BIPOLAR SPEAKS

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 peaceofmindtlb@yahoo.com 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 peaceofmindtlb@yahoo.com 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

Another Manic Monday

2008-09-26T05:27:00.000-07:00

As a little girl, I would make music videos in my living room. My sister and I would spin around singing, and jump until the floor shook to Debbie Gibson, Maria Carey, and C&C Music Factory.

As a little girl, I would hide for days in my bedroom reading book, after book, after book hiding from the angry. I would become Anne of Green Gables, a juror in a John Gresham novel, or one of the many siblings of Kristy in the Baby Sitters Club.

As a teenager, I felt the adrenaline rush of playing on a muddy field diving to stop the soccer ball from crossing the goal line. Knowing that I was the only one who had the final power to win or lose.

As a teenager, I screamed obscenities at my parents daring them to challenge me, challenge my behavior, or challenge the dangerous road I was on. All the time hoping they would rescue me.As a college student, I was outgoing, social, and partied for nights on end. Energy radiated from me and attracted people toward me, moths to a flame.

As a college student, I screamed in the nighttime. I stayed inside for months. I lost myself. Fear and desperation became the only things that were familiar to me.

As a young wife, I was successful in all that I attempted. I was great at my job, relationships easy, fantastic home, things seemed perfect.

As a young wife, I dropped the ball. Endless nights of madness lead to days filled with numb hurtful thoughts. I felt like I didn't know who I was and was becoming someone I didn't want to be.

I had lost control
When she was down
She was VERY VERY DOWN
But when she was high
SHE COULD FLY

~ANONYMOUS~

Growing Up, Living With, and Having Bipolar Disorder

2008-09-22T16:43:00.000-07:00

My mother was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder when I was around the age of 8. I can still remember how it happened, and what triggered it. Growing up I raised myself, and cannot remember the "mother" that her parents talk about. But, that doesn't sadden me. My father and I used to leave the house without her to go shopping because she would purchase the whole store. I can count the number of good memories with my mother on my hands.. Most of them now come back to the manic episodes that she would experience.

My mother passed away about 4 years ago. I haven't regretted her death, and feel like it made me life move somewhere. A year after her death I had my "breakdown" when I found out I was Bipolar, I blame my illness on her. But, I know that my breakdown was what got me on track. Because of it I graduated high school early even after taking a good 6 months off because of my depression. None of my friends know about my disorder. Sometimes I wish I had someone to tell, just so I had some kind of place to put my thoughts other then in my head.

I am now attending college away from my father. Which I thought would be the hardest thing in the world. Surprisingly it has been one of the best things for me. I miss my own space, and my father. But I have been stable here so far, but am scared every single time I forget to take my medication that I will relapse and ruin all that I worked for. I came to this school because my cousin attends it, and my aunt works here.

I am scared that when she graduates I will relapse without someone to hang out with. I'm shy but want to make friends, with her help I have been getting out but still feel like I need her help to make it through. Living with Bipolar has been one of the hardest things of my life. I can remember crying for anti-depressants, and yelling out of frustrations. But now as I grow up I see the hints my mother saw as I grew up, and I see the times where I am cycling. I live with my illness but wish I wasn't sick. Everyday I wake up just to live another day as a person with Bipolar hoping to make it through college without a breakdown.

~ANONYMOUS~

Limitations

2008-09-06T11:47:00.000-07:00

I was diagnosed with Bipolar three years ago. However, it took approximately six years for doctors to figure out what was wrong with me. Ever since my child was born, I changed drastically. I am no longer the woman I used to be. I cannot handle the slightest things and I have just went in a totally different direction.

It seems that I could only handle so much in my life. My family and marriage is about all I can take. When I try to venture out and look for a job, join organizations within my community, and do different things, I fall apart.

If I have too many responsibilities and tasks under my belt, I break down. Not so much like an emotional breakdown, but more of a deeper depression. I am not lazy by any means, but I feel that I cannot work, not like I used to.

I cannot do the things I used to do, I cannot deal with people sometimes, and I cannot tackle more than one thing at a time. My family and marriage is the only thing I could focus on right now.

Being diagnosed three plus years ago, I've been on every medication, I go to therapy, I see my psychiatrist, I pamper myself when needed, I don't drink like I used to, and I take my medication daily. However, no matter what I do or how hard I try, I fall back into that "World of Depression." What is left? Electric shock treatment.

Every morning when I wake up, I feel like I was hit by a truck. I look like I was hit by a truck and my eyes are always swollen. I cry a lot, sleep a lot, and just cannot seem to overcome and tackle this bipolar disorder that is eating away at my every core.

Trust me, I tried. Everytime I feel good, I fall. Everytime I think this is going good, I fall. Everytime I think that this bipolar hasn't gotten the best of me, I fall. I fall back into that state of mind and there is truly no escape.

But then I think, what is wrong with "just" focusing on your kids and spouse? What is wrong with not working? What is wrong with being home day in and day out if that is what makes you feel good? What is wrong with being honest and realizing that one's abilities can only reach so far?

Then I think, what happens if my husband dies? I will have no job or money. What will happen if me and my husband, for some reason, lose our house? We won't have a home. What will happen if my kid got sick? Mommy is too sick to care for herself let alone her own CHILD!

What if? Maybe I am not a good mother, wife, or person. Maybe I've become a lazy woman with a disability called Bipolar. Maybe my brain function is a lot more messed up than we know. Maybe there is more going on in that little brain of mine and we will never know what that is.

Limitations. That is what I have resorted to. Just simple limitations in order for me not to go off the deep end. Is that really so bad?

~ANONYMOUS~

For A Lifetime

2008-08-28T14:47:00.000-07:00

She reaches the edge of a cliff
Her toes dangle over the edge
Her eyes stare down at the ground below her
She stands there
For a lifetime
Wondering what awaits her
On the other side of destiny

Her arms raised like wings
Her head thrown back as the wind catches her breath
She falls to her knees there
For a lifetime
Wondering what will save her
On the other side of freedom

Her tears fall like rain
Her hands hide the shame
She pauses there
For a lifetime
Her shoulder feels the warmth of a touch
She can't see
She discovers comfort and hope
She runs to it
For a lifetime

~WORDS OF A WOUNDED LAMB~ RACHEL

Sexual Attention

2008-07-18T09:07:00.000-07:00

I’m not sure if I have bipolar disorder but it may be borderline personality disorder,
and, it may not, too. But one thing I have in common with some of the bloggers is
a hypersensuality and a deep need for male attention, of the sexual variety. I am
a flirt and am at the point where I want to take it to the next step: affair.

I am married and have been faithful for 9 years. But I’m suffering. I need to be seductive to
feel alive, but we all know that seduction (of other men) and marriage do not mix.
But I know what will happen – I will meet the man (whoever he is – I’ve met a couple
so far!) and flirt, seduce, have affair, fall in mad passionate love, want to leave my
husband, and then I’ll crash back down to the “small” me.

There is the big me and the small me. The big me has grandiose dreams of being a millionaire and flying on jet planes to exotic places. The small me wants my husband, wants to just
curl up next to him and have a “small” life. I cannot reconcile the two. I’m in deep
suffering because of my intense feelings and am very afraid that I’ll have an affair
in the near future and this will of course ruin any chance of having the cozy
little life.

I have children, too. (3 ½ years old and an 11 yr old step-daughter). I was in turmoil yesterday because I wanted a neighbor to come down to visit with me (male of course!). We have been flirty for some time now and I have decided recently it’s time to act upon it. But now I’m getting signs from him that he is not so sure he wants to go the next step with me. The consequences could be deadly!

My husband has an anger streak and would surely react to an affair. So the neighbor did not come to see me yesterday and I felt rejected. I watch my email constantly to see if he’ll email me, to see if he’s thinking of me. I know this is not normal behavior and I’ve never felt this way about my husband, this feeling of “will he call me? Won’t he? Is he thinking of me?”

I just had a good, friendly relationship with my husband, one where we talk a lot and laugh a lot, but I hadn’t really found him lusty and attractive when we met. So I’m acting out now to find that attractive man – and guess what, they are out there!! Not exactly available because most of them are married. I’m 38. So, What is wrong with me? Why do I so badly need the sexual attention of an attractive man?

Why is it the only thing that makes me feel fully alive? (besides working out at the gym!).

Thanks for listening.

~ANONYMOUS~

Bipolar Outburst Gone Too Far

2008-06-24T14:58:00.000-07:00

We were in an arguement, our tempers flared. I walked away, he followed. I tried to shield my kids. He kept shouting. I kept shouting. I walked away again, he followed again. I tried to leave the house, he grabbed my arm, I pulled away. I kept getting ready to go to work, he kept stopping me so we could talk. I didn't want to talk, I just wanted to go to work, to get air, to get out.

He threatened me with hurting himself if I left him, of trashing the house, of making me miserable, but I wasn't listening. I wasnt listening to his way of manipulating me, I wasnt listening to him. I wasnt leaving him, just the building. I just needed to leave the building, needed to get to work. I passed him again, trying to get ready, but he was ready.

He grabbed me by my throat. He pushed me backward. I couldn't get up, I only reached with my arm. I scratched his face, he let me go. I froze. My children didnt see, thank God they didn't see. I called for my dad, to get the kids. I went outside to call the cops. My dad came, and spoke.

He spoke and spoke to the both of us, trying to make things better. From a dad's perspective, from a Christian's perspective, from a man's perspective. He tried to reconcile us. It worked. We agreed for a peace, but how long will it last? I am scared, he is scarred. Will it happen again, I don't know. If it does, will I escape? Will I have a place to go? I don't know...

~http://sunshine4shadows.wordpress.com/~

Bipolar VS. True Self

2008-06-19T16:24:00.000-07:00

Can't tell my friends. Can't tell my husband. Can't tell anyone. Because obviously it's inappropriate. What I don't know is if it's the normal mood-regulated me having these feelings or if it's the bipolar me having these feelings. Or if it's all one in the same.

He's a friend and a co-worker. He's handsome. He pays attention to me. He has his life in order. He's goal oriented, very driven. We see eye to eye on many things. I see him and my heart skips a beat. My day is better just when we work the same shift. If something goes wrong, he always has a kind word, a supportive remark.

When there is a crisis, he has my back and I have his. We work well as a team. It's nice. I thought I was only having these feelings when I was hypomanic, but the hypomania has passed and they're still there. I'm pretty sure he's interested. But I'm also pretty sure my mind is playing tricks on me. How do I divide my life into what is bipolar and what is not? Where is the line drawn?

I don't want to make a mistake that will have irreversible reprocussions simply because I was thinking through the affected mind of this illness. I don't trust myself to say no. I walk by the hallway, afraid to death that I'll blurt out something inappropriate. Then all my co-workers will know. I'm afraid that my thoughts are so loud my husband can hear them. That he can see my thoughts of this other man.

I often shake my head, trying to refocus, trying to get the practically non-stop images of my coworker out of my head. But it's relentless sometimes. I don't know what to do. There is no one I can talk to. This is the only place I could think of to get it off my chest.

~ANONYMOUS~

The Meds Help, But I am Still Bipolar

2008-06-14T11:21:00.000-07:00

Last night, my mother made me go on a walk with her. She wanted to talk about my many recent shopping expenses. And I said, “Well, I was manic.”Her immediate response was, “When you’re manic, can’t you do something to stop yourself from shopping?” Suddenly, I understood that she didn’t understand.

When I’m manic, I just think things are going well. I think I am in a fantastic spot, feeling good. I don’t know I’m manic, so there isn’t anything I can do to stop its effects. Sure it’s not as bad as it was when I was unmedicated. But I am still bipolar. “Then should you change your meds?” she asked. “No. What will changing the meds do but make me gain weight? The meds make me better; they don’t cure me,” I said.

She told me that she could tell by the way I talk when I am manic. She wanted to know what she could do to help.“Let me know! Don’t nag, but just ask if I’m okay. Tell me I sound manic.”“How are you going to handle being on your own?” She’s my mother, so I understand her concern. And that exact question has been on my mind too.“I don’t know. I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to be on my own completely.”

I know I can’t regulate my spending. I know that I will have to be on an allowance, just to limit the damage. I know I’m bipolar.I just wish I could be something else. I think I would rather be wheelchair bound than afraid of credit cards. I think I would rather lose an arm than know that I will never be able to trust myself completely. Medications can’t fix that.

~TORI~

The Nature of the Beast

2008-06-12T06:39:00.000-07:00

Coming out of a depression is like waking up from a coma you weren't even aware you were in. Suddenly, you just open your eyes and things are there for you again.Instead of looking at everyone through a foggy window, there are contrasts in color and expression. People's smiles don't hurt your heart or make you jealous, wondering where that happiness comes from. You don't wish anymore that you could be them for just one night.

You become aware you've been schlepping around in drab colors (gray, tan and black) and that mostly you've preferred comfortable clothing (in other words, a step up from pajamas) and you didn't care how you looked anyway because you hid behind your hair and scuffed your feet, wishing for invisibility and anonimity because every "hello" from a stranger is too painful to respond to.

You eat, and food has texture and taste. And you actually care about what you're having for dinner. You put some effort into the preparations instead of working on auto-pilot. You realize that now you've started enjoying eating again, you've lost 40 pounds so it's time to hit the gym hard and make sure it stays off. It's not the way you were meant to lose it, but hey, it's gone and let's not get it back, okay?

Instead of working on minute by minute, you start thinking about what comes next, and later, and tomorrow, and next week. Other people's problems don't hurt you anymore. Like when you found out about Steve Irwin dying, and it was like a personal friend just died and you couldn't believe it or get over it. Or when you were watching Chronicles of Narnia with your kids and within 15 minutes you were bawling on your bed over the moms and kids separating, and you have a hard time returning to the movie.

Every THING that happens to every ONE doesn't directly impact your emotional status. Depression is like being underwater. Moving around sluggishly, dragging yourself around, forcibly, some test of will managing your encumbered limbs' leaden weights. Gravity sucks you down into this whirlpool of darkness. It's hard to see, let alone open your ears to listen or your mouth to speak. You are a burden to yourself, and surely everyone else around you, too.

There is no "self". There is just movement from Point A to Point B with a long drawn out pause in between. And you get there because you simply have no choice. Depression talks to you. It tells you, you are worthless. You mean nothing. You have no future. You have no hope for the future. You are expendable, frail, ugly, invaluable, hopeless, useless, and stupid beyond all compare. You become a stranger in your own body, wanting to jump out of it like you're in a costume.

You know intellectually that this isn't you, but emotionally, you've been hijacked by a bunch of misfiring neurons, and there's nothing you can do about it. If you let it, depression will eventually tell you that someone can fill the spot you leave behind, like a line in a queue. You vacate, and another moves in to the void you leave behind, and you start to believe it because you're too exhausted to fight it anymore.Depression chases you, like a rabid beast in an empty field that never ends. It has no mercy, and it never lets up.

Depression can run forever, it is inexhaustable. Eventually, you trip on that rock in the ground as you're looking over your shoulder. Not giving into it is the greatest struggle of all as depression closes in on you.You finally pick up your fried self and get on with life. You have to. If you stayed lying down, you wouldn't ever get up. You get up because you have to. Because inside that dense brain packed full of misfiring neurons, there is a voice that tells you to wake up, and the faces of the people who love you shine like beacons of light in the darkness.All you have to do is turn towards them, leaving the beast behind you.

~TERRA INCOGNITA~

Post Partum Psychosis Part II

2008-06-11T12:28:00.000-07:00

We drove an hour to reach the mental pokey. The building was old and only had 5 floors. I had trepidation just looking at it. We entered and immediately were met with guards who wanted to ransack our bags and put paper bracelets on our wrists. After a short discussion on whether or not cell phones were allowed we were told to go to the fifth floor for assessment. Up we went.

The elevator door chimed and we got out and found a lady who asked me to fill out paperwork. It seemed very surreal. The hospital looked normal and sounded normal and so did the people who filled the waiting room. Was I in the right place? I saw a nurse who took my vitals and asked me what meds I was on. Then I saw a social worker who asked me a million questions about why I was there. After I told him that I didn't want to share my information with him since he could get my kids taken away from him he assured me that I wouldn't get my kids taken away.

I told him my story and he wasn't shocked. I'm sure it was old hat to him, but to me it was terrifying. I saw the doctor next who wanted to admit me for 2-3 days. He said it was as much for my sake as it was for the children's. I went to the waiting room for a nurse to come get me. I had a dinner while I waited. My husband asked me if I was sure that I wanted to stay. He was sad that he was going to be away from me. He teared up even. He told me that he could stay home with me for a few days to see if that helped so I wouldn't have to stay there.

The nurse came to get me and so I could begin signing myself away on paperwork. I didn't want to sign away my freedom so easily so I asked for a Power of Attorney form. While she went to get it I began reading all the small print. The part on the amount of money this would cost, even with insurance, made me pause. We couldn't afford $1500 even if we were put on a payment plan. I decided to leave. After I got home I wasn't so sure that I did the right thing.

I felt like I had been living in a horror movie. How could I, even for a second, have thought about harming my precious little baby? What chemical imbalance made me this monster? I forced myself to start having more positive thoughts and I let go of my pride and asked for help from my in-laws. I spent a week with them and the kids and I spent another week with my father and my husband. They helped me so much during that time. I shudder to think what would've been my fate without them. Would I have ended up like Andrea Yates? Would my children have ended up like her children?

If you or someone you know has bipolar disorder and gives birth, please tell them about my story. It is more likely that they will have postpartum psychosis. The mother should never spend most of her time alone with an infant because this could lead to severe sleep deprivation. Constant contact with a psychiatrist or therapist during the first six weeks after a child's birth is highly recommended. If there's a choice between meds and breast feeding to be made, please choose the medications. The sooner treatment is sought in postpartum, the better.

This can be controlled with medication. There are options out there. There is help. My little baby is now fourteen months. She said "Mama" last week and "Dada" just yesterday. I am so very thankful that she is here. When I think back upon what could've happened, I still get teary eyed. She's so beautiful and she lights up a room. I will always be thankful to the people who helped me get though that time in my life. We are never alone in our walk through life, not when we truly need it.

~Bipolar Chica writes daily for her blog, “Conversations in My Head”.~

Post Partum Psychosis Part I

2008-06-11T12:21:00.000-07:00

Everyone's heard a postpartum story, even if only on the news. We all the know the story of Andrea Yates, who drowned her five children within a short time after giving birth to her last child. Andrea believed that her children were to perish in the fires of hell because she was not righteous. Andrea was in psychiatric care for depression for over two years before this incident.

One or two in a thousand women end up in postpartum psychosis and I happened to be one of them. I gave birth to a healthy baby girl in April of 2007. It had been a difficult pregnancy. Two months into my pregnancy I learned I had Bipolar Disorder. I was relieved to know that there had been something wrong with me all this time. I thought that I could finally get some help. I wasn't given any mood stabilizers while I was pregnant. They weren't sure what the medications would do to the fetus I was carrying.

I spent the entire ten months in a state of anxiety and depression that made me claw at my skin. I didn't know what was happening to me. It was an awful time in my life. A little over a month after giving birth, I went into postpartum depression. I knew I was in postpartum and I even went to the doctor. I was put on Lamictal and Zyprexa. I just don't think there was enough time for it to work. My mood fluctuated from mania to anger to anxiety to depression. I remember obsessively cleaning my house in the middle of the night.

I began thinking that I was a horrible mother. I dreamt of how I would kill myself. And then one day I began having horrible thoughts. I became resentful of my baby. The baby wouldn't sleep long enough. The baby cried too much and I felt overwhelmed. I was alone all day with the baby and a three year old. My husband commuted to his work over an hour away.

I became a person I didn't recognize. I shouted for my baby to shut up and had an urge to shake her. I managed to resist the urge. The next day the urge was worse. I called my doctor and left her a message because I knew I needed help. I sobbed and laid my baby back in her bassinet. I couldn't stop crying. I called my husband to come home immediately. I called my doctor again and left another message. I knew I was in a bad way and the realization of it calmed me a little.

After rocking my baby, I fell asleep holding her. She was finally quiet and I was glad. I woke up, opened my eyes, and saw two androids/aliens standing at the end of my chair and they were holding out their arms to take the baby away from me. I clutched my baby closer, blinked, and they were gone. I got up and put the baby in the bassinet and sobbed uncontrollably while I waited for my husband to get home. I felt so ashamed.

I finally got a call from my doctor around 5:30 that evening. I told her what was going on. At first, she wanted to give me an antidepressant added to the Lamictal and Zyprexa that I was already taking. I argued that would send me into mania and I didn't want that. To complicate things further I told her about the urge to shake the baby and the androids.

That sent her over the edge and she told me to go to the mental hospital. I argued with her and cried. She asked to speak to my husband and somehow she convinced him of my need to go. After a little coaxing from him, I finally agreed to go.

~CHICA~

Deep Inner Feelings

2008-06-06T12:35:00.000-07:00

Sometimes Bipolar is manageable for me. I can hide my moods and also usually the Bipolar behaviors from work and around people who know me. In those times I still have to maintain my Bipolar to keep it under-wraps but I do it. Like I said, It's manageable.

But when it's not manageable, it's scary. I am scared for myself and scared of myself. Today I'm going to give just a couple of examples. My mood can reach an ultimate high, a manic, ad everything goes so fast I practically feel dizzy. My thoughts are so imaginative that I put myself in various situations and imagine myself there to the point that my skin turns hot and my heart races. When I'm low, I am slowed and numb. I am without hope or worth. I am unable to process my thoughts the same way that I would ordinarily do it. And sometimes, I have a mixture of all of the above.

Last night I visited family members who I am close to, including a brother "by a different mother" or "brother-in-law." I like to see it as a friendship. We have had a lot in common for a long time but *never* any kind of sexual chemistry. I only love him like a brother (and likewise) and he is just that. Anyway, Husband was out with dad and brother-in-law needed to get out to smoke pot and invited me for the company. He does this regularly which I knew. I didn't do it because it's not something I enjoy.

But he became complimenting on how much he loves me and my husband and is grateful for us, how we make a difference in his life... you know how they get when they're high. Showering with compliments. And he talked about how special our friendship was and that no other brother/sister-in-laws usually have this kind of connection. My thoughts spun out of control. I thought about the game show "Moment of truth" I thought about if the game show host asked me if I had feelings for him. (Which I don't.)

But yet my Bipolar was actually producing/making chemistry there that didn't exist. I kept feeling it and it was so awkward, my head was spinning and my face was turning red, He saw me thinking and asked what I was thinking. I told him that game show... and he said "why." My face felt so hot, my heart raced, my stomach tightened, it was like having the jitters of love on a first date. I felt delusional, I felt put on the spot and I imagined myself in the game. Intellectually I knew he was asking me a basic question *"why are you thinking about that game"* but I had minterpreted his question in my mind as "I know you have feelings for me." (which isn't true)

Despite knowing I was misperceiving thing, I had to answer on a reality-based level. The *actual question* needed a reality based answer. It was so hard. The racing thoughts captivated me. I felt at risk for saying detrimental things had I not rambled on about and found ways of changing the topic. I also know I have made terrible impulsive moves... I don't even want to think about what could have happened if I continued to be captivated by the Bipolar *and it all started out of nothing!!!*

I tell you the truth, I have never had feelings for my brother-in-law. Ever. I knew it was the Bipolar. On the return home, in the car with my Husband, I felt like my mind was really loud. For the first time I thought my thoughts must be audible. I had to ask Husband if that was the case. He reassured me. Bipolar is a disorder that is manageable only until it catches you off guard. It can be scary and we really need to be aware of our vulnerable states so we are careful to avoid triggers.

~ANONYMOUS~

Side Effects From Medication

2008-06-06T10:18:00.000-07:00

I have dutifully taken my prescribed medications for bipolar every night and every morning, just like the doctor wants me to. The result has been a somewhat stable mood and FOURTY EXTRA POUNDS. I have never been this fat before. Ever. I mean ever, ever, ever.

My husband, he does not have bipolar. He does however, really likes porn. Alot. And it makes me feel like crap. Why should I care? It's fantasy. Sure, I know that. Anyone with two cents could tell you that. But they're thin and I'm not. They have big tits and on a good day I fit into a petite size B cup. They look sexy, I feel very unsexy.

How can he go from those women and then look at me? He says it's not the same. That he doesn't care what size I am. But is he telling me the truth or does he really mean it? I don't see him looking a magazines with fat women in them.

~ANONYMOUS~

A Different Side of Me

2008-06-06T05:17:00.000-07:00

I know this topic has received a lot of attention: Hypersexuality. I think it's perhaps because during our baseline moods, we are more our true selves. But when we hit hypomania, or full blown mania, we become someone we typically are not. And that can be scary. Or a release. But most of us don't have a place where we can say "Hey, all I think and breathe is sex. How is your day going?" So I think that's why this is common topic right now. This is a safe place. To unburden ourselves, to share the secrets we keep from others who think they know us.

My husband knows that I love him and that I get "frisky" when I'm hypomanic, but I don't think he wants to hear what REALLY happens when I get hypomanic.When I hit hypomania and the hypersexuality kicks in I come out of my house wife-mom-follows all expected rules- shell. It's the only time I feel alive. It's the only time that I'm not inhibited by my size. Suddenly my fat, post 5 kids belly with thunder thighs to match don't bother me because in my hypomanic state, I FINALLY feel attractive. I feel like I can seduce any man who walks by me. And I want to, oh boy do I want to get their attention.

I have trouble concentrating at work because all I can think about is a coworker. The fantasies are non-stop. He walks by me and I have to restrain myself from throwing myself into his arms. I worry endlessly that I will say something completely inappropriate to the workplace and get myself fired. I act like a teenager in high school, watching for him, trying to catch him going into the break room so I can "casually" go too, just to be in the same room with him. It's ridiculous. I know it but it's as if my attraction to him has a life of it's own.

And once the mood comes down and I become more clear headed and more myself, I look at this cowoker and wonder "What were you thinking?" He's never as gorgeous and attractive as he was when I was hypomanic. He just goes back to being some guy I work with.

Until the next cycle begins.

~ANONYMOUS~

You're My Obsession

2008-05-31T08:40:00.000-07:00

Many people have addictive personalities. They may smoke, eat, have sex, and drink. When someone quits one addiction they end up with another. True "Addictive Personality."

I don't have an addictive personality. I quit smoking 21 years ago and never looked back. I didn't turn to food or alcohol instead. I stopped and moved on. Being addictive to things is scary and sometimes the thought of being out of control is scary.

I read this blog thoroughly and noticed that the main topic here is sex and hypersexuality. Why is that? Is it from Bipolar? Or are we just one Horny bunch.

I have an addiction: men. Every time I look at a man, I picture him naked. I fantasize how I am seducing him and I can literally see the act of hot, passionate sex. To be honest, I have to be attracted to them and they are all about 25 years of age and older. But there has to be a physical attraction.

I never act on this. I want to, I feel it, I taste it, I smell it, but I don't. If I was single - forget it. I wouldn't have control, but being married truly keeps me honest. Thank goodness. But it doesn't stop my mind from being dishonest.

I am addicted to men. I am highly attracted to men, and I have to honestly say that if a man came near me and flirted, I do flirt back. Is this truly bipolar? Is this truly hypersexuality? Or is it just a woman who is addicted and hot for men?

I mean, I don't act on it and the word "Hypersexual" means what it is..someone who is sexual and acts on it, but I don't. But boy, at times I do.

This is my thought. I am in a nice bar, dressed up, hair done, make up, sexy black dress, heels, and some hot guy walks by and catches my attention. We talk, we whisper, and next thing you know we are kissing passionately to the point where we end up either in his car or a hotel room. Even the beach would be nice.

This is crazy, but I think that this is normal, too. Men flirt, Men fantasize - even married men. Come on, a man is sitting there and a hot, good looking woman is around him and he doesn't notice or for one split second doesn't think what it would be like to seduce her or have sex. Yeah right!

I read the post before me and I could so relate to that person. I know what they are feeling.

It is scary and I wonder if one day I just might act on it.

~ANONYMOUS~

Temptation

2008-05-31T08:37:00.000-07:00

I've been a good girl all my life. I graduated from high school, went to college and graduated in three years with honors. I even married my high school sweet heart. The man to whom for the past 15 years I have given everything.

After the children were born, the wild rides of depression and hypomania took hold of me, cycling through several times a day. I have noticed but have never said, to anyone, that when I become hypomanic I am extrememly hypersexual.

I eye every man that passes by me. Wondering what it would be like to taste his skin. To be in his arms. And for the first time I seriously consider what it would be like to have an affair.

~ANONYMOUS~

Blackouts

2008-05-11T12:25:00.000-07:00

I have come to realize that there are large portions of my life that I simply cannot remember. I realized this seemingly selective blackout during my sophomore year of college. I had 12 people close to me die in 6 months and a hurricane pretty much destroyed my family’s home. The stress of the deaths and not being able to speak to my family sent me into my first documented depression.

After missing a week of school, not eating and never leaving my bed except to use the bathroom, my roommate called my counselor who then brought a therapist to my dorm room. They diagnosed me with depression, and thus began 4 years of therapy. During those therapy sessions I started remembering things. But were they real? Could I trust my mind? Had I watched one too many Lifetime Television for Women shows?

The memories of abuse, taunting, and hurt were too real to ignore. I tried hypnotherapy, and what the therapist recorded BLEW MY MIND! I forgot all the things that happened to me. What I THOUGHT was my first sexual experience, really wasn't! The first was actually 2 years earlier, but I simply cannot remember it.

Fast forward to February 2007. I see a guy at church. He looks familiar, and as he walks over to me and we exchange pleasantries, I remember that we worked together at one point. We exchanged contact info, but he kept looking at me. I concluded that he either liked me or was just a weirdo.

He called me later that afternoon, and dropped a bombshell: "Butterfly, why didn't you tell me you were leaving. You just disappeared without a trace." Huh? Apparently, we were dating. I have ZERO memory of being in a relationship with this guy. He described my house, my bedroom, etc, and I was grossed, disgusted, embarrassed, and ashamed at my inability to remember.

When it sunk in that my memory wasn't ALL of my memory, I began to wonder what else I didn't remember. In hindsight, it was stressing my memory that made me start with medication initially.Does anyone else experience blackouts?

-Butterfly (www.thebipolarchick.blogspot.com)

No More "Dumbing" Down

2008-05-10T07:06:00.000-07:00

So this morning I finally met with a disability attorney. For about ten years, until 2006, I worked for a large mortgage company in a senior position. I was lucky and had a boss who came to appreciate my hard work and so was willing to overlook some inconsistencies regarding days and schedules. I had lots of alone space to work and help with the public parts. The work lent itself well to the particular issues and obsessions within my disorder.

In 2005, the company went through a reorganization. In order to keep my job I was required to accept a transfer to a new department with a new boss and co-workers, in a new town, in a much more conservative part of the country. Most of the understanding and flexibility I had had previously, vanished the moment I walked in the door. After a year of uprooting my family from the comfort of our home of ten years, trying to acclimate myself to new people, new rules, and new social expectations, and the new division moving me from department to department, I was laid off.

Next came numerous months of facing my fears and interviewing with new companies, trying new positions, and slipping into either the anxiety and panic that comes with new things, or the depression accompanying my feelings of failure. This, on top of getting used to new doctors, a new city, a new regime of meds, and our declining financial situation, eventually led my psychiatrist and my therapist to both recommend that I look into state disability until I was able to get stable once again.

This turns out to be the most demeaning experience I have ever had. My friends and previous co-workers are all wondering aloud why I am still not working. The social security office, a fund that I have been paying into throughout all my life of hard work, looks at me as if to say "What's wrong with you.....you don't LOOK disabled?" There are people who assume I am just lazy and trying to get out of work. I get no credit for the previous 20 years I have worked. There are people who tell me to just "get over it" or those that want to "help me to do it" rather than let me admit I can't right now. They tell me its all in my head. Duhhhhh!

And the worst of it is that so far everyone I met with regarding the disability claim expected me to "dumb myself down" in order to be eligible. I do not believe that the person coming in with a wheel chair is expected to do that. Anyways, after what seems likes months of jumping through SSI hoops already, I finally received my obligatory denial letter....the golden key to the attorney's office. My person is not actually an attorney but an advocate and she is wonderful!

The very first person who not only did not want me to be LESS than I really am but instead stressed the importance of my background and encouraged me to be the real me..... including my intelligence. She assured me that it was ok to take some time for me....to get back to a place where I am feeling better. And now that she is now working on my behalf I am beginning to feel better already.

~ANONYMOUS~

The First Manic Maniac

2008-04-24T09:46:00.000-07:00

I knew something was horribly wrong. I hadn’t slept all night. I spent the night talking to my friend Will until dawn. He may have started it, but it wasn’t him that kept it going. It was an unseen force that was driving me to go out, party, drink, not give a damn about the consequences. I didn’t always come home. Sometimes I’d drink too much and then just stay where I was, usually at will’s house.

I felt sexy and free and didn’t want to be tied down by Greg or anyone else. I told him that I needed to be having fun and would promptly leave the house as soon as he got home from working all day.

But lets go back. After staying up all night that first night and not sleeping, after I had been wild and said I hated Greg, I knew something was seriously wrong. I called my work and they had a program to get counseling if I needed it. I had already told my boss that something was really wrong and I couldn’t work right now. They really understood, and immediately submitted a claim for long term disability for me. I met with the counselor later that week and after hearing me speak at lightening speed for half an hour straight she immediately diagnosed me with bipolar disorder.

“Bipolar disorder”? I was having so much fun. I felt wonderful. Songs sounded better, everything was beautiful and I wanted to kiss every person I met. But I went along with it, because deep down I knew I had a problem. After all the counseling I had been through in my life, I was fairly adept at realizing when something was out of wack. But I’d never in my life had feelings like this before.

Some people say that there’s a catalyst that triggers manic episodes. I think that might hold true for me too. It wasn’t the first time I’d screwed up, but it was an emotional train wreck that I simply couldn’t look away from. In the past I’d fallen for a lot of men with pretty words and pretty promises, but this was different I was married now. To Greg, the most perfect loving supportive husband and woman could only dream of. Yet in my mind it just didn’t have anything to do with him. The mania separated him from all the destruction that was about to occur.

Through out all of this I loved him. I never thought of leaving him seriously, aside from the few occasions we fought because I needed some kind of release and someone to blame. But he was always separate from anything I felt and did in my mania. In my mind I can compartmentalize people and feelings. It’s a gift I got from having PTSD and being abused. I could hide parts of myself and the other parts have no idea what’s going on. I think there’s a phrase that is something like the left hand can’s see what the right one is doing.

~BETH~

The Bitten Apple

2008-04-20T17:25:00.000-07:00

When I am manic, I become hypersexual. Or maybe the proper term for it is "Flirtatious." I flirt with every guy that walks by me. I will be in the store and I will shake my ass and smile. If I am driving in my car, I will look at some one who is driving by and I will smile and even blow a kiss.

I am married. I am ashamed. I never cheated or acted on my emotions. But, when I am in that flirtatious mode, I am feeling so confident, feeling so good, that I just let my self-confidence get the best of me. I may even dress a little different, take more time with how I look, and I have fun doing it.

When it is happening, I know that I am doing it, but there is no control. It is as if the mania is so powerful that I feel what I am doing at that time is OK. That it is harmless, and I am not cheating. I don't talk to anyone, I just look, make eye contact, smile, and walk the walk in front of them.

When the "high" is gone, I think, I cannot believe I did that. I cannot believe I acted that way. I cannot believe as a married woman that I flirted with all those men. I would promise myself that it won't happen again, that I will have more control over the situation, but when I am feeling a bit happy, I do it again.

The manic moments to me is like a rollercoaster that has gone out of control. No matter how hard you try to slow it down, it goes faster and faster. The power and rush is so strong that it takes one thing to start it up again. Be it aggravation, triggers, arguements, or whatever.

I don't feel proud of my flirtatiousness, and I feel like I've given into temptation when I know I haven't. It is such a powerful feeling, words that cannot express it.

People believe that a bipolar person who is hypersexual could control themselves, that they have the power to slow down and back off. But that is far from the truth. Or, I guess it depends on the individual as we are all different and our symptoms are different.

Those who are manic cannot always control themselves that is why they shop until they drop, go bankrupt, and end up buying a house that they cannot afford. And then when the mania is over, they have a house and they are sitting there thinking what the hell did I just do?

I have not Bitten the Apple just yet. I hope that I never do...personally, I don't like apples anyway.

~Lady in Red~

What People Are Saying About Bipolar Speaks

2008-04-20T09:27:00.000-07:00

"I think your site is a great idea, in order for people with bipolar to share their thoughts and ideas and experiences. I appreciate the blogroll also, and added you to mine. "

"Oh wow! It is simply beautiful here! What a wonderful haven...let me absorb it all and I will see what I can contribute."

"This is not my story--but I will be posting one of those soon. Just wanted to thank you for bringing this blog to my attention. I already wrote a post about it and have linked to you. I'm in the process of reading some of the moving stories already compiled. Great job!!"

"I want to be a part of this please!!! Am adding this to a collection of health promotion links. I am building at the moment."

"Thank you for doing this. It's an absolutely FANTASTIC idea! I love PostSecret and always look forward to reading it on Sundays. Also, there is a blog out there called The Body Image Project, that does something very similar to what you're doing here.I'll definitely add a link here on my mental health blogroll, and subscribe with my feedreader."

"I think this blog is a brilliant idea. It gives people a place to speak up and share their stories without having to make the commitment of keeping their own blog. "

Ideas of What to Write

2008-04-14T17:56:00.000-07:00

"Bipolar Speaks" is the VOICE of all bipolars and those with mental illnesses. Spread Awareness and speak your mind! Be Raw, Real, and Honest. It is time for those with mental illnesses to step it up and show society and others how we really feel! Stumped on what to write, Think about these ideas:

1. Write a letter to a family member or friend. Let them know how you feel (if they upset you). Let them have it! Get your frustrations out!

2. Are you married? Maybe your spouse doesn't get you. Maybe they are not as supportive as you hoped. Say how you feel, tell them what you want from them.

3. What do you think about the Stigma that is attached to mental illness? Tell society how you feel. Educate them. Believe me, they will read it here.

4. What about your deep personal feelings? How do you feel about having a mental illness? Are you truly accepting your diagnosis? Can you work? Are you the same person? Let it out.

5. Have you thought about suicide? Have you attempted suicide? What were you feeling? Where were you? Do you cut? How does that make you feel?

6. Do you hallucinate? What are your feelings at that moment? Does this bother you? Do you hear voices? Does this scare you? How do you feel experiencing all these things?

7. Do you wish you weren't bipolar? Do you wish that you didn't have a mental illness? If so, why?

8. Are you 100% accepting of your diagnosis? What have you done to gain peace?

9. Do you feel that Bipolar is considered a disability? If so, why?

10. What are your symptoms? When were you diagnosed? What type of Bipolar do you have?

11. Who pissed you off? Did you confront them? If not, do it here. What did they say? Do? Who were they and are you still talking to them?

12. Did you lose a friend or family member over your illness? If so, why? How do you feel about that?

13. Are your friends there for you? If not, how do you feel about that?

14. Does your co-workers know about your bipolar? Would you tell?

15. Are you hypersexual? Did you act out in a provocative way? If so, how? With who? How many? How does that make you feel.

16. When you are manic, do you argue with people? Do you fight? How do you feel when you do this?

17. Do you experience more of depression? Mania? Or are the both symptoms balanced out?

18. Do you shop until you drop? Have you gone bankrupt? How does that really make you feel?

19. Do you feel like running away and just being left alone? If so, explalin.

20. Do you feel lonely in this world? Why?

Remember, YOU can always be "Anonymous." No one has to know who you are. That is what is so GREAT about this blog - you can scream and shout, and be heard!! Please feel FREE to comment at this post for some fresh ideas on what to write about. We can use your help and creative input.

Deep Into The Ocean

2008-04-14T10:34:00.000-07:00

I feel like I'm drowning and the waves are sucking me in, sucking me down deep. Everything in my life has turned upside down. Diagnosed with Bipolar, I feel like my life has made a drastic turn, and my emotions feel like a tidal wave ready to crash.

I am so tired of family, friends, and my husband not getting it. I am sick of people thinking that I could turn around or that I am lazy. When your disorder or disease sucks you dry, the lack of energy is so powerful. Not having the desire to do anything, not having the desire to have sex, not having the desire to move forward is so destructive, but it is a destruction I cannot avoid.

My life has turned into a lump on a log. I have no purpose in my life anymore. I cannot play with my child, clean my house, visit friends, or do anything. I have become crippled and those around me are blind to my disability.

My family truly pisses me off. My in-laws irritate me. My husband disappoints me. And I am disgusted with who I've become.

The water is so deep, the current is so strong, and I feel washed away like a broken seashell at the sea. That is me, broken.

Society pisses me off, their ignorance, their lack of knowledge, and their lack of education. The stigma that lies within mental illness still lingers within our society. People assume that we are freaks of nature, we are evil, we are a product of a bad seed. Personally, they could go to hell!

It amazes me how so many families have family members who are bipolar or have a mental illness, but yet no one will educate themselves. With the internet being so available, it is amazing how no one will research about what their family member or friend has. It is amazing that if we don't have a "Life Sentence" then there is no reason to wallow in our sorrows.

News Flash!!! Bipolar and mental illnesses are a Life Sentence. People commit suicide, and if we don't commit suicide then our lives slowly deteriorate as we sit and watch - I would rather be dead then to "Not Live" in the living!

So, people, if you have a family member or friend who is bipolar - GET EDUCATED! Start caring and understand what your loved ones are going through. Stop the stigma starting with YOU! Don't be afraid of us, we are as normal as anyone else. In fact, those who DON'T have a mental illness are the ones who commit robbery, rape, abuse, and other unlawful acts. Not everyone who goes against the law has mental illnesses.

We are normal, human, sensitive, caring, emotional, funny, intelligent, educated people just like you.

~ANONYMOUS~