this is still a better state to be in, than to NEVER have experienced this state.
You can’t miss what you never had. You never experience hypo-mania, you never know that there is any other way of feeling than the normal range of emotions you go through. Your life is generally calm and collected with no dire need for excitement, no possibility of hallucinations and no desire to leave your life as it is and start a new one in a commune in LA.
So you can see which statement I feel more of an affinity with. Because let’s face it, it really IS worse to have experienced something amazing and then have it taken away from you, despite the fact that state also comes with hallucinations and other such novelties.
So will I ever be happy? Will I ever be content with my lot in life? It would appear this is something I should put to the latest trainee psychiatrist and see what they think. I’m sure they’ll have the answer I seek!
Saturday, 30 August 2014
29. Would You Like Salt With Your Salt?
Today I’m feeling vaguely victorious and vaguely petrified in equal measure. I told you about my diet, right? The one 0where I have to cut out everything but air, acorns and, if I’ve been really good, I might get to sniff the fridge? Well, when I said that diet and exercise wasn’t good for you, I wasn’t kidding. It turns out that the type of diet I’m on is low in salt as well as low sugar, low fat and low flavour.
Now, I started on lithium 2 years ago. I read the little pamphlet that came with it stating what to do with the little white tablets, when to take them, how many to take and what to do if I accidentally start snorting them like cocaine. But after that I kind of forgot about the little pamphlet and got on with my life. So when I started this diet it didn’t occur to me that the odd symptoms I started getting about 2 weeks in were anything more than dietary pains or the effects of a lifetime of living on sugar.
Last week my lips went numb. Just once and just for about ten minutes and I didn’t really think much of it other than ‘that’s odd and I hope that doesn’t happen again’. But it did happen again. And I was tired all the time. Exhausted to my core kind of tired. And then my right hand went numb which, to my dismay, didn’t stop me being able to go to work and type (I mean, what is the POINT of being poisoned slowly if you can’t get a day off out of it?). And my concentration has been awful. All these things I’ve put down to other issues but it turns out that a low salt diet can really affect your lithium levels, raising them to the point where they become toxic. Yet again I ask you, if you suddenly turned radioactive, you’d want a day off work, right?!
Apparently, what happens is your kidneys process both sodium chloride (common table salt) and lithium chloride (not to be confused with table salt. Doesn’t taste nice on your chips… apparently) in the same way. Ie, if you’re dehydrated or don’t have enough salt in your system your kidneys will hold onto what it has got, and invariably that will mean holding on to the lithium too. Your body doesn’t flush these things away in your urine like it normally would and you end up building up a little store. One thing is relatively harmless although again, wouldn’t recommend you put it on your chips after extraction from said kidneys, while the other thing starts to build up to toxic levels. You notice it most when you get the shakes, numb bits of your body, your concentration goes, etc etc. (there’s a much better explanation here: http://bipolarworld.net/Phelps/ph_2005/ph1350.htm).
You’re supposed to speak to your GP before you go on a diet of any kind when taking lithium but this is where things fell down for me. Neither myself, nor the GP or nurse put two and two together and that’s how I’ve ended up with lips like Mick Jagger and no feeling down my right side. Ok, I exaggerate, but I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t.
For those of you in the same position as me (not walking around like one of the undead, just considering dieting is what I mean by that) you might like to read the following guidelines from the National Institutes of Health Clinical Center:
These diet guidelines will help you keep your lithium blood level stable:
• Drink 8 to 10 glasses of water or other liquids every day.
Drinking plenty of fluids is important while you are taking lithium. Not drinking enough liquids may cause lithium levels to rise. You may need even more liquids during hot weather and during exercise when you sweat heavily. To avoid weight gain, select water and other non-caloric beverages.
• Keep your salt intake about the same.
Do not begin a low salt diet without first talking with your doctor or pharmacist. Do not suddenly increase the salt in your diet either. Less salt may cause your lithium level to rise. More salt may cause your lithium level to fall.
Try to keep your intake of these salty foods about the same from day to day: luncheon meats, ham, sausage; canned or processed meats and fish; packaged mixes; most frozen entrees and meals; soups and broths; processed cheeses like American; salted snack foods; soy sauce; smoked foods; olives, pickles; tomato juice; most fast foods; salt, salt containing seasonings and condiments like ketchup and meat sauces.
• Keep your caffeine intake about the same.
Keep amounts of coffee, tea, cola, and other soft drinks with caffeine about the same from day to day. Less caffeine can cause your lithium level to increase; more caffeine can cause your lithium level to decrease.
• Avoid alcoholic beverages.
Check with your doctor or pharmacist about this issue and any questions you have.
• Take lithium with food or milk.
This will reduce possible digestive side effects like nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, and abdominal pain.
Now, I started on lithium 2 years ago. I read the little pamphlet that came with it stating what to do with the little white tablets, when to take them, how many to take and what to do if I accidentally start snorting them like cocaine. But after that I kind of forgot about the little pamphlet and got on with my life. So when I started this diet it didn’t occur to me that the odd symptoms I started getting about 2 weeks in were anything more than dietary pains or the effects of a lifetime of living on sugar.
Last week my lips went numb. Just once and just for about ten minutes and I didn’t really think much of it other than ‘that’s odd and I hope that doesn’t happen again’. But it did happen again. And I was tired all the time. Exhausted to my core kind of tired. And then my right hand went numb which, to my dismay, didn’t stop me being able to go to work and type (I mean, what is the POINT of being poisoned slowly if you can’t get a day off out of it?). And my concentration has been awful. All these things I’ve put down to other issues but it turns out that a low salt diet can really affect your lithium levels, raising them to the point where they become toxic. Yet again I ask you, if you suddenly turned radioactive, you’d want a day off work, right?!
Apparently, what happens is your kidneys process both sodium chloride (common table salt) and lithium chloride (not to be confused with table salt. Doesn’t taste nice on your chips… apparently) in the same way. Ie, if you’re dehydrated or don’t have enough salt in your system your kidneys will hold onto what it has got, and invariably that will mean holding on to the lithium too. Your body doesn’t flush these things away in your urine like it normally would and you end up building up a little store. One thing is relatively harmless although again, wouldn’t recommend you put it on your chips after extraction from said kidneys, while the other thing starts to build up to toxic levels. You notice it most when you get the shakes, numb bits of your body, your concentration goes, etc etc. (there’s a much better explanation here: http://bipolarworld.net/Phelps/ph_2005/ph1350.htm).
You’re supposed to speak to your GP before you go on a diet of any kind when taking lithium but this is where things fell down for me. Neither myself, nor the GP or nurse put two and two together and that’s how I’ve ended up with lips like Mick Jagger and no feeling down my right side. Ok, I exaggerate, but I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t.
For those of you in the same position as me (not walking around like one of the undead, just considering dieting is what I mean by that) you might like to read the following guidelines from the National Institutes of Health Clinical Center:
These diet guidelines will help you keep your lithium blood level stable:
• Drink 8 to 10 glasses of water or other liquids every day.
Drinking plenty of fluids is important while you are taking lithium. Not drinking enough liquids may cause lithium levels to rise. You may need even more liquids during hot weather and during exercise when you sweat heavily. To avoid weight gain, select water and other non-caloric beverages.
• Keep your salt intake about the same.
Do not begin a low salt diet without first talking with your doctor or pharmacist. Do not suddenly increase the salt in your diet either. Less salt may cause your lithium level to rise. More salt may cause your lithium level to fall.
Try to keep your intake of these salty foods about the same from day to day: luncheon meats, ham, sausage; canned or processed meats and fish; packaged mixes; most frozen entrees and meals; soups and broths; processed cheeses like American; salted snack foods; soy sauce; smoked foods; olives, pickles; tomato juice; most fast foods; salt, salt containing seasonings and condiments like ketchup and meat sauces.
• Keep your caffeine intake about the same.
Keep amounts of coffee, tea, cola, and other soft drinks with caffeine about the same from day to day. Less caffeine can cause your lithium level to increase; more caffeine can cause your lithium level to decrease.
• Avoid alcoholic beverages.
Check with your doctor or pharmacist about this issue and any questions you have.
• Take lithium with food or milk.
This will reduce possible digestive side effects like nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, and abdominal pain.
Saturday, 23 August 2014
28. From One Extreme to Another
This week I’m a lot more up and down than I expected to be. This is obviously not one of those periods of remission that I’ve read about! In this week’s blog I’m going to talk to you about some upsetting things so be warned. If you’re not feeling up to it, skip this blog and either come back to it another time or just pretend it never existed. I won’t be offended.
Last Friday I worked from home (that’s not the upsetting bit. Hold your horses!) and as I’ve explained to you previously, I don’t do well with being on my own for long periods. Even half an hour can be a bit of a stretch if I’m in one of those moods. Anyway, I noticed that as the day went on my thoughts became more and more dark and irrational. At the time they didn’t seem irrational, they seemed like valid worries that might affect the rest of my life, but looking back on them now, I can see that if I’d been able to anchor them just a little bit more in reality it’s possible I might not have got in such a state.
What I mean is, I was thinking about my marriage. Often when I’m down everything that I don’t have in life, everything I want but can’t reach and every reason for not being able to progress with my life falls to restrictions caused by my marriage. I don’t know why this is particularly or even whether there is any validity in it at all, but that’s how I feel when I’m down.
For example, I want to earn a bit more so we can go on holiday and travel. My hubby wants to give up work and start a business which I know we’ll struggle with. It will be stressful and there will be no money for years, if ever. We very rarely want the same things in life. So I think about what life would be like if we weren’t together. I think about moving out. How would I cope? I’d be exhausted, life wouldn’t be good, but then life’s not good now. The more I think about it the more depressed I become. So what’s the alternative? And that’s usually when I think to myself that there is no alternative and I may as well end it all now. You see. Not a very rational argument seeing as lots of people have split or got divorced and they manage somehow. But this is the thinking of someone for whom logic isn’t high on the agenda right now.
You know what scares me most about a suicide attempt? The thought of surviving.
I don’t want to have to go through years more counselling, justifying to everyone why life was just too tiring and altogether too much in that moment and probably always will be. I don’t want to have to explain to anyone I love why they weren’t enough to keep me here when in reality nothing could keep me here. For some of us suicide is an option only in as far as when it will happen, not if it will happen. And I think that’s because for some of us the disorder we carry around in our heads is priming us to self-destruct.
I don’t mean all this to be doom and gloom. It’s hard to discuss this subject without upsetting someone in some way. I‘m just telling you how I see things for me. You may agree, you may not.
Then yesterday I was listening to a lesson run by a life coach. She was very inspiring and I always feel uplifted after such talks. But she said something which made me think about my stance on suicide. She was talking about people’s pasts, saying that your past should not hold you back or stop you from trying again and making a success of things in the future. She then said that you have to align your frequency to the plan the universe has set out for you. Now this bit does sound a bit Star Trek but nevertheless her point was valid.
She continued to say that each of us is made happier when we align our actions with our desires, ie, if you want to become a vet, you don’t go to accountancy classes. If you do you’ll be miserable because you’ll be ignoring your inner desire and never allow yourself to work towards that goal. However, if you make the decision to follow the path that has been set out for you, ie, enhance your own abilities in areas you are naturally drawn towards, it will lead to you contributing something worthwhile to the world. If you align your frequency to the path the universe has assigned you, you will be happier.
Then she said that in essence everything is dictated by the universe. None of us would be here if the universe hadn’t allowed it, if life hadn’t been breathed into you. I know this is all a little hairy-fairy but it made me think that perhaps suicide is not my decision to make after all. I’ve been given this life by something else out there. For some that might be god, for others the universe. I have always assumed it is my life force to take and do with as I please, but she made me wonder whether I really have a right to fling it back at the universe when I’m done with it?
I know from my own experiences and how debilitating depression can be that there are those people out there who really can’t hold on any longer. For whom life is just too painful. I also know from a lot of years’ experience that if you hold on for just a bit longer you can often find something worth holding on for. My psychiatrist told me once that these desperate thoughts and feelings are a symptom of bipolar disorder and I will always get better if I give it time. As a symptom of an illness it’s pretty extreme, but he’s right. You get a cold, you’re going to experience the symptoms, that doesn’t mean the cold has to define your actual thoughts and feelings about life. If you’re going through a similar state to the one I’ve described then have faith that in another day or two you will have come through the worst of it.
This is one of those subjects I didn’t really know whether to broach in a blog. I certainly don’t want anyone thinking I advocate the idea, despite me saying I don’t judge those who must be in so much pain they feel they have no choice in the matter. However, it is a subject that, as bipolar sufferers, I suspect we’ve all faced in the past and possibly will do again. I hope that knowing there is someone out there who knows what you’re going through will help at least, and I’d like you to know that having you guys to share with helps me too.
http://www.nytimes.com/2014/04/14/us/suicide-prevention-sheds-a-longstanding-taboo-talking-about-attempts.html?smid=fb-nytimes&WT.z_sma=US_SPS_20140414&bicmp=AD&bicmlukp=WT.mc_id&bicmst=1388552400000&bicmet=1420088400000&_r=3
Last Friday I worked from home (that’s not the upsetting bit. Hold your horses!) and as I’ve explained to you previously, I don’t do well with being on my own for long periods. Even half an hour can be a bit of a stretch if I’m in one of those moods. Anyway, I noticed that as the day went on my thoughts became more and more dark and irrational. At the time they didn’t seem irrational, they seemed like valid worries that might affect the rest of my life, but looking back on them now, I can see that if I’d been able to anchor them just a little bit more in reality it’s possible I might not have got in such a state.
What I mean is, I was thinking about my marriage. Often when I’m down everything that I don’t have in life, everything I want but can’t reach and every reason for not being able to progress with my life falls to restrictions caused by my marriage. I don’t know why this is particularly or even whether there is any validity in it at all, but that’s how I feel when I’m down.
For example, I want to earn a bit more so we can go on holiday and travel. My hubby wants to give up work and start a business which I know we’ll struggle with. It will be stressful and there will be no money for years, if ever. We very rarely want the same things in life. So I think about what life would be like if we weren’t together. I think about moving out. How would I cope? I’d be exhausted, life wouldn’t be good, but then life’s not good now. The more I think about it the more depressed I become. So what’s the alternative? And that’s usually when I think to myself that there is no alternative and I may as well end it all now. You see. Not a very rational argument seeing as lots of people have split or got divorced and they manage somehow. But this is the thinking of someone for whom logic isn’t high on the agenda right now.
You know what scares me most about a suicide attempt? The thought of surviving.
I don’t want to have to go through years more counselling, justifying to everyone why life was just too tiring and altogether too much in that moment and probably always will be. I don’t want to have to explain to anyone I love why they weren’t enough to keep me here when in reality nothing could keep me here. For some of us suicide is an option only in as far as when it will happen, not if it will happen. And I think that’s because for some of us the disorder we carry around in our heads is priming us to self-destruct.
I don’t mean all this to be doom and gloom. It’s hard to discuss this subject without upsetting someone in some way. I‘m just telling you how I see things for me. You may agree, you may not.
Then yesterday I was listening to a lesson run by a life coach. She was very inspiring and I always feel uplifted after such talks. But she said something which made me think about my stance on suicide. She was talking about people’s pasts, saying that your past should not hold you back or stop you from trying again and making a success of things in the future. She then said that you have to align your frequency to the plan the universe has set out for you. Now this bit does sound a bit Star Trek but nevertheless her point was valid.
She continued to say that each of us is made happier when we align our actions with our desires, ie, if you want to become a vet, you don’t go to accountancy classes. If you do you’ll be miserable because you’ll be ignoring your inner desire and never allow yourself to work towards that goal. However, if you make the decision to follow the path that has been set out for you, ie, enhance your own abilities in areas you are naturally drawn towards, it will lead to you contributing something worthwhile to the world. If you align your frequency to the path the universe has assigned you, you will be happier.
Then she said that in essence everything is dictated by the universe. None of us would be here if the universe hadn’t allowed it, if life hadn’t been breathed into you. I know this is all a little hairy-fairy but it made me think that perhaps suicide is not my decision to make after all. I’ve been given this life by something else out there. For some that might be god, for others the universe. I have always assumed it is my life force to take and do with as I please, but she made me wonder whether I really have a right to fling it back at the universe when I’m done with it?
I know from my own experiences and how debilitating depression can be that there are those people out there who really can’t hold on any longer. For whom life is just too painful. I also know from a lot of years’ experience that if you hold on for just a bit longer you can often find something worth holding on for. My psychiatrist told me once that these desperate thoughts and feelings are a symptom of bipolar disorder and I will always get better if I give it time. As a symptom of an illness it’s pretty extreme, but he’s right. You get a cold, you’re going to experience the symptoms, that doesn’t mean the cold has to define your actual thoughts and feelings about life. If you’re going through a similar state to the one I’ve described then have faith that in another day or two you will have come through the worst of it.
This is one of those subjects I didn’t really know whether to broach in a blog. I certainly don’t want anyone thinking I advocate the idea, despite me saying I don’t judge those who must be in so much pain they feel they have no choice in the matter. However, it is a subject that, as bipolar sufferers, I suspect we’ve all faced in the past and possibly will do again. I hope that knowing there is someone out there who knows what you’re going through will help at least, and I’d like you to know that having you guys to share with helps me too.
http://www.nytimes.com/2014/04/14/us/suicide-prevention-sheds-a-longstanding-taboo-talking-about-attempts.html?smid=fb-nytimes&WT.z_sma=US_SPS_20140414&bicmp=AD&bicmlukp=WT.mc_id&bicmst=1388552400000&bicmet=1420088400000&_r=3
Saturday, 16 August 2014
27. Darth And The Deathstar
Last week I talked about needing attention to feel loved and this week I was reminded why, in the world of adults, this is just not something any of us can expect. Firstly, I tried an experiment on Facebook. Each night that I rode home on the train I posted that I was feeling lonely. I wanted to see how many people would respond and to what extent. A bit of a mean experiment, I realise, but I thought that describing myself as lonely was an emotion that implied I was down but not so down that people should worry. On the first day I got no response. I left it a day and then posted the same thing again. Nowt! Not even my sister asked if I was ok. On the third attempt someone ‘liked’ my status! Then I threw a Facebook hissy fit and declared that despite posting three times that I was feeling lonely, I’d had no response and that they were all bastards. I was off to Twitter, I announced. And suddenly there was an outpouring. But not of sympathy or care, mostly a steady stream of sarcasm followed friendly insults. I think I was told to ‘suck it up, Princess’ as well as getting a few ‘What’s up with you?’ comments.
I hoped that perhaps this was a one off but I witnessed the same thing this week in work. My colleague Sandra came back from a few days off sick. She’d had a chest infection and was still struggling with it to the point she was wheezing heavily all the time. At one point in the day she got up to talk to our boss and could only walk very slowly. He watched her coming before commenting ‘Cor, blimey, you couldn’t sneak up on someone, could you? It sounds like Darth Vader’s coming to get me! Are you my father?’ The resulting laughter left her in a worse state and she spent the entire conversation whispering between wheezes. At the end of their short meeting he pointed to her desk and said ‘Off you go. Back to the Deathstar!’ So it would appear I’m not the only one who isn’t getting any sympathy in this world. And I can breathe, so bonus!
I hoped that perhaps this was a one off but I witnessed the same thing this week in work. My colleague Sandra came back from a few days off sick. She’d had a chest infection and was still struggling with it to the point she was wheezing heavily all the time. At one point in the day she got up to talk to our boss and could only walk very slowly. He watched her coming before commenting ‘Cor, blimey, you couldn’t sneak up on someone, could you? It sounds like Darth Vader’s coming to get me! Are you my father?’ The resulting laughter left her in a worse state and she spent the entire conversation whispering between wheezes. At the end of their short meeting he pointed to her desk and said ‘Off you go. Back to the Deathstar!’ So it would appear I’m not the only one who isn’t getting any sympathy in this world. And I can breathe, so bonus!
Saturday, 9 August 2014
26. It's ALL about ME!
I’ve been feeling sorry for myself the last few days, I can tell you. It’s partly to do with this story I’m writing and all the stuff it’s kicking up from my past and partly because I’m still feeling very shaky about things in my personal life and relationship. I’m one of those people who is always looking for the next thing that will make me happy. And that next thing never turns out to be enough. I blame my childhood.
In fact, the more I look back at my past the more I realise just how often I was having episodes which could be attributed to bipolar (although mild, I think they were definitely there, and my husband agrees). I wonder now whether I always had it. This is a big deal for me. I was only diagnosed in my thirties and was happier thinking that it was brought on by my nervous breakdown than I was thinking that I was always a bit defective.
I was a very sensitive child. I could over-empathise to the point of driving myself into a worse state that the person I was empathising with. The thought of global warming turned me into a nervous wreck from the age of 8 onward. I even had suicidal thoughts then. What was the point of carrying on, it seemed, if we were all going to drown, freeze to death or perish under a fireball from the sun?
I had terrible OCDs. I couldn’t fill an ice cube tray with water and put it in the freezer if I’d been thinking about anyone I loved because it would mean their essence would be frozen and they’d be in pain because of me! I was terrified throughout most of my childhood of all the man-made issues in the world, not to mention the issues of abandonment I was dealing with when my parents divorced, the loss of people and things that meant a lot to me, a lack of love from my mother, no guidance of any kind from adults in my life and an inability to talk about my problems when there was no one there to listen anyway. Is it any wonder I turned into a little bag of nuts?
http://www.inforum.com/event/article/id/430212/group/Life/ - Half of all lifetime cases of mental illness begin by 14.
My husband says that my need to be adored and desire to be the centre of attention is due to the bipolar but I’m not so sure. I don’t want to be the centre of attention. Not in the way you’re thinking. Yes, I want to be successful and happy, but in an understated way. I want my talent and what I can do to be recognised.
I think all that stems from being a little girl with no one to give her what she needed. I’ve spent my entire adult life, and continue to spend it, fixing the problems that that life installed in me. I think what he actually means is, it’s very easy to fall into the trap of becoming a little self-absorbed when every day you have to be very aware of your own feelings, thoughts, rationale, and logic in order to assess how well you are.
This is why, when I see others suffering, I feel bad that I am this self-absorbed person, always asking that my needs be met no matter how illogical or outlandish they might be at times. I came into work this morning and my colleague is in a bad way. He seems very stressed and exhausted. Because he’s a work colleague I don’t know him well enough to probe so in a roundabout way of cheering him up I asked him to help me with the new software licensing acronyms that we’re going to add to our asset management system. I’m pleased to announce that we came up with the following, and a job well done I might add:
Ass.LicK - Assigned License Keys
U.Ass.LicK – Unassigned License Keys
SNot.LicK – Secure Notes License Keys
In fact, the more I look back at my past the more I realise just how often I was having episodes which could be attributed to bipolar (although mild, I think they were definitely there, and my husband agrees). I wonder now whether I always had it. This is a big deal for me. I was only diagnosed in my thirties and was happier thinking that it was brought on by my nervous breakdown than I was thinking that I was always a bit defective.
I was a very sensitive child. I could over-empathise to the point of driving myself into a worse state that the person I was empathising with. The thought of global warming turned me into a nervous wreck from the age of 8 onward. I even had suicidal thoughts then. What was the point of carrying on, it seemed, if we were all going to drown, freeze to death or perish under a fireball from the sun?
I had terrible OCDs. I couldn’t fill an ice cube tray with water and put it in the freezer if I’d been thinking about anyone I loved because it would mean their essence would be frozen and they’d be in pain because of me! I was terrified throughout most of my childhood of all the man-made issues in the world, not to mention the issues of abandonment I was dealing with when my parents divorced, the loss of people and things that meant a lot to me, a lack of love from my mother, no guidance of any kind from adults in my life and an inability to talk about my problems when there was no one there to listen anyway. Is it any wonder I turned into a little bag of nuts?
http://www.inforum.com/event/article/id/430212/group/Life/ - Half of all lifetime cases of mental illness begin by 14.
My husband says that my need to be adored and desire to be the centre of attention is due to the bipolar but I’m not so sure. I don’t want to be the centre of attention. Not in the way you’re thinking. Yes, I want to be successful and happy, but in an understated way. I want my talent and what I can do to be recognised.
I think all that stems from being a little girl with no one to give her what she needed. I’ve spent my entire adult life, and continue to spend it, fixing the problems that that life installed in me. I think what he actually means is, it’s very easy to fall into the trap of becoming a little self-absorbed when every day you have to be very aware of your own feelings, thoughts, rationale, and logic in order to assess how well you are.
This is why, when I see others suffering, I feel bad that I am this self-absorbed person, always asking that my needs be met no matter how illogical or outlandish they might be at times. I came into work this morning and my colleague is in a bad way. He seems very stressed and exhausted. Because he’s a work colleague I don’t know him well enough to probe so in a roundabout way of cheering him up I asked him to help me with the new software licensing acronyms that we’re going to add to our asset management system. I’m pleased to announce that we came up with the following, and a job well done I might add:
Ass.LicK - Assigned License Keys
U.Ass.LicK – Unassigned License Keys
SNot.LicK – Secure Notes License Keys
Saturday, 2 August 2014
25. What’s Wrong With Wiping Your Nose On A Nun?
A few people have mentioned to me now how lithium has affected their weight and that they find it harder to lose that weight once it’s on. I don’t know if this is because the medication affects metabolism or perhaps makes you crave certain foods. I know I have recently been told my entire diet revolves around eating sugar. It’s in everything I drink, eat, snort… just kidding. You can’t snort Smarties. I’ve tried. And the doctor has put me on a really strict diet to help reduce my risk of diabetes and other nasty symptoms.
Oh believe me, I fought it. I argued that I get enough exercise jigging about during my manic episodes and that I suffer from rapid cycling, which sounds far too close to a form of exercise for me to want to take part voluntarily.
But I lost that argument. So I’m sitting here typing next to a bowl of something green (that can’t be natural, surely) and the prospect of a dinner of aromatic lentils which even the cat wouldn’t go near the last time I prepared them. I’ll let you know if I actually lose any weight. I’ve been on the diet for nearly 2 weeks now and I complained to my colleague yesterday that I’m sick of eating tasteless salads. He told me that dieting is a journey of discovery. That I should look at it as a way of enhancing my self-discipline (how can you enhance something you never had in the first place?). As far as a journey of discovery goes, I’m quite looking forward to discovering just how many chins nature intended for me to have.
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-2602630/I-pooped-like-freaking-clockwork-What-happened-one-family-went-sugar-free-diet-one-year.html - Check out this article on how one family managed to get through a year on a sugar-free diet.
I’ve also started writing a bit more lately, which is nice. I think. I’ve actually found that when I try to write from the heart I usually end up writing about childhood. I had a rough time as a kid, as do a lot of people. But it would seem that if I start to dig deep it’s always that time that pops up and grabs the pen.
It’s been emotional writing about events I had hoped I’d put behind me but in some ways the fact that I’m an emotional wreck (crying on the train, in the supermarket, on that nun, etc) is good because this time I have a reason for it. You know what it’s like, right? Being down, crying for no reason, feeling like life is just too hard sometimes. And usually that’s all down to the chemicals in your brain. So when you have a REASON for reacting that way, it’s almost comforting! I’ll let you know how it goes. It may be my big break into writing and this time next year I’ll be collecting my BAFTA (I’ve already written my speech. Hey, writer’s write).
Oh believe me, I fought it. I argued that I get enough exercise jigging about during my manic episodes and that I suffer from rapid cycling, which sounds far too close to a form of exercise for me to want to take part voluntarily.
But I lost that argument. So I’m sitting here typing next to a bowl of something green (that can’t be natural, surely) and the prospect of a dinner of aromatic lentils which even the cat wouldn’t go near the last time I prepared them. I’ll let you know if I actually lose any weight. I’ve been on the diet for nearly 2 weeks now and I complained to my colleague yesterday that I’m sick of eating tasteless salads. He told me that dieting is a journey of discovery. That I should look at it as a way of enhancing my self-discipline (how can you enhance something you never had in the first place?). As far as a journey of discovery goes, I’m quite looking forward to discovering just how many chins nature intended for me to have.
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-2602630/I-pooped-like-freaking-clockwork-What-happened-one-family-went-sugar-free-diet-one-year.html - Check out this article on how one family managed to get through a year on a sugar-free diet.
I’ve also started writing a bit more lately, which is nice. I think. I’ve actually found that when I try to write from the heart I usually end up writing about childhood. I had a rough time as a kid, as do a lot of people. But it would seem that if I start to dig deep it’s always that time that pops up and grabs the pen.
It’s been emotional writing about events I had hoped I’d put behind me but in some ways the fact that I’m an emotional wreck (crying on the train, in the supermarket, on that nun, etc) is good because this time I have a reason for it. You know what it’s like, right? Being down, crying for no reason, feeling like life is just too hard sometimes. And usually that’s all down to the chemicals in your brain. So when you have a REASON for reacting that way, it’s almost comforting! I’ll let you know how it goes. It may be my big break into writing and this time next year I’ll be collecting my BAFTA (I’ve already written my speech. Hey, writer’s write).
Saturday, 26 July 2014
24. Feel What's Real
I’ve been going through a stage for some time now where I feel very calm. Overly calm in fact, almost feeling nothing at all at times, but not in a bad way. Not in the way depression robs you of your feelings and leaves you empty. It’s more like I’m happy inside because there’s nothing bothering me, no stress in my life, I’m not worried about any big decisions. This is odd because I do have all of those things to think about but I’m loving the peace this state brings and therefore I don’t want to question it too much.
I confided to my counsellor that despite wiping out all the stresses and strains I usually experience, this state has also robbed me of the feelings I have for my husband and I’ve been doubting whether I should be with him. Since she’s gone through our ups and downs for the last 2 years along with us she reminded me that when my hubby and I are together and working well, we’re VERY good together. I agreed. She then said that it’s difficult to tell what feelings are real when you go through ups and downs in mood on such a frequent basis. I agreed… then burst into tears. Don’t worry, I do that a lot.
She talked me through some of the different moods I end up experiencing thanks to bipolar. There’s this one, where I feel very little but am in an ok state and relatively happy. There’s the one where someone else takes over and I’m not in control, that one I don’t like. There’s the well of depression, which I like even less. There’s the edge of mania where Janice sits, beckoning me to join her. And there’s the actual hypomania. I described that to her in the form of a pizza, ie, if you order a pepperoni pizza from your favourite pizza parlour you’ll get the same thing every time it comes. You order a box of mania and you’re likely to get a new set of gremlins bursting out of it every time. I think she got the idea.
Then she asked me what I thought was really causing me to feel this way about my husband and as is the way when you start talking about something you’re not even conscious of, a lot of stuff came out which surprised me. The upshot was that I was protecting myself.
We’ve been through a lot in the last few years since my diagnosis. I haven’t always felt able to be totally open and honest with him about everything that’s going on with me. Sometimes that’s because I’m protecting myself and other times it’s because I need to protect him. And most of us can say that I expect. Honestly ISN’T always the best policy in my world. If I went around telling everyone I do contract work for that I have bipolar and would really love it if I could get one of my hallucinations to clock in every day when I fancy a day off, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be invited back.
But equally, to not be able to talk about these things makes them seem shameful. As if the disorder we carry around with us and have to deal with every day is ours alone to live with. And even for someone like me, with a loving husband, I still live with it and deal with it, on my own for the most part.
So what am I protecting myself from? Rejection? Pain? Hurt feelings? Someone who I can never expect to fully understand what I deal with every day? I’m pushing him away so that when the day comes that he decides he’s had enough and he can’t take any more bipolar surprises, I won’t have committed my entire being to him. I can walk away knowing that I pulled back before he could and therefore protected myself. And in the meantime I’ll live in a half fulfilling relationship, with a man I only allow myself to get close to when the mood takes me. And I see the flaw in my plan, I really do. But I never said I was good at all this emotional stuff.
My counsellor advised me that this state I’m in now is not one in which I should be making big decisions like filing for divorce or moving to New York to start a new life. She says that my feelings are lying to me. Clouding what’s real. Like depression clouds emotion and only allows the worst through, this state of calmness coupled with my underlying fears about my condition are causing me to question my feelings for my husband.
This is where logic needs to come in. Large decisions require logic and a bit more logic. Because any decision I make now I might regret later on.
Saturday, 19 July 2014
23. The Bi-POscars!
Excellent films which, in my opinion, are about bipolar people:
1. Labyrinth – There’s no doubt that the goblin king has a strange sense of fashion which can only be born of individualism, however, he’s obsessive and goes out of his way to get what he wants, despite the consequences to those around him. Plus, delusional. Hello! In the final scene where Sarah runs to the door of the castle you can clearly see 2 bottles of milk on the doorstep. Now either all those ickle goblins are lactose intolerant or he has severely underestimate the porridge needs of an army. Not even a hazelnut yogurt in sight. And I’m pretty sure he’s prone to mood swings. You can’t tell me that the day after Sarah rejected him he wasn’t slumped in his throne surrounded by empty cartons of Ben & Jerry’s Chunky Monkey.
2. Groundhog Day – Focusing a lot more on the depressive side of bipolar, groundhog day is almost a parody of depression. The same things happen day after day with the monotony of life leading inevitably to bad thoughts about your own existence. It’s only when we change our behaviour, learn from our mistakes and take a positive outlook on life… or a Citalopram… that we can begin to make things better and get ourselves out of the Groundhog Day of our own lives. Did that sound good? Did it?
3. The Incredible Hulk – A seemingly ordinary, intelligent man most days, he tries his best to integrate himself into society by keeping a low profile. He doesn’t advertise his flaws. But oh brother, what flaws! Mood swings, irrational behaviour, destructive tendencies, an inability to communicate feelings effectively. Classic case! Classic. I think I once mentioned in this blog that when I’m down I can’t write. However, never has my vocabulary diminished to the point where ‘Hulk, smash’ was my only outlet. Hey, I guess some have it a lot worse than me.
In fact, proof that if you dig deep enough you can probably make a case for ALL Marvel superheroes showing bipolar tendencies.
Lithium Links
Silver Surfer
The Silver Surfer has got to have something to do with lithium and my guess is he was originally going to call himself ‘Lithium Ion Man’ but Iron Man beat him to it. Grrr!
Irrational Behaviour
Wolverine
We’ve all had days when we feel like ripping someone’s face off for saying the wrong thing and you try to get me to shave my legs on those days… there’s a definite Wolverine element to bipolar is what I’m saying.
Delusional
Superman
Underpants on the OUTSIDE aside. How delusional are you if you think I’m doing YOUR laundry, dude?
So the next time you see one of these films on the shelf and you’re having a shakey day, you just ask yourself ‘Am I supposed to be the nutter here?’ and move on with your head held high, my friend.
If you can think of a fitting film or character for the Bi-POscars Category please comment below but remember to give your reasons. We all want to know! ;0)
Saturday, 12 July 2014
22. Bipolar Super Powers
I’ve been preparing a blog on superheroes lately and it got me thinking. What is your bipolar super-power?
I sometimes think that with all the weird and wonderful symptoms that bipolar gives us, how are we supposed to know which character traits can be attributed to the condition and which are truly us?
I know one thing I’ve worried about losing due to the ups and downs of bipolar is my humour. I think I’m funnier when I’m going through a hypomanic episode but I’m also more anxious with it, making me doubt myself and my ability to be funny. Like I might over-use my funny bone and wear it away.
But what if it’s actually the other way around and I’m only funny during these episodes? Am I living on borrowed funny during the down times? I know when I’m depressed I can’t write for toffee. The words are stunted, they don’t flow and to read my writing back is painful.
I started writing a novel during my worst and longest period of depression. I suffered with depression for years and years to various degrees (before I was being treated with lithium). The novel was about life in limbo, about a woman who works in admin processing people’s applications into heaven. I struggled on with this novel because I thought it had a lot of potential but nothing I did made it flow or made the funny drip out onto the page. I realised after many years of trying and retrying that actually there was no point in trying to be creative during that time. That the reason I could only write about dead people is because I was feeling dead inside. They say ‘write what you know’ but I didn’t realise just how much I was taking that sentiment to heart.
If you asked superman, 'What would life be like if you lost your ability to fly?' The first thing he’d think of would be that he wouldn’t be able to save people, and that would be disastrous for a man with so much responsibility on his shoulders. Then he’d probably wonder how he’d get around quickly during rush hour and finally he might think ‘wouldn’t that be nice?’ To be normal for a while. To lose the pressure of responsibility that flying brings.
So is my Bipolar superpower my humour? Does it get me through the highs with flair? I don’t know. Maybe I was born to want to make people snigger but equally, if you were to take away the bipolar in me, what else would I lose that I cherish? That being said, I’m sure that relying on Christmas cracker jokes to make up my repertoire in exchange for a normal, calm life wouldn’t be the worst fate either!
I sometimes think that with all the weird and wonderful symptoms that bipolar gives us, how are we supposed to know which character traits can be attributed to the condition and which are truly us?
I know one thing I’ve worried about losing due to the ups and downs of bipolar is my humour. I think I’m funnier when I’m going through a hypomanic episode but I’m also more anxious with it, making me doubt myself and my ability to be funny. Like I might over-use my funny bone and wear it away.
But what if it’s actually the other way around and I’m only funny during these episodes? Am I living on borrowed funny during the down times? I know when I’m depressed I can’t write for toffee. The words are stunted, they don’t flow and to read my writing back is painful.
I started writing a novel during my worst and longest period of depression. I suffered with depression for years and years to various degrees (before I was being treated with lithium). The novel was about life in limbo, about a woman who works in admin processing people’s applications into heaven. I struggled on with this novel because I thought it had a lot of potential but nothing I did made it flow or made the funny drip out onto the page. I realised after many years of trying and retrying that actually there was no point in trying to be creative during that time. That the reason I could only write about dead people is because I was feeling dead inside. They say ‘write what you know’ but I didn’t realise just how much I was taking that sentiment to heart.
If you asked superman, 'What would life be like if you lost your ability to fly?' The first thing he’d think of would be that he wouldn’t be able to save people, and that would be disastrous for a man with so much responsibility on his shoulders. Then he’d probably wonder how he’d get around quickly during rush hour and finally he might think ‘wouldn’t that be nice?’ To be normal for a while. To lose the pressure of responsibility that flying brings.
So is my Bipolar superpower my humour? Does it get me through the highs with flair? I don’t know. Maybe I was born to want to make people snigger but equally, if you were to take away the bipolar in me, what else would I lose that I cherish? That being said, I’m sure that relying on Christmas cracker jokes to make up my repertoire in exchange for a normal, calm life wouldn’t be the worst fate either!
Saturday, 5 July 2014
21. Over The Bills And Dales
Wandering into Lynmouth the next day we were still smarting a little from the bill we’d received from the art gallery trying desperately to justify it by reminding ourselves that we haven’t had a holiday or weekend off in over a year.
On our way down the hill from our hotel we noticed a sign for another hotel, tucked away in the woods like a little fairy-tale cottage. It looked lovely so I suggested we walk down the long, winding, tree-lined road to the hotel and check it out for our next visit. Half way down the lane it turned cold under the shadow of the leafy trees and it started to feel as though we’d walked out of our own space and time and into a creepy fairy tale. To get to the cottage you had to follow a path which descended into the woods and the closer you got to the building the more it loomed above you. It was looking less like a cottage and more like a small castle by the time we reached it. Turrets strutted out from its rooftops and inside we could see grandly decorated veneered fireplaces surrounded by plush high backed chairs and shelves of old books.
We wandered to the front of the building where a balcony overlooked the hillside down to the sea and that’s when it happened. The large door to the castle opened slowly and with a loud and ominous creek. Both my hubby and I turned to see someone peering at us through the dark crack in the door.
‘You rang?’
I swear to God that’s what he said!
‘I’m sorry?’ I asked.
‘You rang for cream teas?’
‘Oh. No, we’re just looking around,’ I said and we both stood in silence as the large door creaked to a close again.
My husband turned to me and said ‘Welcoming.’
We practically ran back up the road to civilisation, all the way joking that the man’s mother would have asked him to invite the nice people in and put them up in the guest wing but that she’d turn out to be just a voice in his head because she’d actually died 50 years ago. And not like the nice voices in my head that encourage me to buy ice creams and giggle when people trip. She’d be the kind that makes him feel bad about standing over your bed at night watching you sleep, as he tries to hold himself back from touching you!
When we made it back to our own century we eventually happened across a small combined pottery studio and artists workshop. We went inside, weary from our short walk down a bit of a hill (what? We’re on holiday). And inside were some more beautiful things! Paintings of spitfires, boats, landscapes, animals. A whole variety all in different styles and then I realised that a picture of a hare with the most amazing expression on its face was one I recognised from the gallery we’d been in the day before. In fact it was probably the ONLY picture I didn’t buy, even though I wanted to.
The name of the artist was Dale Bowen and looking over at the artist at the workbench I said ‘I love this guy. We just bought some of his work in Linton.’
The artist mumbled something I didn’t really hear and so I carried on, as I do.
‘I like his pictures of rams in spaceships.’ What? I do! Art is subjective, people.
‘Yeah, that’s me,’ he mumbled a bit more clearly this time.
‘Say what now?’
‘That’s me. I’m Dale.’
… silence… awe… shock…
And then it was like meeting three people all in one body. He was Billy Connelly, mixed with some bloke from Stoke on Trent mixed with Michael MacIntyre. He wasn’t just A character, he was several characters. All of whom were very nice guys.
He showed us his work from when he was working for Wedgewood and when we told him we have family in Portsmouth he proceeded to tell us about the time he was asked to make and decorate a plaque for the Battle of Trafalgar 200 years celebrations at Portsmouth Naval Museum. The plaque was to be presented to her Majesty The Queen onboard HMS Victory. He was allowed to bring the plaque in and set it but was then escorted off the base by two burly sailors. The rest of the story mostly involved being in the pub while he waited for his train and being bought pints by all the nice people he met there.
Once my hubby told him he’d owned a bike shop they were both happy as Larry comparing bikes and stories of riding trips. It was, all in all, a very pleasant afternoon and I was sad to leave. Of course I did buy the hare picture and Dale kindly signed a card for me which had his ‘Through The Treetops’ picture on the front. He even drew a pom pom fuzzy creature on it for me. I was chuffed.
Meeting Dale made my entire weekend. I know, it was a close call between him and Mr No Pants, but I think Dale just inched it… euw, I think I’m going to rethink that line.
On our way down the hill from our hotel we noticed a sign for another hotel, tucked away in the woods like a little fairy-tale cottage. It looked lovely so I suggested we walk down the long, winding, tree-lined road to the hotel and check it out for our next visit. Half way down the lane it turned cold under the shadow of the leafy trees and it started to feel as though we’d walked out of our own space and time and into a creepy fairy tale. To get to the cottage you had to follow a path which descended into the woods and the closer you got to the building the more it loomed above you. It was looking less like a cottage and more like a small castle by the time we reached it. Turrets strutted out from its rooftops and inside we could see grandly decorated veneered fireplaces surrounded by plush high backed chairs and shelves of old books.
We wandered to the front of the building where a balcony overlooked the hillside down to the sea and that’s when it happened. The large door to the castle opened slowly and with a loud and ominous creek. Both my hubby and I turned to see someone peering at us through the dark crack in the door.
‘You rang?’
I swear to God that’s what he said!
‘I’m sorry?’ I asked.
‘You rang for cream teas?’
‘Oh. No, we’re just looking around,’ I said and we both stood in silence as the large door creaked to a close again.
My husband turned to me and said ‘Welcoming.’
We practically ran back up the road to civilisation, all the way joking that the man’s mother would have asked him to invite the nice people in and put them up in the guest wing but that she’d turn out to be just a voice in his head because she’d actually died 50 years ago. And not like the nice voices in my head that encourage me to buy ice creams and giggle when people trip. She’d be the kind that makes him feel bad about standing over your bed at night watching you sleep, as he tries to hold himself back from touching you!
When we made it back to our own century we eventually happened across a small combined pottery studio and artists workshop. We went inside, weary from our short walk down a bit of a hill (what? We’re on holiday). And inside were some more beautiful things! Paintings of spitfires, boats, landscapes, animals. A whole variety all in different styles and then I realised that a picture of a hare with the most amazing expression on its face was one I recognised from the gallery we’d been in the day before. In fact it was probably the ONLY picture I didn’t buy, even though I wanted to.
The name of the artist was Dale Bowen and looking over at the artist at the workbench I said ‘I love this guy. We just bought some of his work in Linton.’
The artist mumbled something I didn’t really hear and so I carried on, as I do.
‘I like his pictures of rams in spaceships.’ What? I do! Art is subjective, people.
‘Yeah, that’s me,’ he mumbled a bit more clearly this time.
‘Say what now?’
‘That’s me. I’m Dale.’
… silence… awe… shock…
And then it was like meeting three people all in one body. He was Billy Connelly, mixed with some bloke from Stoke on Trent mixed with Michael MacIntyre. He wasn’t just A character, he was several characters. All of whom were very nice guys.
He showed us his work from when he was working for Wedgewood and when we told him we have family in Portsmouth he proceeded to tell us about the time he was asked to make and decorate a plaque for the Battle of Trafalgar 200 years celebrations at Portsmouth Naval Museum. The plaque was to be presented to her Majesty The Queen onboard HMS Victory. He was allowed to bring the plaque in and set it but was then escorted off the base by two burly sailors. The rest of the story mostly involved being in the pub while he waited for his train and being bought pints by all the nice people he met there.
Once my hubby told him he’d owned a bike shop they were both happy as Larry comparing bikes and stories of riding trips. It was, all in all, a very pleasant afternoon and I was sad to leave. Of course I did buy the hare picture and Dale kindly signed a card for me which had his ‘Through The Treetops’ picture on the front. He even drew a pom pom fuzzy creature on it for me. I was chuffed.
Meeting Dale made my entire weekend. I know, it was a close call between him and Mr No Pants, but I think Dale just inched it… euw, I think I’m going to rethink that line.
Saturday, 28 June 2014
20. Mr Starey And The Case Of The Missing Pants
My hubby has decided that we need a break (a holiday break, not an ‘I’m leaving and I’m taking the hamster’ break) and so he has booked a weekend away for us in Devon. Now I’m quite geographically challenged so if the place I describe sounds more like Weymouth, don’t be surprised.
We decided that Linton was the place for us. We’ve been before, about twelve years ago and loved it, partly because it’s sleepy and relaxing out of season and partly because it has a fantastic art gallery which very kindly takes lots of money off of us in exchange for beautiful things which would be pointless in a flood. Not sure why that’s relevant but my thinking is that sometimes you have to have beautiful things in your life, even if using them for kindling in an apocalyptic situation might break your heart. I guess it’s them or the cat and I’m not sure the cat would make good kindling. If you ate a cat would it taste like Whiskas? Just a thought.
Anyway, Linton is a great place. It’s a secret St Ives in my opinion. Years ago St Ives was a place artistic types could go to be inspired by the sea, make pottery and remain drunk or stoned throughout high season with everyone else being far too busy to notice. I’d say that between 50-75% of the business owners, artists and residents that we met in Linton fell within the category ‘child of the sixties’. I’m not sure I had an entirely sensible conversation with a single one of them.
The hotel played awful fifties music at breakfast which was, thankfully, the only time we were there to endure it. I honestly believe that songs with the words ‘Gee’ and ‘Whizz’ should probably be reclassified as offensive and never played again except by old people, in their own kitchens, at home. If grandkids call round there must be a strong cease and desist policy lest they be charged with child abuse and if the neighbours can hear it because the oldies have their back door ajar, a complaint should be sent to the council and the couple considered for immediate eviction.
It was worse than when we went to Bulgaria around 10 years ago. There they played Eminem morning noon and night. Eminem at breakfast. Eminem at dinner. Eminem in the lifts. Eminem in the public loo. I’m not sure if he was paying them or they were paying him but there was some sort of underhanded deal going on.
We quickly found the gallery we love and decided, as you do, that we were only going to look this time and if we bought something it would be one picture at a sensible price. Two hours later we found ourselves shoe-horning 4 extremely large pictures into my Toyota Aygo which has a boot the size of a postage stamp. We considered we may have to leave the suitcases behind but I can buy clothes anywhere. This is ART!
The first evening there we booked into a Spanish restaurant which had about 7 tables squeezed into it. The buzz of the place was nice but when you’re sitting elbow to elbow with people you’ve got to hope they’ll be nice, normal folks.
To my left I had a man who wouldn’t stop staring at me the entire night. I don’t think he was looking at anything in particular, he just seemed to want to peer into my soul and choke it to death with his cold, dead eyes - that’s all.
To my right was a man wearing flesh coloured trousers and a red jumper, which was equally as disturbing as Mr Starey simply because whenever I caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of my eye, it looked as if he was wearing nothing BUT a red jumper. I kept wanting him to get up so I could wipe the seat down.
As the night went on Mr Starey proceeded to develop a cold or perhaps an allergy to sanity and sneezed loudly into his own hand on several occasions. This wasn’t so bad because it did mean he had to take his eyes off me while he wiped said hand on his khakis. Relief from one awful habit was followed only by the taste of my own sick as another revealed itself.
The food was actually very nice. We had a selection of tapas. Meatballs, lemon prawns, crostini, pork skewers and olives. All of which were lovely. The lemon prawns in particular reminded me of those wipes you used to get in a small metallic wrapper. You take them out, wipe your hands and invariably somehow get the taste of lemon soap in your mouth. Yes, very reminiscent of flights to Amsterdam.
End of day one.
Saturday, 21 June 2014
19. Hanging On By Ones Fingertips
Today I was reminded just how easy it is to feel as if your whole world is falling apart. Yes, another one of the many fun and fabulous side effects of bipolar Type 2.
Last night my husband and I had a row. Not a big one. Nothing was thrown, ripped or left in a shape different to the one it had before the row started. You know you’ve thrown one too many hissy fits when you lob something across the room in a rage and not even the cat flinches. One thing that did happen was, my husband mentioned he thought I was going to leave him. And the thought of that scenario didn’t scare me. Which scared me.
I spent the whole following morning in a bit of a flap. Did I want to stay? Could I move out? Where would I go? What about my job? I looked at flats briefly on the internet, not sure what I’d be able to afford. Then the panic seeped out onto Facebook and I started showing a few manic signs. My posts became a little strange rather than the funny I was going for. The thought of finding another husband who would put up with the sort of things mine does seemed impossible which led me to feel even more desperate. Was it really worth carrying on at all, I wondered.
I was so concerned with sorting myself out a new life plan that I didn’t notice my phone ringing at lunchtime. When I finally picked it up it was my hubby calling to tell me he’d booked us a weekend away. And it dawned on me that I was leaving, but I wasn’t leaving without him. And suddenly life calmed down again. The bubbling stress that clouded my vision slowly dissipated and everything began to return to normal.
The moral of the story? When you’re arguing with someone with bipolar don’t deviate from the current reality. If you do you may find you come home from work one day to find your wife has moved out and taken ALL the cutlery, except the spoons!
Last night my husband and I had a row. Not a big one. Nothing was thrown, ripped or left in a shape different to the one it had before the row started. You know you’ve thrown one too many hissy fits when you lob something across the room in a rage and not even the cat flinches. One thing that did happen was, my husband mentioned he thought I was going to leave him. And the thought of that scenario didn’t scare me. Which scared me.
I spent the whole following morning in a bit of a flap. Did I want to stay? Could I move out? Where would I go? What about my job? I looked at flats briefly on the internet, not sure what I’d be able to afford. Then the panic seeped out onto Facebook and I started showing a few manic signs. My posts became a little strange rather than the funny I was going for. The thought of finding another husband who would put up with the sort of things mine does seemed impossible which led me to feel even more desperate. Was it really worth carrying on at all, I wondered.
I was so concerned with sorting myself out a new life plan that I didn’t notice my phone ringing at lunchtime. When I finally picked it up it was my hubby calling to tell me he’d booked us a weekend away. And it dawned on me that I was leaving, but I wasn’t leaving without him. And suddenly life calmed down again. The bubbling stress that clouded my vision slowly dissipated and everything began to return to normal.
The moral of the story? When you’re arguing with someone with bipolar don’t deviate from the current reality. If you do you may find you come home from work one day to find your wife has moved out and taken ALL the cutlery, except the spoons!
Saturday, 14 June 2014
18. Just Who’s In Charge Here?!
Apart from finding myself in situations where I’ve given in to my irrational feelings and behaviours, I also find it very difficult to figure out who, or what, is making the decisions in my life sometimes.
The most recent example I can think of is my last contract. The one at the IT company came to an end recently. That was the one where I dared to call 2 of my team mates old women when the workload got a bit frantic and they started flapping about one week. I politely advised them to join the Women’s Institute, and was never able to live it down with the rest of the team. From then on, every time I received an email request for software it would usually be accompanied by an order for raspberry jam. Anyway, before my contract actually ended they offered me a job... and a scone.
All the while they were talking about the job I was very excited and determined I was going to take it when they made the offer official. My hubby kept telling me to consider my options and think about the benefits of contracting and how much I like the freedom of it, but I told him this was a great IT company and it would stand me in good stead for the rest of my career if I took the job.
Then they actually offered it to me and I suddenly felt bored by the whole thing. I couldn’t be bothered to read the spec, stopped trying too hard, lost my motivation and eventually decided I really didn’t want the job at all. By which time my hubby was trying to convince me to take it because a week ago I’d been extoling the virtues of a career with a steady pay cheque. Poor guy doesn’t know whether he’s coming or going.
It’s this massive swing in opinion, desire, direction, call it what you want, that drives him a little potty. He never knows which me is talking or when the scenery might change. Can you imagine decorating a room with me? You’d start in pink only to find me crying on the stairs because ‘when I said pink I wanted yellow.’ How does anyone stand a chance?
How can you ever be sure that your decision isn’t based on a dip in mood or the fact you forgot to take your pills yesterday or even a bad night’s sleep? And if I can’t answer that, being the one who experiences these swings, how can I expect anyone else to? My counsellor (yes I’m lucky enough to have access to one) told me that when I’m going through an episode of any sort I need to use my feelings to direct me, but not in the actual decision making process. What she was explaining was that it’s useful to analyse your feelings and moods, decide whether you feel you’re in a rational or clear frame of mind based on those feelings and then decide whether now is even the right time for you to be making any large decisions. If you feel you’re capable of making one you won’t regret then you should include logical thought and facts in the decision making process and not let your emotions lead you entirely.
I should think that a lot of us will find it hard to fight the impulses that bipolar sends to our brains but what she is also advising is that we slow down and take our time over decisions. This is good advice I feel. Whether I can do it or not is down to me and the discipline I will need to muster.
My manager once said to me that when dealing with a bully you have to stay calm and outwit them. Bullies work on emotion. Their arguments are based on it and therefore logic doesn’t come into their thinking. This struck a chord with me. Not that I class myself as a bully, but the thought that irrational and aggressive behaviour is born of emotion makes total sense. Emotion has no tether after all, no desire other than to be calmed and the only way to do that is to reason with it.
So there you go. Reason with emotion.
Good luck with THAT!
The most recent example I can think of is my last contract. The one at the IT company came to an end recently. That was the one where I dared to call 2 of my team mates old women when the workload got a bit frantic and they started flapping about one week. I politely advised them to join the Women’s Institute, and was never able to live it down with the rest of the team. From then on, every time I received an email request for software it would usually be accompanied by an order for raspberry jam. Anyway, before my contract actually ended they offered me a job... and a scone.
All the while they were talking about the job I was very excited and determined I was going to take it when they made the offer official. My hubby kept telling me to consider my options and think about the benefits of contracting and how much I like the freedom of it, but I told him this was a great IT company and it would stand me in good stead for the rest of my career if I took the job.
Then they actually offered it to me and I suddenly felt bored by the whole thing. I couldn’t be bothered to read the spec, stopped trying too hard, lost my motivation and eventually decided I really didn’t want the job at all. By which time my hubby was trying to convince me to take it because a week ago I’d been extoling the virtues of a career with a steady pay cheque. Poor guy doesn’t know whether he’s coming or going.
It’s this massive swing in opinion, desire, direction, call it what you want, that drives him a little potty. He never knows which me is talking or when the scenery might change. Can you imagine decorating a room with me? You’d start in pink only to find me crying on the stairs because ‘when I said pink I wanted yellow.’ How does anyone stand a chance?
How can you ever be sure that your decision isn’t based on a dip in mood or the fact you forgot to take your pills yesterday or even a bad night’s sleep? And if I can’t answer that, being the one who experiences these swings, how can I expect anyone else to? My counsellor (yes I’m lucky enough to have access to one) told me that when I’m going through an episode of any sort I need to use my feelings to direct me, but not in the actual decision making process. What she was explaining was that it’s useful to analyse your feelings and moods, decide whether you feel you’re in a rational or clear frame of mind based on those feelings and then decide whether now is even the right time for you to be making any large decisions. If you feel you’re capable of making one you won’t regret then you should include logical thought and facts in the decision making process and not let your emotions lead you entirely.
I should think that a lot of us will find it hard to fight the impulses that bipolar sends to our brains but what she is also advising is that we slow down and take our time over decisions. This is good advice I feel. Whether I can do it or not is down to me and the discipline I will need to muster.
My manager once said to me that when dealing with a bully you have to stay calm and outwit them. Bullies work on emotion. Their arguments are based on it and therefore logic doesn’t come into their thinking. This struck a chord with me. Not that I class myself as a bully, but the thought that irrational and aggressive behaviour is born of emotion makes total sense. Emotion has no tether after all, no desire other than to be calmed and the only way to do that is to reason with it.
So there you go. Reason with emotion.
Good luck with THAT!
Saturday, 7 June 2014
17. Irrational? Me?! Screw you... Nan!!
They say that both bipolar type 1 and 2 are synonymous with irrational behaviour and feelings. I know the most common feeling I experience which is highly irrational is loneliness. I can be on a crowded train, surrounded by people and feeling happy one minute. The next minute I’ll feel I have to reach out to somebody right now or I might die of the desperate feeling that’s just slammed into me. The loneliness feels as if it’s eating me from the inside out and I know it’s irrational even when it’s happening, even when I’m desperately checking Facebook for the ten thousandth time for a comment or a sign that someone is online to talk to.
Most recently I’ve been chatting via text to a friend of mine every day. We discuss creative things we both like, writing, photography, websites, films etc. This week he told me he was going away for 2 days. He was taking his phone, he could still text but he wasn’t going to be in the place that I always imagine him when he usually texts me, he was going to be miles away. We’ve gone long periods without talking before but once I knew he was going away up North I suddenly felt extremely lonely, when in reality nothing was going to be any different.
I think this is a throw-back to the days when I was constantly depressed. I suffered due to the feeling of loneliness then too. I remember once being at a cocktail party (it wasn’t a posh one, it was one where everyone ended up showing their knickers at the end of the night). At one point I looked around and I wondered if everyone there was pretending too, if the happiness and the smiles were all plastered on, just like mine. And I felt incredibly lonely in that room full of friends.
I think what bothers me is that when I get two seconds of peace from my ever churning and changing emotions I realise that there’s no way I want to be like this. Those moments of peace are like waking from a bad dream in which all irrational feelings and odd behaviours have seemed entirely normal. It’s only upon waking from it that you realise they are far from normal, but by then you’ve probably lost a friend or two or become obsessive to the point you’ve driven someone away.
I wouldn’t mind if the doctors could tell you what’s going on in your own brain. Why it’s backfiring and conspiring against you to make you unsociable and odd to the extreme. But they can’t. They tell me it’s a chemical imbalance but they don’t even know which chemicals are playing see-saw in my brain.
So if pumping 1 in every 100 people full of battery components does the trick most of the time I guess we have to go along with it. I love the lithium and the effect it has on my tired yet busy brain. But just like the symptoms it aims to control, I find I’m totally at its mercy.
I often find I become more than a little fixated on things. I look to Facebook one hundred times a day for someone to reach out to and when I’m met with the standard ‘Like’ in response to my posts I find myself feeling even more desperate and alone.
What I want to write:
“Do you ever hate your life so much you can feel it crushing your chest? Have you ever felt so lonely you think you’re going to drown in sadness? Do you feel as if your insides are empty of everything except liquid pain sloshing about in the gaps between your ribs? No. Me neither (except I do really).”
What I actually write:
(Post a picture of me looking happy with my family).
“You can tell we’re related by the genetic uni-brow.”
I usually try to make the posts I write funny, but at times they hide what I’m really trying to say which is ‘I’m drowning here. I need someone to reach out and save me.’ The funnier the posts, the more frequent, the more I’ll find I’m flailing and the more dependent I become on nothing more than a networking site to quell my loneliness. And so today I wrote this note to Facebook as a way of trying to break my dependency.
“You know what, Facebook? We’ve had some great times together. No, some AMAZING times. Remember the time you posted a picture of a seagull dive-bombing me on the beach in Spain and me and my friends all laughed and laughed? Ahh, good times.
“The trouble is that just lately I keep feeling like our relationship is taking a lot of effort. And I feel as though I’m the one putting in all the work, if I’m honest.
“I hate to tell you this, but I’ve started using Blogger. I’m sorry, I can see the pain on your face… book. The thing is, it just feels so easy. No short, stunted sentences or awkward jokes. I don’t have to hide behind the laughs and I don’t have to check in monotonously. Blogger just lets me talk and talk and be myself and when we’re done I just walk away. Sometimes for days.
“So I guess what I’m trying to say is… I think we need some space. I need to get my head straight. Stop looking so hurt. I know you see other people. The evidence is there for all to see, so don’t bother denying it.
“It’s over, ok? I’m sorry, but we’re done. At least until Friday when I’ll undoubtedly weaken after a glass of wine and pine for the length of your timeline like I always do.
“Just know that no matter what happens from here on in, I’ll always love you.”
Most recently I’ve been chatting via text to a friend of mine every day. We discuss creative things we both like, writing, photography, websites, films etc. This week he told me he was going away for 2 days. He was taking his phone, he could still text but he wasn’t going to be in the place that I always imagine him when he usually texts me, he was going to be miles away. We’ve gone long periods without talking before but once I knew he was going away up North I suddenly felt extremely lonely, when in reality nothing was going to be any different.
I think this is a throw-back to the days when I was constantly depressed. I suffered due to the feeling of loneliness then too. I remember once being at a cocktail party (it wasn’t a posh one, it was one where everyone ended up showing their knickers at the end of the night). At one point I looked around and I wondered if everyone there was pretending too, if the happiness and the smiles were all plastered on, just like mine. And I felt incredibly lonely in that room full of friends.
I think what bothers me is that when I get two seconds of peace from my ever churning and changing emotions I realise that there’s no way I want to be like this. Those moments of peace are like waking from a bad dream in which all irrational feelings and odd behaviours have seemed entirely normal. It’s only upon waking from it that you realise they are far from normal, but by then you’ve probably lost a friend or two or become obsessive to the point you’ve driven someone away.
I wouldn’t mind if the doctors could tell you what’s going on in your own brain. Why it’s backfiring and conspiring against you to make you unsociable and odd to the extreme. But they can’t. They tell me it’s a chemical imbalance but they don’t even know which chemicals are playing see-saw in my brain.
So if pumping 1 in every 100 people full of battery components does the trick most of the time I guess we have to go along with it. I love the lithium and the effect it has on my tired yet busy brain. But just like the symptoms it aims to control, I find I’m totally at its mercy.
I often find I become more than a little fixated on things. I look to Facebook one hundred times a day for someone to reach out to and when I’m met with the standard ‘Like’ in response to my posts I find myself feeling even more desperate and alone.
What I want to write:
“Do you ever hate your life so much you can feel it crushing your chest? Have you ever felt so lonely you think you’re going to drown in sadness? Do you feel as if your insides are empty of everything except liquid pain sloshing about in the gaps between your ribs? No. Me neither (except I do really).”
What I actually write:
(Post a picture of me looking happy with my family).
“You can tell we’re related by the genetic uni-brow.”
I usually try to make the posts I write funny, but at times they hide what I’m really trying to say which is ‘I’m drowning here. I need someone to reach out and save me.’ The funnier the posts, the more frequent, the more I’ll find I’m flailing and the more dependent I become on nothing more than a networking site to quell my loneliness. And so today I wrote this note to Facebook as a way of trying to break my dependency.
“You know what, Facebook? We’ve had some great times together. No, some AMAZING times. Remember the time you posted a picture of a seagull dive-bombing me on the beach in Spain and me and my friends all laughed and laughed? Ahh, good times.
“The trouble is that just lately I keep feeling like our relationship is taking a lot of effort. And I feel as though I’m the one putting in all the work, if I’m honest.
“I hate to tell you this, but I’ve started using Blogger. I’m sorry, I can see the pain on your face… book. The thing is, it just feels so easy. No short, stunted sentences or awkward jokes. I don’t have to hide behind the laughs and I don’t have to check in monotonously. Blogger just lets me talk and talk and be myself and when we’re done I just walk away. Sometimes for days.
“So I guess what I’m trying to say is… I think we need some space. I need to get my head straight. Stop looking so hurt. I know you see other people. The evidence is there for all to see, so don’t bother denying it.
“It’s over, ok? I’m sorry, but we’re done. At least until Friday when I’ll undoubtedly weaken after a glass of wine and pine for the length of your timeline like I always do.
“Just know that no matter what happens from here on in, I’ll always love you.”
Saturday, 31 May 2014
16. Review of Mood Diary Apps
Ok, I know I work in IT but it would seem I just can't make this post work. I hang my head in shame!
Here's a link to the same article on Wordpress. Don't judge me! I hope you enjoy it either way.
Elle, x
http://myfamilyandjanice.wordpress.com/2014/05/31/16-review-of-m…ps-for-android/
Here's a link to the same article on Wordpress. Don't judge me! I hope you enjoy it either way.
Elle, x
http://myfamilyandjanice.wordpress.com/2014/05/31/16-review-of-m…ps-for-android/
Saturday, 24 May 2014
15. Alcohol And Take Aways...Mmm
As a continuation of last week’s blog here are some things I’ve found which have helped me to create a little bit of calm in my BPD teacup since diagnosis.
I’m not putting these things down on paper to try to guilt anyone else into doing something that doesn’t sit well with them. I’m just trying to let you know that these things work for me and therefore they might work for you if you fancy trying them.
My first line ‘Follow a bit of a routine’ might horrify some of you. The thought of it horrifies me. I’m a free spirit. Wild and young(ish) and I don’t want to be bogged down by routines and boring schedules. But I have discovered you can have a ‘bit’ of a routine which satisfies the disorders needs but still gives you freedom to live your life the way you want to. So bear that in mind before you storm out of my blog having decided I must have a stick up my bottom. I can assure, you that’s something I save for the weekends.
Follow a bit of a routine – It doesn’t have to be set in stone but it does help. Go to bed at a set time and plan to get 8 hours of sleep a night. A routine involving bath and bed, aromatherapy, or something relaxing and pampering like moisturising will help you feel as if you’re doing something for you, rather than getting an early night just so work comes around quicker!
Avoid alcohol as often as possible – Obviously you don’t want to offend by not toasting the bride but equally going on a vodka-laced bender over the weekend isn’t likely to make you feel on top of the world afterward.
Caffeine – I’ve found I’m surprisingly sensitive to caffeine and if I drink it after midday I won’t sleep and quite often feel anxious all day. If you get jittery periods try limiting your caffeine intake to the mornings for a week and see if it makes any difference.
Diet – Take a look at what you eat. We’re all guilty of eating fast food, packet meals, ready-made goodies and sweets for energy but you may find that all the hidden additives and sugars are playing havoc with your mood and ability to relax. Plus you really don’t know what it’s doing to your physical health. I once had a cold for two and a half months! It would NOT go away. I changed my diet and hey presto… well, it turned into a chest infection. But after THAT, I was good.
Exercise – This doesn’t have to be blood pounding, run a marathon, Kung Fu kick your way out of a drug fuelled district of LA with Jackie Chan behind you, style exercise. Yoga can be incredibly relaxing while toning and tightening the muscles. Most yoga classes will tag on a period of meditation to the end too, which is great for the soul. And it’s funny to hear people snoring when they drop off. I’ve seen young and old do yoga and I’d say the hardest thing about it is stopping yourself from giggling when someone accidently lets one rip.
http://authentichappiness4live.wordpress.com/2014/03/11/does-exercising-make-us-happier/
Doctors – Keep your appointments and, if you can, keep a mood diary. I’m not great at taking my own advice here but it is a great way for a doctor, who may only see you for 10 minutes every 3 to 6 months to know what’s been going on with you. Only you know how you feel and if you feel the doc is downplaying something, push a bit harder to get a response that satisfies or take someone with you who will push for you when you’re just not feeling up to it.
Caregivers – When you, as a bipolar sufferer, are feeling well it’s a good idea to turn to your caregiver and make sure they are looking after themself too. Most of us only have 1 person we rely on heavily and that person often has to neglect their own needs to help us with ours, which can be stressful for them. It doesn’t hurt to make sure they know how much you love them for the things they do.
What works for you? Please let us know in the comments section.
Next week I’ll be reviewing mood diary apps.
I’m not putting these things down on paper to try to guilt anyone else into doing something that doesn’t sit well with them. I’m just trying to let you know that these things work for me and therefore they might work for you if you fancy trying them.
My first line ‘Follow a bit of a routine’ might horrify some of you. The thought of it horrifies me. I’m a free spirit. Wild and young(ish) and I don’t want to be bogged down by routines and boring schedules. But I have discovered you can have a ‘bit’ of a routine which satisfies the disorders needs but still gives you freedom to live your life the way you want to. So bear that in mind before you storm out of my blog having decided I must have a stick up my bottom. I can assure, you that’s something I save for the weekends.
Follow a bit of a routine – It doesn’t have to be set in stone but it does help. Go to bed at a set time and plan to get 8 hours of sleep a night. A routine involving bath and bed, aromatherapy, or something relaxing and pampering like moisturising will help you feel as if you’re doing something for you, rather than getting an early night just so work comes around quicker!
Avoid alcohol as often as possible – Obviously you don’t want to offend by not toasting the bride but equally going on a vodka-laced bender over the weekend isn’t likely to make you feel on top of the world afterward.
Caffeine – I’ve found I’m surprisingly sensitive to caffeine and if I drink it after midday I won’t sleep and quite often feel anxious all day. If you get jittery periods try limiting your caffeine intake to the mornings for a week and see if it makes any difference.
Diet – Take a look at what you eat. We’re all guilty of eating fast food, packet meals, ready-made goodies and sweets for energy but you may find that all the hidden additives and sugars are playing havoc with your mood and ability to relax. Plus you really don’t know what it’s doing to your physical health. I once had a cold for two and a half months! It would NOT go away. I changed my diet and hey presto… well, it turned into a chest infection. But after THAT, I was good.
Exercise – This doesn’t have to be blood pounding, run a marathon, Kung Fu kick your way out of a drug fuelled district of LA with Jackie Chan behind you, style exercise. Yoga can be incredibly relaxing while toning and tightening the muscles. Most yoga classes will tag on a period of meditation to the end too, which is great for the soul. And it’s funny to hear people snoring when they drop off. I’ve seen young and old do yoga and I’d say the hardest thing about it is stopping yourself from giggling when someone accidently lets one rip.
http://authentichappiness4live.wordpress.com/2014/03/11/does-exercising-make-us-happier/
Doctors – Keep your appointments and, if you can, keep a mood diary. I’m not great at taking my own advice here but it is a great way for a doctor, who may only see you for 10 minutes every 3 to 6 months to know what’s been going on with you. Only you know how you feel and if you feel the doc is downplaying something, push a bit harder to get a response that satisfies or take someone with you who will push for you when you’re just not feeling up to it.
Caregivers – When you, as a bipolar sufferer, are feeling well it’s a good idea to turn to your caregiver and make sure they are looking after themself too. Most of us only have 1 person we rely on heavily and that person often has to neglect their own needs to help us with ours, which can be stressful for them. It doesn’t hurt to make sure they know how much you love them for the things they do.
What works for you? Please let us know in the comments section.
Next week I’ll be reviewing mood diary apps.
Saturday, 17 May 2014
14. That’s One ‘First Time’ I Could Do Without
The first time I went to the doctor after my nervous breakdown I was in a bit of a state. As you can imagine, nervous breakdowns don’t tend to leave you looking glamorous and at the peak of health. I remember there being a severe need for waterproof mascara and a box of Kleenex for all the snot induced crying fits. Equally, if you know of anyone who found a way to keep their dignity during their nervous breakdown I’d be interested to hear about it. I could use some tips for the inevitable next one.
My husband came with me and explained in no uncertain terms that I was mental, needed to be put into a straight-jacket immediately and asked whether HE could have some pills to help him cope with all this. Thankfully he was joking but I’m not sure my GP really knew how to take him.
I was assured that, given the circumstances and all the snot, I was an emergency case and I could expect to hear from the psychiatrist for an assessment (not treatment) in THREE MONTHS TIME!
An EMERGENCY case. In my book emergency’s don’t usually hang around for 3 months, hence the urgency of an emergency. If I’d been anorexic and my kidneys were shutting down would they have fobbed me off with 3 months? What’s more urgent than an emergency when the symptoms of your problem could kill you?
Anyway, I moan only because I was on the brink of giving up on life. Nothing major. In other ways I can’t fault our NHS and mental health system. Not really. We do always seem to have trainees in psychiatric positions for 6 months at a time, but they tend to be pretty good and my first psychiatrist was the best of the lot. He arranged Cognitive Behavioural Therapy for me, counselling and later on, once I plucked up the courage to tell him about my ‘other’ symptoms reclassified my condition from ‘Severe Depressive Disorder’ to ‘Bipolar Type 2’. He changed my life. He helped me achieve a positive outlook for times when I’m well and a coping strategy for times when I’m not.
I can safely say, looking back to that time and how fragile I was then, that the NHS and its community mental health team has made me strong again. Despite the flaws of never getting to know your psychiatrist because they move from one place to the next and despite the long waiting times between appointments, once you are on their radar they do as much as they can to help – in my experience.
I’ve also found that it’s up to you to take their advice and the education they offer about your condition and work hard to make your own life better. There are things you can do to help yourself and I’ll talk more about those next week.
https://www.facebook.com/myfamilyandjanice?ref=hl#!/photo.php?fbid=690403364335565&set=a.180798161962757.37670.157585027617404&type=1&theater
My husband came with me and explained in no uncertain terms that I was mental, needed to be put into a straight-jacket immediately and asked whether HE could have some pills to help him cope with all this. Thankfully he was joking but I’m not sure my GP really knew how to take him.
I was assured that, given the circumstances and all the snot, I was an emergency case and I could expect to hear from the psychiatrist for an assessment (not treatment) in THREE MONTHS TIME!
An EMERGENCY case. In my book emergency’s don’t usually hang around for 3 months, hence the urgency of an emergency. If I’d been anorexic and my kidneys were shutting down would they have fobbed me off with 3 months? What’s more urgent than an emergency when the symptoms of your problem could kill you?
Anyway, I moan only because I was on the brink of giving up on life. Nothing major. In other ways I can’t fault our NHS and mental health system. Not really. We do always seem to have trainees in psychiatric positions for 6 months at a time, but they tend to be pretty good and my first psychiatrist was the best of the lot. He arranged Cognitive Behavioural Therapy for me, counselling and later on, once I plucked up the courage to tell him about my ‘other’ symptoms reclassified my condition from ‘Severe Depressive Disorder’ to ‘Bipolar Type 2’. He changed my life. He helped me achieve a positive outlook for times when I’m well and a coping strategy for times when I’m not.
I can safely say, looking back to that time and how fragile I was then, that the NHS and its community mental health team has made me strong again. Despite the flaws of never getting to know your psychiatrist because they move from one place to the next and despite the long waiting times between appointments, once you are on their radar they do as much as they can to help – in my experience.
I’ve also found that it’s up to you to take their advice and the education they offer about your condition and work hard to make your own life better. There are things you can do to help yourself and I’ll talk more about those next week.
https://www.facebook.com/myfamilyandjanice?ref=hl#!/photo.php?fbid=690403364335565&set=a.180798161962757.37670.157585027617404&type=1&theater
Saturday, 10 May 2014
13. Ginger Sheepdogs
Despite feeling unmotivated at work recently, I do still appreciate everyone I work with. They are a lovely bunch. This morning I went downstairs to find a load of them having a christening party for Romulus and Remus, the two new servers. I’d like to believe my colleagues named them that because they’re all big fans of Roman legend, but I have a sneaking suspicion I may be wrong about that.
On a different note, I read recently that there are also physical symptoms connected to bipolar such as obesity, heart disease and diabetes. These are often linked with the medication used to treat the disorder and a lot of people writing about this subject on the internet express concern that the medical profession doesn’t seem to consider it to be an issue in as far as helping sufferers to control the effects of weight gain, not to mention the subsequent health problems this weight gain can cause.
It made me think that I really should try to lose some weight. Unfortunately for me I’m a bit of a lazy moo and my first thought was ‘I’ll start with a haircut.’ I have really thick hair (imagine an old English Sheepdog, in a car, on a hot day – that’s me. With a hint of ginger). So I think I can probably lose a good half pound just by getting the shears out.
Then there’s jewellery. I like big, chunky costume jewellery. I could probably lose a half a stone if I ditch that for plastic bangles.
I’m wondering how much a middle toe weighs. I mean, as far as amputating limbs for weight loss goes I feel a leg or major organ might be going a bit too far, but I could probably lose a toe or two and not even notice it.
I guess I could eat a salad or two as well but only if it’s accompanied by chips and bbq sauce, plus some chicken wings and hold the salad.
Just a side note. If you’re thinking that the underwire from your bra probably weighs a lot, I can tell you, it doesn’t. Plus, removing it just presents a whole NEW set of problems.
On a different note, I read recently that there are also physical symptoms connected to bipolar such as obesity, heart disease and diabetes. These are often linked with the medication used to treat the disorder and a lot of people writing about this subject on the internet express concern that the medical profession doesn’t seem to consider it to be an issue in as far as helping sufferers to control the effects of weight gain, not to mention the subsequent health problems this weight gain can cause.
It made me think that I really should try to lose some weight. Unfortunately for me I’m a bit of a lazy moo and my first thought was ‘I’ll start with a haircut.’ I have really thick hair (imagine an old English Sheepdog, in a car, on a hot day – that’s me. With a hint of ginger). So I think I can probably lose a good half pound just by getting the shears out.
Then there’s jewellery. I like big, chunky costume jewellery. I could probably lose a half a stone if I ditch that for plastic bangles.
I’m wondering how much a middle toe weighs. I mean, as far as amputating limbs for weight loss goes I feel a leg or major organ might be going a bit too far, but I could probably lose a toe or two and not even notice it.
I guess I could eat a salad or two as well but only if it’s accompanied by chips and bbq sauce, plus some chicken wings and hold the salad.
Just a side note. If you’re thinking that the underwire from your bra probably weighs a lot, I can tell you, it doesn’t. Plus, removing it just presents a whole NEW set of problems.
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