You are currently browsing the monthly archive for December 2008.
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Bonus points if you can pick out at least three of the pills used to make this decoration.
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The temperature outside is a chill inducing -12 degrees (-24 Celsius). I am sitting by the window watching the plumes from the chimneys rise into the air, the wind blowing them around like flags. A large plush robe and cup of tea are keeping me warm as I start my day feeling calm and optimistic.
I have mentioned before that as the depakote leaves my system and the dampening of my mind is lessened, that emotions are coming out and demanding to be addressed. Some are quiet and take time to uncover, others have the subtlety of a baseball bat to the head. Last night the experience was more of the baseball bat variety.
I went out with a friend to a movie at a museum where the crowd was mostly young, hip and rather hostile. I found myself getting increasingly anxious, thinking that I didn’t belong there and just wanted to leave. My friend was oblivious to this, thank god, and as she’s hysterically funny soon took my mind off it. Later in the evening while I was waiting for her the feeling came back but I allowed it to come and tried to figure out what was causing it. The main cause seems to be that I continue to feel damaged by the bipolar label and feel that the people around me can somehow tell my diagnosis by looking at me, like leprosy. This is of course stupid but there you have it.
Sometimes I simply feel old and weary from fighting with my brain. I think we’d both like a cease fire but Madeline Albright is retired. As more emotions come to the surface the anxiety is increasing and I am becoming more sensitive to images and words. Experiences have a stronger impact on me. Violent images on TV and in the news are very disturbing so I am careful what I watch and read. A Buddhist monk said that just like food, we need to be vigilant of what ALL our senses ingest so that we avoid toxic substances. I am beginning to remember that I have always been sensitive to these things but forgot this while medicated.
One pleasure that I have gained back is the ability to spend time alone. On meds there was a feeling that this was somehow incorrect and I felt pushed to be around people. Now, I can happily spend time in my own company without the fear of isolating myself and becoming depressed. If I start to feel crappy it is an easy thing to pick up the phone and see a friend for coffee. I don’t understand why the doctors made my need to spend time alone as something that was unhealthy. Under the influence of medication it may have been but now it is simply something to enjoy.
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I shouldn’t be drinking. I know that the depakote is hard on my liver. Tonight I just don’t give a flying fuck. (My mother hates it when women say “fuck” but so far I get a free pass being a dude. hehe.) I’ve only had two beers so don’t get your tighty-whiteys in a bind.
A kind reader suggested that I read the book, “Toxic Psychiatry” by Peter Briggin, M.D. The first chapter about his experience volunteering in a state mental health hospital in the 50’s as a college student unnerved me so much that I had to put the book down. This is exactly the type of treatment that I’ve always feared. Luckily I have avoided state care and have only had to deal with incompetence, not intentional abuse by “professionals”. The book is big enough it makes me want to go wack a few people with it. Mostly the idiots who claim that they KNOW what causes mental illness. Fact is we’re all guessing. I can tell you from personal experience that the drugs that are being handed out like candy are only helpful for short term use. Fish oil and vitamins are helpful but are worthless when you’re totally loosing your mind.
Depakote helped me to be stable but then again I am left to wonder if I was shown any compassion and intensive support if that would have been just as effective (and have less long term physical damage.) Therapy has always felt odd to me because my psychologist remains detached. I’ve always felt like I could drop dead and he would be unaffected unlike almost everyone else in my life that I’ve touched. Hell, even my butcher shows more genuine interest in me. I once sent my therapist a holiday card and he was genuinely shocked. All I could think was you’d get more if you actually showed a human emotion. I might as well be talking to the toaster.
I believe that psychology and psychiatry can be helpful, that there are times where medications are appropriate such as in cases of serious crisis like violence to oneself or others. However, I also feel that the present care of those with “mental illnesses” is just as bad as it was in the 50’s when Peter Breggin was a student at Harvard. The only difference is that instead of being locked in a cold hospital we’re locked in our own drug suppressed minds.
Without dealing with the underlying issues meds are worthless. I read another blog where the author, while generally thoughtful, goes on and on about what’s wrong with alternative health care. Sugar pills have a 30% success rate which is higher than most psych meds. I get so sick of people dismissing alternative care en mass due to lack of studies when they most likely have no knowledge of how these studies get accepted and published. Having been involved in medical research for 15 plus years I can tell you that it’s a lot of politics. Results of studies are manipulated to make the funder of the study happy. Lots of studies are suppressed because of inter-department fighting. It’s sickening. No one is going to fund studies on alternative therapies unless there is money to be made or in the rare case where a government is willing to fund the study. Even then the study is only as good as the funding it receives. The larger the study typically the better the result.
Not that there isn’t a lot of good research going on. It’s simply difficult to tell which ones are accurate without doing your own research. It’s pathetic and shows the disrespect that we as a society have for those that are vulnerable.
The rant ends.
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It was once pointed out to me by a intuitive friend that my “mental illness” sounded more like a creative crisis than a psychological one. That my sensitivity to what is going on around and within would normally be released through artistic expression but that this expression was blocked and coming out instead as anxiety, panic, hallucinations, mood swings, depression and disassociation. Until recently I was also in a job that reinforced childhood emotional trauma and feelings of hopelessness, worthlessness and repressed anger.
With the slow discontinuation of the medication that was allowing me to continue to hold onto my old job and old habit energy doors have been opening in my life and in my mind that would not have been possible under the sedating effects of the meds.
My current sabbatical from working has become a time of emotional healing. With the dampening effects of the Depakote and Strattera loosing their grip on my mind fears and unresolved issues are coming to the surface and demanding to be understood. Some are terrifying in their intensity yet I feel strong and ready to face them. If I was working there would not be time to deal with them.
It will be some time before my body is ready to be off the meds. The latest dosage decrease leaves me at 750 mg of Depakote daily. Still, that’s down from a high of seven drugs down to just one. An unintended side effect of having to go slowly off the Depakote is that it is, I believe, making it easier on my mind to deal with issues slowly rather than being overwhelmed. So while I resent the pills each and every time that I take them I try to appreciate what they are doing for me now.
Gianna has an interesting article by Paul Levy on spiritual awakening. While I have a hard time with the “shaman” imagery as it appears to make us somehow special, I do not feel that this was the author’s intent and encourage you to read it.
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I pulled my shoulder recently and while at the doctor’s office he pointed out how out of shape I am. He actually held my arm up and felt my bicep. When I explained that the anti-mania medication has been making me too tired to do anything he literally took a step away from me, like bipolar disorder is contagious. I hate it when I don’t get my regular gp. Then, I kid you not, his next words were, “Have you tried Remeron?” What did that have to do with anything? I quelled my anger. We talked a bit and it was obvious he knew little about bp and so I decided to educate him on atypical anti-psychotics. I told him that that they are NOT first line therapy that yes I in fact had tried it and it’s a horrible medication which causes weight gain and possibly diabetes and that Depakote and Lithium are usually tried first. I’m not sure that I got through to him but I hope for any future patient’s sake that I did. I don’t understand why a gp will push you off to a specialist for pretty much anything except when it comes to mental health. Then every doctor feels like they know how to prescribe.
He was right about my being overweight though. I went out and bought a scale and have committed to losing 12 pounds. I have been working out at home all week so that I cannot use the excuse that working out at a gym causes too much anxiety. My routine is to work out five days a week with Saturday and Sunday off so that I do not bother my downstairs neighbor.
Let’s see how easy this is over the holidays.
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Even though I am not religious I love the holiday season. The lights and celebrations, decorated trees and foods all make me feel happy. A number of years ago I started going to dinner at a Chinese restaurant on Christmas day with Jewish friends and now it’s a regular tradition.
I know that this is a hard time of year for many. I tend to get depressed right after the new year. Call it post-holiday depression (or maybe it’s a serious sugar low?)
Anyway, thanks to WordPress you can enjoy the falling snow on my blog (until January 4, 2009) wherever you are.
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Typing a post while listening to the iPod probably isn’t the best way to write. Caffeine from a latte is coursing through my veins and the music is beating into my brain. Maybe the two will cancel out the hopelessness that I currently feel.
On the flight home I was half reading a book on mindfulness (the irony was not lost) but what I was mostly thinking about was how to talk to the guy sitting next to me and come off as normal. He seemed nice enough and was making conversation. I was dealing with some anxiety and having difficulty with my damn memory. I kept forgetting the names of things but he either didn’t notice or was to polite to say anything.
Sometimes when the anxiety comes on there is a feeling of being removed, like things are not real. I felt like I was watching myself talk to this guy at times which was my brain attempting to deal with my anxiety – the whole flying experience gets to me. Once I am in the plane I generally feel better but checking in and getting through security always freaks me out. This time I had forgotten about a bottle of suntan lotion and got pulled aside to have my bag searched. The security people were polite and professional but I was still unnerved.
Once on the plane I pulled out my book with the intention of blocking out the world when this guy starts talking to me. The conversation was pretty pedestrian – music, movies, travel. What bothered me was that I felt that I needed to keep the conversation going to keep the guy interested in talking to me. That this interest would mean that he was romantically interested in me. This is an old embarrassing pattern that resurfaces. At least I was able to figure this out pretty quick and ask myself, “Are you interested in this guy? Is he interested in you?” The answer to the first was “not really” and the second, “no”. I was able to calm down after this and just tried to have a casual conversation.
It’s interesting that my first impulse when talking to guys is to try to make myself interesting to them but not to ask myself if they are interesting to me. That this still happens upsets me which in turn makes me feel damaged and hopeless. I hear the negative voice in my head saying, “You can’t even talk to a freakin’ stranger without getting all panicky. What a loser!” I know that this isn’t right but it still gets to me and takes a while to counteract.
The cherry on top of all this is that I have to go to a party tonight and mingle with more strangers. Perfect.
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It was David Sedaris who said that visiting family is difficult because it brings out pieces of ourselves that we’d rather leave unexamined. Much like that bowl of molding something that is in the back of the frig and then placed in the freezer to be dealt with at a later time. It will end up in the trash eventually but really, why bother with it now?
While currently visiting my family I find myself reverting to an evasive childhood routine of immersion in books and playing mute. Not that I don’t want to talk I simply have nothing to talk about. No one cares what I am reading and I care little for financial news or shopping. My mom and I quickly found common ground on the subjects of mixed drinks and the high price of food and are spending our evenings drinking and alternating the cooking. While I would like to say that it is only me that is dealing with the awkwardness, I know that she feels the same way. She makes suggestions for things to do and I bristle. She feels that she’s was being helpful and I tell her that I do not need step-by-step instructions on how to operate the microwave, the television, the remote or the car. She wants to talk about who she’s dating and I scream “TMI!” while running away in panic.
My mother is not the type of person what has close female friends. She’ll tell you that she comes from a generation that “needs a man in a woman’s life.” It’s inescapable, like thrush or chickenpox. She’ll tell you that it’s because she prefers a man’s company to a woman’s but it’s more complicated than that. My mother is a capable woman who is insecure with her own strengths. She comes off as somewhat helpless, wanting doors and jars opened for her, but then becomes enraged when the guy that she is dating becomes ‘domineering’ to use her word. She then becomes aggressively assertive. Occasionally the guy is a controlling jerk but mostly it’s some poor sap who didn’t know what hit him. I’ve tried to explain this behavior to her but it’s usually when I’m angry and isn’t communicate well. That my mother is assertive is a good thing. That she withholds being so until later in the relationship when she becomes mad is not.
The other reason that I tend to read a lot while visiting is that I have no privacy. I am followed around, talked at constantly and can’t even use the computer without her looking over my shoulder (I’m typing this late at night while everyone else is asleep.) Alone time is extremely important to me and I have resorted to sneaking out to coffee shops to have some time to think, which is viewed as anti-social and unhealthy. For some reason the guy with bipolar disorder can’t be left alone.
Whenever I visit my family I experience anxiety and panic attacks. I had hoped that this time would be different what with the years of therapy and all but my subconscious still has something to say. Right now it likes to say it while I’m riding in a car with my Mom. The anxiety has been overtaking me and making it very difficult to ride more than 20 minutes without getting nauseous and having chest pains. My subconscious is seriously pissed off. I’ve been thinking why specifically riding in the car with my mother is causing so much anxiety and believe that it is most likely caused by her near constant complaints against all other drivers, god and the sun. Everyone else is a idiot and doesn’t know how to drive. Seriously, she’s more paranoid than I am. She also cannot keep directions straight and asks me repeatedly for them.
Mom: Which way do I turn?
Me: Right.
Mom: Is that north?
Me: I don’t know, your directions here say to turn right.
Mom: Ohhhhhhh….. I don’t want to turn the wrong way…
Me: Then turn right.
Mom: What if I can’t get over to the right lane?
Me: Then we’ll go to the next street and turn around.
Repeat this twenty times and you’ve got a good idea how most of my days here are spent. It’s surprises me that I have to spend so much time staring at the forest to see the trees. Her indecision and anxiety drive me up a wall and are manifesting themselves as physical symptoms. I mean seriously, why get stressed out about missing a turn or about how someone is using the toaster oven? Aren’t there bigger issues to stress over like the war and the economy?
My mom is not responsible for my anxiety attacks. She may be the current catalyst but I understand that it is my brain generating this response and it is my responsibility to deal with it. I’m just annoyed because I love my mother dearly, she’s very generous with her emotional support of me, and yet I cannot ride in a car with her without having to secretly perform breathing exercises.
Like the moldy container in the frig, I know that I will have to face the issues that exist between me and my mother. For now though, I think the issues will go into the freezer for a while. They’ll eventually have to be opened and dealt with, but there’s no big rush. Maybe this is what love really is. The occasional putting aside of differences so that we can be awkward with someone and love them as they are.
Those who speak