BIPOLAR SPEAKS

Hypomania

2012-04-25T16:05:00.001-07:00

I’m doing well, I’ve got things to do and results to get. Ive got a lot going on, all good. I need some help badly cos I cant handle it.

I’m so excited. I dunno if excited is the right word, I have adrenaline in me all the time, makes me feel sick. I’m tense and nervous. I can’t concentrate. I’m all over the place, wanting to do this and that. I’m doing work at home and I’m wanting everything perfect so that we’ve all got something to do. I won’t let go of things in my head, I remember EVERYTHING!

It’s too much to bear. I can’t even watch a programme related to the things I need to do. I can’t watch top gear or wheeler dealers because I want to do those things. It stirs up so much emotion in me. I can’t watch Apprentice cos I want to do it. I record things and can’t watch because it will make me ill. Does anyone else feel like this?

I do occasionally feel satisfied. When I’ve worked hard all day, done lots and really ache and hurt from it. Then I’m happy. Even then, it’s got to be seen and approved of by someone. When I’m doing these things, like painting I’m always thinking how I could help do this for others, how I could be such a good wife/girlfriend for someone, they would really want me if they knew. Hubby is never here to approve or help.

I want to be cared for so badly it’s affecting my every thought. Even though I have love I need more so badly that it’s not allowing proper thoughts to come through. I want the support so bad. It wouldn’t even take much, just a few words of reason, words to let me know I’m doing OK, that I’m still good or if I’m not. What I’m doing wrong, how to stop it. Help me with techniques. Help me to see things rationally, spend a little time with me. Not much. Help me put things in order of priority and tell me to get on with it. These are the things I struggle with. Someone’s got to care, how can they not? Is it cos I care too much for others, because if I could help someone like this I’d jump to do it. Only cos I recognise how easy it is to fall into a trap in your mind.

Odd thoughts. They keep me from leading a normal life.

~ANONYMOUS~

Bipolar Speaks New Facebook Page

2012-03-13T08:40:00.000-07:00

Bipolar Speaks is now being recognized and featured at a new facebook page called Willow Creek Studio (you may have to be logged into your account to see this page). Willow Creek Studio is a place to share an interest in Reiki, Holistic Living, Spirituality and Self-Empowerment: a peaceful outlet to help others enrich their lives.

Holistic Healing means taking an holistic approach when seeking treatment for imbalances and choosing to live a more balanced lifestyle. An holistic approach simply means to take care of oneself as a *whole* through body, mind, and spirit rather than focusing on *one area.*

Body - Physical intervention, energy work, diet/nutrition, acupuncture, dance therapy, light therapy, homeopathy, EFT (tapping), etc.

Mind - Emotions, thought process [positive thinking], art therapy, journaling, meditation, hypnotherapy, yoga, etc.

Spirit - Treating spirit and knowing the wisdom of self or soul.

Traditional medicine combined with energy work/holistic alternatives is a great combination to help an individual's well-being. Please read Healing vs. Curing as many get confused with these terms. We can certainly heal our body, mind, and spirit: to heal is to nurture, to take care of, and to truly love oneself.

Join us over at Willow Creek Studio Facebook page where we will offer many discussions and healing thoughts and alternatives for those battling with depression, clinical depression, Bipolar, Schizophrenia, Schizo-affective disorder, addictions of any kind, eating disorders etc.

Mental Health Discrimination or Advanced Delusionary Schizophrenia With Involuntary Narcissistic Rage

2012-03-10T11:16:00.004-08:00

(Some Foul Language, but well worth the read).

They like to say mental health to imply vitality and positivity, but no, let's be clear, it's mental "illness". Mental "health" is just psychology's modern, politically correct, euphemism meant to manipulate society into using a positive term/label to unknowingly bring about humanization and faux acceptance, i.e. special, gifted children, handicapable, and my personal happier label, bipolar. That rephrasing really helped break the cycle of the negative stygma surrounding the term manic-depression. They just made the term shorter so the media can really get the ever-popular, socal-pariah/might-snap-at-any-second/murder-suicidEE inflections just right when saying "BipolAR"!!

Honestly, if mental health was so healthy or viewed positively, a larger percentage of the mentally ill wouln't have to hide their health from family and friends and fake Facebook friends that only need you to get the cool tractor in Farmville.

What's your damn point you say? Relax, we are only 300 words in! It is currently acceptable morally, ethically, and finacially, to differentiate between mental and pysical healh to treat, compensate, cover, etc.

Blue Cross Blue Shield, likely the top "health" insurance provider, pays different percentage amounts under the same policy for the same premium. I had coverage at 80% paid Heath coverage, yet under same policy I was only cover 50% for Psychiatric appointmts, only $20 per therapy session, and a low per year cap. And that was 2 years ago, but when I was diagnosed in '05 the divisions were even larger in contrast.

Standard Insurance is/soon to be, was, my short-term/long-term disability supplier. Under their policy a physical disability exists as long as you are physically disabled, but mental illness has a timelimit no matter if your Dr and Government consider you disabled. Typical. Insurance companies are organized crime syndicates. A rep called me and left a voicemail and he said, (I'm paraphrasing but in no way changing intent) we understand bipolar disorder but we are wondering if you have any physical issue limiting your ability to find employment, and we would need these Drs' info if that be the case. I then received a letter stating that they are closing my case in June because their policy doesn't cover mental and medical disability for the same time period.

I don't really know what to do. It all just makes me think of the disorder that Jim Carrey's character Hank had in Me, Myself, and Irene: Advanced Delusionary Schizophrenia With Involuntary Narcissistic Rage. Is that fuckin' physical enough fuckface? Or do we need to get more physical than that punk? Sorry, that was the Hank persona. And still good ol' rational Ash. Physical? Really! How about my brain, which is made up of matter, (Real Actual, Factual, PHYSICAL matter - opposite of the empty amoral skulls of the cold, dead ethics of your policy lawyers. ) doesn't work like a normal healthy human's.

How about this for a physical impairment limiting my ability to procure gainful employment. Neurons communicate by sending and receiving electrical and chemical signals/stimuli via neurotransmitters communicating at a synapse point between those two neurons. That was a healthy example of how neurons control who and what we are to a certain extent as their healthy communication is responsible for thoughts, feelings, emotions, the Centrol Nevious System. Neurons are actually the lagest structures in the human body.

They are made up of pysical material called neural cells and make up the CNS which control everything, including emotions, depression, rage, mania, sleep normalcy, obsessions, creativity, impetuousness spontaneity, lust, concentration, apathy, sympathy, empathy, grandiosity, fleeting thoughts, anxiety, conspiracy theories including co workers collusion, delusions, voices in head, addictive tenadencies, OCD like obsessing, emotional immaturity.

There a thousands of these clogged neurons misfiring every second in the bipolar brain. These non-communicating neurotransmitters can't pass on this information at correct ratios and/or they build up mass amounts of process chemicals. Both of those aforementioned physical malfunctioning bipolar neurotransmitters manifest physically some or many of the bipolar characteristics as we try to function in a world that considers us scary and disenfranchises us with unfounded stereotypes. Meds can help by releasing or blocking these chemical and informantion, yet nothing is a cure-all and there is always relapse.

Daily Struggle

2012-01-10T09:16:00.000-08:00

Each and everyday I battle with depression and everyday I try to conquer it and overcome it. I am exhausted and tired. I have my good days and I try to embrace them, but I find myself falling into that black hole and it sucks the life out of me.

It's a daily struggle to go to work, clean my house, take care of my kids, and be the friend and wife everyone wants me to be. At times, I feel very alone. My husband has supported my ups and downs but pressures me about working; to continue to work even though I am going through what I am going through. I have reached a point in my life where I feel I am not being true to myself. Where do you draw the line when it comes to depression?

I have to honestly say that no one really knows what I battle with. I put up a good front in the *outside world.* I am kind and well balanced outside but I am suffering inside. Sometimes, I break. I can only take so much and then I crash. All my mental anguish affects me physically. I cannot sleep, I cannot breathe sometimes, and I have done everything in my power to change, to heal, and at times, nothing works.

It's a daily struggle. Did I say that? I look tired when everyone tells me that I look great. My eyes are puffy from crying and lack of sleep. Sometimes, I feel like the only peace I get is being home and away from the outside world.

No one gets me. No one understands. This is not self-pity. This is simply my reality. I cannot stand smiling faces as everyone walks around as if they are so happy. People put their family photos on facebook as if they have the perfect life. I feel that the world is fake and I am stuck in this Disney Fantasy Movie!

~ANONYMOUS~

Welcome Back

2011-10-22T08:37:00.000-07:00

So here I am again...undead. Once again I’m not entirely sure what stopped me, only that it was a forced denial of my preference. Go to sleep. Don’t do this to your children. Don’t do it to your parents. Don’t make someone find you in a situation that they aren’t comfortable with, and will be traumatised by, whether they be a stranger or not, their lives, irrevocably will be changed by unexpected closeness to emotional violence.

I often wonder whether a bipolar diagnosis suffers the same extremity of emotion as every other person, the only difference being they are less capable of controlling where it takes them. There is a clear extremity of emotion attributed to being “bipolar”, but is that due to the extremity of the emotion itself or the ability to control its level of descent or ascent. In my career as professional ear to anyone I have ever met, the stories are repeatedly dark. The exterior of a person is very quickly shattered in a midnight conversation. The magnificent, beautiful girl that sometimes can’t leave the house because the pressure to be aesthetically revered is sometimes too great even for her to bear. The illustrious corporate leader whom entire companies aspire to be and cower beneath their ruthless force for profit, are often as insecure as the mailboy the differences being an extraordinary intelligence and irreverent capacity to hide fear. They still have it. They still wonder if the perpetual sycophantic musings are believable. No matter how powerful they seem, they still wonder, still feel unsure. Mothers who are the envy of all others, the gentle, nurturing soul with the perfectly dressed, perfectly behaved children who excel in all areas and seem perfectly grounded in their soaring mansion landscape grounds with the tennis court and the pool and the helicopter pad and exquisitely crafted interior design... except she watches for the clock to hit 5 every day so she can have a glass of wine, aches for the minutes to pass, and when they do, she has 8. But that’s acceptable, to her, by then, it’s how she justifies her perfectionism.

Struggling is merely a catalyst. Only a symptom, toward the production of clarity. Evolution decrees that learnings must be gained. Elite athletes continue to shatter records, despite the seemingly impossible feat of the previous one, and so it seems does the human mind. But where if ever does the struggle stop? With the onset of perfection? But perfection is unobtainable, surely, in the face of historical evidence where we continue to improve upon nirvana day by day the goal is an endlessly moving object that naturally redefines itself as the perception of perfection is twisted by humanistic trends and beliefs and pop culture.

For me, the complete absence of nirvana has cultivated my loss of interest in life’s lessons. If the people I meet who are the alphas of their genre, the envy of their peers and the inspiration for the future – if they are torturously wounded souls then hope is somehow redundant. If pretty has too much pressure, and power too much uncertainty, and wealth too much hate for generosity, then where is the place...for hope. And not just selfish hope, but hope for children borne from your make-up, borne of your blood, and soul... and scarily mind. Children are an unfinished replica, a malleable version of self, and with that comes the certain reminiscence of youth and mistakes of yore which if misunderstood can be quickly masticated into unwarranted blame, onto an innocent child, who then has no choice but to re-enact a prophecy of learned behaviour for the sake of a parents “I told you so” indulgent maze. And even the most learned of parents who have a hands-in-the-air approach to influence, can’t be so unaffected by the mirror image of a soul in the identical eye or nose, or hand or eyebrow of their offspring. Nature’s purpose for the likeness of child to parent cannot go unfathomed, ritualistically, in the search for the perfect human, they need traits to continue, lest a human with a single perfect trait, meet their demise without passing that single trait down to meet the perfect traits chronologically passed down by others – at some point, the statistics must meet, to enable the perfect human to be created.

And then what? It is a confronting cavalcade. For the willing accomplices of life the small battles are surmountable. Grow up, marry, buy a house, couple of kids, find the money somehow, work through jobs, focus on the children’s future. How many of them stop to truly question life and its purpose. If you don’t have an easy out in a perpetual death wish then these issues must be analysed and solved – there is no other option right? But in a twisted mind the concept of each single issue compounds daily until the longed for plight of death is a far easier option.

It is easy to see the simple option of death, it is blessed release. Yet, in the real world, its completely defeatist, and selfish. But were you to take one of life’s accomplices and add the complexity of the black dog, would the result be the same? Or would it reveal the benefit of a stoic and selfless personality type. In which case the black dog is just another hurdle, easily overcome, making the “bipolar” personality, just a sad, wasteful, selfish indulgence the world must endure.

I am nothing less than a being with feelings and musings and overly-analytical responses. But is that any different to the beauty, or the executive, or the alcoholic jewish princess? So why then, is it deserving of more attention? More understanding, more pity?

But then, the gift, the gift of delusion. What a shatteringly imperfect perfection. Your sky vs my sky. You see the moon and think, “gosh, what a pretty moon. I wonder if I should re-mortgage the house, goodness it must be time for a wax, wonder if I could get into see Rachel this week, oh gee Eric should probably finish his project tomorrow night and I must remember to polish his shoes before school before Andrea makes a comment, she is such a bitch, we should really invite her and Tom over for dinner next week it’s been ages.”

I see the moon and it unveils itself. Behind chiffon clouds that flutter teasingly in a timeless burlesque romance, as a chorus of stars sigh and emote brightly, desperately hoping for recognition, and are hopelessly outshone by an aloof, intrinsically complicated and unperturbed graceful silver floating moon. It is too perfectly uncontrived. And time escapes my mind just watching the universal play unfold, I could burst within its beauty, I could sing a perfect high c and ride its note via treble clef between here and eternity and delve into its welcoming craters, cradled, unafraid to fall. The night breeze whispers, I know it’s only for me, I know it’s filling me with its intensity, eradicating any doubt that I am one of theirs, I don’t belong to the others, humans who are laughing, foolishly, superficially, at each other. The branches extend and envelop me in a ghost-like whirl, they remind me not to belong, they are connected, existing only for me. I can hear the voices of the world around me, I can hear them destroying the solitude that nature is so desperately yearning for, and though they urge me to fight it and deny it they shroud my soul so it can bear the brunt of the fake nothingness calling, reaching for my tiny piece of nothingness to complete its pretend puzzle. And right then and there I am sacrosanct. Immortal. I return to my pretend world, engage in perfect social lies and laugh in all the right places, to humanise. I drink too much to level the responses I would otherwise have, to the pointless, irrelevant nuances of conversation. They are none of them, worth anything to me, my mind soars so far beyond their realms, but were they to understand that isolation would ensue. Pretending is practical; practised; perfected.

“Ha ha ha, what a brilliant analogy Andrew!” Sarah, try the pumpkin salad, stop it, I know, I am a masterchef, loving myself sick – sure you can have the recipe”

“Yes Tcharli and Zi fight non-stop too, how are you dealing with the constant fighting?”

And the wind whispers good job, it’s okay, we know you’ll come back to us. And I say with my body and soul: I never left. I’m here. I belong to you, I see you even as the night falls and the silhouette of the trees gives off its fierce underground stare, I am soulfully a servant. They already know. But they nod, and retreat in response. It is understood.

They don’t see what I see, I re-energize with regular surreptitious glances to the night sky. The pretense of the night is finally over, and I smile and kiss and hug and promise to attend return hospitality and keep the smile plastered as I wave happily. And shut the door. And frown. My body releases the pressure and draws me back to the deck, where I belong, with the moon, and the stars, and the naked twisting blackness of the muted night trees. Finally.

But I will wake up tomorrow, in a man-made bed, with an innocent soft-skinned re-creation of myself snuggling in for re-assurance of their beloved existence. And the seemingly real possibility that normality is truthful. Confusion takes a back-step. To exist willfully, it simply must.

The New Founding of ME!

2011-08-23T06:57:00.000-07:00

About seven years ago I was diagnosed with having bipolar disorder. I ended up being on Geodon, Depakote, Lithium, Xanax, Topamax, Wellbutrin, Effexor, Zoloft just to name a few. In the end, I was on about 15 different medications.

From these medications, I experienced, illusions, hallucinations, anxiety, panic attacks, feeling electricity throughout my body, ongoing headaches, migrains, vertigo, and so on. Obviously the meds did absolutely nothing for me.

Five years into my diagnosis, I find out that I am not bipolar, in fact, my shrink records that I have a mood disorder NOS. Ok, whatever. So, after that official diagnosis, my shrink retires! Yeah, with that, I go off meds. Wasn't into nor did I have the energy to see another shrink to repeat my story all over again and then pay all that money. So, off meds I went.

I did, however, continue counseling with my counselor who, by the way, never truly was convinced that I was bipolar. I have to admit, as we all experience different symptoms, I never attempted suicide, never cut myself, never was hospitalized, never did major shopping sprees, never tried drugs or have an alcohol problem. Not saying that all these symptoms are bipolar related as we all experience things differently, but they are part of bipolar to some degree.

After about two - three years now being off meds (Five or so on them), being on a spiritual journey, and trying to keep above water, I find out I am an Empath/HSP (Highly Sensitive Person).

Someone mentioned to me one day that they believe that I am an empath, so I researched my little heart out and yup! That is me. In fact, Dr. Michael Smith states, "It is not uncommon for an empath to tell me that he or she has been diagnosed as "Bipolar/Manic Depressive. For more information please read Book of Storms.

I have been researching this new found discovery for me ever since! As far as going off medication, it is a personal choice. But I have to honestly say, going off meds for me, has made my head finally come out of the fog after 25 years of depression, three years of medication, seven years of counseling, and most of my life suffering with the thought that I was different.

ANONYMOUS

I Want To Stop The Medication

2011-08-17T05:48:00.000-07:00

I know, it's like a big bad word to mention stopping your medication. I would never condone it. For myself however, I find that life has become boring, uninspiring, and flat. I am an artist. Well, I used to be. Now, I have the talent, and I go through the motions, but where are the feelings? I do it because it is my job and I need to pay the bills.

In my spare time, I used to create other things aside from my everyday job as a potter, but other than silly little sketches, I don't do the stuff that I used to enjoy doing, the stuff that released so much emotion. I am sure the art reflected that emotion as well. It's not just the creativity that has been affected, but it's the desire to do things I used to do, that I enjoyed so much. It's the feelings I had that, magnified, pure and honest feelings about everything.

I have mentioned before, from my point of view now, what the medication has done, it has removed all the feelings and flattened me and it has made me less of a bitch and crazy person to everybody else. Should I really worry about what others think? Shall I mention that I am basically a hermit now as I have lost the nerve to face society. So, I technically have very little interaction to other people as it is.

I am still depressed to a degree. Not as deep as before medication, but I traded that for being slightly depressed all the time now. I have no mania now. My manias weren't dangerous or outlandish. They were not a financial crisis like many others have. My manias were pure blissfulness, happiness, energy, accomplishment, creativity. Now, I am boring! Literally boring, bored just doing what needs to be done and just making myself do it.

I think about stopping the medication or going to a very small dose to see if I can recover some of that feeling I used to have, but at the same time, I fear it. I don't fear becoming suicidal because I obsess over that at times. What I fear is undoing the repairs I have made with the people that I love. I fear the rollercoaster ride that always resulted in crashing head first into the ground and being in the deepest pit of depression for months at a time.

It is such a dilemma. I wonder though, with the clarity that I have experienced on the medication, will I be able to take that knowledge with me when I go off the medication and be able to control myself? Or will I be like I was before where I just didn't really know what I was doing at times. The times I thought that something made perfect sense and later realized it was completely stupid. I don't know.

If you have stopped your medication before, please let me know what the results were. Did you take the knowledge you gained on meds with you when you went off meds and was able to apply it towards self control? Like the old saying goes *Will I be jumping out of the frying pan into fire?*

INFERNO

Child and Adolescent Bipolar Foundation

2010-11-08T06:30:00.000-08:00

The Child and Adolescent Bipolar Foundation (CABF) is an Evanston-based national nonprofit organization providing information, resources and support for families raising children, teens and young adults with mood disorders such as bipolar disorder and depression.

CABF has been accepted into the Pepsi Refresh Contest for November and we will be competing for the top award of $250,000. Selection is based solely on the number of votes.

Winning could truly make a difference in the lives of families of kids and teens with depression and bipolar disorder. If selected by popular vote, CABF will use an innovative social media awareness effort to:

*Elevate awareness about bipolar disorder & depression in children.
*Educate parents & the public about the symptoms;
*Explain the best treatment options & ways to reduce teen suicide
*Expand the number of children receiving treatment;
*Eliminate the stigma associated with mental illness;
*Extend hope to families struggling with mental illnesses.

Read BPKIDS PEPSI and Pepsi Refresh Project

Turmoil Inside~Undiagnosed

2010-09-30T19:37:00.000-07:00

There is nothing in my life at the moment, no one thing that I think is causing the problem. But I feel anxious, stressed and very ready to collapse, give up. I’m desperately sad, feel so tearful and really need to get some help to get out of these feelings that come and go. I don't want any of this and feel like people who know me think that I want to feel like this. I'm sure no-one believes me and I'm stuck what the hell to do. I don't think anyone else suffers with a broken heart like I am doing and I'm worried about the future as I feel suicidal.

Mostly, for weeks, I’m fine, coping well when everything, the full time mum, perform at work, training the gym, eat well, study and learn and am happy with everything. The days fall into place, the house gets tidied, it’s all clean, money’s managed, we do things as a family, DIY, washing’s done, kids eat well, homework done and I get to do my hobbies. But every once in a while things change for me, something kick starts it, usually I feel rejected and feel like I've done nothing to deserve it. I've tried so hard. I can’t pinpoint it. My life’s a bit too much to handle at the moment, things aren’t as I want them to be. I’m in a lot of pain with various things with me (I’m getting it sorted!) The house isn’t so tidy, (more like not perfect) kids struggling with homework badly, childcare needs sorting out, I feel so guilty everything’s a disaster.

I’m not doing all the things to make me feel good. I’m not getting to the gym as much, my friends aren’t there to talk to – I feel they are unapproachable. I have a close colleague at work leaving, my work role is changing (for the better) I’m arguing a lot more with my partner, there’s a lot I need to do to achieve excellence in my own eyes, (little pieces of work – at home and work - for myself) and now its all too much. I’ve turned paranoid which is really awful. I don’t judge situations right, I’m feeling very sad inside and I can’t seem to sort anything to change it, cant pinpoint THE PROBLEM. I’m hoping that writing this down – it might help.

I don’t know if I’m being walked over by friends or just have too bad of an inside reaction. I’m thinking – I’m not liked by anyone, no-one cares, nothing will ever get sorted. Everythings my fault. I’ve lost a friend for life by thinking like this and I can’t bloody well stop it!!! I keep asking for help as I’m so unsure of myself. My partner, who told me he loves me, is always criticising me, blaming me for the stress I’m causing him at home. Saying I’m taking everything wrong and I’m causing all the stress in him, and I’m hard to handle – and it’s all my fault.

It’s all too much for me at the moment, I just want to be able to STOP, take a few days off and get everything caught up with, including my thoughts but I can’t because I love my work and I’ve got to show commitment, because I am committed. My absence will be noticed. I have a real role there and I want to perform well and there’s lots of good things I can do and I want to feel good. I also want to use the gym (at work) I went to Doctors a few weeks ago, I was OK but again when I start talking about my feelings I got very tearful, i told her how I felt(which is difficult) I am awaiting an appointment for diagnosis (hopefully) and she gave me diazepam.

They hardly touch me, it’s a low dose 2mg. It’s supposed to stop the worrying and anxiousness. I so desperately want to talk to someone to help figure at least a bit of it out. I really need to get some help to get these feelings in perspective. I want to see which bits of me are rational and what isn’t. What Ishould worry about, what isn’t gonna end the world and what will! When I talk about how I feel (and sit here writing) I just cry and cry. My moods explode inside me from one comment,. I feel alone, a friend I once had to offer occasional rational words of support is no longer there. I’m on edge all the time.

When I get hurt, I really do get it bad. I could just walk away and kill myself. I’ve already worked out how I would die! It’s ridiculous – I don’t want to feel like this but I’ve messed so much up now, its too difficult to go back and sort it all. I feel so guilty for all of this. I cant think how I’m gonna put things right. I feel like everyone knows what I’m like inside and they don’t want to know, just want me to go away and I feel guilty for causing at all.

It’s hard to explain in words what I'm like. Very hard. It doesn’t convey the full barrage of thoughts that are inside.I hope someone there can offer a few words. I feel up then down. I am unsure of how I am thinking or reacting, I constantly look to others how I should be feeling. I see others lives and think if I should be living that way, thinking of life in the same way. Steve says there's nothing wrong in my attitude to life but the thing is I'm not enjoying it and so desperately want to change it. At times I'm so unhappy and guilty inside - as if I've missed something I shouldn't have or I will miss something in the future.

Another thing lately is I have sinusitis ALL of the time . It is so painful. It's getting to the point where I cannot bend down it hurts so bad stuffy head all the time. If I mention this to anyone people will think I'm a hypochondriac as well!I'm feeling tonight - at the point where I cannot cope anymore, I'm trapped. I don't want to hurt my kids but I'm on physical and mental pain a lot. I see no future. I can't train because of my sinuses and I can't move on without knowing what the problem is. I can't talk to anyone because no-one wants to know, I'm such hard work even for myself.

~ANONYMOUS~

2010 Top Thirty Mental Disorder Blogs/ We Won!

2010-09-02T19:13:00.000-07:00

Bipolar Speaks was listed as one of the Top 30 Mental Disorder Blogs and we are listed at the top! This blog has become a wonderful forum and help to many. Thank you all for sharing your stories and keep them coming!

My Monster

2010-07-14T11:21:00.000-07:00

It starts with one thought appearing inside my head,
That breeds and expands so quickly.
Like a disease in controls and effects my whole body,
My heart racing and beating so quickly.

Its not real, its only a thought’ I say
‘It’s not like it will even come true’.
But the fact that I thought it is enough for me
To think that it could come true.

My heart thumps faster, my skin becomes sweaty,
As if I was running, being chased,
By a monster that is created of all my deepest fears
And knows I fear being chased.

The deeper I go, all rationality disappears,
And the darkness spreads over my mind.
Feeling like someone is suffocating me.
If only id realise it was all in my mind.

‘Go away bad thoughts’ I try to say
but its too late, the disease has spread.
This one thought is now thousand of thoughts
And is continuously trying to spread.

The sickness comes, along with the tears,
Trying hard to control this monster.
It will wear me down until I am too weak to fight
Victory for the monster.

When it gets this bad, I feel there’s only one way
To remove the monster from my mind,
For if I think no more then the thoughts can spread
But till then I continue to live with the monster.

~KIMBERLY~

Turmoil At The Moment - Undiagnosed

2010-05-12T08:48:00.000-07:00

I know there are things to do, there is today but I can’t actually do anything in the house or at work because of the thoughts in my head of what I should be doing, or what’s best to be done. I walk around, even alone thinking about what should be done. I need to get on a straight road to do it all. Then I have thoughts about feelings that I feel and I’m wondering why I feel like that and what causes them. Do others see it? I have paranoid feelings that everyone thinks I am useless; I’m not doing anything right.

I fear rejection of any type. I hate very strongly anyone who makes spiteful comments or the very smallest of nastiness because I KNOW how it feels to the other person, whether it be a child or a baby or an adult, male or female, I know that very very sore pain and I cannot stand to watch someone being talked down to, I feel like it’s affecting them just as it affects me, so very very hurt, makes you feel lonely, unloved and alone. What hurts me the most in the world is seeing and not knowing children. Just watching them not knowing for sure how they feel. I can’t watch kids, for some strange reason I always think that they are hurting and I feel that pain for them. I don’t know why, it only started after I had my first child.

I like fun. I think I always have, my earlier life was just fun fun fun. As the stress levels rise with house, mortgage, kids, loans, responsibilities, pressure to get things so my coping has been slowly crushed, chipped away day by day, I constantly fight to build it back up. I have a wall around me, when it is fully up and running I am untouchable.

On a high I think I can be someone. In fact I know I am intelligent and capable, but sometimes I think I can be famous or someone so very successful, driving the sports car I want, having a hugely successful business, which wouldn’t possible fail, just get bigger and better. I think a lot about how I know I can do it, but my lack of patience and turmoil inside stops me. I secretly know inside that I am super human, I have these special talents, I understand people, and I know what’s going on, what people think all the time. It sounds daft but it’s like I can do anything but when it comes to it I am so surprised that I can’t.

When training in the gym, I know I could have held the UK record for rowing, I held 800m school record, I could have been an athlete – I would have won Gold, my body could have done that. Perhaps it sounds daft to others but not to me. I can see the good side of life when I’m like this. But it’s just not what others are like. I could do anything, commit to anyone then. There are majors highs a lot, really there are, just writing on an average mood.

I would like my own business but I do realise that my expectations might help me fall into a deep hole. Deeper than usual. I’ve been to these dark places where you really do feel like life is not worth living, it’s usually in time with my cycle. It’s bad, so very very bad that I’m not afraid to be physically hurt. I would take a big knife and plunge it into my heart, it wouldn’t hurt, would only feel cold. Eventually the life would drain away, (for some reason I always think that falling onto the knife at the front would have to be avoided) It’s the level of detail that I think this through is disturbing. I would slip into unconsciousness and feel no more ugliness in feelings. I can’t explain it, it’s so low, it’s like being pushed down by your mood, you can’t stop it. It would be good to die then. These thoughts, bad thoughts are rare. I don’t know what triggers them; it can last 2 days with the worst of it in 6 – 7 hours.

I know what I want when I’m down but if I tell Steve I just want a cuddle, some love, there would be no point in getting it. But I always reject the love he tries to show – I DONT WANT to reject it, it’s just easier when this takes over. I can’t fight this.

My general day to day feelings and thoughts are usually fast paced, runaway. I clench my teeth a lot, I think and analyse a lot. Things people say stick with me, good or bad. I can pick up on a phrase and think about it in so many different ways. I think, think think. Thoughts lead onto ideas and I can come up with some great in-house systems or plans to improve our lives, for educating the kids, to make our lives better. Steve thinks I think of a lot of ideas all the time. The ones he says are bad ideas I think are great, as well as the ones I think are great he thinks are great.

Unfortunately if things require a bit of time and patience, there’s not a chance I will finish it let alone get started, I always am thinking too fast for myself to keep up, and so things fall by the wayside. The most important ones are kept going, keep my head above water.
That’s how this thing is, a brilliant description, my head is above water. My family don’t know it, my friends don’t know it but I’m going to drown.

Every time I talk about this I cry. I think I’m down at the moment. I should add to this when I’m up, you’ll then see why I survive. The only reason I’m down is just purely because I talked about it.

I am in awe of people who can think methodically; who can break down a task into smaller pieces and work on each piece. I know it’s a skill, patience too. I can never do that. I get so frustrated that I actually feel tense! I clench my fist, clench my teeth. I get headaches from this. I remember things that I have done that have I have managed to immerse myself in completely, I should do more of these things, not reading a book like others, most films don’t immerse me, but study does, developing web sites does very much, making cards, making graphics, food, things, creating things. I am not a creative person?? As I write this it’s turning upside down, I tick all the boxes of quizzes that say I’m methodical, structured, practical, logical, now I’m typing creative things??? I’m a red person.

One thing that is bad is that I relax from the co-codamol. It totally makes me relax and it’s so very easy to talk then. I seem to be very lifted in mood and I can talk more. I suppose alcohol is the same; I know I am abusing this. Get me in a social area, give me the alcohol, don’t control me, tip me off with a few flawed suggestions - let the drama unfold.

I sometimes think of myself as my pet spaniel, simply want to be loved. I don’t think I have ever accepted love. If I come close, it comes clear instantly, this is fake; no-one actually loves people like I do. I lie my boys love me, I am worried about Chris not loving me now he is growing older.

What’s gonna help – I think. Success – to be this high person. I don’t know. I’ll keep trying and fucking it up.

~ANONYMOUS~

Notes On Going Inpatient: Part Two

2009-10-09T13:59:00.000-07:00

My pdoc had called ahead so they would be expecting me. foolishly I though this meant a smooth, expedited process. Three hours in the waiting room I was completely disillusioned. Two hours in I had begun to realize I still ad my bad of meds (best to take them all with you so they can just wrote down what you take rather than try to remember it yourself.) I sat for an hours, sweating, thinking about how much better this would be than at home. My husband wouldn't be alone with the kids. all I needed was a cup of water and to slip into the restroom. I would need some sleight of hand with the bag of meds but with the coma state everyone was in due to the waiting room boredom I knew it would be easy. This was all I could think about.The one snag was that I still hadn't written a note.

I would not be able to at this point and I had that loose end with my daughter. As I sat thinking this, at 3 and a half hoursin they finally called my name. NOW they took my meds and my bag, gave me a band and began treating me like a patient. There was an interview, or two, and then at least another hour of waiting. They discussed me with a doc and decided to keep me (oh yay.) My husband left as they took me back and then the fun began: step one was a full body strip search. I cried so hard I was gagging and heaving. It was now about 2AM. I was tired, stressed, and naked in a room with 2 strange women and a large stain on the floor that looked suspiciously like blood at the base of a table exactly like a gynecologist uses.

In the end i was ok, there was not invasive search, but just the look of that stain and the idea of the search and I was hyperventilating.After many more administrative procedures I eventually made it to my "bed" at 3:30am. the "bed" was a 3 inch thick box spring in which every spring is bent and distorted andstabbing into your back. also it turned out my roommate has a CPAP machine and wasbreathing like Darth Vader.

The bathroom would be shared by 4 women. This was all I could absorb at that hour and despite the discomforts I crashed into sleep.Days 1 - I was woken at 6:30am to retrieve my pink bucket which is basically what it sounds like, a pink bucket that hold all your toiletries since you are not allowed to have them with you due to the dangers they present. After using them, taking a shower if you can (4 women, remember?) you must turn it in by a certain time. Then they take vitals and you head down to breakfast all in a line like inmates.

Basically the entire time you are hospitalized you are walking in lines, waiting in lines, line line line. When you get back you go right into group where things disintegrate rapidly based on the state of the lowest common denominator – usually the newest person – and not much get done.

The entire stay is a repeat of that entire loop. Wake, bathe,eat, group, meds, group, eat, group, med, group, group, meds, group, eat, group, open rec time (woo hoo), late meds, lights out. You get stable. That's the goal. You won't get healthy, you won't really make any progress on your therapy. You will simply get past being suicidal. For now, that is enough.

My next step is intensive outpatient therapy. I am going 9am-3pm five days a week for the next two weeks. Once that is over I will go back to my normal outpatient therapist for a few days wee, and then back to once a week. They refer to all this as “step down.” This part of the program is far more helpful for my long term health, but the inpatient – no matter how awful – was necessary to get me stable.

Notes on Going Inpatient: Part One

2009-09-10T17:38:00.001-07:00

At least a month prior to the hospitalization I began to have serious symptoms. At the time I didn't know what the issue was. My back hurt and I thought the area I had surgery on was acting up again. I had sudden stroke like symptoms, flaring flashes of light in my left eye, stomach aches, headaches that laid me out for a whole day. I had tests like you would not believe: MRI's on my back and brain, ultrasound of my heart, even a mammogram. All came back normal and I was eventually diagnosed with migraines. I can't blame the docs, I mean faced with a patient presenting with random symptoms and a flat out refusal to accept "nothing is wrong with you" for an answer they did their best.

Weeks later I still felt like hell and I started to suspect something was seriously wrong. I scheduled myself for a week of vacation to decompress and then proceeded to spend the whole week doing errands, and helping everyone else. Basically I recognized the problem, then ignored it. By the end of the vacation I was at the end of my rope. I was at the beginning of a mixed episode, having suicidal thoughts, and was just a general mess.

On August 24 I called my pdoc. I wanted to hurt myself or to get hurt. I was completely preoccupied with falling down stairs, maybe getting get hit by a car, or getting in some kind of accident, I even hoped to go blind, I just wanted to self destruct like quit my job or just leave town. My mind was completely consumed with these thoughts and I began to seriously entertain the thoughts of suicide that had been popping into my head for months and began to plan out the event. I constantly felt like screaming but just remained silent and looked mildly annoyed. At dinner my husband persuaded me to call my therapist since my pdoc had not called all day. She asked me to promise that I wouldn't hurt myself, I lied. My pdoc called and I mentioned to him that I thought I might need to go to a hospital. After some discussion we decided against it and decided I would see him the next morning, early. He told me what to take to sedate myself, I slept.

August 25 my husband drove my to my pdoc's office. My pdoc was against the hospital so I left with some new prescriptions. By the afternoon I was beyond any illusion that this was going to work. My therapist had checked in a few times and it must have been clear to her as well. She spoke with my husband and got him to collect all my meds. I was PISSED, betrayed, angry, and even more hopeless. How could I escape? I became completely focussed on getting at least enough meds back to cause death.

By 4pm that day I had gotten 4 bottles through various methods of treachery and I had enough to kill myself (Ambien, Lithium, Seroquel, and Clonazepam - all were almost full.) I couldn't concentrate well enough to write a suicide note so now I turned my energy to this. I knew I needed to go over the disposal of my remains (cremation, no services) and the children but I just couldn't organize my thoughts well enough to put it down on paper. I knew that I would take my favorite down comforter and pillow into the tub with me and take the pills there to keep from making a mess if my body let go after death. I wanted to take the meds in the right order to keep from throwing them up and waking up in the hospital needing an organ so I was going to line them up on the bathtub ledge.

At this point my pdoc finally called back and I finally said the words, "I want to kill myself. I am not safe here." We began to discuss where to go. I went with the hospital my therapist had recomended. I packed a bag with 2 days of clothes and light toiletries and headed to the car, crying and fighting with myself the whole time. I wanted to die and to live all at once.

Next up: At the hospital

~ANONYMOUS

I'm Bipolar

2009-09-10T17:26:00.000-07:00

I'm bi-polar. I know, I know the first thing you think is this person is crazy. Although my family may agree with you, I have been on meds for years, have held the same job for over 17 years and only been hospitalized once due to that nasty thing called menopause and it's fluctuating hormones.

I still, however, deal with the day to day fears of this disorder. If I get depressed, am I spiraling? If I have too much energy, am I getting manic? I recently quit smoking using the patch and every time I stepped down, I would get very depressed and feared I was spiraling down in to the abyss that lies inside my mind. I would return to normalcy (what normalcy is for me anyway) after about three days and would go on an exercise jaunt.

I never felt that I was going in to mania when I was exercising because I felt so good, but my husband got very afraid. I tried to assure him that I was fine but had all this extra time and energy and needed to do something (there was also the weight gain from quitting smoking I had to consider), so I exercised.

He still watches me. Ocassionally I do feel like my mental health is fragile and I need to be very careful with it because I still have the fear that one day something may push me over the edge.Anyway, I just wanted to blog and let others know that I am living with bi-polar and it is possible -- not always fun, but possible.

~ANONYMOUS~

Get Your Ass Out Of Bed

2009-06-11T08:28:00.000-07:00

I started my blog with the intent to share my life with others, which I have molded and mended into the life that I've always dreamed of, so that others could see that it is possible to get through this disease with hardwork, determination, and incentive...even when the motivation is so difficult to muster up. But now I look at the previous posts and realize I was being big-headed in thinking that I could actually help others to follow their dreams as well...when I can't even fully enjoy the fruits of my own labor.

My altered dosages were not successful in deterring this "crash". So today I am at home. I called in sick because, like yesterday, I could not get out of bed. Just the thought of seeing clients today had me shivering again. I have this phrase that I say to myself aloud over and over again in the mornings: "I can do this. I can do this. I can do this." When my husband, Bernie, hears me chanting those familiar words in front of the bathroom mirror, he knows what it means. Well, this morning, the chants didn't work.

An hour later, I finally got up from the bed to drop the kids to school and feed the dogs. Fortunately, my kids are old enough to dress and feed themselves. Then I laid back in bed in my emptiness. My house is a mess, errands yet to be run for days, and I spent more time on Facebook and blogs then I have with my chores. A few minutes later, a voice inside me said: "Get up and do something to stop this, would ya?" So here I am, up from the bed, blogging the emptiness away, typing away the confusion.

My bipolar disorder has progressed with age. Medication that worked wonderfully for years no longer has any positive effects. So I've spent that last couple of years searching frantically, alongside my pdoc, to find a new combo.

When I was younger, my episodes were mostly manic and had only a few depressive bouts lasting a few days maybe once or twice a year. My kids were younger, and I was in graduate school. My manic episodes were not as damaging. In fact, they were what helped me through school and raising babies and running a household all at the same time.

I was SUPERWOMAN...all the time. People would say to me: "Wow. How do you do it? How can you go to school with three babies?" And I would feel so good about myself. I'd say: "Determination and incentive to provide for my family."

Was it really determination and incentive? Or was it just mania? Or maybe a combo of both? I finished college at the top of my class. We bought our first house the next year. I did it. I actually did what I set out to do. Eight years later, I have the career that I wanted, a new house, great kids, a 15-year marriage. This is what I wanted. So why am I here in my bedroom and not at work? Why am I here? Am I really successful when I am a failure at handling the progression of this disease, which is now MUCH more debilitating than it was when I was younger???

Would I be able to do now what I did back then? Absolutely not. So I guess I'm thankful that my disorder has had a gradual progression. I've met many others who can't say that. I am now a rapid-cycling patient. My depressions are more frequent and last longer. My manias cause more collateral damage nowadays (I still love 'em anyways). And I am unpredicatable.

I love you mania, for helping me through college and helping me raise three wonderful and well-rounded children. Now please go away because I don't need you anymore.

~MARSHA~

Interval of Lucidity

2009-05-25T09:01:00.001-07:00

If I believe what I see, hear, feel, and taste to be reality, then what happens when every experience starts to seem connected? I have felt the love of the Universe flowing through everything I see, and the constricting anxiety that my family is in great peril. How can I remain still when thoughts and feelings crest and subside at a pace too fast for me to even talk? During the darkest moments of my life, I ultimately placed my faith in people who I knew cared about me. This was no mere belief that in the end everything would turn out for the best. I relinquished control of my body and I thought at times perhaps my life. I let go of everything.

For years before I ever became ill, I had a nagging sensation that there was something waiting for me at the edge of my awareness. So I began psychotherapy sessions that lasted for nearly three years. The therapist and I began to traverse long ignored corridors of my heart and mind. I often imagined myself walking through a labyrinth in search of the mythical Minotaur. I knew intuitively that I was searching for a beast in the most private part of myself. And when I finally met up with that scary fellow, it took the intervention of other people to keep him from consuming me.

I have read that bipolar disorder is hard for even mental health professionals to diagnose. From the beginning of my therapy in 1998 until the day before I went into the hospital in 2001, my therapist never recognized my symptoms. And unfortunately, while I knew I needed help, I really had no idea what form it should take. Open ended talk therapy seemed like a good idea, but it turned out to be a bit like dousing a fire with gasoline. My therapist helped me understand quite a bit about myself. But my emotional state never improved, and often I left his office feeling much worse. I have since learned that this is common for people who suffer from serious mental illness.

In April of 2001 my spouse, our minister, and two friends brought me into the emergency room at University of Chicago Hospital. While we waited for the doctor, my uncontrollably racing mind created one painful phantasm after another frightening both me and my companions. Having gone without sleep for days, I was beyond wondering what was wrong with me. I just wanted my hellish experiences to end one way or another. After three weeks in the hospital, I went home with an official diagnosis of severe bipolar I disorder and the solemn task of reconstructing my life.

Since that time, I have had one more bout of illness in 2006 (both have occurred during times of great personal stress), and a new diagnosis, schizoaffective/bipolar. This time it took me close to two years to recover from the episode. The arc of the illness has been the same both times: mania, delusions, psychosis, then depression and coping with being heavily medicated. Now I consider myself to be in the time of remission. Like a squirrel storing nuts for the winter, I am busy enjoying my life and the people I share it with.

~ANONYMOUS

Facebook~Global Exposure!

2009-02-10T09:30:00.000-08:00

Bipolar Speaks started a group on facebook! If you are a member of facebook, join our group. If you aren't a member of facebook, sign up for a facebook account and you can join the group!

Simply log onto Facebook with your username and password and in the search box type in "Bipolar Speaks" and join the group. It's that easy!

Your "Blog" identity won't be revealed because a lot of us don't know who we truly are (in legal name) anyways...No exposure will occur unless you choose to do so yourself.

Also as a member of the group, no one can view your profile unless they ask to be your friend...you are truly protected.

Bipolar In The Raw

2009-01-26T09:29:00.000-08:00

Living with loved one's who are Bipolar from a woman of God's eyes. This isn't something that is really "talked" about, and some may think it's "too personal", but it's REAL and it's out there!Trying to live my life for God and dealing with the everyday struggles of mental illness.

This is MY story:

Padded rooms & lots of drugs here I come! “No, you make choices and you’re choosing to do the wrong thing.” “Why don’t you care about me?” “Why do you keep doing that?” “What is wrong with you?”

I found myself flat on my face before the Lord pleading, begging, and crying out for HELP!Convinced that there was something wrong with ME, I tried a number of different things. Some helped, some didn’t! This went on for 3 years. After an unexpected incident with our youngest son (who was 8 and already on meds for ADHD) we took yet another trip to visit the Doc. He then explained our little man was in fact bipolar.

I immediately went home and started my research! My eyes were about to pop out of my head due to all of the knowledge pouring into them. My brain was on over drive, and I couldn’t stop. If someone had tried to explain in laymen terms “what” bipolar was I would’ve looked at them like they had lost their marbles. HA, probably how people look at me when I try and explain it now.

Bipolar in children is different than in adults. While still in overdrive I realized I was also reading about my husband. With my new found knowledge I learned I was still completely CLUELESS. Trying to tell your 29 year old husband that he IS bipolar and getting on some medicine would HELP, was like pulling an embedded wisdom tooth out without Novocain. I’m NOT crazy after all, they are! Oh dear, what am I going to do now?

The Doc got our little man squared away and miracles began to happen with him! Still pulling teeth with my husband, I kept track of the episodes. Every three weeks I could expect “something” to happen. Every three months, something BIG would happen. I found myself flat on my face before the Lord pleading, begging, and crying out for HELP! October was on the horizon with the number of events all which were up in the air.

My husbands job, are we moving clear across the country, we are having another baby, WHAT! Pulling my hair out handfuls at a time and doing my best to rest in God’s perfect timing… WHAM! I was hit harder than a ton of bricks dropped from ten stories high! “Is this Mrs. Archuleta?” The first words I hear at the other end of the phone which nearly jump started my heart at 1am. Fuzzy brained and trying to focus the deep voice begins to explain who they are and why they are calling.

Calm, cool, and collective (because the severity hadn’t quite yet hit me) I proceeded to learn, my dear husband was being taken into custody and I needed to come pick up his car.“How did I miss this?” “How long has this been going on?” “How did I miss this?”Astonished & dismayed, flooded with a million thoughts, feelings and emotions I didn’t know which one to express first. I found myself flat on my face before the Lord pleading, begging, and crying out for HELP! “How am I going to support four kids (soon to be five)?” “I am NOT bailing him out!” “What am I going to tell the children when they see their dad isn’t home?” HELP, was on the way, I just didn’t know it.

2 Corinthians 12:10: (Amplified)10 So for the sake of Christ, I am well pleased and take pleasure in infirmities, insults, hardships, persecutions, perplexities and distresses; for when I am weak [[a]in human strength], then am I [truly] strong (able, powerful [b]in divine strength).

Spinning out of control my dear husband was facing serious charges. I found myself flat on my face before the Lord pleading, begging, and crying out for HELP! LOVE was the answer. God enabled me to love that man harder, tighter, and deeper than ever before. We made our way to see the different doctors, he was put on meds, and within days I could see a dramatic difference!

The Holidays came and went and I was so relieved, thankful and proud of MY “new” husband!SIGH…WHAM! Another ton of bricks hit. My dearest wasn’t taking his meds and hadn’t for a couple weeks. The episodes began like clockwork! “What am I going to do with this man?” “I can’t take it anymore!” “Why did I get stuck with a husband like this?”

I found myself flat on my face before the Lord pleading, begging, and crying out for HELP! My pity party didn’t last long. Clearly the Lord has given me all that I have good and bad for His purpose and it WILL glorify HIM. Meanwhile, I am to lean on Him for the strength, patience, and guidance.Philippians 4:13: (Amplified)13I have strength for all things in Christ Who empowers me [I am ready for anything and equal to anything through Him Who [a]infuses inner strength into me; I am [b]self-sufficient in Christ's sufficiency

~Rebecca Archuleta~

Lifetime Struggle

2009-01-12T19:43:00.000-08:00

I feel like my life is like a treadmill - running in place and getting nowhere. This is my life with Bipolar Disorder. I have battled with managing my bipolar, staying on medication, and watching my triggers for nearly five years now (since I've been diagnosed). To be honest, its been an ongoing rollercoaster ride that has never slowed down.

Every time I think that I have a hold on things, something happens. I have said this a thousand times, since my diagnosis or actually struggling with it while never knowing I had it, I have never been the same. Every life battle sets me off. I will fall into a deep depression over just about anything and that depression will spiral into a manic state. This is where I am now.

There are times I think about suicide, but not the way you think. I don't have the balls to kill myself. I would never cut myself, shoot myself, or take pills. But I could easily stop eating or not eat a lot. This has always been my choice of suicide if it were to arise.

Everytime I think that I could lead a normal life, I fall to pieces. I feel like I am a walking depressed soul. This is me, a depressed person that cannot seem to get out of that rut. I don't have the desire to work during these times of economic downfalls. Emotionally and mentally I can't.

I lie awake at night and cannot get to sleep, I am up late hours of the night, and I am not tired. What triggered this? BIG things, serious things that has put me over the edge. I still go to counseling, see my psychiatrist, and yes, I am still on meds. Love how these meds work, NOT!

I am tired, drained, emotionally unstable. I cannot believe the power of Bipolar Disorder. I cannot believe no matter how much we try, this Bipolar kicks in like a bat out of hell. Many of us had said before, Bipolar is not our identity, Bipolar is not who I am, Bipolar doesn't control me - well, I am not too sure about that. I think that we can only control so much - we do the best we can.

Sometimes, I feel that maybe having only so much on my plate is something I have to accept. Maybe working isn't in the cards at this time, maybe living my life as a stay-at-home mom, being a writer, taking care of my mental state of mind is where I have to be right now. But I cannot live like this forever and its hard for me to accept. I need to work and I want an outlet - but will this really solve anything or are we just doomed?

I see friends, I go out at times with friends, but I could take it or leave it and believe me at times I leave it. I have been involved in so many things, but people piss me off. That's where the irritability comes in - my patience has run dry. I could do without people and petty shit.

One thing I cannot stand is when people bring up "Celebrities." I don't care about these people. These people have money to REALLY help themselves, they have the medical insurance, the money to get away to a tropical spa in Maui, and they have the jobs and agents that allow them to take off if needed.

Well, I am an ordinary person with an ordinary home, with an ordinary lifestyle. I cannot afford to Mentally or Financially take care of my Mental Illness. I feel like there is no hope, it's a no-win situation and basically I need to accept who I am, what I have, and deal with it.

But I can't. Why? Because to some degree I am always depressed. I cry over music, commercials, movies, TV shows, and I dwell on the past a lot. I am a big "past time" drama queen. I have become a couch potato, catatonic - not just in spurts - its been awhile. This is my life.

This is a lifetime struggle. I read that Bipolar fades within time with age - I don't know if that is true or not, but at my age of forty-something - I am still an emotional wreck and I don't think I will ever have peace of mind.

~ANONYMOUS~

Submit your Blog or Website

2009-01-06T20:08:00.000-08:00

Are you or a loved one bipolar (and battle with other mental illnesses)? Would you like to bring more traffic to your blog, Bipolar Speaks blogroll may interest you.

Simply email your URL to the email provided in the *Profile* and we will add your name to the list.

In addition, grab the "Bipolar Speaks" button and place it within your own website or blog. Help spread awareness about Bipolar and other mental illnesses, and lets put an end to the STIGMA that is attached to mental illness.

Welcome to Bipolar Speaks

2009-01-06T06:11:00.000-08:00

First, I would like to thank everyone for submitting your stories and being so candid about your feelings. Please keep them coming!

We are also looking for stories from those battling with BPD, Schizo-affective, Schizophrenia, DID - amongst other mental illnesses.

This is a place to Speak Out! Those with Bipolar and other mental illnesses have a chance to truly speak their minds. Many of us with Bipolar Blogs have family members and friends who tend to find our blogs, leaving us no choice but to change our blogs or be very discret with what we say.

Bipolar Speaks Mission is to stop the STIGMA that is attached to Mental Illness. Our mission is to give those with a mental illness a chance to speak out, speak up, and be heard! Bipolar Speaks is where other fellow bipolars can express their thoughts, feelings, and opinions about anything they want. Family members and parents with children and other family members who have a mental illness can also speak out as well.

This is a place to feel safe for anyone who wants to get something off of his or her chest in an environment that provides a comforting and supportive release. Say what you want, what you feel, and don't be embarrassed or ashamed. Write as if you are finally letting it out.

Remember, you can be anonymous. I know that a lot of bloggers say what they feel within their own blogs, but you are welcome to share your thoughts, opinions, and feelings with us. You are welcome to help raise awareness and put a stop to the Stigma that lies within mental illness. We can change the world - one story at a time.

Please submit ALL stories to the email provided in the *Profile* or simply put it in a comment where ALL comments are moderated. Rules are located within the sidebar.

Thank You!

Ready To Combust

2008-12-08T19:25:00.000-08:00

I am too calm, too relaxed. I've been on medication consistently for about three years now and I am so bored. There is no mania, no fun, too even keel and I am ready to bust. I need to go out, drink, dance, sing, and have fun, but if I do at this time, I will get into trouble.

My life is so "in control" right now that I am bored stiff! I want excitement, enjoyment, and want to live on the edge. I feel the fire and the heat rising to the top and I am ready to explode. This *normal* life is not fun and I need to do something fast.

I always believed that stability, quietness, and calmness was for me and maybe it is, but having bipolar I am not these things or these things do not help me at all. Instead, it makes me absolutely crazy.

Oh, God! I could jump on a bike right now, drink martini's, dance in a bar for the entire bar to watch, and I could become the most fun person you've ever encountered.

Do I continue my meds or do I let it all go for a life on the edge?

~BIKER CHIC~

Bipolar Madness: Part Two

2008-10-13T15:27:00.000-07:00

Then things seemed to be leveling out, I was feeling better and my sex drive had actually shot through the roof which led me to doing the unthinkable while getting a massage. I asked the therapist to rub my breasts and he did. That was a bad move on my part, it increased my sex drive ten fold. Then about 2 months after that my husband decided to tell me that he had been having an online relationship with his high school sweetheart for over a year. From the moment he told me about it, my life went spiraling out of control once again and that is what brings me to tell my story.

The "normal" days are now gone and I now have been struggling for almost two years and have been in denial. I tend to self diagnose and have now made the decision to seek professional help. In the beginning, I thought I was going through a midlife crisis, but it soon became clear that something more sinister was going on. I began seeking out strangers for sex even though I knew it was wrong and had never been unfaithful before. I started driving recklessly, listening to loud music, spending money on expensive clothes, purses, etc….I would go to the mall and could only focus on one item, such as shoes and go to a store and buy ten pairs.

Then the next time I would have rings on my mind and go to Tiffany's and buy rings. I don't even wear jewelry. I would stop at the casino on a whim, feeling as the whole world was watching me, and thinking how wonderful I was. On a few occasions I left the house and got a hotel room, I would do it after having a disagreement with my husband, the problem was the fight really wouldn't be that bad, however, in my state of mind I made out like it was a huge fight.

I actually would drive down the road and think that every man that passed by me was looking at me and that they thought I was gorgeous. Once I followed a guy I thought was good looking into a bank parking lot and was going to proposition him but I chickened out and left. I began getting massages on a weekly basis, always going to someone different. The only reason I was getting the massages was because of the intense sexual arousal it gave me.

I then started getting brave and if I was attracted to the therapist I would ask them if they would perform oral sex on me. What was surprising to me was that each person I asked said yes. I needed very little sleep, and even when I would lie down, my mind would race from one thought to the next, constantly thinking about what my life could be if I were set free….I would see myself living another life. I would actually lie in bed and vision every possible scenario, with thoughts going from one thing to the next. Then after lying awake for hours with my mind racing I would finally fall asleep only to awake from having a horrible nightmare. I averaged sleeping about 3-4 hours a night. I have lost about 10 lbs in the past year, without trying. I can't afford to loose anymore weight since I only weigh 112 lbs.

I was like a wild animal that had been released from its cage. I started suggesting to my husband that we start having group sex. My alcohol intake increased dramatically. I would secretly have online relationships with men and spend hours chatting with people online. I also kept trying to figure out what I could do – I had so much energy, so my ideas went from going back to college to getting a job to joining a volunteer group to writing a novel, but I could never actually follow through with any of my ideas. I couldn't concentrate on my work, which fortunately I only work about 8 hours a week, there is no way I could ever hold a full time job. I am unable to finish ayour nything I start at home, it will actually take me a week to finish 5 loads of laundry.

I would start to clean the house and get side tracked and would get online, go to my room and have cyber sex. I would go to the book store and buy twenty books and come home and read them all in a week then not read again for a month. I became very irritable, even the smallest thing would set me off. My son could ask me if I was going to cook and I would scream at him. I stopped calling my Mom and friends as frequently. I also would have thoughts that I was actually someone else, someone important, famous, etc….

This all lasted for about eight months, then I crashed – went into a depression after my husband caught me kissing our neighbor's 25 year old son when he was home visiting and my husband actually went completely out of character and broke my nose, fractured the bones around my eyes, etc.....I looked like something out of a horror movie. He had never hit me before. Afterwards he was so full of remorse and in my despair watching him suffer because of what he did to me I confessed to him that I had cheated on him twice, but my rational was that it had nothing to do with intimacy, it was like a sport for me...hunt it, catch it and devour it, then on to the next person.

My life went tumbling down, I had suicidal thoughts and I so missed the feeling of grandeur that I had been experiencing for quite some time. The severe depression lasted about 2 months, since then I have been in a mixed state, with my moods swinging from one extreme to the other in a matter of hours. Wow, I don’t like this it all. For example, last Thursday I was down in the morning feeling like the world was a horrible place, then something got me going while I was in the car, I think it was a song and I wanted to “party” but that was quickly shattered when my husband started to lecture me and I became withdrawn, but the next morning I jumped up, got all dressed up and insisted I was going to the casino, that I felt lucky.

He didn't want to go but knew I was going with or without him and he knew that he better go or else I would loose a bunch of money and end up drinking and driving or end up having sex with a stranger. Then Saturday I was very normal feeling, went to lunch with our son, watched movies on TV and fell asleep that evening with no racing thoughts, then on Sunday I cooked a very nice lunch, cleaned a bit, feeling quite normal until about 3pm and I started becoming very irritated for no reason then I started drinking beer, talked non stop about every crazy thing I could come up with, bouncing from one subject to another. I finally went to bed about 2 am. When I woke up yesterday I stayed on the computer all day having cyber sex and now today I am depressed, feeling inadequate. I was suppose to work but I couldn't make myself go.

I am not sure how much longer I will go before seeking help. I think if I spent more time in a depressed state that I would have already gone to a doctor but the highs feel so good and they are quite frequent and I am addicted to them. One thing that I am very fortunate for is that my husband is very understanding and has done so much to help me during times when I am out of control. I know for a fact I could never manage on my own, it would just be a matter of time before I ended up in jail, raped, murdered or killed myself.

Everything I have written is just a fraction of the bizarreness that has been going inside of me. I just wish it would stop. Yes I know I need help, but I don’t want to walk around doped on lithium for the rest of my life, so I am fighting this awful thing but unfortunately I am not winning and the mania is coming back and it is almost full blown and I am trying so hard to not do anything stupid............so I just stay home.

In reference to the past two years above, I spoke of it all in past tense when in all actuality the behavior is still with me, I have just become more aware of my destructive behavior and am able to control the most destructive part of it, which is the marital infidelities, however, I feel that if I do not get help I will soon act on those impulses once again.

Kim

Bipolar Madness: Part One

2008-10-09T13:08:00.000-07:00

I am a 42 year old woman, married for 18 years and have one teenage son. My family history is as follows: My Mother has dealt with depression since my father left her 30 years ago and was hospitalized for it once. My Father is a functioning alcoholic. My Grandmother died from alcoholism and my Uncle committed suicide at the age of 54. My brother is a functioning alcoholic and my sister has an eating disorder. Sound like a crazy family? Actually no, they all have been college educated have families, and have successful careers, etc.

The first 13 years of my life were quite normal, nice family, camping trips, family gatherings every weekend, I was a straight A student in the gifted program, no violence or sexual abuse etc...mostly normal. Then my father left my mother out of the blue for the next door neighbor. During the next 4 years my life turned from a "Leave It To Beaver" existence to an attempted suicide, mood swings, anger issues, I was arrested for truancy, forgery and DUI, expelled from school for fighting, my Mother's new husband held me at gun point, I had an abortion, I was never able to have a steady boyfriend, had 2 car wrecks, drank too much and was not able to keep a job for longer than a few months, etc.

I always thought my behavior was attributed to my parents divorce and that I had overcome all that. I also met my current husband during this period of time. We never dated but were friends and stayed in contact until I was about 21. The only chemical dependency I have ever had is consuming too much alcohol. I do not take pills, I do not have an eating disorder and I do not do illegal drugs.

At the age of 17 I finally started having some normalcy in my life, I graduated High school, started college and remained pretty stable until my junior year of college and got arrested for disorderly conduct and battery on a law enforcement officer. I had to drop out of school and get a job to pay for my legal fees. I ended up getting a job in a topless bar so I could make enough to cover my legal fees.

At that point my alcohol intake increased, I jumped from place to place working mainly because I was disgusted with myself for working in that type of place then it all came tumbling down and I checked myself into a rehab center. I only stayed for a few weeks and left. At that point I went to nail school and got my license and started working as a nail tech, then out of the blue my now current husband called me which whom I had not spoken to since I was 21 and wanted to see me.

Within a month I had moved in with him and began playing Suzy Homemaker. I had never been happier. And for once in a long time my life seemed to be back to the Leave it To Beaver one I had always dreamed of. I was married at the age of 24 and my life seemed to not be so chaotic because my husband moderated me and took care of me. I did not drink as much after getting married either.

We had our ups and downs like all married couples and he tended to be verbally abusive but I eventually learned how to handle him. We had a child and I got to be PTA mom, cook, do all those things I always considered normal and up until 2 years ago all was well, then something changed, my husband started being more verbally abusive again and I was starting to not handle it as well. I started to buck him, so to speak, not getting the car washed when he told me to, etc...trivial things and I was feeling like I was getting old and not attractive anymore.

KIM