Seasonal

My moods have always cycled with the seasons. In the heat of the summer, I tend to have more manic and hypomanic episodes, and in the late fall and early winter I experience more depression and the symptoms that come with it. This year, it is the same.

I feel listless. I have no energy. I feel apathetic. Muted. Dulled. Flat.

I know this will pass, and my moods will continue to cycle throughout the year. And my mood isn't overwhelming me, or crushing me. It just makes me feel dulled. It's fairly manageable and under control.

I've been spending a lot of time thinking about my symptoms lately. Thinking about where my symptoms end, and where I begin. My symptoms, when my illness is under control, can be subtle at times. Drawing the line between "I'm feeling a little down right now" and "this is a symptom" can be difficult.

The thing I always go to when I am struggling to determine if something is "me" or a symptom, is to ask other people about my feelings. Considering the circumstances, are my feelings "normal" or are they bizarre? Sometimes it is hard for me to tell in the moment. Sometimes I know that they are irrational. Knowing doesn't change anything though, as far as how I feel.

That's the frustration I have about knowing when something is "normal" and when it is a symptom. IT DOESN'T CHANGE THE WAY I FEEL. Knowing that it isn't rational for me to be depressed and feel sad doesn't change the fact that I feel depressed and sad. And knowing, in those early stages, that it is depression doesn't mean that I can prevent my symptoms from worsening. Knowing only allows the rational part  of my brain to try to fight against it a little bit.

Ugghhh...

Having a mind that is dysfunctional is awful. Not knowing whether or not you can trust your thoughts and feelings. Never being sure if you are experiencing reality, if you are being rational. It leaves me feeling... I want to say "broken", but I'm desperately trying to stop calling myself that. I am "fixable", I may be in need of repair, but I can be fixed. There will always be cracks and imperfections. I am not beyond hope. I am not broken. Right?

I can't wait for the dull, dark days of late fall and early winter to be over. Once the days are sunny and the snow is white, I feel some relief. But these cloudy, dark, cold, miserable days with less day and more night....

Right now the clouds are dark and gray - nearly black - and they look heavy and low. I feel the same way. But I ask myself - is this normal? Do other people - normal people - feel the same way this time of year? Is this normal? Or is this a symptom? I'm not sure.

I tend to think that my mood this time of year is a mix of normal and symptom. I don't think most people are bright and cheerful on days like these. But I don't think it is normal to feel this low, either. I think it is not completely normal, but not purely symptom either.

I'm trying to stay positive. I try to act perky. I'm pretty sure I'm failing miserably most of the time. But it makes me feel a little lighter when I act like I'm more upbeat than I actually feel.

I can't wait for the bright sunny days of winter. The snow sparkling and glistening as it reflects and refracts the sun's rays. I know they will make me feel better. They always do.

Out of focus

Frustrated right now. My schizoaffective symptoms are well managed, after a few minor adjustments to how and when I take my meds. I feel stable, I feel good, I feel normal. I am functioning at 99% as far as those symptoms go.

Unfortunately, I can't say the same thing about my ADHD symptoms.

We recently tried adjusting the dosage of the stimulant I use, because I was experiencing a "crash" when it abruptly stopped working in the late afternoon. The lower dose makes the crash more tolerable, but does almost nothing for my focus and attention.

I have been doing a lot of reading and chatting in ADHD forums, and I came across a med I want to ask my doctor about at my next appointment. It lasts longer, it tapers off instead of the abrupt stop of my current med, and it is supposed to also improve mood and boost motivation. So the lingering depression I am experiencing could also be affected.

This lack of focus and the lingering depression, combined with the lessened motivation, means I am getting a lot less done. My blog entries are sporadic, my energy and motivation at home and at work are diminished, and I just feel less productive in general.

My other symptoms though are much improved. Last week I was still having some issues, almost always in the afternoon. We changed one of my meds a tiny bit. I take the same dose, but instead of taking it all at once, I take half in the morning and half at night. It seems to be keeping me more stable all day long.

I was taking the entire dose at night before, because when I took the whole dose in the morning, it left me feeling exhausted. Taking it at night though, had me feeling it fade the next afternoon. Taking it twice a day leveled me out, it seems.

There is also an extended release form of this med that is an option if this doesn't work as well as we hope, on the off chance that this lessening of symptoms is temporary.

I have been taking a very proactive approach the past few weeks when it comes to my medications and my treatment. I have decided that I want to be able to explain what I don't like about treatment and offer alternatives. I want to be educated about the options out there.

I'm feeling good. I wish I had more focus, but other than that, I feel really good. I'm optimistic that this will last a while. I have accepted that this probably won't be permanent, that the future may bring more adjustments, more changes. But I'm okay with that. I'm feeling good.

Pills

Uggghhh. I hate meds sometimes. They work, and I know that when I am unmedicated I am unable to function. But it gets so frustrating.

I am trying to decide right now how to tell what is a symptom and what is a side effect. I have felt flat and numbed for the past few weeks. Is it that I am depressed? Or is it that my meds are doing this to me? I'm not sure. The same goes for some of the anxiety and agitation I sometimes experience. It's frustrating.

I also have been looking for something to add to or replace my antipsychotic. It knocks me out, so I can only take it at night. But I can feel its effects fading and waning throughout the day, and feel less in control by the evening. Adding a small booster in the afternoon helps, but now I am taking naps all the time and feel tired all evening. I found an extended release medication that isn't supposed to have as much of a sedative effect, and is almost the same drug. I will be asking about it at my next appointment.

Then there's the dry mouth. Oh God. I can't take it sometimes. Drinking water doesn't really help. It makes it better for a couple minutes, maybe. I spend all day filling my bladder to try to relieve some of the dryness, so then the bathroom becomes a revolving door.

I am still having some mild symptoms, and am currently debating whether or not to ask my doctor to up any meds, because I already worry about their side effects.

Is the goal of this to END my symptoms, or just to make them tolerable? Right now, I'm at the point where they are tolerable 95% of the time, and I'm feeling stable. But do I ask for enough to make the symptoms of away for right now? And, if I do, how long will they be gone?

Meds are a pain in the ass. It feels like I take mountains of meds every day, but things still aren't perfect. Should they be? Am I expecting too much? Am I expecting to little?

I feel flat and numb right now. I'm hoping this passes. I'm hoping that this isn't my new normal. I'm hoping this a symptom, not a side effect.

Fixable

I am trying to change the way I think and talk about myself. Through therapy, I am learning to recognize the negative thinking patterns I have. It's tough to change. They are deeply ingrained in me. But I am trying.

One of the biggest things that I am working on in therapy is changing the way I see myself. I see myself as broken. Irreversibly damaged and defective. I see my inability, at times, to fight off symptoms as a sign of my own personal weakness. I have, I am realizing, unrealistic expectations for myself.

Broken. What does that mean? It implies that I am beyond repair. That I am not worth trying to fix. When something is broken, you toss it out. I struggle, I really struggle, to see myself as anything other than defective. My illness makes me feel powerless at times. I feel like I should be stronger, that my symptoms shouldn't impact my behavior. A part of me believes that I should be able to live my life without interruption, and that my inner struggles should never be obvious to others.

How can I expect these things of myself? Of course my illness is going to have an effect on my behavior! Of course my illness is not my fault, and of course succumbing to symptoms does not mean I am pathetic and weak. I am not broken. My therapist challenged me to come up with a different word, a different way of seeing myself.

The word I settled on was "fixable". It implies that something is wrong - there is an imperfection. But it also says that there is hope. Something fixable may never look perfect, it may always have some cracks or marks or visible imperfections. But it can still be useful, it can be repaired.

It's a struggle to change something so ingrained into my thinking patterns.

Another one of the things I am struggling with is how I think others see me, or will see me. I worry that I will be seen as weak by others. Seen as damaged, broken, fragile.

I don't know how others see me, and I can't control it even when I do know. But I will tell you what I don't want. I don't want to be seen as frail and weak. I don't want to be treated with extra care, handled with kid gloves. I am not some kind of cracked glass, ready to break at any moment, unable to handle a single tremor. I struggle enough with how I see myself - I don't want others to see me as more broken than I see myself!

I assume, too often, that if I share details, if I open up, if I am vulnerable - I worry that it will fundamentally change how others see me, and that it will always be in a detrimental way. I am so afraid that I will lose the respect of others, that I hesitate to ever completely open up.

I mentioned a couple weeks ago that I had been challenged to reach out to a friend and share things that I didn't usually share. I did that, and it went well. But I did it through text, where I wasn't as open and vulnerable. I worry about appearing weak. Often, when I explain my struggles and battles and pain, if I do it in person, I end up crying and sobbing. I hate feeling that vulnerable, and I assume that others will see me as even weaker because they see me as a blubbering mess, barely able to survive, failing to thrive. I assume they will see me as weak, and the thought of breaking down in front of them terrifies me.

I worry, all the time, that when I share my struggles, when I explainy symptoms in detail - I worry that I am burdening people. I worry that since there is nothing anyone can do to help, my sharing will only add stress to their lives. Nothing useful can come of it. This idea was challenged the other day, and so I shared some things with my wife. She immediately pointed out that I was wrong. There are things she can do. Maybe not right away every time, but she can learn what soothes me, what relieves stress when I am symptomatic. One of the examples she used was that if my paranoia was convincing me that I was being watched, she could get some more of the curtains we have in our bedroom that block outside light when they are closed. If that relieved my stress and anxiety, that is an option.

I never thought about it that way. I never thought that there was anything that anyone could do to help. I felt like it was my struggle, and mine alone. It was out of anyone else's control, so why burden them with the details of my pain and frustration? Why allow them into my madness? I never thought about the fact that there ARE things that can be done to alleviate symptoms, at least some of the time. Plus, knowing what my symptoms are and what they look like allows others to keep me safe and minimize risk. It can be one of the safeguards I have in place.

I am trying, really trying, to change the way I think and behave. It's hard. It's really hard.

My therapist gave me a paper about "automatic negative thoughts" with a list of different types of negative thinking patterns. It was like a checklist of my ways of thinking. It surprised me, honestly. I didn't realize how much of my thinking is negative.

Some of the things on that list;

• "All or nothing thinking" is seeing everyone and everything as black and white, good and bad. Imperfections are failure.
• "Always/never thinking" is seeing a pattern where there isn't one. If I failed today, its because I ALWAYS fail.
• "Guilt through should-statements" is focusing on how things SHOULD be, and seeing myself and others negatively if they fail to meet that standard.

Those are three of the twelve thinking patterns, and I have used at least ten of the twelve.

Here's where the problem turns back on itself. Understanding that I think irrationally, and use negative thoughts patterns, I become frustrated with myself. I then find myself beating myself up for not recognizing this earlier. It's a vicious cycle. Trying to change this way of thinking and finding a new way is difficult. Really difficult.

I am trying to change the way I think and behave. I am trying, really trying. But it's tough.

Acceptance

Symptoms may include the following:

-Delusions - having false, fixed beliefs
-Hallucinations, such as hearing voices
-Major depressed mood episodes
-Possible periods of manic mood or a sudden increase in energy and behavioral displays that are out of character
-Impaired occupational and social functioning
-Problems with cleanliness and physical appearance
-Paranoid thoughts and ideas
-Weight loss or gain
-Changes in sleeping patterns (sleeping very little or a lot)
-Agitation (excessive restlessness)
-Lack of energy
-Loss of interest in usual activities
-Feelings of worthlessness or hopelessness
-Guilt or self-blame
-Inability to think or concentrate
-Thoughts of death or suicide
-Increased and/or rapid talking
-Rapid or racing thoughts
-Little need for sleep
-Agitation
-Inflated self-esteem
-Distractibility
-Self-destructive or dangerous behavior (such as going on spending sprees, driving recklessly, or having unsafe sex)

That is a checklist of symptoms for schizoaffective disorder. You can see why it could be confused with bipolar disorder. The symptoms overlap quite a bit.

Schizoaffective disorder is basically a mix of bipolar disorder and schizophrenia. It presents differently in different cases. Some look predominantly bipolar, some predominantly schizophrenic.

Basically, my Schizoaffective Disorder is Bipolar on steroids. My psychotic symptoms are more severe, and they sometimes happen without changes in my mood. That is one of the key factors that led to my change in diagnosis - my psychosis and my moods are separate things. I can have mood changes without psychosis, and psychosis without changes in mood.

The change in diagnosis initially freaked me out. Hell, I'm still a little freaked out. Schizoaffective disorder is a more challenging illness. It means I will have to fight harder. My relapses may be more frequent. Treatment will be more difficult.

I am trying to accept this diagnosis. I am trying to be cool with it. I'm not 100% there.

It does explain some things. My change in dress over the past several years. I used to wear collared shirts most of the time, now I wear mostly the same t-shirts over and over again. I used to go to the doctor and to the dentist regularly. I just went back to the dentist after seven years, and I'm going to the doctor after three years without seeing him. It explains some of the changes in my hygiene, and appearance. It explains some of the sixty pounds I've put on in the past eight years. It explains my recent symptoms, my anxiety, my agitation.

Please be patient with me as I process this diagnosis, and work on accepting it. I'll be honest - I'm scared. I worry that one day, I will lose this fight. This new diagnosis makes me even more worried.

Send me good juju, send me some good vibes, pray and think and reach out. I'm struggling, and it takes a lot for me to admit that.

Confused

I'm not sure what to write today. My diagnosis was changed a few hours ago. My doctor changed my diagnosis from Bipolar Disorder Type II to Schizoaffective Disorder Bipolar Type.

I'm not sure how to feel about this. It's just a name. It doesn't affect my treatment, since what we are doing is working for me. It's just a name for my symptoms. Right?

So I am trying not to act like anything is different. I am trying to act like this changes nothing. But I feel like it does.

This diagnosis seems somehow more severe, less manageable. It makes me feel like my struggles will be more difficult.

I'm confused and frustrated right now. I am trying to process all of this.

Sorry for such a short post. And sorry that I've been so irregular with my posts. To my regular readers, I will try to get my thoughts together and write more tomorrow or Friday.

I'm feeling a little overwhelmed still. I know I shouldn't be so confused and frustrated over a name, but I am.

Depression

I have to be honest right now. The reason my posts have been so sporadic lately is that I have been going through some depression. It sucks. It's overwhelming some days.

I feel flat. I feel like I can't truly enjoy things. Life is bleak and miserable.

I have been able, so far, to trudge through it and force myself to go on, and not give up. But it's hard.

I have been going to work every day. I have been keeping and sticking to my plans.

It feels like I am having an argument with myself inside my own mind. One part of me knows that the right thing to do is to keep fighting against the depression. The other part of me just wants to give up, to succumb to the depression. Right now the fighter in me is winning.

I hate this illness. At least, though, I know that this is my illness. This despair and darkness is caused by a chemical imbalance, not by reality. The world is not really this bleak, it only looks that way because of my illness. But that doesn't stop me from feeling it. It only helps to lessen the symptoms of this depression.

So I'm sorry. I have been acting more withdrawn, less active, less motivated. My blog entries have been sparse. This will get better, and I will win yet another battle against my disease.

Being open

I have a lot of issues surrounding friendship and relationships and social norms. I know I do. I have discussed some of that in previous blog entries.

I have always struggled to understand why it is that I don't have more close friends. This week I figured out a piece of the problem.

In therapy earlier this week, I was talking about the fact that I have always been "a listener", but have never felt like I should be listened to. I wanted to comfort others, but was hesitant to seek comfort for myself.

This blog is the most open I have ever been about my life. The things I share are often deeply personal, and sometimes difficult to share. I have been pushing myself to be more open, and to share my experiences with others. Of course, there are things too personal to share in this format. They need to be shared in a different way.

Too often, the only way I have shared my personal struggles is by going to a therapist. My therapy appointments allow me to discuss my darkest, deepest thoughts and the difficulties I have, and the depths of despair I feel. Mostly, these things are related to my illness, but there are other things, too. I usually begin sobbing, and go through a mountain of tissues. I end up feeling vulnerable and scared.

That vulnerability is uncomfortable. I don't do that with anyone outside my therapist. And, as I am now realizing, that is terrible.

The type of relationships and friendships I have always felt like I couldn't have - those relationships require openness and honesty. They require at least some vulnerability. You can't expect a deeply personal friendship from someone when you never tell them about your thoughts and feelings.

So my therapist challenged me. I was supposed to find a friend and discuss with that person the things I don't usually share. I wanted to choose someone that I felt would respond in a way I could be comfortable with. Not too much huggy-feely stuff, but not judging either. I needed someone who I had shared at least some things with, but didn't want to go with someone who I knew shared my diagnosis - that would make it TOO easy.

So I picked someone, and said things that were not easy for me to say, even through text. I shared things about my life and my illness that were deeply personal and private. It was difficult. I was uncomfortable. But it was good.

I felt like a weight lifted. It felt good to finally share with a friend the things I went through that were so hard to talk about.

It's dumb, because I see all the time, when I am listening and offering support to others, that allowing someone to share their struggles allows them to come to peace with those struggles. I just wasn't willing to share my own personal demons.

I don't know what I expected. Did I think my friends would judge me and be cruel? Run away and never look back? Abandon me? I had so much fear and anxiety when I thought about sharing some of the worst of my symptoms, and asking to be able to reach out for help.

When I occasionally have reached out in the past in dealing with my struggles, I have always been selective and ONLY discussed things with people who I am 100% sure have experienced the same things themselves. I have been unwilling to share them with my other friends and my family, for various reasons.

I justify my unwillingness to share by convincing myself that there isn't anything anyone can do, so I should just struggle alone. Or I say that I will just worry them, and so I shouldn't tell them. I think that my issues are mine alone.

The problem with this is that it only adds to the loneliness that suffering and struggling bring. Especially the struggles brought on by my disorder.

I always tell my friends to reach out to me whenever they need help. Now I just need to follow my own advice.

Violence

A mass shooting, a high profile murder case, a bizarre crime - you'll hear them say it nearly every time. They will blame mental illness - most often bipolar disorder or schizophrenia.

I agree, the mentally ill should not have access to weapons, especially guns. But the reason I say that isn't that I fear the next mass shooting. Someone suffering from a mental illness is far more likely to harm THEMSELVES than anyone else. Suicide is a HUGE risk, and access to a gun is a risk not worth taking.

Of my two most prominent mental illnesses, bipolar disorder and ADHD, the one more closely associated with crime is not bipolar, it is actually the ADHD. ADHD is associated with lowered inhibitions, impulsive behavior, aggression, hostility, and loud and obnoxious behavior. That's a bad mix when impulses lead to criminal behavioral, and interactions with law enforcement may not go well. The mentally ill, meanwhile, are far more likely to be the victim than the perpetrator.

You hear it though. "This isn't about guns, it's about mental illness" becomes a mantra. But the widely held belief that mental illness is linked to violent crime just isn't true. High profile violent crimes have many precipitating factors, and to say that the ONLY problem is the mental health system is ignorant.

Are there mentally ill individuals who commit violent crimes? Yes. But only a very tiny percentage of the mentally ill are violent, and many of those who are violent commit crimes for reasons unrelated to their mental illness. Poverty, childhood trauma, and abusing drugs and alcohol are much more related to crime than bipolar disorder and schizophrenia are. Most criminals are not mentally ill, and most of the mentally ill are not likely to commit a crime.

A lot of the stigma surrounding bipolar disorder stems from the media's portrayal of the mentally ill. Many people with Bipolar Disorder are hesitant to talk about their illness out of fear. The worry - that people will judge you, fear you, lose any faith or trust in you - can be overwhelming.

I think about it sometimes. Do people see me as fragile? Do they think I am a ticking time bomb? Do they believe that it's only a matter of time until I become violent and out of control? Do they see me as only a "crazy person"?

I seriously hope not.

I am a father, a husband. I am a supportive friend, and a reliable coworker. I go to work, I come home, I go to my kid's school events, I hang out with my family and friends. I am many things. I don't want my illness to define me.

I started this blog to discuss my mental illness and share my struggles with others. I hope that this blog hasn't made people think of me as a poster child for "crazy" and nothing else.

The mentally ill aren't terrifying monsters. The mentally ill are just everyday people, trying to get through life the same as everybody else. We aren't ticking time bombs, ready to blow any second without warning. Yes, we have our struggles, and they may seen foreign and bizarre to "normal" people. Yes, we can feel unstable and unpredictable. But we are far more likely to hurt ourselves than to hurt others. We are far more likely to be a victim than to be the perpetrator.

It's not just the news, either. Crime shows and police procedurals often portray the mentally ill as violent and dangerous criminals. Movies and television buy into the same false beliefs, continuing the false correlation between violence and mental illness.

Please, if you see this just plain wrong belief in action, point out to others the untruths surrounding this belief. Challenge the stigma of mental illness. Change the way others see us, whenever and wherever you can.

Snowball effect

The great thing about being stable right now is that the positive things I do to stay stable start building on each other, and I have had some lifestyle changes.

I have always tried to do some simple activity and exercise every day. It gets hard when I am experiencing depression, but I always try. Now that I am stable, I find myself WANTING to get outside and do something. I have been taking the dogs for several walks a day, and taking longer walks at a faster pace. It feels good. I have even been talking about going back to exercising in a gym again.

I try to limit the amount of junk food I eat. When I'm depressed, I often want to binge eat. Excess sugar and caffeine can provide extra energy and worsen ADHD symptoms. Now that I am stable, I find myself watching what kind of food I eat even more, and eatibg healthier - and doing so is easier. I have spent some time this evening looking for new recipes to try, as I plan on reviving something we used to do - "Meatless Mondays". For several years, we made it a point to have a dinner meal that was vegetarian every Monday. Recently, I had lost interest in that. Stability brought me back to healthy habits.

I have always tried to force myself to have healthy sleep habits. Changes in sleep occur in both phases of bipolar, with depression increasing desire to sleep, and mania decreasing it. I find healthy sleeping habits easier to maintain right now. I have been going to bed at regular times, and I haven't been sleeping in excessively on my days off.

The great thing about these, and other, changes in my desire and ability to maintain these habits right now, is that these are all things I use to try to alleviate my symptoms when I am symptomatic. Doing them when I am this stable makes it that much easier to deal with the mild symptoms that have been presenting occasionally. Decreasing the frequency and severity of the symptoms that do occur means that I will still be maintaining my healthy habits. Again, maintaining those habits further minimizes symptoms.

This cycle starts to snowball, with good habits helping with symptoms, which helps with habits, which helps symptoms - it starts cycling and snowballing and growing.

This morning, I had some anxiety and depressive features, but found fighting it off, and getting up and moving, easier than it was the last time that I felt that way. The habits I have created to make myself move when my symptoms are crushing and suffocating me - they give me the ability to deal with these symptoms much more easily than I used to.

I am sure my symptoms will still appear here and there, in varying severity and frequency. But with my current habits, fighting off the milder ones won't drain me and take so much energy and effort.

I am feeling good. I have been feeling good for a couple weeks. I think the worst of this is over for now. It feels good to be back to "normal" again.

Regrets

I sometimes think about the "what-ifs" in my life. I ruminate on them. The main thing I wonder about is how my life would be different if I had been diagnosed and treated effectively earlier than I was. There are so many things that I did that destroyed relationships, ruined opportunities in my career and education, and damaged other aspects of my life and of my being.

What if I had been diagnosed before I had the crisis that led to my hospitalization? In the months leading up to that, I damaged my career by being irresponsible and reckless at work. I damaged my marriage and my relationship with my kids with my outrageous and obnoxious, and sometimes even aggressive, behaviors. I ruined my finances by emptying my bank account and then continuing to put it in withdrawal over and over again. I got a ticket for going 75 mph in a 35 mph zone. Then I crashed, and I came so close to suicide. I think about the fact that I nearly did it. I only changed my mind at the very last second. What if I had been diagnosed before any of that happened? How would my life be different?

What about when I went back to school after I got married? It was right after my daughter was born. I went back to school to try to do better, and I didn't. At all. I couldn't focus. I skipped classes. I barely completed my classes, and then dropped out again. I felt like a failure. A failure AGAIN. What if I had been diagnosed before any of that happened? How would my life be different?

What about my chronic job hopping? Changing employers and jobs randomly, being irresponsible, walking off the job on a whim. I damaged my career path many times by demonstrating poor judgment, not getting along with coworkers, coming in late or not at all, not completing my assigned work, rude and obnoxious behavior, and just plain reckless and irresponsible behaviors. Job after job, opportunity after opportunity. What if I had been diagnosed before any of that happened? How would my life be different?

What about all the failed and sabotaged relationships? The damage I inflicted, the hurt and pain. Sometimes it overwhelms me. The friendships I destroyed. The family I inflicted deep and lasting wound on. The people I frightened off with my out of control behavior. What if? Would an earlier diagnosis have changed any of that?

What about high school? All the classes and assignments I barely completed. Homework rarely turned in. The obnoxious and rude way I addressed teachers and authority figures. The friendships I damaged even then. What if I could have prevented that?

When would I have needed a diagnosis to prevent all of these awful things? All this destruction and madness and mayhem - could it have been stopped? How would my life be different if I had been diagnosed and treated in college? In high school? Or even junior high? What opportunities would I have?

I know that these ruminations are probably not the best thing for me to think about, and worrying about them is completely unproductive, but I still wonder. I can't help it.

It frustrates me. Looking back, I can see the destructive effect my mental illness and my ADHD had on my life. I can see the episodes of mania, of depression. I can see the symptoms building in strength, in effect, in intensity. I see it in hindsight. But at those times, in those places, it felt normal for me. I didn't realize what was happening.

I wonder what my life would be like if my illness had been treated and managed before it started wreaking havoc on my life. I wonder sometimes about how different my life would be. I know it's probably not productive, but I can't help but wonder.

Outbursts

I had to remind myself yesterday that it's okay to have symptoms. It's okay to have moments where I struggle. It's okay to cry, to be angry and to feel a surge of energy as the symptoms surface.

Yesterday I had two moments where I struggled a lot.

The first was at the beginning of my day. Suddenly, I felt overwhelmed by sadness. I actually started to cry. Even though I knew, in the back of my mind, that this experience and the things I was thing and feeling were symptoms, I struggled. I struggled to regain and maintain control of my own mind. I struggled with the guilt and frustration that giving into my symptoms creates. I struggled as I tried to remind myself that this episode, this outburst of tears, didn't make me weak.

The second episode began at night. I suddenly became filled with energy, frustration and rage. I wanted to throw something. I wanted to break something. I wanted to see twisted metal and shards of glass. I wanted to smash something. It turned into rage against myself and those around me. My wife bore the brunt of it. I was rude, hostile. I threatened to break things. I tried to convince her to smash the van into the car ahead of us, just so I could see the damage the collision created. I wanted to hit  something, to kick something. The surging energy, and rage, and violence broke through the surface. I struggled. I struggled to regain control. I struggled to calm myself. I struggled to not turn that anger and rage inward, and to not get angry and blame myself.

I often get frustrated with my symptoms when I try to explain them. It feels like I am excusing my behavior by blaming my illness. I worry that others feel like I am saying "Hey, I'm allowed to be an asshole! I have a 'condition' that I can't control! You can't judge me!" Hence the anger turned inward. The feelings of weakness. The blame I put on myself. I feel like I should be more in control of my own thoughts, feelings and behaviors.

Feeling like I am losing control of my own behavior and feeling like my mind isn't mine anymore and feeling like my thoughts are intruders, forcing their way into my life - it is so difficult to explain how that feels. It is difficult to explain how powerless and weak it makes me feel.

It's frustrating, too, to know that without the meds I wouldn't have the awareness and understanding of what is happening when I am struggling. Without meds, I wouldn't struggle. I would just surrender to my symptoms, blissfully unaware of my mania, and completely crushed underneath the depression. I know that going off of my meds would destroy my life. I almost ruined my marriage, my career, and my friendships and relationships with many people. But I understand why people go off their meds. I get it.

Right now I feel good. These moments of madness are infrequent, and usually are triggered by stressors. I am aware of the fact that it is unlikely that I will ever be symptom free. I will struggle on and off for many years to come. I know that. I am just trying to accept it and be okay with it.

Community

Now that I am stable again, I feel like I should DO something with my experiences. I know that I have used this blog to help people understand my illness, but I want something more.

I have been trying to find something. Today I started something where I am actively making a difference. I started following a few forums like this one where people are looking for help and support in dealing with symptoms and managing their illness, and started responding and offering help to people.

I have used my experiences to help people before, but it has always been people I knew, not strangers. I am finding this to be not only helpful for others, but helpful for myself as well. I had similar experiences with my friends. Offering support helped us both. It reinforces the things I know, and offered perspective on our symptoms and thoughts and behaviors. Talking about it is good for everyone involved.

I have decided to use my illness as a tool to help others.

This got me thinking. I dropped out of college back before my diagnosis, with a couple years under my belt. I am now seriously considering returning to school and obtaining certification in psychology and mental health. I want to use my experiences to help others on their path to stability and wellness.

I want to make sure I am stable and ready before I commit to school, so it would be spring before I was prepared and sure enough of my stability to enroll in classes.

Until then, I will make certain to help where I can, and offer whatever support I can give. I am enjoying my stability. It has been steadily improving still, and my symptoms have been presenting less and less each day. I think we are right where we need to be, my body just needs to get these levels steady within itself.

Thank you to everyone who has offered support during my worst moments these past few months. It means the world to me. And if anyone needs me for support, I am here for you.

Not okay with okay

Lately I have been feeling okay. Any symptoms I have experienced passed quickly, my anxiety and agitation have been minimal. A big source of anxiety for me had actually been my other symptoms. A moment like the one I had yesterday, when I briefly believed that Satan was telling me to hurt myself, would have caused me a lot of panic and anxiety a few weeks ago. Now, I accept it and move on, noting it in my list of symptoms I experience.

Today I realized that this bothers me. It sounds strange to say, but I am not okay with being okay with my symptoms.

I was contemplating my symptoms and my recent breaks with reality, and my calm acceptance of them. Since when is hearing a demon from the pits of hell just another day? I get it, this isn't real, its a symptom. I guess that the way I am handling it is, in some ways, a healthy approach. I know that, but it just feels wrong. Calmly writing in a notebook "Heard Satan telling me to [x,y,z] tonight" - I shouldn't be okay with that, should I?

I am probably wrong in the way I am thinking about this. I am probably only creating unnecessary anxiety and agitation and panic. I am probably being irrational.

I just feel like not FIGHTING against this - just calmly letting it pass - it just feels so WRONG.

I am probably wrong about all of this, but I feel like I am doing this all wrong.

It seems all backward. I do what the experts say is the healthy approach, and I feel like everything in me is rejecting it. I feel like I am not FIGHTING. I feel like observing, watching and accepting these symptoms and letting them pass - I feel like this makes me somehow weak. I am probably wrong.

That's the thing about therapy, and education - learning a different way to deal with things just feels so WRONG at first. Changing my approach and thought processes and behaviors - it's seems impossible sometimes.

I feel like I should be freaking out about some of these things. Feeling and hearing things that aren't there, sensing a presence, and my mind's belief that these things represented reality - even just for a moment - I feel like that should be freaking me out.

I worry that maybe this calm is a side effect of my meds. Perhaps my emotions are dulled, and I am not panicked because I can't feel anything that strongly.

I worry that my acceptance is a symptom of my illness. Am I now so crazy that I am accepting these things as a part of my normal life? Is this part of my sickness? The progression of my disease?

I hope that this calm, this acceptance - I hope that this is just me learning a new strategy and a healthy way of dealing with things, an effect strengthened by the med changes.

My mind is torn, confused, and uncertain. I am not sure if I am okay with being okay with all of this.

My mind's rejection of my now calmer approach then creates another layer of thoughts. Why am I rejecting this healthy way of dealing with my symptoms? Am I rejecting it because I am not truly well enough to change my thoughts and behaviors? Is my rejection of the right way a sign that I am not strong enough to do this, to heal, to cope, to manage?

This is the unhealthy way of thinking my therapist was talking about. The thoughts keep coming back to the same thing. The same idea.

"When I am symptom free, it is because I am strong. When I experience symptoms, it is because I am weak."

That is seriously where my mind takes me again and again. Hearing a voice makes me feel weak. Having a panic attack about it makes me feel weak. Calmly accepting it makes me feel weak. Questioning either approach makes me feel weak. Questioning my questioning makes me feel weak.

I know, in my head, that this illness is not my fault. My symptoms are not my fault. My disturbed thoughts and behaviors are not my fault. Sure, I can learn strategies and coping skills to handle my symptoms and minimize the negative effects they might have. But I can't stop symptoms from happening. I know all of this in my head. I do.

But in my heart, I don't buy it. There HAS TO be a reason that this illness sometimes runs my life. This disease must have a cause. There must be something.

I always turn it into blaming myself. A part of me knows that I am wrong. A part of me knows that this is not my fault. But I still find myself directing the blame inward.

This is the thing about mental illness and the unhealthy thoughts that accompany it. Even when my rational mind knows that the way I am thinking is wrong, it doesn't stop me from thinking that way. It's not like my brain just stops whatever crazy thing it is doing and reverts back to sanity. Knowing something is crazy and that my mind is disturbed doesn't stop the disruptions and the crazed thoughts. Knowing that what I am experiencing is not reality doesn't change the fact that it feels so fucking real.

It's tough to explain to someone who has never been there.

My depression isn't sadness. It's a soul-crushing darkness, an obsession with death and dying. It's apathy and nihilism - I want to set the world on fire just to watch it burn. It's believing that I am worthless, that everything is worthless. Nothing matters. Nothing, nothing. It's believing that of the sun were to explode tomorrow, and turn this world to ashes - that would be an improvement.

My manic episodes aren't sunshine and rainbows. It's a nuclear weapon. Energy, energy, energy. So much energy. But it's not skipping through fields of flowers kind of energy. Oh sure, it might start out that way. A childlike wonder, a puppy's exuberance, joy and giddiness. But it changes, and soon it's throw shit around, hit something, and break something type of energy. It's anger and rage and destruction and mayhem. It's hedonism and anarchism. I crave money, power, sex, and every sin and vice. And the rage. So much rage. It overwhelms me.

I hear things, feel things, and believe things that are disturbing. Magical, mystical things. Dark and evil things. I have been to the edge, I have seen the darkness. I have contemplated or attempted suicide multiple times. I have gotten as far as writing a suicide note on three separate occasions. I have heard what I believed to be angels, gods, demons and satan. I have felt their presence, the warmth of the breath on my ear. I have seen the veil lift, and suddenly felt in communion with all of nature, with all of the universe.

No matter how much I know that these things are symptoms of a disease. No matter how many times I remind myself that these things I am experiencing are the result of chemical misfirings in my brain. No matter how many times I remind myself that this isn't my fault, that sometimes, these things are entirely out of my control. That's not how it FEELS. No matter how wrong I know that feeling is, it's tough to shake. When your mind can trick you into hearing devils, convincing you to blame yourself is pretty easy.

I am trying to remember to not fall into this endless cycle of negative thinking. This circle of self blame. I am trying.

I feel okay. And I am trying to feel okay with feeling okay.

Religious fervor

I think I can understand why mental illness historically was seen by primitive societies as demonic possession. I understand why the mentally ill have often felt like they were talking directly to God, or hearing Satan. I understand the gods, magic and mysticism. I get it.

My delusions and psychoses often have religious overtones, and I am not of a religious nature. I get how a religious or superstitious mind could buy into the ideas that these episodes bring into my mind.

The most common "religious" experience I feel is more animistic than anything. I am one with nature. I can feel and hear trees and plants breathing and shifting and growing. I can communicate with animals and plants and the sun and the Earth. I have written poems about this in the past.

"A Mystic's Prayer"

I believe
the Earth is
my Mother
the stars
my Father
I believe that
the beast is
my brother
the grass
my sister
I believe god
is present
in all places
all peoples
all times
I believe that
the soul is
the home of the sacred
that god is
not a person
but all people
I believe
I
have been here
before.

That poem is one way I have expressed my feelings and thoughts during these moments of religious fervor.

Another type of religious experience I have experienced in my symptoms is believing that a mystical "other" or some kind of higher power is either making everything go my way, or trying to ruin my life and everything in it. I may even believe I hear the voice of God or Satan directing me to do things.

These moments frustrate me, because, afterward, I now that they aren't real. But in the moment, in the moment they feel so REAL.

I get it. I get the urge to explain these thoughts and feelings in animistic and religious ways. Gods in the sky, in the trees, in the waters. I get it. I have lived this.

Today I had a moment. A moment of delusion that had a religious theme. It made me think of all the other times I felt this way. Similar things I had experienced.

I remember the emotion, the elation, the ecstasy. I remember the poetry I used to describe these feelings.

I am a mushfish
a fishstar
a starwish
I am a green
brackish
salt water
wishfish
I am a fishroom
a mushdream
a dreamroom
half lucid
half breathing
sexmagic
wishroom
I am a fishwish
a mushwish
a dreamfish
a dance round the fire
with this voodoo shroomfish
I am a starfish
a mushroom, a dreamwish
I am the heartbeat in you
I'm the mushfish

These thoughts. These holy and hellish moments. God and Satan come to life. They can be stressful. In the moment they are so real. But afterward, they just seem foolish.

I get it. I understand the urge to create the forest spirits, the gods of winds and water. I understand the urge, the thoughts, the ideas. I get it.

These religious delusions are probably one of my more common symptoms. They frustrate me so much, I think, because I am naturally such a skeptic and search for logic and reason. These moments of supernatural paranoia and religious fervor frustrate me.

This is one of the things that starts to make me feel weak and foolish. I feel ridiculous for believing them, even for a moment. It just seems like I should know better.

I am trying to accept that this is something I will have to deal with sometimes, and that I can't expects all of my symptoms to disappear forever. I am really trying.

I have been feeling stable. I am functioning at what I would say is 95% normal. I have moments of irrational beliefs and delusions and paranoia, but mostly I feel good. I am trying to accept the 5%. The mild, short episodes and moments of abnormal thoughts and behaviors.

I really do get it. Devils, gods, spirits. I know how it feels to be a mystic, caught in a moment of communion with an indescribable otherness. I know the manic, powerful feeling of touching some part of the Earth, the sun and moon, the stars and the universe. I get it. These primitive urges and feelings are intense. I feel overwhelmed with joy and beauty and ecstasy in the brighter moments. I feel paralyzed with fear and unholy terror in the darker moments.

Today I felt a presence, a whispering voice, a darkness. I believed for a moment that something powerful and evil was influencing me. I had dark thoughts, and believed that the presence was putting them into my mind. It lasted just a couple of minutes. But after it passed, I felt ridiculous. I know that these things are chemicals in my brain, creating feelings and ideas and confusion and delusion.

I know that these things aren't real. It just frustrates me that I even believe them for a second. I know that my guilt and judgement of the delusion and confusion that happens to me is unwarranted. I know that I need to work on it. I'm trying to catch myself. But old habits are hard to break.

Psychoeducation

So I have been reading about the concept of psychoeducation, which refers to a patient gaining insight and understanding of their illness by being informed and educated about that illness. I have been doing this on my own for several years, and didn't realize if was a legitimate treatment approach for bipolar disorder and psychoses. I wanted to discuss the benefits I have experienced by learning about and educating myself regarding my illness.

One of the first benefits is a greater understanding of what my symptoms look like. There are things that I wouldn't have thought of as symptoms without education on the subject. Especially in the early parts of an episode, I may have milder symptoms that I would brush aside if I was not vigilant and aware that they are early warning signs of an episode.

Especially during a manic episode, it can be hard to recognize symptoms for what they are. The early stages of a manic episode feel GOOD. Elevated mood, a grandiose self-esteem, hyperactivity and increased energy and drive. How can that be bad? Knowing how my illness works, I can often recognize what is happening in the very early stages and use safeguards to limit the damage my symptoms can cause. I know that when I start making more plans than I can reasonably fulfill, when I feel unusually energetic, when I feel more talkative than usual - I know that these are symptoms.

My depressive episodes, too, can be caught early when I know more about them and what they look and feel like. Catching both mania and depression early means that I can better manage symptoms. Which brings us to the next benefit of understanding my illness.

Nearly all the coping skills, strategies and safeguards I have in place came from reading about bipolar disorder and the things that worked for others in managing their illness. Education offers a range of approaches, and I tried many of the options and strategies I read about, and kept the ones that were effective. Education allows me to understand what I can do, what therapy can help me to do, and how my therapy and medication help me manage my symptoms. Which is the next benefit.

Psychoeducation has meant that I read about the medications I take, their effects, how they work, any potential side effects, and their method of action. Knowing what my meds do and how they help me makes me it easier to take my meds and less likely to skip a dose or go off of them. Bipolar disorder puts one at a greater risk of noncompliance with medication, and education helps. Plus, knowing what more severe symptoms look like and knowing that experiencing an episode makes future episodes more likely, I am more likely to remain on my meds.

There is a concept in both seizure disorders and  bipolar disorder that is called "kindling". Some research suggests that each seizure/mood disturbance involves misfiring in the brain, and that everytime the misfire occurs, the brain learns the pattern, and it becomes easier for the brain to misfire in the same way again. The brain becomes more sensitive to triggers and stressors with each episode. The episodes become more frequent and more intense with each episode. The idea is that each successive episode adds kindling to the fire and progresses the illness. That is one reason meds make sense to me. Preventing or minimizing episodes means that the pathways and patterns that cause then aren't as deeply embedded in my mind. Staying on meds helps me prevent and minimize episodes. Knowing that makes my choice clear.

The last thing I wanted to mention is that education has increased my awareness of triggers and stressors, and the best ways to avoid them. I learned that getting enough sleep and some moderate exercise helps me manage symptoms. I learned that over stimualting and high adrenaline activities can trigger mania. Spending too much time alone or sleeping a lot can trigger depression. Certain events, activities and even certain people can trigger symptoms. I know that sometimes, if I am having any signs of symptoms, I should avoid those things if possible.

Education has given me greater insight into my illness. If you are struggling with a mental illness, I encourage you to do the same thing.

Me, myself and I

Today someone commented to me that I hadn't been "acting like myself" lately. It made me pause and think. What is "myself"?

I have been struggling with mood disturbances, personality changes and abnormal behavior since I was in junior high school. At this point, I'm not even sure what normal behavior looks or feels like. I just don't know.

It bothers me. Is the calmer, mellower version the "real me"? Or am I the energetic, hyper, manic one?

Am I somewhere in between, or just nowhere in particular.

It created a sort of crisis in my mind.

Sometimes over-thinking things does that. Thinking too much about something that seems trivial can send me down a rabbit hole - a slow descent into a strange madness.

I snapped out of the strange thoughts, the de-realization and separation from reality. I focused. I think I am okay right now.

That brings me to the other thing I realized today. I sometimes have a hard time admitting that I am struggling. I thought of this because I was thinking about the way I felt before I got my meds worked out again, and the fact that I was going to work when I probably should have been staying home.

I realize now how stupid that is. Going to work when I am not well is a terrible idea. There are limits to what I can do sometimes. I need to recognize my limitations and stay safe and let myself take a break if I really need it. Honestly, a couple days off at the beginning of my issues may have been better for me than trying to work while it was going on, and then ending up in a real crisis.

So, I need to take breaks and accept my limitations.

Finally, the last thing I have learned over the past few days is how important routine is to managing my symptoms. If my expectations for the day veer off and take an unexpected turn, it throws me off and can leave me feeling restless, agitated and frustrated.  I experienced this a couple times this week.

Something as simple as a change of plans can cause me to have mild symptoms. It's frustrating. I find myself going back to the negative thinking. "What an idiot I am. How weak. Such a tiny thing can upset me  that much? How pathetic!" I am fighting against this pattern of thinking. It's going to take a lot of work to break that habit.

So, anyways. Sorry I haven't written in a couple days. I've just been in a funk because of the changes in my routine and the unexpected crap I've been dealing with. I'm getting back on track, and feeling better tonight. I'll keep everyone posted over the next couple weeks, and I'll be going back to regular posts now. Peace and love to you all.

A Gift?

I am involved in some online support groups for people who have bipolar disorder, and I see the same question asked repeatedly in many of the forums. "If there was a magic button you could press that would erase your Bipolar Disorder, would you press the button?"

As shocking as you might think it, I usually find that people usually respond with a "No". People living with pain, confusion, and serious and debilitating symptoms - and they don't want it to go away? That may seem bizzare to you. But I get it.

I have been considering the question myself. Would I press the button? No.

I have been thinking about my illness a lot, and trying to see if in a different light. I have changed my view on many things regarding my illness over the past few days. Yesterday I wrote about a change that had happened about how I feel about my diagnosis. Today I wanted to write about the change in how I view my illness as a whole.

I have come to see my own personal experiences as a gift. Let me explain.

During periods of hypomania, I am creative, imaginative and filled with energy. I have learned to harness that drive and focus to complete what would usually be quite daunting projects quickly and thoroughly in a short period of time. I have use the creative and imaginative aspects to write poetry and short stories. I draw, I create, I complete crafts quickly and easily, and enjoy giving my projects out as gifts. Yes, there are aspects of hypomania that I have to rein in, but I have learned to do exactly that.
Without my Bipolar Disorder, I would miss that creative and energetic aspect of myself.

I guess part of the change in how I see my disorder has to do with my realization that I have so many ways of dealing with my illness and have functioned at such a high level throughout most of my symptoms. Many people aren't capable of that. I am not here to judge people who struggle to maintain control more than I personally struggle. It's just that, apparently, because my expectations of myself are so high, I have created good plans and safeguards, and have many effective coping strategies. I had never realized how many people struggled to create plans and then follow through with them. I see this ability as a gift, and as a personal strength.

Another thing that changed my view about my own illness is the discussions I have started. People talk to me in person, or read my blog, and the discussion opens up. I start hearing about other's struggles, and have been able to point people in the right direction to receive treatment for their own mental health needs. I hear stories of family and friends, and the feeling of hopelessness that loved ones feel when they don't know how to help. I can offer my own experiences as an example, and offer suggestions and advice on how to learn how to help during a crisis. I hear people say that they didn't know much about Bipolar Disorder or other mental health issues, and that my words have opened a window, and started a discussion, and engaged them in a topic they previously know almost nothing about. I hear supportive words and encouragement, too. That helps in my own healing process.

I have been thinking about my own personal expectations, and my resolve to function and live an active, "normal" life, and the inner strength that requires. I have changed my view on things because of all these things.

If I didn't have this illness, if I wasn't open and honest about my own personal struggles - how would that change things? Would the people I have helped still be struggling on their own? Would I have a stack of notebooks and journals filled with stories and poetry? The people who have a new understanding of the illness that disrupts the lives of the people they love - would they remain confused and feeling powerless? My passions and interests - would those be dulled?

Don't get me wrong - there are plenty of things about my illness that I do not enjoy, and that are painful. But that doesn't mean that I would get rid of it, even if I could. I see the change I have initiated in my small corner of the world, and it makes the pain worth it.

I guess I have come to see myself almost like an athlete. I will experience discomfort, pain, and exhaustion in the game of life. But the game is a good game, and I am out here, helping out the group of people that count on me, and that I count on as well. My friends and my family and I - we are the team and the fans all rolled into one. Rooting for each other, offering support and assistance, and cheering each other on. I am staying in the game, and all the pain will be worth it to me, as long as everyone has a good game and enjoys themselves, and I contributed something to the game. I am strong. I am winning.

Diagnosis

So, over the past couple months, while my symptoms have been more severe, I often have wondered about my diagnosis. Do these new symptoms mean my diagnosis will change? Do I have something more debilitating? What is this disease? What is wrong with me? I've spent some time today thinking about these questions.

First of all, a little bit of detail about my meds.

1. Antidepressant: I take a medication that is used to treat depression, anxiety, panic disorders, social phobias, obsessive-compulsive disorder, PTSD, and the depressive features of bipolar disorder, schizoaffective disorder, and schizophrenia. It is in the class of drugs known as SSRI's, a common class of antidepressant and anti-anxiety medications.

2. Mood stabilizer: This medication is used to treat epilepsy and other seizure disorders, migraines, and to stabilize moods in depression, bipolar disorder and schizoaffective disorder. It is actually classified as an anticonvulsant, and was originally developed to treat seizure disorders, and its mood stabilizing properties were discovered later. Many anticonvulsant  medications also stabilize mood, actually.

3. Antipsychotic: the particular medication I use as an antipsychotic is used for psychotic episodes in depression, bipolar disorder, schizoaffective disorder, and schizophrenia. It is also used to help those with autism or dementia better control irritability, aggression and/or violent outbursts. It is considered an "atypical antipsychotic", one class of antipsychotic medications, the other being "typical antipsychotics".

4. ADHD (stimulant): I use a psychostimulant medication to treat and manage my attention deficit and hyperactivity disorder. Treatment of ADD and ADHD is the primary use of this medication, although it can be prescribed for weight loss, narcolepsy, or treatment-resistant depressive features in depression or bipolar disorder

5. ADHD (non-stimulant): I take a medication that is considered an "NRI", a class of drugs used to treat a wide range of psychiatric disorders. The drug I am prescribed is used to treat ADHD, anxiety, depression, smoking cessation, eating disorders, and bedwetting - among other uses. I am using it in combination with a psychostimulant because on their own, neither ADHD medication is enough, and each has side effects I don't like. Together, they work much more effectively and the side effects seem to cancel each other out.

Why did I go into all this detail about my meds? Because each and every one of them is used in the treatment of a wide range of medical and psychiatric conditions. They are effective for more than one diagnosis.

So what does this mean for me? Today, I decided that it doesn't matter. I have an illness, and the medications I am using are effective at treating my  symptoms, and help me better manage flare-ups. What does it matter what the name of my illness is? It very well could be something other than Bipolar Disorder type 2. It could be type 1, it could be schizoaffective disorder, it could be something else entirely. Maybe I have an anxiety disorder, or a panic disorder. Maybe some of my intrusive thoughts are from a Disorder on the OCD spectrum. Does it really matter? The meds I am taking? They work. They are used for many things, and whatever you want to call my illness, this treatment works.

Safeguards and Skills

I mentioned that my therapist said I had many effective safeguards and skills in place to manage my illness. I said I would explain some of them in greater detail. Here you go.

1. Spending: my wife and I have learned to recognize the early signs of a hypomanic or manic episode. These episodes often feature an urge to buy things and spend money. We have an agreement that when symptoms begin to appear and I am likely to make poor decisions about money, I have limited access to cash, and all of my credit cards are taken out of my wallet. This prevents me from spending insane amounts of money. This plan was put into place after I put our banks account balance in the negative several times, including the time that our balance was $1000 overdrawn.

2. Meds: one of the most common features of bipolar disorder is difficulty taking medications regularly. This also can be a feature of ADHD, as remembering to do things can be difficult when you are always distracted. To manage my medications and make sure I take them as prescribed, the first thing I do is set a week's worth of medication up in a "med minder" - those plastic med cases separated by day and time. I have a system, and I double check that all my meds are where they should be for the week. I then make sure I have alarms set. I set an alarm to take meds at each designated time, and if I know I am not going to be home at that time, I set a reminder to take the med with me. I also try to associate each time with a task, so I have a natural cue to remind me as well. For example, I currently use breakfast, leaving work, and my late-night snack as natural cues for my med times, and try to always do them at the same time.

3. Sleep: another common problem during both mania and depression is change in sleep patterns, and also disturbances. During mania, I can't sleep, and during depression, I don't want to do anything else. I have been forcing myself to remain in bed for at least seven hours when I am not able to sleep. I will not allow myself to get up, to read, or play on my phone until the seven hours are up. I toss and turn and try to rest for that time. During depression, I do the opposite. I try to limit my sleep, and go to bed and get up at reasonable hours. That can be a real struggle, but I make a real effort.

4. Social/Activities: when I am depressed, I don't want to do anything but sit home and mope. When I am manic, I want to do EXCITING, EXHILARATING things. I have a rule in place. If I have plans made to do something - I keep them. I don't stay home. I don't cancel then to do something more exciting. I keep my plans. My wife knows that this is what I want, and reminds me and pushes me to fight the urge to cancel plans, and we have a pretty good success rate.

5. Normal Functioning: sometimes I don't feel "normal" when I am experiencing symptoms, and may struggle or worry about my actions and behaviors around others. I have learned over the years to mask and hide mild symptoms. I never thought of this as a "skill" until my therapist talked to me about it. Acting "normal" and happy when I am depressed sometimes actually lifts my mood, at least temporarily. Trying to remain calm and in control may soothe me during mania or anxiety or frustration. Trying to not give in to my impulses and urges, and trying to behave normally, even if it is the complete opposite of my impulses, can help me maintain some control.

6. Breaks: sometimes, the only thing that can help is time alone to just deal with my symptoms and ride them out. I have learned to take regular breaks when I need them. I take breaks when I BEGIN to experience the symptoms, rather than waiting until they are nearly uncontrollable. Setting aside time to just sit and be calm and quiet and alone is really important and vital to managing my symptoms.

7. Directing Symptoms: my wife and I learned quickly that my symptoms during a hypomanic episode or mild manic episode can actually be useful. I have learned to direct the increased focus, drive and energy into productive things. I once painted nearly every room of the house in under a week. Directing symptoms into productive outlets allows me to deal with them in a healthy way. Many of the features of hypomania and mild manic episodes can be directed into useful and productive things, rather than acting in impulsive and destructive ways.

These are some of the things I use to manage my symptoms, and I try to use them regularly. I have the support of my wife when I need reminders to keep doing the things that keep my illness better under control. I stay on track.

Until I started listing off the things I do to keep my illness in check, I never really thought of these as "skills". I thought they were something that EVERYONE with my illness learned to do. I didn't give myself enough credit, apparently.

I hope these things give you some idea of how much Bipolar Disorder effects nearly everything I do, and the habits and behaviors I need to practice to maintain anything near stability.

These are some of the skills I already use. I will build on them. I am sure I will learn additional skills and strategies down the road.

It feels good to recognize that these are skills, and that my ability to maintain them is a sign that, even in my darkest hours, I try to remain at a high level of functioning. The reason I am so hard on myself sometimes is that I feel like these things aren't ENOUGH. I get frustrated with my symptoms. I get frustrated with myself, for allowing them to have any control over me. I am working on changing that destructive way of thinking. It will be a process, but I have confidence that I can do it.

Breakthrough

I feel like I made a breakthrough today. It involved me sobbing in my therapist's office, but it was something I really needed. It was therapeutic and healing.

I went in to my therapist today thinking I knew what the conversation would be. I wanted to talk about what I wanted out of therapy. I had thought about it and assumed that the area I needed to work on was coping with anxiety and frustration. I really thought that was my weak spot. I was wrong.

When I arrived at my appointment I told her what I had been thinking about. She challenged me. Why do I want these coping skills? What do I want out of this? Where do I want to be?

In my responses, I quickly realized that my problem was not what I thought it was. My therapist was the one to initially point it out, but once she did I realized how right she was.

The real problem? How I see myself and my illness.

You have probably seen me refer to Bipolar Disorder as a disease and I have said that you can't CHOOSE to be Bipolar anymore than you can choose to be diabetic, as an example of challenging the stigma around mental illness. Today I had that analogy thrown back at me.

Yes, a diabetic doesn't choose diabetes, and they can't think themselves well. But you know what else? They can't be cured. They will always live with symptoms. And sometimes, even if they are doing a good job of managing their symptoms, they still have bad days, and may have lower or higher blood sugar than expected based on past experience. They have to constantly monitor their symptoms, their illness, their diet.

I have been talking like I will get to 100%. Like I expect myself to be strong enough to overcome this disease. Why? Because, when I experience symptoms, and feel powerless, and have a lack of control... I feel weak. I blame myself for succumbing to my illness, for buying into my delusions, my fears, my bizarre thoughts, ideas and actions. Every misstep, I see as my own failure.

When it was pointed out to me, I started hearing the way I talk about my illness, about myself, and my symptoms and experiences. I expect so much of myself. I aim high, perhaps too high sometimes. I see myself as broken, defective.

This latest destructive pattern of thinking began the other day at the pharmacy. The girl at the counter had my meds ready, and had to reach under the counter for a bigger bag than the standard pharmacy bag. It hit me. All these bottles, all these pills - and still I am not healed. I still struggle. This much help, and I am still "defective". Still "broken". It hit me like a ton of bricks.

My struggles suddenly overwhelmed me, not because they were present, but because I still even had them. How broken am I?

As I talked about this with my therapist, she kept stopping me, and pointing out how much I was judging myself, how much blame I was putting on myself.

She asked again about my coping skills, and the safeguards I had in place for managing my illness. As I talked about them, I realized how many good choices, skills and strategies I already have used to manage and cope.

So what was a looking for? It dawned on me. I want to be symptom free. I want to be in control at all times.

That's when it hit me. I started crying. Why? Why do I do this to myself? Even as I tried to explain that I was realizing how destructive my thought process was, I continued to talk badly about my own thoughts, feelings and behaviors. I struggled to speak objectively about my own feelings.

I can't seem to think about my symptoms and my illness without passing a judgement on myself. I see my illness as making me weak. I'm not strong enough. There must be a way to be symptom free forever, right? Wrong.

In this blog, I usually talk a good game. But I struggle. I say "this is happening to me, this isn't me, this is my illness". But I don't put that into practice, not really.

Even now, as I describe these feelings and thoughts, I am passing judgement on myself in my mind. How ridiculous. How stupid. Why would I think that this illness is in any way my own fault? Why do I get angry at myself when I am having symptoms, and an no longer in control. What an idiot I am! And the cycle continues.

This is what we will be working on in therapy. This will be our focus. Changing these thought patterns, this unhealthy, destructive view of myself. And talking about how I see my illness, and how I view the fact that I am living with it, and my experiences with it.

Today was the first day that I said all of these feelings aloud, in a single conversation, and actually listened to my own words objectively. It was eye opening, to say the least. It made me cry, and I felt overwhelmed. But it was healing, too. I feel better, and now am catching my own thoughts and habits.

Talking about all the skills I already have made me think that I might do a post just about that in the near future. I wasn't giving myself enough credit when it comes to the strategies and safeguards I already have in place.

I feel exhausted, and drained. But it's a good feeling. It is cathartic.

Frustration

Today was my first day back at work. I had signed up to work a double shift today, and didn't back out of it, so I worked a fourteen-hour shift. It was a long day.

I had some frustration today about money, and my finances. Between overspending during manic episodes and actual desperate times dealing with unexpected bills, we have credit card debt. Thanks to the way I drive when I am manic, we have brake issues on the car. Since I was off of work while I adjusted to my new meds, I lost a lot of overtime, and we had been counting on the money from the overtime to start catching up. It got brought up tonight, and I started to get frustrated, and I nearly snapped.

I can feel it just beneath the surface. Depression, and that pathetic pity-party aspect that usually flares up. I guess I have some of that, since I am whining right now. I can feel the self-destructive tendencies, and the hopelessness, bubbling up.

Right now, the meds are holding the symptoms at bay. That is the level I have been functioning at. Feeling the start of the symptoms, but not falling into them.

I am trying to keep steady. To use what has been working to keep me calm and stable. So far, it has been very successful.

I feel good still. This level of frustration would have put me in a dark place just a few weeks ago. I am able to deal with it in a healthy way right now.

This is what I want. To be able to live a normal life, with normal problems and normal issues, and handle things in a normal way. I know that "normal" people have bad days, minor breakdowns and ugly moments. I know that I will have that, too. I just don't want those things to send me spiralling out of control. I don't want to fall victim to the chemicals in my own mind as they go haywire and my brain malfunctions. I want to feel normal. To have normal problems, normal bad days, and deal with them in a normal way.

Today, I was really close. I was really close to slipping and falling. But I kept my footing. I stayed in control. And it felt good.

I think I am finally getting there. I think we have things figured out. I think that this is nearly the end of this particular pause in my life.

I'm frustrated right now. For real, normal reasons. And I feel like I am dealing with it in a normal way. I went for a walk outside, came back in and ate some chocolate, and looked for something to distract me for a little while until I was feeling more rational and reasonable. If that isn't normal, I don't know what is.

Today I was frustrated. And it felt good.

Adjustments

So I saw my doctor today, and I requested a few adjustments. The doctor listened to me, and one of the first things she said was "I'm reading [the other doctor]'s notes, and what he is describing and what I am seeing...WOW. Things are really getting better."

Because I was able to articulate what I was experiencing in great detail, and my reactions to different meds at varying times and in varying doses, my doctor pretty much agreed with me on everything I talked about regarding med adjustments. All of the changes I requested? I was given every one of them.

All of the adjustments were minor, but they were based on my experiences. For example, my antipsychotic knocks me out, so I take it just before bed. But that means I can feel it fading just after dinner, and that is when my symptoms tend to flare up. So she added a very small dose for me to take at 3 pm.

I am very happy with the meds and with the small adjustments that were made. I got a small dose of the stimulant back to perk me up and help with focus, the other ADHD med got adjusted a little to help even more with focus, and I got a small antipsychotic pill to take at 3pm.

I will still be going to therapy for a while, because I will still have symptoms here and there at times, and need some coping skills to remain in a good place. I have already added some things to my coping strategies.

One thing I have started doing is forcing myself to  lay in bed for at least 7 hours. If I wake up after 3 or 4 hours, it's a sign that I am experiencing some manic symptoms. Getting out of bed and allowing the symptoms to control me is not healthy. So I have been forcing myself to lay there, trying to relax. I have also been attempting to force myself to not sleep TOO MUCH, which can be a symptom of depression. Setting alarms, going to bed at a decent hour, and getting into a habitual bedtime routine will help me cope.

Another thing I have been doing is taking breaks when I need them. I used to use smoking as a tool to escape. Since I quit smoking, I need to recognize when I need to take a step back, and maybe go sit on the porch and play a game on my phone for a few minutes. My therapist reminded me to do this both at home and at work. Take a break, take a breath, and step back for a moment.

So I would have to say that today was a very good day. Symptoms are minimal. My meds got some minor adjustments to minimize the symptoms that I am having. And already, I am learning more coping skills.

90%

I have no motivation lately. My energy has been sapped. I'm not sure if this is because I am off of the one med or if this is a symptom. I just have no desire to remain active. No inner drive. I don't want to do anything.

This is potentially a real problem. One of the most basic coping skills I use is staying busy, engaging in some kind of activity, no matter how simple. Being idle only makes things worse most of the time.

I have been trying to force myself to do things, even if I don't feel like it. I have to stay in control, and this is one way I can stay in control.

In times like this, I miss the energy and focus and drive associated with a manic episode. As long as I don't experience severe symptoms, I'm okay with mild mania. The world is more fun, I am driven and engaged, life is fantastic. I wish for that right now.

The problem is, that mild mania can lead to more serious symptoms. I may become hedonistic and selfish. I may suffer a psychotic break. I may become delusional or paranoid. That, I definitely don't miss.

I have, however, been having fewer and fewer symptoms, and am feeling pretty stable. I see my doctor tomorrow, and am going to ask to return to work. The new med has been mostly good for me. It just saps my energy. I will also be asking about returning to a combination of meds, as I had experienced fewer symptoms, but with energy and motivation.

I also have been missing what I call my "attaboy". You know that part of your brain that makes you feel rewarded and happy when you do a good job? Like a pat on the back? Like someone saying "attaboy!". That's missing. I feel dulled, numbed.

I am hoping that my doctor and I can figure out the right mix of meds for me tomorrow. Treatment with meds is kind of a trial and error thing. What works for me, may not work for someone else. So they try different things and different combinations, using what has worked for similar symptoms in other people, adjusting as needed. It can be frustrating.

At this point, I know we are close to the right mix. This is nearly normal. This is functioning at 90%. Some days, it's closer to 95%. A few weeks ago, I would have said I was functioning at less than 50% normal.

It has been over a week since I had a major breakdown, or a major episode. Psychosis has been occurring less and less. I had a momentary lapse this morning, but it lasted maybe 5 or 10 minutes at most. I was briefly convinced that there were people outside, talking about me, and that no one else could hear them because they wanted everyone to think that I was crazy. I realized that I WAS crazy and moved on after a few minutes.

I have learned to "snap out of it" fairly quickly. I hope to make it even easier and faster in the next few weeks, with help from my therapist. I am feeling a little bit better every day. More able to function. More normal. I am getting there. I am winning.

Paranoid

Today, I have been experiencing brief moments of paranoia and delusions. They have been coming on like a flash, and then disappearing just as rapidly.

Earlier today, we were parked outside a store, and a small, frail looking elderly man, leaning on his cane, walked by the van. I locked the doors, because for a moment, I was worried that he might be a deadly assassin in disguise, hired to hunt me down and destroy me. (Don't worry - he wasn't a deadly assassin!)

This thought, and others like it, seemed real for a moment, and then it was gone. It was over within a minute or so. The panic, the paranoia, the delusion - they rush in, and then rush back out.

I have been handling it fairly well. Especially considering that I just quit smoking and this is only day #2 of no cigarettes. Several times, I have had the persistent thought that I should just give in and have a cigarette. I have successfully fought those urges off each time. I am finding other ways to cope, to keep me distracted and busy.

It is good to see my symptoms retreat like this. Yes, they are present, but they aren't interfering with my daily living. I could tolerate this, quite honestly. Moments of madness, but stable and aware of what is happening as it happens.

I know that, for someone who has never lived with these symptoms, it must sound bizarre to hear someone say that they would be happy with some mild paranoid delusions, and maybe some voices here and there. But honestly, once you have had the terrifying, psychotic, hellish, nightmare moments, your definition of "normal" and "well" shifts.

I see the improvements in my symptoms. I recognize my symptoms for what they are. I know that I am stabilizing, and will achieve some level of normalcy soon, sooner even than I had hoped.

My depression has lessened. My mood improved. I am using positive thinking to keep myself from slipping into a dark state of mind. Just the fact that I feel so in control impresses me. My weakest moments now, are better than my strongest moments of just a few weeks back.

I was re-reading some of the things that I had written over the past couple months, and I could see the slow, steady improvement. Yes, there have been setbacks. Yes, there have been declines between some of the improvements. But the overall trend has been improvement.

I am hopeful.

First session

So yesterday afternoon, I went back to my therapist after spending five years stable and with no regular therapy sessions. I had a one-hour appointment, and I poured my heart out to her. I talked about every symptom, every thought, every mood that I have experienced in the past couple months. I went over everything I had done to manage them, everything I had attempted to calm myself, to keep myself from spiraling out of control.

It felt good to have an hour where someone was just listening, affirming, and guiding me. She let me know that many of the tools that she would normally teach someone in my shoes, I already possessed to some degree. She made me feel like I was doing better than I thought.

I have had moments of frustration and hopelessness in this fight. I have had days where I feel defeated and helpless. But I always get back up. I have given my family and my friends tools to help me, and insights on my symptoms. I have told my wife that it is never a good idea to let me languish at home, and cancel my obligations. I have allowed her to push me, assisting me in staying active when I feel like I am falling apart and unwanted.

As I went over everything, it registered how many tools I actually already have. I hadn't really processed that until yesterday. I hadn't realized how many weapons I bring to the fight against the madness.

I left feeling hopeful. Feeling lifted up. I am not the sobbing, pathetic mess, crouched in the corner - a victim to my disease - that I imagine myself to be sometimes. I am a fighter. It felt good knowing that many people would have already given up. I am strong. I continue to struggle, instead of falling into a downward spiral of madness and disease.

I feel like I have a second wind in this fight. Knowing that I have been more successful than expected considering the severity of my symptoms, I feel stronger. Knowing that I have dealt with symptoms in appropriate ways, and already possess many of the necessary tools to continue fighting, I feel empowered. I am a fighter, as I have said before. And I am winning more battles than I thought.

I guess the biggest lesson I learned from my session yesterday is that I am truly blessed. I have friends and family who support me. I have a job where my coworkers and supervisor are understanding. I have many people I can lean on when things get really bad. I am a lucky guy. And I don't give myself enough credit, that's the other big thing I learned. I am handling things well, all things considered. I thought I was failing more than winning, but it seems that is not the case.

I go back for another session next week. After that, it will probably be every two weeks. It feels good knowing that there is someone who will just listen to me rant and give me good advice, while being objective. Yes, I know, she gets paid to do this. But that doesn't really matter. That's the great thing about therapy. This isn't your friend, this isn't your family. That sense of being a burden is gone. This person is paid to listen to your problems and help you solve them and provide you with tools to better handle them. That is your relationship. And it's a very effective way of dealing with some of these symptoms.

I feel better today. Talking through some of my stuff that has been uncomfortable to talk about was therapeutic. Talking to someone who has seen this before, and has helped others through this, felt liberating.

I feel more positive. I feel stronger. I feel more able to continue this fight.

Numb

I feel numb. Numbed and exhausted. I feel myself slipping.

Yesterday I didn't write. I didn't have the energy to write. I didn't have the interest. I felt numb.

I don't like this. I don't like this at all.

This is an aspect of my illness that is painful for me. The aching, the numbness, the apathy. I want to care, to have passion. I want to have joy, and happiness. I fight against the dulling, numbing symptoms. But even my fighting instinct is dulled.

I think this is one of the most difficult things to fight against. Normally, I rage against my symptoms, fighting and struggling to maintain control. In these moments, though, of apathy, my fight seems futile, my senses are dulled, my world is heavy and covered in dense fog.

This isn't the dark, feel, crushing depression that leaves me fearful and terrified. This is numbness, apathy. This is a lack of fear, of interest, of joy. I have no dread, no panic.

I want to feel normal again. I want to have sadness and joy and fear and elation. I want to feel. This numbness is heavy and hazy. I can't see through it. I can't feel.

I see my therapist this afternoon. I am hoping that returning to therapy helps me process these symptoms better. Helps me cope better. I want to get through this and be on the other side. I am so tired of this, it is exhausting to struggle against it.

Hangover

So today was the day. I took my last dose of my stimulant yesterday, as my doctor wanted me to try the new med in combination, and the new med on its own to see how I react. It feels pretty terrible.

Most of the meds I take have a side effect of drowsiness or lethargy. The stimulant cut through that drowsiness and sedation. I didn't realize until now how much. I feel exhausted and hungover.

I take a fairly large doses of antipsychotic meds at night, and they knock me out. Usually, in the morning, I still feel a little lethargic, but then when the stimulant kicks in, it goes away. It's still here, and its nearly time for dinner.

I had mentioned how effective the combination of the stimulant and the non-stimulant had been. I am now entirely convinced that I need to advocate for that as a permanent treatment.

I am afraid that this sedation will send me into a depressive state. That can definitely happen.

That is the thing about Bipolar Disorder. A lot of the mood changes have no cause. But sometimes something does trigger an episode.

For example, a lack of sleep, instead of making me tired, may make me alert and trigger a manic episode to some degree. Something bad happening can trigger either mania or depression. Low activity and apathy can trigger depression.

I try to monitor my behavior, because it can cause an endless cycle of cycling through moods, thoughts and behaviors that worsen my symptoms. This exhaustion, lethargy and apathy may trigger depression.

I see my doctor next week. Because I'm going back to therapy, I temporarily have to see a different doctor, but I have seen her before and she is a familiar face. I will have to hold out until then, as long as it doesn't get worse.

It's a good thing, honestly, that I am not working this week. I don't feel like I could do it. I have no motivation. No energy. No drive. Absolutely none. I just want to lay down.

My first appointment with my therapist, who I have also seen before, is on Friday. I am looking forward to that appointment. It will help me to cope better with my struggles and concerns.

I might not be as active as I usually am over the next week or so. Please bear with me. I have told my wife to drag me around and make me so the things I have planned, because staying at home and doing nothing would only increase the likelihood of this triggering an episode of depression. If I look like a mopey zoo lion, I'm sorry.

I really don't know what is worse, borderline mania, or borderline depression. They can both be nightmares. As long as it stays borderline, though, I can manage.

[untitled]

As a kid, I wasn't exactly what you would call social. I hung around mostly with a few kids from my parent's church, and I had known most of them for nearly my entire life. I went to a church-run school, and my classmates all went to church with me. At home, if I wasn't playing with my sisters (I'm the only boy, and have four sisters), I was in my room, reading a book. I didn't really make any new friends. I just hung out with my school/church friends when they were around.

When I was in 5th grade, the church and school I had attended all my life closed, and I rarely, if ever, saw the children I had grown up with. Some of them had moved away, and seeing them would have been difficult. My parents homeschooled me and my sisters that first year, so it was just us and my mom for my 6th grade year.

In 7th grade, I started a new school. It was still a church-run school, but I didn't know anyone there. I was, to put it mildly, awkward. The first year or two, I don't know that I would say I had any friends. There were a few kids I talked to in class, but mostly I was the awkward kid who sat by himself at lunch.

Sometime during junior high, though I didn't realize it at the time, my illness struck for the first time. Junior high was when I made my first suicide attempt. I took a couple bottles of pills from the medicine cabinet and took every pill. Tylenol, ibuprofen and a couple Sudafed were, obviously, barely enough to make me sick to my stomach. But I was in a bad place, and it was a genuine, although ignorant, attempt.

Then the pendulum shifted, and I went into a mild hypomania. I remember the rush. I would talk to everyone in my class, and in other classes. I would joke, I discovered how to make people laugh. I didn't know what was happening at the time, but it felt wonderful. My social awkwardness seemed to have disappeared. I was a new man (it was 8th and 9th grade, so I would have called myself a "man", because teenagers are dumb).

My moods, thoughts, and behaviors shifted back and forth, with some periods of "normal" mood in between. The cycles tended to be significantly longer than they are now. During a depressive episode, my mom recognized that something was wrong, and took me to see a professional. I was given an antidepressant, and assigned to a therapist.

I took the meds for a while. But they started to make me hostile, angry, irritable and mean. I refused to take them anymore, so I just quit going. After stopping the meds, my mom saw that the depression wasn't returning, so let me stay off of them. I know now that the reason I had that reaction to the meds was because of my illness. Individuals with Bipolar Disorder, when they are given only an antidepressant, tend to respond badly, and my behavior was a fairly typical reaction for someone with my illness.

My mood continued to fluctuate throughout high school. I would feel euphoric and social for a while, and withdrawn and sullen for a while. I'm not sure what others thought of my behavior, but in my mind, this was just the way it was. I didn't know that this was abnormal. I didn't have a standard to compare it to. I just knew that when I was younger, I had struggled to make ANY friends, and that when I got into high school SOMETIMES it was easier.

My senior year, I switched schools again. I left behind the friends I had FINALLY made, and spent my last year of high school in a public school. Again, there were ups and downs, and I did end up making some friends, although, I know, looking back on it now, that they must have thought I was strange.

My senior year, a lot of crap happened. It wasn't a good year, by any measure. I won't get into specifics, but I will say that the stuff would have sent a person without a mental illness into a dark place. I spiraled out of control. I started faking illnesses, so that I didn't have to go to school. I contemplated suicide. I came close to another attempt. I managed to make it through, but by the skin of my teeth.

The summer after I graduated, I went into what I now know was a mixed episode. I started picking awful fights with my dad, just to piss him off. It got so ugly that he kicked me out. I don't blame him. I was an asshole. I lived briefly with my grandmother. That period still bothers me, because I was mean and nasty to her, too. I moved out of there after a few months. I started to drink, experimented with drugs. I was reckless, I started and quit jobs. I was in college, and was regularly skipping classes, and almost never turning in homework. I lost a lot of chances in those years. I managed to meet and make a few good friends, but I screwed up a lot of things.

I hopped around from place to place, never living with the same people in the same place for very long. I performed poorly at work. My behavior with romantic interests was ridiculous, as I would start a relationship, end it, and then want to go back. Anyone who put up with me was a saint. I made friends, and then just dropped them, never returning their calls. I was awful.

Another depression hit, and I went back for help. Again, they gave me an antidepressant, and again I reacted the same way. That's the problem with Bipolar Disorder. When we describe our suffering, a lot of times we don't describe the manic episodes at first. They don't seem like a problem. I didn't realize that the extreme good moods were a symptom. They were a reprieve from the depression.

Even my marriage was probably due to my illness. I love my wife, and I would have ended up with her regardless, but I asked her to marry me, and insisted that we have the ceremony three days later. She said okay, though. At that point, I don't think she realized that there was something wrong either. She just saw it as my being impulsive. That impulsiveness had been part of me for nearly the entire time she had known me, as we met in junior high. She didn't realize it was my illness.

Shortly after we got married, I went back for help. The darkness was back. Again, the antidepressant made me unbearable. Again I went off of it, and went into mania. I cycled back and forth for a few more years.

In 2009, I had the deepest, darkest moment of my life. I had a well thought out plan, and was on my way to commit suicide. I was alone in the house, I wrote a note, and left. Instead of going where I planned on committing suicide, though, I went to the hospital. I had a brief moment of clarity and realized I needed help.

That was when I was hospitalized, and put under observation. It was then that I was finally properly diagnosed. In the hospital, I was given a fast-acting antidepressant and antianxiety medication, and after a day or two, I went into a manic episode. I was giddy and euphoric, laughing and running through the halls, when just a few days earlier I had been suicidal. The doctor diagnosed with me with Bipolar Disorder, and that is also when I got the ADHD diagnosis.

I was tempted, at first, to go off the meds again. But I knew, now that I had a mood stabilizer, that this would probably be different. It took a while to feel it, but it was completely different.

Those meds worked. I felt like I could function. A funny thing happened. Both my socially awkward and my overly-friendly episodes leveled out. I think that was the hardest thing to deal with prior to effective treatment. I struggled SO MUCH with even the most basic social interactions. I could be pushy, overbearing and obnoxious when manic. I was sullen and miserable when depressed. In mania, I made friends quickly and easily, and talked to everyone - but I had so much DRAMA that few could handle it for very long. In depressive episodes, I dropped off the face of the Earth. I ignored phone calls, refused to go hang out with people, and was just a miserable person.

Once I leveled out and got onto an even keel, thanks to treatment, I found that I could make and keep friends much more easily. I was comfortable in social situations. I could hang out, make new friends, and get along with people in general. It made it easier for me to handle difficult situations, and tolerate people that before treatment would have been unbearable. Life was just easier.

Reading my old journals, my struggles with my social life come up again and again. It caused me so much pain. The extreme moods and behaviors drove many people away. Why wouldn't it? They just thought I was an awful person. I didn't know what was happening either. I thought it was all my fault. I thought I was broken, and a hopeless case. I thought I would always be a pariah.

That was a big source of the panic and anxiety I felt when I began to have severe symptoms again. Even though I know that this is a temporary setback, and that I will be stable again sometime soon, the fear of losing the ability to function and interact with people overwhelmed me. That was, in large part, why I told everyone about my illness, and why I started this blog.

I don't want to lose control of my behavior and do or say something that causes anyone pain and drives them away. I was finally functioning. I don't want to lose my friends, distance myself from my family, or lose anyone during my moments of madness. Sharing my struggles, I hope, will allow them to grant me some leniency.

I know that my mental illness, this disorder that can cause such a drastic change in my moods and behaviors, can be traumatic for those around me. When I am symptomatic, if I can't keep it in check, I can be hard to handle. I can be rude, inconsiderate, and condescending. I can be hostile and aggressive. I will sometimes talk over other people, interrupt their conversation, and act like my thoughts and ideas are more important than theirs. I can be sullen, distant, and unbearable. I am hopeful that explaining my illness, its symptoms, and how it affects my behavior has allowed people to see my behavior in a different light.

That is my greatest hope for this blog. I want it to cause people to see someone like me behaving in an unusual way and instead of thinking "He's being an asshole!", I am trying to help them think "Oh, he's not well. Let me see if I can help him." If even one person changes the way they think, I will consider my pain, my suffering and my illness completely worth the struggle. Fostering compassion and understanding, and ending stigma, is the whole point of this blog. It's why I am writing.

I hope that my words have started something, a change in people's way of seeing others. I hope I have created a window into what the pain of mental illness feels like. I hope that I have helped people be more open with others about their own struggles. That would be success to me.

To my friends and family, I just want to say thank you. For your understanding, compassion and endless support. I am leveling out, and am feeling 90% normal again. This battle is nearly won. But, there will mostly likely be another battle ahead someday. That one, too, will be won. I hope that you will continue to stand with me. I hope that my blog has made standing at my side easier.