You Want Pancakes And Eggs With That Bipolar Brain
Let's start with the doctor visit
I had a horrible visit at the psychiatric doctor one Friday morning. I was there for my bipolar medication review. Things went completely wrong from the very beginning, I had slipped into one of my impulsive episodes within the hour of being in his office to leaving. I was very aware I was angry. It quickly became a full case of rage, I could feel myself disappear. By the time I got home I was fully overwhelmed with how terrible I thought the appointment went.
I abruptly, and quite impulsivly went on the computer. I began deleting all my networking sites. My Facebook, digg, Google+, Twitter, Blogs, Friend Feed, all of them. I can't explain or give any romantic reason why I was erasing myself from the Internet and all my friends. I can barely remember doing it. But I do remember I felt I was outside my body watching myself destroy my internet life. One little keystroke at a time.
That is how quickly a bipolar disorder episode can manifest itself. Having just one little trigger can turn your emotions into a raging river. Episodes like these are the ones I am NEVER quite prepared for. They devour every part of my soul. I can only compare it to being in a drunken blackout. It is over by the time I realize what I have done.
I continued going from one thing to the next, throwing away whatever reminds me of something I dislike. Which is in many cases is myself. So pretty much everything in my path was not safe at that point. Things were torn, shredded, dragged away or broken into small bits for the dumpster. The old sofa was a challenge, but I succeeded if you want to call it that.
The trigger that started the spiral was when my psychiatric doctor basically told me he didn't know what to do to help me feel better. I had been having severe psychotic mania with a little bit of depression then right back into mixed/rapid cycling. Add a little bit of Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. No, add alot. I was a rabid dog on a leash that didn't want to be tied down. He handed me a DVD on the affects of Clozaril. That being the last step if the 160mgs of Geodon, and 900mgs of Seroquel didn't offer some relief. He also suggested a hospital setting to get things under control, I however did not agree.
I was running out of options, and for him to tell me that, was daunting and sad. So his last resort is Clozaril and ECT treatments. I of course refused such a thing. My mother had them when she was younger, and I didn't relish the idea of my brains being scrambled eggs and pancakes. I thought there is always another way. There is always another medication. Bipolar Disorder is not the end of the world. But I felt I was being tossed aside by this doctor's attitude.
To the people who don't have a clue about what bipolar disorder is, I am just some crazy person acting like a spoiled brat. If only! I could explain being a snot nosed spoiled rotten brat, but to explain something so dark and twisted going on in my head is not such an easy explanation.
With some of the bipolar behaviors, we are nuts to the outside looking in. We often scare loved ones, friends and those who try to help. Strangers often believe we are hopelessly insane. When I am in a severe manic episode, no matter how many times I say stop to myself, the urge to keep going overwhelms my scrambled brain.
I became so enraged, I didn't know what to do with myself, I was exhausted from the rampage my apartment just took. So I took my anti-anxiety medication, shut the phone off and bolted the door. I stayed in my bed for three days.
Angry sleep is never a good thing. I hurt everywhere on my body and suffered a massive headache. I went from manic to depressed for 5 minutes and went right back into a mixed/rapid cycling nightmare. I am sick of craziness, I am tired of pulling around a wagon full of chaos. But I keep going because I want to live, and living with bipolar is how it is. Scrambled eggs and all.
Starting Over Is Not So Easy
Yes I want to live, and if that means with bipolar, then that is life. I have had to change how i do things. I have to make rules for myself and live by them if i want to have a life. A life as someone affected by bipolar. I have lost some things with all the medication. I often can't write because I can't think clearly, and this is where my anger appears to be coming from.
My bipolar rage resides squarely out front for all to see. A sad side-note: When my then eleven year-old nephew made me a sign, Do Not Disturb, my then thirteen year old niece said: "Life's not fair, but it's all good. I wish it was good for you". I need to empty my chaos wagon. I needed to find a way to chastise that rage. Keep the good and learn to package the bad so it doesn't do harm.
It's not like I can just BUY a new couch, dishes, books, DVDs and other stuff I am going to miss not having. For children to empathize this, is beyond their years. To understand my pain and embrace that to make me feel better.
They didn't have to do anything, but they did. They didn't SEE me in that crazy way, they just knew I was having a bad day, a bad bipolar episode day. Sleeping three days, not answering the phone, not calling anyone, they understood what was happening when all i could do is disappear to make it better.
I wish more people knew what these kids knew. The compassion, the empathy to want to do something to help. They abundantly share their love and hope that's enough. Bipolar Disorder can be an evil soul slayer. At times you become unknown to yourself. You pretend to be normal so the 'crazy' sign on your back doesn't mean anything. And then you wait, for that episode to go away, and you wait again, and hope it doesn't devour you.
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