I'm Ba...aa...ck

And time marches on, and on, and on. It is hard to keep up with blogging; no wonder there are so few hits. I swear to you that I will try harder, but lack of focus, attention do detail, and concentration are key elements to being a Bipolar sufferer. That is something that really pisses me off' people being afraid to be labeled as their disease. Come on, is it really necessary to pick a fight no matter where you go? I don't think so. So much effort to erase the stigma of mental illness is undertaken that the true purpose is lost. I know, just as you do, that we are not the illness. Get over it, and fight the fight.

I have had to get new docs and P'Docs, and that has been a delight. I have been able to hook up with some pretty great people. My meds have already been adjusted, and I might be going back in for a few sessions of ETC. My experience with previous sessions have been very positive, and I would welcome a few more jolts, if warranted.

More, and I do mean (hopefully) more ..............................................................................................

Up, Up and Away

Remember, last week I had a minor meltdown at my therapist's office ... depressed, cutting, paranoia. You know, the normal tendencies of one suffering from bipolar disorder, OCD, ADHD and PTSD. She had me make an emergency appointment with my pDoc, which I did, and he squeezed me in that early afternoon.

I thought because of the urgency of the appointment, that I would be going back to the into the hospital. Not to be. He prescribed, as I stated in a previous post, Zyprexa and Prozac, the latter which I had taken years earlier. In addition, he had me stop taking the Mertazapine (Remeron). After just a few days, I actually started feeling a little better. Today, after months (maybe as many as 10) I woke up kind of energized, alert and, yes, awake.

Now don't stop reading just yet. After a few hours, this mellow "morphed" into a mild mania, accelerating slightly as the day progressed. And I was happy, that is until my pDoc heard about it from the Intern who had interviewed right before my appointment. He seemed concerned and, not wanting  the mania to go "full blown", had me stop taking the Prozac, and to continue with my other prescribed meds.

Damn, I was happy to be over the depresssion, and mania felt good for a change. However, he warned me, and I already knew, that every high is followed by a low. Intercepting the mania early on would give me a better chance of finding my "normal" before I hop back on that roller coaster ride called bipolar.

BP is just that; a roller coaster ride. The euphoric highs, the thrill of the view, and the anticipation of what's to come next is always, always followed by that sudden, uncontrollable drop. Sometimes, like BP, this is followed by a short, level ride, culminating in another up and down.

We all go through ups and downs. Weddings and funerals are good examples. The depression caused by day-to-day events are normal. When the situation goes away so goes the depression. BP, however, comes and goes unaware. There might be a trigger, but more than likely it just appears. It doesn't even knock; it just comes barging through the door. And you just hope and pray that it won't shove a gun into your mouth, or talk you into getting another mortgage on your house in order to fund another junket to somewhere you shouldn't go. BP truly is the "gift that keeps on giving".



 birth, followed by the years of worry; getting a job, only to lose it .These bringdepression depression

Mental Illness ... A "Never-Win" Situation

I have finally decided to face the fact that I will never get better. I've come face-to-face with this issue; I've stared it square in the face and ... I give. Now before you get on your great, big high horse, let me explain.

I'm not ready to swallow the barrel, or swing from the yardarm, or drink down the cyanide cocktail. Sure, I've thought about it, and I can't say I never will ... who knows what the future brings. What I am saying is that I finally acknowledge that mental illness can't be cured. With the proper medication it can be abated, temporarily held at bay, or maybe reduced to a manageable level. But it ... is ... always ... there!

I will have, actually I now have, acceptable and not-so-acceptable days. I've stopped calling them "good" and "bad" days, for the simple fact that I don't have good days any more. It was hard to get excited about "good" days, because, due the very nature of Bipolar Disorder, a bad day was sure t follow.

Any more, I don't feel good, I don't feel bad ... I just have a hard time feeling ... period. Sorry but that is just the way it is ...

The following post may not be for all audiences. It may contain rough and objectional language; since I haven't written it yet, I'm not sure. But in all likelyhood this will be the case. So, lock the doors and bar the windows, put the kids to sleep, pour yourself a nice glass of single-malt scotch, and enjoy. For after over 6 years of posting on this blog, I feel it's time to "let my hair down" (pretty hard for a bald guy) and tell it like it is.


Are You Sure?



It's Not too Late!



Now You're Committed!!!!
(Or Should Be)

When I was first diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder I, I actually thought it was pretty cool. I pictured myself among the ranks of people like Hemingway, Van Gogh and Sylvia Plathe. I finally had an explanation for my periodic odd behavior, or maybe even an excuse. I had always been a little quirky, and now I find out I wasn't quirky at all, just placed in a category in which I didn't belong.

Now, after being diagnoses over 18 years ago, I can honestly say that I wouldn't live with it. I like being labeled mentally ill because I AM! It is who I am, and it defines me. Sure, it places some limitations on me, and it's difficult to assertain when or where or how those limitations will be. They won't always happen at the same time, in the same place and in the same way. But this threat is real, and always hanging over my head, not unlike the sword of Damocles http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Damocles

In the movie City Slickers Curly, the ranch boss and greenhorn Mitch Robbins(played by Billy Crystal) are riding out to round up some stray cattle. Curly says to Mitch that "the rest of the stuff in life don't mean nothin'" if you know the one thing that is the meaning of life. When asked what that is, Curly simply says that it varies from person to person. Truth or cop out?

Truth. Of course it varies depending on whose life we're talkiing about. It bothers me today that people are always trying to fit into each others molds; to take on their lives. A classic example is the exercise commercials on today. "You too can have a six-pack ab ... for only a 3 minute a day comittment, and $99.95". Sure, there are a few out there who might find this a life-changing experience. But the vast majority of people will be like me (and quite possibly you). I traded in my six-pack abs years ago for what I think is a much better investment; a keg! This is me, and it ain't going to change. So be it. Oh well.

I have gone through at least the past 22 years knowing that I am supposed to do something. You might know the feeling; that thing you were meant to do that, once finished, will have this almost orgasmic quality. As I get older, I tend to think that God had me live the life that I have lived in order to share it with someone who could benefit from my "walk". That is the direction in which I have been heading for the past few years, and the direction that I'll continue to go, until something happens.

"Alice Into the Looking Glass"(with apologies to Dickens)

"As Alice walked toward the looking glass, she could see inside, and it fascinated her. It looked different and interesting and fun, so she approached, getting closer and closer. Soon enough her nose was pressed against the glass and, shocking to her, it went into the glass like it was a thick gelatin.

Interesting. She could pull out at any time, and be back into the world that she knew. So she ventured in, and out, and in, and out, little by little by little, until this gelatin-like substance closed behind her back, and she was completely in.

And what a fascinating world it was, indeed, full of oddities and questionables and deviations she had never see before, nor dreamed about in her wildest of dreams. There were numbers where letters should have been, bicycles riding children. There were lamps on the outside of houses, along with the furniture that went with them. People walked around, some with fins for arms, some with fruit for ears and some with heads on backwards and backs facing forward.

It wasn't scary in the least, but interesting. It felt as if life was a tad off, maybe by a half a second, with real time, and things just didn't match, or couldn't be comprehended. Alice had a bit of a queasy feeling, like how you feel right after you get off of a ferris wheel. She slowly felt like she ws becoming a part of this society; like she might indeed fit in. Actually this is where she belonged, and she planned on visiting again, time permitting.

She turned to leave, putting her back toward this new society, with all intentions of returning at a later date. She walked back toward this gelatin-like substance, right up to where her nose was touching it. As she progressed, something very odd happened. Her nose kind of squished up at the end, like it was up against a hard surface. So she pushed harder, and pretty soon her nose hurt, unable to squish up any more. She couldn't understand. What was going on. She had walked in so easily, and it was so inviting. This was where she belonged, and where she felt most comfortable. But she wanted to go home.

Alice was home. Soon she discovered that even though her entrance into this world of madness was slow and gradual, once in, once comitted, it was where whe would remain. She could still see the world from which she came. but over time that vision too would fade, and the topsy-turvy work on the other side of the looking glass would become the only world she would know; a world she would soon call home.

Remember, when madness becomes reality, then reality is no longer madness - it is simply reality.

OH YEAH, SORRY ABOUT THE LANGUAGE THING - IT JUST NEVER CAME UP - FORTUNATELY!

Happiness is Definitely a State of Mind

I spent the past Friday evening and all day Saturday in Indianapolis, attending the annual BIAI (Brain Injury Association of Indiana) conference. The accommodations and conference were both in the Clarion on the Waterfront just outside of Speedway. (For those who don't make the connection ... Indianapolis ... Speedway ... yes, it's the home of the Indianapolis 500) My wife and I had planned to go down together, but she was unable to attend, so I picked up a friend, Dr. Bill Jarvis, and he and I made the trip.

My Experience With Social Security

Note:

- If you work for the government, please know that what I am writing is pure fiction, and never really happened. However, if you are reading this blog as a mentally ill person seeking advice and council, disregard that last statement -

A few years ago, when tax time rolled around, I made a mistake and owed the government $10,000. I was pretty scared, but I called the IRS, explained myself and asked for mercy. They gave it, set me up on an affordable payment plan, and I must say the entire experience was good. I quickly dismissed the myths I had heard about how hard the IRS was to work with. Such was it with my dealings with Social Security over my disability.

Here is my timeline in dealing with Social Security for my disability benefits:

Filed for benefits; 3 weeks later was denied; submitted appeal; 3 weeks later approved. No fuss. No muss. (Filling out forms and requesting information from doctors took most of my time)

And "presto" ... my check was deposit when they said, and has been ever since.

In my experience, if you go to them with a genuine disability, you'll be treated fairly and kindly.

Social Security - Round #1

For some reason, Social Security took only two months to deny my disability claim. Two weeks! I really don't get it.

Basically they say there are some things that I can do; things that don't require too much stooping, bending, crouching, crawling, kneeling or climbing. Although they admit that I can't return to the jobs I used to do, they claim I can do lighter and less demanding work.

A Long Time Coming

A Long Time Coming

and

A Long Time Being

"Just Plain Nuts"

(Posted on: August 12, 2010)

After 18 years of illness (and still counting), nearly 20 different medication cocktails, 121 psychologist and over 175 therapst visits; after multiple ECT treatments, numerous cuts, stabs and various types of destructive behavior; after thousands of dollars wasted, many missed business opportunities and a lifetime of pretendiing and making excuses; after all this, it’s finally official. I have been officially designated disabled by the United Methodist Church.

People can now know who I really am. They might finally understand why I act a little “different” from time to time; they might realize why I did what I did when I did what I did. I no longer have to hide behind a fascade of excuses and lies. There's no stopping me now. I can sing at the top of my lungs, "I am mentally ill! I am mentally ill!" There is nothing that can hold me back now. I am part of a group that works tirelessly to erase the stigma of mental illness, so it's no longer an obstacle.

Mental illness becomes a non-issue,

I’m finally free ........ or am I?

Next we’ll examine what happens when the pressure of hiding your illness is over. Will it really be better than before?

Steppin' Out

Well, I finally did it ... I am out from behind the pulpit. The district, conference and general board now knows, and I (we) are filing for disability through the policy I have at church. My last day worked will be June 30, and my disability should be approved before that date.

Part of the process is having my doctors to fill out the forms provided by the insurance company. My problem is basically two part; physical and mental. My scoliosis and degenerative disc and joint disease makes up the physical aspect. These continue to worsen, and I'm having to use a cane to get around safely and painlessly.

However, my mental illness is my coup de grace. When I first read my psychiatrist's report, it made me step back a little. A few years ago, a report like this would have landed me in an institution. I think that disability approval should come easily. (Famous last words, right?)

So, one thing that I am beginning to think about, with my disability on the horizion, is what will I do with my time. More later.