This blog is fulfilling a personal passion of mine: helping my fellow bipolar sufferor(s) strive to gain control over this disorder! My intent is to pass on relevant, useful content for creating wellness. Join me as I write about coping with my disorder, working through some life event that appears huge but is ultimately defeated, and staying hopeful.
A
few months ago some friends and I saw Van Halen in concert. As it is with any event or trip planned in advance, I have concerns about the mood state I will be when I am actually experiencing the activity. It is seemingly impossible to predict what my mood state will be and whether my mood will be good enough so I can have some fun! Since I
was not drinking at the time I got the coveted duty of being the
responsible driver for the group. In a way this is an honor. It gives me recognition of sorts that I am being victorious over alcohol, my arch nemesis of the psychoactive substances here on God's green earth.
The
show was pretty good and I had killer time for sure. I liked the venue
and lights. But don't be surprised if you hear a change in David Lee
Roth's voice. It's starting to fade. No bueno! I
had some serious depression three days in a row leading up to the show.
All sorts of negative self-talk was dominating my thoughts. The signs were pointing towards trouble ahead.
So this past Friday I am having a typical slow start to my morning (it can take an hour for me to "get up" each day). My usual not-so-great bipolar depression mood is present. Blah, dead countenance, not much hope. I say to myself, "Another gray day, what the hey!"
But this doesn't last long. Things quickly changed when I got a call from my Dad. He said someone just called him saying they have my wallet! Now I have some anxiety to go along with my mood.
Oh no, not again!
This at least the 6th time I've lost my wallet. The mere thought of having to notify all those institutions and creditors that have cards in the wallet does not do well for one's spirit. How many times has this unfortunate experience happened to you?
I'd like to share with you a real life potentially problematic problem of powerful proportions that I faced just the other day. It is a modern age problem that, should it happen to you, will create intense feelings of helplessness that suck.
It's when your computer crashes! It happened to me Saturday afternoon. My laptop was attacked by a gang of renegade programs and evil code. They took over and rendered it useless!
Furthermore, this electronic mayhem was starting to activate my bipolar symptoms and mood-states. Not good. Head for the hills!
=================================================== Did you know thatMay is Mental Health Month. May was designated by Congress in 1949as the month to raise awareness of mental health conditions and mental wellness for all. It has become apparent that mental health and wellness is essential for a person’s overall health. And we should remember that effective prevention, mitigation, and treatment of bipolar symptoms is possible. It is true that people can recover from mental disorders and live full and productive lives. This post is dedicated to the Mental Health Month of May. ===================================================
Well, leave it to my bipolar depression and its minions to interfere with a perfectly good out-of-town trip. I drove up to San Francisco last week to visit an old friend for a few days. We planned on catching up, hanging out, and discussing business ideas and whatnot (remember, I’m still unemployed yet semi-retired).
Depression Dragon Appears
The depression dragon came calling on the day I drove up to the Bay Area. I felt it descending upon me around 1030 that morn. The sky was gray. I was at my father’s house dropping off my dog before heading out to NorCal. Nothing against my father it just happened that way. Just sayin.
Also, I was very tired from staying up all night. I had spent the night busily reading and thinking about some things that my friend and I intended to discuss.
It was exciting material, I was motivated, and so I kept on working through the wee hours of the night. Time flew by like it does when you become engaged in something you enjoy doing.
Funky Friday I slept 18 hours straight on Friday, not getting up until 5 pm. It was one of my marathon depression slumbers. So much for talking shop that day. We’ll catch up this eve and tomorrow I thought. But that was not to be the case. The bedeviling depression dragon had come home to roost for a time. He dwelled amongst me all evening. The feelings from ruminations over nonexistent yet “impending doom” kept me pinned on my back. Saturday I awoke Saturday at a reasonable hour with no relief from depression symptoms. As per all depressions to this extent I had diminished capabilities, limited cognitive functioning, and a pathetic level of self worth. I was not in a good state for having lively, engaging conversation about future possibilities. Mother’s Day The last day of my visit was on Mother’s Day. This didn’t help my poor mood matters because this day inevitably brings up memories of my mom, usually sad. She passed on January 2, 2010. So, after a splendid lunch with my longtime friend and his family and a short nap I departed. My thinking about the visit on the drive home was disappointment at first. I was disappointed I didn’t have the needed access to my mind during my trip. I was robbed of important things like memory recall, attention, and a fluid mind. Never mind executive functions like planning and strategizing. Instead I was stuck with no go neurotransmitters, nasty neural network cobwebs, and gelatinous blobs of gray matter. It’s enough to make a Jewish mother say "oy." Dragon Departure After talking with my friend illegally on my cell phone while driving home I felt better. I told him I was disappointed and why. He acknowledged that and was glad I communicated the matter. He knows I fight this demonic dragon each day and I’m stronger on some days over others. This helped me relax. I slept well Sunday night. The dragon left his roost during the night. So as things would have it my mind and mood came back on Monday. There is still a little depression, but this much I can deal with. The wackedness (new word, pronounced wa’ ked ness) of this bipolar depression of mine continues to amaze me. No sooner than when I get a grip and think recovery is moving forward, I find myself wallowing in the mire once again. Final Analysis So, was this experience a failure? Not by a long shot. I had a wonderful time hanging out with my friend and his family. Regardless of the whims of serious depression we managed to discuss several issues and ideas. It just wasn’t to the depth and detail I was hoping for. The work stuff and ideas will come as they do. I’m trying not to put unnecessary expectations on things. This just adds stress. And stress can very easily become a trigger for and aggravator of bipolar symptoms. As I said to my good friend, “Sometimes you just got to be the tortoise in the race.” It takes time and patience when you are taking over the world.
Ah, it's feeling like spring here in Southern California today. It's a sunny afternoon without a cloud in the sky. This has me in a light and jovial mood.
My depression mutes much of the good mood. I know it won't last forever. But I'm certainly not complaining!
Anyway, I thought I'd find some things to laugh about and have done just that. Here is some funny bipolar stuff I found from around the web. Hope you enjoy!
(1) You know you have bipolar disorder when:
You can identify medication in the dark merely by shaking the container;
Your drugs help you achieve reality, not escape from it; and
You know more about mood disorders than your physician, yet still question your bipolar diagnosis.
(2) You know you have bipolar depression when:
You have been told to “just snap out of it!” more than 3 times today already;
Your "not talking" becomes the reason others want your antidepressant dose increased; and
Instead of looking at the weather in the morning, you stay in bed, read about moon phases, work on your mood chart, count meds remaining until refill, and .
(3) You know you have bipolar mania when:
Your pharmacist (who you have on speed dial) stops trying to explain side effects of your meds, and starts asking you for information;
You can recite half of Homer’s Iliad and your bank account numbers, but can’t remember where you put your keys, car, or drivers license; and
It's February and you’ve already spent the entire year’s budget.
After getting settled down for their first appointment the psychiatrist made the innocent mistake of asking the acutely manic patient how he was doing overall. The excited individual replied, "I am fine. I have bipolar disorder but I'm not crazy. Crazy? I was crazy once. They put me in a room strapped to a chair in the middle. That bugged me. Bugs? I hate bugs. They drive me crazy! Crazy? I was crazy once. But now I'm on seven psychiatric medications. I take medication three times a day. This constantly puts me in touch with the illness I have. Do you know how that feels? It drives me crazy! Crazy? I was crazy once. . ."
A psychopath may think that 2 + 2 = 5 and could care less. The neurotic knows that 2 + 2 = 4 and worries day and night.
After the acutely manic individual became relaxed and settled on the couch, the psychiatrist began the first therapy session.
"I'm not aware of your problem." the doctor said. "So perhaps, you should start at the very beginning."
"Of course." replied the patient. "In the beginning, I created the Heavens and the Earth..."
In a deep depression the patient says, "Doctor, doctor, I can't concentrate. One minute I'm fine, and the next I'm blank!
Doctor asks, "Well, how long have you had this symptom?
Patient replies, "What symptom?"
Two psychologists were silently walking down the hall together. One turned to the other and said, "Hello, how are you?" Immediately the other thought, "What does he mean by that? I hate when he uses psychology on me."
If you are in a bipolar mania and want to avoid another 5150 (involuntary psychiatric hospitalization), then be careful what you tell emergency officials. It is best to be selectively obscure, with clarity and sincerity when answering questions from police, emergency personnel, and mental health workers. This will cloud their ability to recognize that you are delusional.
Two doctors opened offices in a small town and put up a sign reading, "Dr. Smith and Dr. Jones, Psychiatry and Proctology." Some town members were concerned that the sign was too formal and proposed "Hysteria and Posteriors." Both doctors quickly disagreed and proposed the catchy phrase "Schizoids and Hemorrhoids." The town's mental health advocates felt this would be politically incorrect and suggested "Catatonics and High Colonics." As soon as the controversy hit the papers thoughtful suggestions began rolling in: "Manic Depressives and Anal Retentives", "Minds and Behinds", "Lost Souls and Assholes", "Analysis and Anal Cysts", "Nuts and Butts", and "Loons and Moons." Finally, after considerable debate they decided it would be "Dr. Smith and Dr. Jones, Odds and Ends."
THE 10 COMMANDMENTS OF BIPOLAR DISORDER
1. Thou shalt not worship the bipolar condition. 2. Thou shalt not obsess over dangerous things, people, and places when severely manic or depressed. 3. Thou shalt not doubt, feign interest, or blame the holy chemical imbalance theory. 4. Remember the ritual of taking your psych meds. 5. Thou shalt honor and not manipulate family or friends. 6. Thou shalt not kill or beat up anyone while in a manic fit, no matter how much ye really want to, or how much they deserve it. 7. Thou shalt not commit adultery unless in a manic state. 8. Thou shalt not throw and break stuff that does not belong to thee. 9. Thou shalt allow others to occasionally get a word in edgewise. 10. Thou shalt not covet other people's attention nor send crazy e-mails at odd hours of the night.
Do you have any good bipolar or mental health jokes? If so, please comment here or you can send it to me at bipolartrail@gmail.com.
Added 3-17-12. A son and his father are traveling on the interstate. There is a bad accident. Both need medical attention. The father, a schizophrenic, gets taken to a nearby mental hospital. The son, believed to have early onset bipolar with schizoaffective tendency, was taken much further to a mental hospital for children. The physician enters the room to attend to the boy and says, "I can't treat this child, he is my son!" How is this possible?
Since I
was not drinking at the time I got the coveted duty of being the
responsible driver for the group. In a way this is an honor. It gives me recognition of sorts that I am being victorious over alcohol, my arch nemesis of the psychoactive substances here on God's green earth. 
