Showing posts with label humour. Show all posts
Showing posts with label humour. Show all posts

Saturday, 20 September 2014

32. Could You Hold This Box Of Hopes & Dreams While I Go To Work, Please?

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, 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!

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!

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!