A Second Look at Bi Polar

There are apparently a lot of us out here…
Reading the OpalCat-related theads in the Pit and ATMB just now brought on a minor crying jag, and I had a sense of pains and fears I haven’t felt in a while. In case anyone’s interested, here’s a link to a thread from a while back, with people talking about scary episodes like this one. This may help put things into perspective, I don’t know, but looking back at it reminded me that things usually do get better.
http://www.straightdope.com/ubb/Forum4/HTML/003368.html

Anyway, here’s to greater understanding, compassion, and wellness for all.

Personally, I’m happy with my bi-polar disorder, but it’s taken me years to learn to cope with it. I used to go on drugs for it, but I hated how I acted when I was on them, so I stopped and basicly taught myself to realize what state I’m in, and to compensate accordingly. In return for behaving erraticly, I get a weird sense about the world. Emotions seem stronger, Sex is… better than sex… I’m probably cursed to being an emotional sisyphus forever, but I wouldn’t trade it for normalcy.

Oh, and I’m a mild case. In treatment, I did see severe cases, and I do know how devastating it can be… I’m very lucky. Anything worse, and I’d live with the pills.


http://www.madpoet.com
I’ve got a little black book with me poems in. I’ve got a bag, toothbrush, and a comb.

I have never been to a psychiatrist, I have never been diagnosed, and I am not taking any medication, but I suspect that I may be bi-polar. I have suffered through violent mood swings that had me perfectly content one minute, then slashing at my wrists with a razor blade ten minutes later, all because of some depressing thought I had, or something somebody said. Seeing what has been going on here today has brought back a lot of bad memories (the picture, you know which one I’m talking about, literally brought a tear to my eye, and I haven’t been able to shake the image all day.) Fortunately, I have not had any really bad episodes in over a year and a half, and I am in a relatively good headspace right now. However, this episode was a stark reminder of how quickly everything can go wrong, so I’m keeping an eye on my mind, just to make sure I don’t lose it again.


An infinite number of rednecks in an infinite number of pickup trucks shooting an infinite number of shotguns at an infinite number of road signs will eventually produce all the world’s great works of literature in Braille.

I have had to deal with a bi-polar spouse, and it wasn’t easy. She has been under talk-therapy and medication for about 15 years now, and they do work. She hasn’t had a significant bout of cycling in all that time.

MadPoet, I have to suggest, that you are not the best judge of how well you are dealing. It is your friends and loved ones who have to put up with your moods. When you feel high and creative, are you also easily irritated? do you try to tell others what to do? do you lose your temper quickly, and act inappropriately in other ways? do your friends and loved ones think of your behaviour as manipulative, self-centered, and selfish?

If not, then great, you are coping well without treatment.

My heart-felt advice to bipolar victims is NOT to rely on your own judgement, but to rely on the judgement of those whom you love and who love you. They are the ones you will lose, because love can only stand so much. When they feel that you are manipulating them for self-centered, selfish reasons (and you are, but not for the reasons that they think), you will lose them.

Being involved with someone with bi polarity can be difficult. It took me a while to figure it out in my relationship with Girlbysea.

She’d be happy to discuss it with you, or answer any questions you may have:

Girlbysea@aol.com

Now that I understand what to expect, it’s not nearly as scary.

Girlbysea: My little whack-job!


Smilies, smilies, in a post
Which one do I hate the most?
Smirks and frowns and evil grins
Rolling eyes that really spin
They stick their tongues out if you please
Who the hell first thought of these?
Smilies, smilies, in a post
Which one do I hate the most? – Neuro-trash grrrl

Wish I could do without the meds. I really miss the manic part - the times when I can do anything - boundless energy, etc. I don’t miss the other end of the spectrum. Two things kept me alive before I got treatment.

I had a friend whose father was a suicide when she was a small child. As a woman in her thirties she still blamed herself. I didn’t know how to convince my then tiny children that it had nothing to do with them. The other thing was that I didn’t want to hurt myself - I wanted to die. No wrist slashing for me, thanks. Lucky for me I couldn’t come up with a foolproof plan. My fear was that I’d botch the job.

If there’s such a thing as a passive suicide, that’s me when I’m in the pits. At those times I just want to not wake up the next morning.

Like MadPoet, I know what’s happening to me and just ride it out; but unlike him, I can’t do that without medication. Tried for a while, but it was exhausting.

So here I am, happily medicated and coping at least as well as the “normal” folks around me. Livin’ life in the middle lane.
I have great respect and much gratitude for the spouses who have had to try to live with me - especially the current one.

I have never been ashamed to say that I am Bi-Polar. I guess the hardest thing was the people I love having to deal with it. I inherited this from my dad, and have been fighting it since I was 16 years old. I do take medication, and I will always take medication. I have been through many different stages through the years. I live with it, I deal with it, and I do all I can to understand it. I know this is something that I will have for the rest of my life, and I will do my best, for my life, and for the ones that I love around me.



Girlbysea (AKA: ChiefScott’s GBS)

I’m bipolar, with an anxiety effect disorder, Obsessive Compulsive Behavior and Agoraphobia.

I’ve been in therapy for 4 years now with some improvement but, being disabled, I get to rely on the Social Security Disability program which is MUCH different from private care. (In short, you have to fight like hell to get treatment because the government finds everyplace else to spend money other than on services for people like me.)

I need my medication, because without it, I get real bad, especially in the area of deep, black, seemingly endless and virtually crippling depression. Until I got on good medication, I used to think about suicide a lot. My obsessive compulsive disorder had me doing time consuming, stupid repetitive actions over and over and getting intensely frustrated with myself because I could not stop them and I’m smart enough to know that I did not need to do them. The medication has all but wiped that symptom out. The anxiety effective disorder gave me strange panic attacks and that has eased up a lot. The agoraphobia nearly drove me to violence when shopping during the day in busy stores (people, to me, SEEMED so nasty and rude! They’d get in my fucking way, their kids would be little bastards that I had to refrain from kicking across the floor and people I met seemed suspicious and bitchy). The medication has knocked that down a lot.

Me, I don’t like being bipolar at all. I miss who I used to be. Sometimes I miss how I used to think, when things seemed sharp and crystal clear and I used to run on what I like to consider Quantum leaps. Now, often I feel stupid, though not nearly as much as I used to before getting on Paxil.

I’m kind of used to the sexual dysfunction, but the nasty breakups with my last two girlfriends so years back have kind of made me shy away from close relationships and my agoraphobia (fear of people and crowds) has reinforced that and I tend to be reclusive. I can function, but it takes a bit of effort and while the soldier might stand at attention, getting him to fire his weapon sometimes is a problem.

In the social circles, my condition has made me loath to get into the competition again with all of the uncertain variables, though I think if prostitution were legal, I would check out that possibility.

I do not like my condition, but I am aware that there is an improvement in it and I know that eventually I’ll be normal again. (Provided the Congress doesn’t steal the rest of the Social Security Disability funds.)

Long ago, I learned to accept my condition, somewhat, and to hunker down and grin and bear it as I get better. It takes time. At least I don’t think of suicide hardly at all anymore and if I do, it is only a passing thought and nothing to be considered seriously. Plus, some days, I actually feel more normal and have energy to do things.


What? Me worry?’

What a treasure all of you are! Perhaps one of you would be willing to help a friend of mine?

I am not bipolar, but I have a friend whose sister was very recently diagnosed (although the diagnosis is preliminary). Her sister attempted suicide over the holidays, drinking bleach when the family had denied her access to more violent means. No lasting harm was done. Her sister was delusional (this is where I’m not sure it sounds like bipolar disorder, but I don’t know enough to say), disturbed, and very unpredictable.

My friend (and her family) could use the contacts/advice. Her only prior encounter with bipolar disorder was a fellow classmate who committed suicide by diving off a freeway bridge–not the best reference. If any of you could email me, I’ll pass on any of your info to her. (If she gives me permission, I will give you the Email address; otherwise I’ll just forward your info.)

In some forms of depression, bipolar or other, a person can plunge into a delusional state. I know of one person who did that and wound up walking along a road in the rain, in her PJs, mumbling to herself. She was picked up and hospitalized and brought out of the delusional state within short order.

There are times in depression when things get real dark and ‘strange’ thoughts can drift through a person’s mind that can seem both real and unreal. I have experienced one episode, in all my years of depression, where it seemed like, for most of a day, I moved through a dream and that scared me. Apparently the episode was brought on by a high level of stress which I had allowed to build up by reluctantly getting involved in a family situation. Shortly after, my medication doctor increased my medication and there has not been another episode.

If the lady you are talking about is not in therapy, then she needs to be there. Her high potential for suicide is a good indication of that. You, and her family, need to know that A: Therapy is a custom field in that if you do not like one therapist, you get another. B: If the medication she is on is causing her problems, then the doctor needs to know and it can be changed. (I went through something like 8 different types including combinations of more than one until I found Paxil, for me, was sufficient.) C: Medication ALONE IS NOT SUFFICIENT. It needs to be combined with seeing a psychologist or psychiatrist. (Sometimes, a persons medical doctor will prescribe an antidepressant by himself, without benefit of a psychiatrist. This doesn’t always work well because, as excellent as your medical doctor may be, he/she is NOT a psychiatrist.)

She might need to be admitted to a mental hospital for intense therapy and observation for a period of time ranging from 2 or three days to a week or so. Currently, many mental hospitals concentrate on NOT looking like the old, scary television images of State hospitals and many work towards limited time in hospitalization.

Make sure she is taking her medication. Many of us depressives get so damn tired of taking the stuff, especially if we get tired of waiting to feel better or it has side effects we dislike. Some of us just get tired of taking the pills. Unfortunately, with many of the medications, unless they are stopped slowly, there are withdrawal symptoms and often a depressive doesn’t realize just how well the pills are working until he goes off of them.

A basic symptom of depression is the feeling of abject hopelessness, in that one will often feel that NOTHING is EVER going to change and that the mental and physical energy needed to continue getting better is just NOT THERE and it seems that the fight has gone on for SO long and often, suicide seems like a viable option to end the distress and general crappy feelings. There are times when it seems like nothing the person does to get better seems to work and, remember, the person is usually looking at the world in shades of depression gray NOT normal Technicolor.

One day the person can feel great and feel the ‘energy’ and hope of getting better and look up out of the ‘grayness’ of their normal existence and see the brightness of life about them and, without any warning, hours later, THAT feeling ‘SNAPS’ off and they plunge into the darkness again. Now, that can be a real drag, but those are manic episodes and they feel good and they allow the depressive person to see and feel what they have lost. THAT is what often makes the depression so bad, that GLIMPSE of what was and COULD be again.

Us ‘older’ depressives get used to those ‘snaps’, knowing that when we feel REALLY GOOD, that within a certain period of time, we’re going to feel really bad and we’re prepared for it. Medication eventually helps us level out those really high and really low periods.

Getting out of depression is often akin to climbing an enormously high ladder. You start in the bottom in the darkness and have to go up rung by rung. Frequently, you might slip down 4 or 5 and have to climb up them all over again and it can take a long time, but depression is, in many, if not most cases, curable and if not, then it is manageable to where the person can live a mainly normal life.

Still, it sucks when you are in it. In a way, I’m lucky because I’m legally disabled, certified nuts by the State and Federal government and have family and a small income to help me out. I don’t have to deal with the pressures of a job, working with others, worrying about lack of rent (I live in a separate apartment attached to a family members’ home) or having my power cut off.

Trying to work with my form of depression would be a nightmare, especially with the attendant other conditions. (By the way, a depressive is often Obsessive Compulsive, and THAT nice little condition can be extremely frustrating and scary to one who does not under stand it. Medication controls and virtually eliminates it.)

A last comment here: therapy. If she is not in it, then get her a psychiatrist or psychologist and get it going.


What? Me worry?’

Ruffian, all the best to your friend and her family - they have a rough road ahead of them. Drinking bleach is definitely not a good thing, and the family was wise to step in before more serious incidents occurred. Sadly, statistics show that 1 in 5 diagnosed bipolars end their own lives, so the threat your friend’s sister poses to herself is a real one. Let me echo again the sentiment that medication with therapy is the best answer. Medication and Therapy, Medication and Therapy, Medication and Therapy… ad infinitum.

Looking back, I guess my first major depression occurred when I was about 9. I threw myself down a flight of stairs and was unconsious until my mother got home (within an hour). The trip to the emergency room resulted in some extensive therapy, ending when I was about 13. Unfortunately the good results didn’t last. I was in and out of therapy as a teenager. The diagnosis, if there ever was one, was along the lines of minor episodic depression. It’s hard to see the manic part when you’re dealing with a kid.

Then I decided I could handle it myself - I knew what it was, and I kind of liked it. I was afraid medication would change me, and I enjoyed the image of myself I projected: lots of laughs, witty, adventurous, opinionated, clever, intellegent, and at times focused and driven. Boy was that hard to keep up. I called up my best friend from college when I finally got the Bipolar II diagnosis, and she said, “Oh, wow, I can’t believe it! You always seemed so happy.” I consider my un-medicated self to be a superb actress. Nobody noticed because I kept the bad stuff for when no one was around. If it slipped out anyway, I claimed to be “moody”.

I suffer from auditory hallucinations, but I know what they are, and they don’t really bother me much. (“It’s just the voices in my head; they say hi”.) Sometimes it is an actual voice, saying things, but usually it’s just noises, and either way, I can just ignore it once I figure out it’s coming from my own head. As far as I can tell, I don’t have any other delusions, but it’s not really that uncommon.

For anyone who wants a fictionalized autobiographical account of suicidal depression, read The Bell Jar, by Sylvia Plath.

I was hesitant to tell my story here, but I figure it just might help somebody, so…

(Please forgive me if I ramble, this is hard for me to write about)

While I don’t have bipolar disorder, I have suffered from clinical depression since I was about 14 years old. I went from being a straight-A student, lots of friends, super-involved in life to being a complete loner. Instead of going to school, I would walk all day, not noticing where I was going, just walking. Sometimes I wouldn’t come home at night, I’d just spend all night in the train station. I don’t know why, I just didn’t feel like I belonged with people.

Looking back, I am astounded that nobody, not my parents, not the school, realized that I was mentally ill. They thought I’d fallen in with a bad crowd, even though I was friendless and alone all of the time. I tried to commit suicide twice before anyone caught on. The first two times, I underestimated the amount of pills to take, so I wound up vomiting them up and being very, very sick for several days. I couldn’t admit to what I had done, or to being such a failure even at killing myself, so nobody noticed. When my mom took me to the doctor, he said it was a bug, so she never found out.

After that, I got better for a while, got back into school & all the activities, but it didn’t last. This time, it came on sooner, and I hadn’t managed to alienate all of my new friends. It just seemed like it would be better for everybody involved if I wasn’t there. When you are that low, you can’t think straight, it really does seem like you are burdening the world with your very existance.

So, I tried again, with pills. Luckily, a friend of mine stopped by the house just before I threw up. She came into the bathroom with me and saw the pills in my vomit and called an ambulance. I don’t know if I would have suceeded that time, but I am so grateful that she was there & didn’t listen to my crap, just called in help.

I spent several months in a hospital, getting better. The medication really helped a lot, it allowed me to think clearly again and begin to work on my problems. I still needed therapy, but I don’t think talking alone would have helped very much, not at that point.

Sorry, I’m getting long-winded. I’m writing this to let people know that teenagers can get depressed, too, and to please take it seriously. Sometimes, I still lie awake at night thinking if only somebody had caught this in time, and I cry and cry. I just don’t understand how nobody thought to send me to a therapist or psychaitrist. I’m happy with my life know, but sometimes I wonder what could have been, had I been treated in time.

Sorry again, for this long post. I just wanted to get the word out to parents & friends of teens that depression is something to look out for, especially if your teen has been acting different. It can be treated, both with medication and therapy.

And if anybody out there is feeling depressed, please feel free to e-mail me with any questions, or just an ear to listen. You won’t be bothering me, promise.

And then you moved to Heidelberg, Germany, and allllll was rosy, right TatieBoBatie?

Hate to get mushy on all y’all, but here goes. I feel a connection with Opal and my wittle tatie - maybe because of this crap. As the OP’s thread link will show, my mom has bipolar disorder. I can’t remember if I mentioned it, but my dad was clinically depressed for years.

Anyway, I lubs you guys. Please let me know if my mom or dad can help any of you. They’re both highly intelligent human beings with hearts the size of Zimbabwe. Just give me a writey-write at Canthearya@excite.com


You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say will be misquoted, then used against you.

I believe that there’s an important lesson in Tatertot’s story. It seems that people faced with a loved one having problems are willing to consider any possibility EXCEPT mental illness. That’s how strong the stigma still is. “Got in with a bad crowd” “It’s just a phase. He/she will outgrow it”
et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.

OldBroad, you made an excellent point. It turns out that both depression & bipolar run in my father’s family. His mother was actually hospitalized quite a few times for “nervous breakdowns” (I guess that’s what it was called back then) but I never found out about it until I was an adult.
Even knowing about this, my parents still couldn’t see mental illness as a possibility in my case. To this day, we don’t talk about what happened, it’s like we’ve made a pact to just put it in the past.

Although, to be fair to my parents, they are both very loving people, they just are very uncomfortable with emotions.

I thought I had bi polar…

but then I realized all my posts were shorter than four lines!!

(The same can’t be said for my sig… thanks Neuro!)


Smilies, smilies, in a post
Which one do I hate the most?
Smirks and frowns and evil grins
Rolling eyes that really spin
They stick their tongues out if you please
Who the hell first thought of these?
Smilies, smilies, in a post
Which one do I hate the most? – Neuro-trash grrrl