bipolar · Life · Long term Therapy · Meds · mental health · mental illness

The Journey

NaturesRespite

 

Some days it’s draining. Other days it’s indescribable. All you can do is hope to make it home to your bed and dream it all away.

I can’t believe it’s been over five months since my meds quit on me. Stability was something I had worked to achieve and I’m working towards it again. I’m seventy to seventy-five percent there. Work to be done in the spending department. Still feeling shaky in my hands. This angers me. My pdoc knew she was walking on shaky ground with the two meds I was on and I even warned her of the two prescribed at once.

(Yes, warned. You MUST take a proactive stance in any medical or therapeutic treatment. Know your meds. Know your ailment. Don’t follow blindly.)

She wanted to keep me on the two “shaky” drugs an extra month. I didn’t feel this was good for me because of the shaking and the possibility of a nerve condition as a side effect.

I ended up-titrating myself down earlier. This is my life and my body. Not to be played with by anyone. I felt secure enough that the other med had petered out and the new one was working well. Not recommended practice. It worked out well for me. Always titrate down. Never just quit a medication.

It will take a month to get the old med out of my system after being on it over ten years. I hope the tick goes away. You can’t see it, but I feel it and notice it when I type. This is irritating and keeps me from writing new poetry etc.

One thing mania has contributed to my personality has been confidence. Which I lost years ago. Failed relationships, verbal and mental abuse. I don’t want to go on with the list because I’m not in the mood.

Let’s be honest. All that crap adds to the journey of any person’s life. When you’re BiPolar or have any mental illness,  I feel we are a bit more sensitive to the damage. Things are mixed up after diagnosis and we can’t trust our own thoughts or decisions. This is a scary time. You second guess everything. Is it me? Or is it my illness? You don’t know who “ME” is anymore in the beginning. All you can identify with is the illness. This will separate in time. This is why I say ‘It’s just an aspect.’

Stability is the golden ticket out of there. Something to strive for and is actually obtainable. I use the term “Remission” if you have to use one to describe something that can be triggered by stress, medication or life tragedy. It really never goes away. That’s the reality of my illness. Stability is my remission.

I’m almost there.

Huzzah. Huzzah.

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bipolar · Life · Meds

Doing what you have to do.

 

lead-auditor-responsibilities

 

I’m not a breakfast person. Coffee and maybe a yogurt every now and I am ok. I discovered that to reduce the side effect of some meds I have to eat three healthy meals, get enough sleep and exercise.

It’s hard to motivate yourself to do these things when your mind isn’t on a stable level. There are those whose minds have never been through the things I’ve experienced and they can barely do one of these.

Getting up and out of bed in the morning is seen as a triumph to me. Although I have been running high lately so I’m doing a bit more than the depressive state.

This morning I pretty much forced down some eggs and sausage just to make sure I don’t get dizzy or sick later in the day. I don’t like doing this. I hate it.

I also know that I hate mania and depression even more.

For a few minutes and a cup of coffee, I can prevent any of this. This evens out for me.

You do what you have to do for a chance at stability. Everything in life is a risk. Depends upon the degree you are willing to risk things. I don’t see mental health as a true risk.

It falls into the category of self-care. Like brushing your teeth. One of those things you have to do in order to function without pain or discomfort. Either mentally or physically.

Breakfast is done. No side effect from this one med titration. I guess I’ve done well today.

Breakfast was hard and I refuse to future think my meals.

Moment by moment is the best I can do today.

 

 

 

bipolar · Life · mental health · mental illness · Self Image · Stigma

Friends and diagnoses

You may say you care.

You might wish me luck.

You may have the best intents but it just doesn’t show up.

Wish me well, understand.

Just don’t attempt to take me by the hand.

I know my position. I’m well aware of my affliction.

It’s not your position to help me get through my diagnosis.

Did I ask you? Did I beg you?

I was only throwing it out there trying not to persuade you.

Why did you run so fast? Forgetting that I am human.

What can I do from so far away when I’m the only one I’m ruining.

So I’ll keep my mouth shut. Keep it simple and sweet.

We won’t get too deep because the Stigma scares you more than your own contradictions.

anxiety · bipolar · Life · Meds

Mentally Diligent​

I can’t stress the importance of being aware of your mind and your actions when you are BiPolar. I’m not saying you can stop everything, but you can curb yourself from heading into a dark place.

Things were running through my head this morning. I was cycling again. Started yesterday. Crying sometimes. Depressing thoughts other times. Shutting down and wishing I could just make it all stop.

I thought I could last until next week, but I couldn’t. I called and got squeezed in this afternoon and got a bump in my meds.

I avoided a deep depression and a week from hell.

Being Mentally Diligent is hard to learn and takes years of input from your therapist and family and lots of re-thinking your actions. At least it did for me. I am self-aware and it keeps me diligent of my illness and how my meds are working or not working.

Let’s see how this goes. Another adjustment and another appointment next week. I am blessed and lucky. I wouldn’t survive if I didn’t have the help I get from my support system.

People, therapists, psych doctors and the drop-in center. I guess it takes a village.

anxiety · bipolar · depression · Life · Meds · mental health · mental illness

For just a Millisecond…

 

There are twenty-four hours in a day. Fact. Within each hour I struggle to hold it together until stability lays itself at my feet once again. Within each hour there are seconds and milliseconds that clash with thoughts and emotions that swirl within my mind as I try and piece it all together into something I can call survival.

I try not to let this overwhelm me. I breathe, I distract, I medicate and detach myself from others so I won’t say or do something I will regret later. My tongue is sharp and my anger, angst, irritability shows when in the company of my family.

I apologize.

I may not be able to say that word enough or at the right time. But it is felt within my heart. For each short tempered moment and each barbed quip.

It is for these reasons I hate medication changes. I get ten years of something working well and then it fails me and I have to start from some lost place and hope to get back to somewhere where my only worry is what to do and not what my mind is doing.

My mother came by yesterday. It was a mixture of nerves and happiness. These feelings weren’t her fault. She did nothing wrong. It was all me. I knew I had to care for someone besides myself and I was overwhelmed. That is the answer to many questions in my life. Overwhelmed. Just holding it together is overwhelming. And that’s with medication that is faltering.

It has taken me so many years to get to a place of stability and to feel it teetering scares me.

I just wanted to lay calmly in bed today. I had taken my meds and played a few games on my phone to ‘distract.’ Napped a little and became agitated while listening to some CDs.

I just want peace and quite right now. I want to be alone. I need an adjustment on my present dosage of new medication. But my appointment is two weeks away.

I’ll be ok. I have to be. There is no alternative.

I can’t deal with other people’s lives and faults at this moment. It’s taking all I have to knit myself back together.

I want to do so much. I have so much to offer, I know this and have always known this somewhere inside. But I lack self-esteem and self-worth.

So I sit in front of my light-box and type this to relieve some of the thoughts rambling through my head. Today will be slow and so will tomorrow. I’ll go to therapy and then retreat back to my home to lick my wounds from stepping out the door.

It’s so hard to socialize and take the risks of not feeling safe.

I feel like I walk through a hurricane each day without protection. Each moment is a struggle and I fight against the wind and rain, but I continue to walk forward because I have no choice. There is some shelter in medication and therapy and I gratefully take them in as they ease the gale forces momentarily.

I step out into the storm again and take each millisecond and knit it into the next and hope to create something I can recognize as survival. Until I finally reach home and some state of stability.

How can you tell someone who lives each day like this too ‘shake it off?’

I will never understand that mindset. And they will never understand mine. I accept this and continue without their approval. Because I don’t need it.

 

anxiety · bipolar · Life · Meds

Things are changing… Slowly

I can tell when the meds begin to kick into my system. My thoughts line up, my anxiety lessens, things feel slightly stable. I can tell I need a bump in the dosage. I’m on the lowest dose now. I’m almost there. Almost back to stability or some resemblance of my definition.

I triggered myself before going to bed. It’s strange how you can forget what causes the nightmares and what will give you a good nights sleep.

I have to talk it through with my therapist. There’s something I think I know the answer too, but I’m not sure.

I have defined this trigger and it affects my entire life. Things I have to avoid in order to feel safe. I don’t know if I’m going to be able to work through this one.

Molestation is a life-altering occurrence which I don’t think people fully acknowledge. You can work your way around it and learn how to deal with it in your life. But it never goes away. It hides until it’s triggered. The fucked up fact is that sometimes you don’t know what that trigger will be.

 

anxiety · bipolar · depression · Life · Meds

Anxiety

Surprising I got more support for my short story on FB than here. I thought those of us who get it, would understand the story more. Whatever. Nobody reads this shit anyways.

The anxiety between the get together and my mother’s cataract surgery is starting to get to me. I’m literally having to take it day by day. Can’t think beyond today or I’ll get overwhelmed.

I just want to disappear into my house and never come out. Except for food and therapy. There’s a drop in and I want to go. Probably will. But I doubt the Marvin in me will enjoy it.

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LIFE DON’T TALK TO ME ABOUT LIFE

 

I should be very happy about my story being published. But I kinda feel like it’s not legit. Like they just needed a story to finish off their publication and threw mine in, mistakes and all.

Two other publications declined it because it wasn’t what they were looking for, “I GUESS NOT!”

No one wants reality anymore. No one wants to read about the mentally ill unless it’s “HAPPY”. There’s nothing fucking happy about existing with this shit.

But we make due. We have happy moments and those are the ones we have to hold onto.

Just shovel us back into the sanitariums and forget us again. You practically are doing that again.

What’s my audience? People. People who want to understand the truth. The reality of mental illness.

Yeah. I guess that makes two people. Me and my friend.

IF YOU ARE INTERESTED IN MY STORY HERE’S A LINK TO THE ORIGINAL POST.

STORY PUBLISHED.