Somewhere Over the Rainbow, I've Lost My Damn Mind: A Manic's Mood Chart (4 page)

DT: I really get the feeling you’re simply quoting this stuff from a site like www.helpguide.org/mental/bipolar_disorder_self_help.htm.

JP: My resources are none of your concern. The material is what matters.

KEY TERMS:
GROUP THERAPY, NEWCOMER, KNIGHTS TEMPLAR, IDENTITY

Submitted on 10/16/10

Violet

“
Hi everybody, my name is Dave and I’ll be leading the group today. I wanted to welcome everyone back and send out a warm welcome to our newcomer. Once again, please feel free to share as much or as little as you like, but please do have respect for the others in the group. Tonight, I want to concentrate on what irritates or angers you the most when it comes to dealing with bipolar disorder. Is there anyone one who would like to start things off? . . . Oh, great, our newcomer. Go ahead, but before you start just let everyone know your name and background.”

“
Oh, OK, well my name is Derek and I was diagnosed in early 2008. I have had two psychotic manic episodes requiring hospitalization since 2008, and they are mostly characterized by hallucinations, delusional thinking, and feelings of grandiosity. I hate it when my BMD takes away my personality.

“
I have been through adversity in my life just as so many others have, and even more will have to in the future, but nothing could have prepared me for this. My entire life, I was under the belief that if you work hard, do the right things, keep your head down, punch the clock, and take pride in yourself and your work, eventually it will pay off. I was doing just that. I studied in school and worked hard enough to get into the college of my choice. I may have slacked a tiny bit in college, the whole five-year thing, but I got a great apprenticeship for a prominent telecom company and was looking forward to working my way up the ladder after graduation.

“
I had spent from mid 2005 to 2008 getting my ass kicked but learning as much and working as hard as possible. I was looking towards the future, and the life I had been striving so hard to achieve was a mere two weeks away in California. Then I became convinced I was chosen by the Knights Templar to protect a secret that could change the course of history. I was manic for the first time.

“
I should have been packing up my belongings for the move, securing an apartment in San Jose, tying up loose ends at my job and familiarizing myself with my new business in Silicon Valley. Instead, I spent my time avoiding the ‘all-seeing eye in the sky’ and decoding governmental, or “Freemason,” symbols throughout the city of Denver. I ‘pushed’ my friends towards the light and ‘shielded’ them from the dangers of the other side. I solved the equation of life--sorry, I’m not quite ready to give up that secret yet--and ‘time traveled’ into my primal ancestors.

“
As nutty as this sounds, the really crazy thing,
pun intended there, is that even after experiencing all that my mania has to throw at me, I still do not fear it; I fear and hate my depression and its aftereffects. It’s my depression that consumes me whole and pushes everything away from me. It is one mean son of a bitch that fights any way but fair. The harder I work, the deeper I fall. I begin to lose my personality and identity as all my energy is focused on fighting back the darkness inside me, the twisted thoughts that take me from reality into a world filled with emptiness, loneliness and worthlessness. I barely smile or laugh and forget what happiness feels like. I lose my identity and that is what I hate the most: trying so hard yet still not being myself.”

Session

JP: Sharing in a group atmosphere can be a very helpful resource when fighting depression. If you’re uncomfortable sharing with others but still would like to get something off your mind, a bipolar or depression chat room can be a safe, anonymous place to share.

DT: No doubt about it. Here are a few of my favorite posts I found on a random message board about depression just now:

• “
  For me being depressed means you can spend all day in bed, and still not get a good night’s rest.”
  

• “
  Depression is the inability to construct a future.”
  

• “
  If depression is creeping up and must be faced, learn something about the nature of the beast: You may escape without a mauling.”
  

KEY TERMS:
CRUCIFIX, SUICIDAL THOUGHTS, ABILIFY, “MEDICINE”

Submitted on 4/15/11

Violet

I was sitting on our couch in my mom’s house back in high school. Mom was in the kitchen making breakfast, and my stepdad struck up a conversation with me. My parents appeared and sounded normal, but something was off, something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Something just wasn’t right.

I made my way down our hallway, past our giant oval-windowed front door, and headed upstairs. Halfway up, my brother was kneeling on the stairs, praying, and this struck me as completely out of the ordinary. At the top of our stairs, I spotted a crucifix that I’d never seen. Something was definitely wrong.

I entered my parents’ room, and they chased after me, yelling at me not to go into the closet. Their familiar outward appearances slowly morphed away. I found my grey plastic storage box in their closet and opened it up. All my past sentimental belongings were inside, and I dug to the bottom where I found a letter from my girlfriend in Atlanta, still folded up exactly as she had given it to me when I had left for Denver. I took it and walked hastily downstairs, past my parents, the crucifix, my kneeling brother, and the giant oval-windowed front door. Only to stop suddenly as a message appeared on the window, just like when I was a kid and would breathe on it and steam it up and write messages, except now it read:

God loves you

It’s about at this point that I woke up. Good thing, because shit was getting weird.

I was visiting my sis when this dream occurred in November 2008, about six or so months after my first manic episode. The tremors (my fancy word for my lingering manic symptoms after the episode) had passed, and now I was dealing with depression for the first time in my life (and not very well if I say so myself). I was an overmedicated zombie on Abilify and Depakene and trying to deal with the side effects of my “medicine.” BTW, am I the only one who thinks a “medicine” that has a side effect of making you want to kill yourself probably shouldn’t be called a medicine at all?

So I had this dream, and a few interesting things occurred, in real life this time. First, I had been struggling with back pain at this time; it seems I keep a lot of stress back there. When I woke up, the pain was gone, and stayed gone. I had a sudden realization that I could quit my “meds” and that I probably should, which I did, and it probably was a good call. The whole suicidal thoughts thing, remember? Those two things were interesting, to say the least, but I found the letter more intriguing, most likely because I had just recently discovered it during my move.

After smelling it for a few seconds or maybe a little longer (weird, I know, but it still smells like her, and damn she smelled good) I opened it up, sat down, and read about the guy I used to be. I think the part that grabbed me the most was when she mentioned that I wasn’t the type of guy who wears his emotions on his sleeve, or even talks about them. I stopped reading for a second and tried to take that in, because now I’m totally opposite (mood disorder, blog, sharing my crazy emotions with the world, you get the gist). I’m still trying to process it, but I think it’s a good thing, this change in me, but I could have done without the crazy dreams (nah, I like them, too)
.

Session

JP: You mentioned suicidal thoughts here; did those ever escalate to any kinds of actions?

DT: Yeah, unfortunately, a little before I had the dream mentioned in the entry above. There was one time I actually had the pills in my mouth and enough stockpiled on the counter beside me to finish myself off.

JP: What made you not do it?

DT: I just couldn’t do that to my family.

INDIGO

(DEPRESSED MODERATE MOODS,

SIGNIFICANT IMPAIRMENT, ABLE TO WORK)

KEY TERMS:
CARHARTTS, EL DOC, HE-MAN, FOUNDING FATHERS

Submitted on 1/27/10

Indigo

Where I come from, Carhartts, Lacers, FFA and tractors are cool. The crops, the weather, and debating township issues are the main topics of conversation. Dip, chaw, chew and spitters are signs of social acceptance. Everyone is your neighbor, and in times of crisis, help isn’t asked for; it’s already been given. Where I come from may not be perfect, but its home and I’ve begun to realize that just maybe, it’s exactly where I needed to be.

Before anyone has the bright idea to take the above passage and slap it on a wooden plank, paint it and sell it, I just ask that I receive 10 percent of the gross profit (we’ll also need to negotiate distribution plans and marketing strategies, so please email me with appointment requests). Anyhow, I was talking to El Doc yesterday, and I must admit I wasn’t having the best day. My mood wasn’t the greatest, so I ended up going off on a tangent about healthcare.

See, there’s not another feeling in this world (or at least not one I’ve experienced, and I’ve experienced a lot) quite like the one you get, hearing someone tell you that you are too much of a risk/liability for them to help you, even though there’s nothing about it that is your fault. I wish I could say that I was as T.A.N. as He-Man afterwards but that would be a lie. I holed up for a good five to ten minutes in my bathroom.

As I was telling this story to El Doc, it was fairly obvious I was passionate about the subject. I guess I’ve been raised around people who actually care about others. We may have a unique way of expressing this at times, but don’t tell us how to help each other; we don’t tell you how to be an asshole. When Stubby lost his hand (unfortunately we never found it) I can recall the entire community coming to help during harvest. That’s a big deal, city folk. I can’t seem to recall a time growing up when one of our own was in trouble and help wasn’t soon behind.

This mania has brought people into my life who are simply irreplaceable, while at the same time it has done the impossible and driven people who were once so close to me away. At times I’ll hole (simply spin into a black hole within my mind) and dwell on what I’ve lost during these times, but I can usually pull myself out. I try to be strong and appreciate all that I have in this world, because deep down I know there are a lot of people out there who are struggling more than I can imagine. But at these times I, like so many others, ask myself, what’s my calling? My purpose? Why did all of this happen to me, and what am I supposed to do with it?

I think the answer may have come from Cuzin Art:

“
There is something speaking through you. Once you learn how to harness it, you’re going to be unstoppable.”

And El Doc:

“
You should be an advocate; they could use you and your skills.”

I am obsessed with the Revolutionary War era, with its secrecy, “treason,” and new ideas on life. I am particularly fascinated by the Founding Fathers, who stood up and gave a voice to others who simply couldn’t or wouldn’t. They risked all that they knew to make a change for the better of all. How amazing would it be if I could mimic this in some little way with BMD? To give a voice to those who are unable or unwilling? There are so many things I see as wrong with the treatment of this diagnosis, like calling it an illness to begin with; I do not feel inferior, weak or sick, and that’s unfortunately what those words imply within our culture to me. There is so much I want to do, to help and effect change. It’s almost too much to believe at this point for me. But then I remember where I came from, and I know I’d rather try to help too much than do nothing at all.

TBC . . .

Session

JP: Many people in depression can list fatigue, feelings of worthlessness, difficulty sleeping, poor concentration, as well as many other symptoms that can be difficult to deal with. Were you struggling with some of these when you wrote this entry?

DT: The fatigue and worthlessness did come into play, but I struggled mostly with living too much in the past. During depression, I seem to run to the times in my mind when I wasn’t diagnosed yet, and I could see my future as bright and optimistic. When the depression sets in, the light at the end of the tunnel can get pretty dim for me, so I tend to look backwards to what I perceive as better times.