bipolar stigma

today's flavor: V E R Y  S L I G H T  D Y S P H O R I A
anxiety : 0.5
agitation : 0.5

Below is a re-post of an entry from Bipolar and Successful.   It's quite enlightening for those people who are NOT bipolar; it's a must-read.  Text styling added by me.

I was thinking today about how absolutely uneducated people are about bipolar disorder. The general thinking seems to be that all bipolar people are off their rocker, evil, batshit crazy, and they are like that all the time. Honestly people, we all have our off days, but those of us with bipolar disorder are not that much different than everybody else. You don't have to be afraid.

It's no wonder that when newly diagnosed with bipolar, a person will either deny it is true or accept it as a death sentence. It is no wonder that people go on for years without treatment, or even worse, are fed antidepressants, because their primary doctor doesn't think they are bad enough to be labeled as bipolar and delays referring them to a Psychiatrist.

When in a depressed state, us "Bipolars" are usually no bother because we are curled up in bed hoping the depression will pass or searching on the internet for a new cure. When manic, we are actually pretty fun -- out spending money, traveling, coming up with new business ventures. The mixed states are not pleasant, we get a little bitchy and impulsive. I don't have to tell you this though, this is what you already know about bipolar. What you probably don't know though is that ... as long as we are following our treatment plan, we are "normal".

Many successful business people struggle with bipolar disorder, but when you picture "bipolar" you don't picture a successful person. You picture somebody who looks crazy. You don't know the successful bipolar people because they don't want to be known by their mental illness. They want to be known by who they are and by what they accomplish. The only bipolar people you THINK you know are the ones that end up on the news because they left the home today wearing nothing but their tennis shoes and decided to stomp on some guy's car windshield or committed some similar crime. Am I right?

We all have a long way to go in reducing and stamping out stigma. Don't let the media, the internet, your friends, or anybody else scare you. Bipolar is not that scary.

indigo daze

today's flavor: D E E P  ( I S H )  D E P R E S S I O N
anxiety : 4
agitation : 3

See how crazily rapid I cycle.  Just a few days ago I was at baseline, cheery and anxiety-free.  Today I'm in the depths of dejection. Weeping has graduated to howling, and I can't blame the Benadryl since I hadn't taken it.  I don't simply wish to die anymore; between wails I found myself  assuring myself that I can slice my jugular open quickly and all will be over briefly.  I came close to building the resolve to do it.  But of course I didn't do it.  Obviously.

And I'd like to thank my husband for stowing away my craft knives.  I love you Babe, you always do whatever it takes to keep me from acting out my suicidal fantasies. 
And whoever misplaced the kitchen whetstone, thank you, that our knives can't even slice tomatoes. 
And thank you, kitchen knives - though you frustrate me when I prepare food, I appreciate your uselessness at times like these when I want to use you on my throat.

The past few days have been horrible.  Pramis.  The worst was Friday.  I cognitively knew I was nowhere near rock-bottom, but I sure felt like life had nothing good for me any further.   Until today, I can't even bother to think about betterment.  Because I really can't -- i.e., I am unable to muster enough mental energy needed to think positive.  I can't do this anymore is once again my automatic mantra.  Tomorrow, if I still feel indigo (that is, darker than blue), I shall take a happy yellow pill and hope that it helps.

Waking up this morning was unbearable, but I had to pick myself up, paste on a smile that says "I'm hunky-dory" and wear a guise of functionality. Because that's what smart bipolars should do if they want to stay human.

That's not being artificial.  It's appropriate to be presentable when having to face other people.  My love is real, and my joyful expectation for others besides myself is real; it's just that I have to wear a face that does not coincide with how I feel about ME. 




It's a tiring ordeal, constantly putting on a perception filter.  But it's necessary, so as to keep a more-or-less decent personal image, and so as to protect people's judgment-prone hearts from judging me. If I showed everyone how f***ed up I really feel inside, it will detonate the chance of gaining new friends. And I really want / need new friends.  I can't afford to blow it, considering that:

my confuddled self-esteem
my uninteresting non-rockstar lifestyle
my loud mouth and intimidating personality
my abject selfishness like everyone else's 
+ my bungee jumping catapulting moods  

----------------------------------------------------

= the least desirable option for anybody's BFF
(or plain F, for that matter)

I'm pathetic, dammit. I'm not very likable, so I have to compensate somehow.

Not that I feel the urge to change myself to kiss asses, but I do have a hunger to connect with worthwhile individuals, and it pays to be perceived as somewhat pleasant. 

New friends are sweet.  I want new friends.  Lord, I need new friends, I hunger for them, especially since a lot of the old ones have gotten moldy and sour.  Eventually I'd like for my new friends to become trusted friends, so I can have a safe place to disclose the mystery that is me, and be honest about it, and not feel judged for being so carnal, particularly during indigo seasons like the one I'm in now.

what do they think when i say i'm bipolar?

today's flavor: S L I G H T D Y S P H O R I A
anxiety : 3
agitation : 1
unwanted ingredients: a sensation similar to depression but not exactly, due to the allergy tabs and the meds for my ailing wrist


I often wonder what people think when they hear the word "bipolar". I wonder what they think of me when they find out I'm bipolar.

I can't help noticing that some have preferred to distance themselves after the discovery - such behavior is evidence that they have misconceptions - and that they're probably bigoted. Often times those particular types are neither curious nor caring enough to be educated. Ptttthh. Well, screw them.

Possibly some of them do get hungry for details, or at least become intrigued by the so-called disorder. Naturally it is easier for them "normal people" to ask Google about bipolars rather than ask actual bipolars (perhaps it's because they'd rather not risk getting snapped at or bitten into by a crazy person). This is most unfortunate, because most articles on the subject are clinical, heartless "professional" opinions that basically just flatten us out into mentally ill patients, with no mention of how fascinating, how vibrant, loving, inspiring, brilliant or amazing we can be.

Furthermore, from searching online, "normal" people will read about our mood swings, our weird behavior, and it will freaking scare them into treading on eggshells. They'll stumble upon news about how this drunken celebrity is bipolar, that misbehaving celebrity is bipolar, and that celebrity who killed him/herself was bipolar. They'll just lump us all together in the Looney box. The more they find "professional" information on BMD, the more they'd get so afraid of our mysterious psychotic aberration, because the more they will be led to think we might just go berzerk on them, slash them to ribbins or do some other thing they'd rather we didn't.

They just don't know that because of the extreme anxiety common to all bipolars, we could be more afraid of them than they are of us.

And truthfully, because of their prejudice and myopia, the "normal" people hurt the bipolars more than vice-versa. It's really not fair to think we're the hurtful ones.


I wonder how they perceive bipolars.

Do they think that all of us are wasted like Amy Winehouse, Lindsay Lohan or Mel Gibson?
... That we're all sick and gloomy like Edgar Allan Poe?
Are they afraid we'd suddenly kill people and attempt to rule the world like Hitler or Napoleon?
Are they thinking we could suddenly pull a shocking stunt like shaving off all our hair a la Britney, or lop off an ear in the style of Van Gogh?
Do they think we're all schizophrenic? Do they even know the difference?
Are they anticipating we would overdose on a mad concoction of prohibited drugs, or execute a dramatic suicide like Virginia Woolf or Kurt Cobain?
Do they think it's always our fault we're like this?

It's a real shame whenever we get written off, especially by those who are close to us. A real frakking shame.


Bipolar Mood is quite diverse.

There's more to it than simply being "a mental disorder with mood swings" - that's an incomplete, unfair, one-dimensional way to look at things. In my opinion, it's not even right to call it a "disorder" or an "illness".

Indeed, all bipolars have mood swings, and we all experience the same common symptoms of depressions and elevations but our cycles vary in intensity and duration from person to person. More about that here.

On top of that, given the fact that individual people are influenced by their backgrounds, natural inclinations and so on, each individual bipolar has different manifestations and his/her own unique triggers.


To over-explain,

• Though our psychological make-up causes us to be addiction prone, we do not all have addictions. We don't all have problems with substance abuse, prohibited drugs or promiscuous sex.
• Bipolars may seem eccentric and quirky, but we aren't necessarily crazy, and the hell we aren't stupid. We in fact tend to be very intelligent and talented, often even way more intelligent than most "normal" people. So watch who you call an idiot.
• A lot of us are poets, musicians, artists and the-other-kind-of-artists, but we aren't all. Some end up as philosophers or politicians.
• We are indeed depression-prone, but we don't always go degrees darker than the most pathetic emo song. We aren't all broody and moody. In fact, we can be very vibrant and passionate.
• We indeed have our violent phases, but "bipolar" does not mean "sociopath". Though megalomanic notions are common, not all of us will act on them.
• We all are likely to have suicidal thoughts, but we don't always end up killing ourselves.

Though many a bipolar has been known to have a tragic existence - or even a tragic end - there are a lot who have learned to cope and even live productive, worthwhile lives.

Many of us are quite amazing -- Teddy Roosevelt and Abe Lincoln, two most widely-acknowledged to be among the best U.S. Presidents ever. Winston Churchill, who was kicka&& at just about everything. The Philosopher we call Plato. The musician we call Sting. Beloved comedians Ben Stiller, Jim Carrey, Robin Williams. Film geniuses Tim Burton, Francis Ford Coppola.

And oh - I almost forgot my favorite bipolar of all. King David, the epitome of awesome.

So if you think about it, them "normals" actually love the work of us with mercurial moods - e.g., they enjoy bipolars' words, music and art; even borrow to express themselves in ways the truly Byronic are able to - without knowing those were made by those they call "mentally ill".

The bottom line is that though bipolarity can get booze-drenched messy to rock star degrees and beyond, our lives aren't always so despicable. The "entire picture" can be tremendously fantastic, and I want people to know that.


I don't know how and when, but I want to be instrumental in changing perceptions toward people with mental conditions, particularly toward bipolars. I'll start by gnawing at my own friends (no pun intended) and making them see that we don't have to be labelled as if there's something wrong with us. We're freaking amazing.

I was born this way, and God makes no mistakes, and I don't need to hide it.

Pouty

today's weather: B A S E L I N E
anxiety : 0
agitation : 0


I want to talk about my lips. A lot of times I've been misunderstood because of my lips. I know my words can be daggers sometimes - or high-powered rifles; unintentionally or otherwise - but I'm not talking about words. I mean, without even saying anything.

I do smile, and I do laugh, and I do find a lot of things to be thankful for, and I do have joy. But some people are just too myopic to see it.

I've come to hate it to the point of murderous ire whenever others try to jolly me up. For one reason, I just cant seem to be jolly enough for anyone. For another - and I can't quite stress this sufficiently - there are times when I simply don't have the capacity to be cheery, okay. It's not that I don't want to be cheerful; there are times when I really just can't. That isn't a cop-out; it's a fact I ache for people to understand and accept.

For another reason, I got a lot of ridiculous "jollying up" while growing up - adults forcing me to smile, asking me why I frown and so on. I never seemed able to please anyone in that area; it's a very personal frustration, and I've apparently made the decision to quit trying to at a young age. It's one of those I've had it up to here things.

As a little girl I never really understood why grown-ups asked me why I frowned. As far as I knew, whenever someone asked me that, my face was simply in a relaxed position and not a freaking frown. Those demanding, pejorative a&&holes clowns just couldn't tell the difference.

Honestly, I now find more satisfaction in being a bitch about what I believe than being a likeable people-pleaser. But anyway...

I was around age twenty when it first dawned on me that my smile looked like a frown to some. I was sitting in a van one afternoon with a tactless friend and a busybody. Tactless Friend made me the object of a tasteless joke, and I shot a clever retort right back at him; I thought that was not only clean fun, but fair game. I swear I was smiling. Brother Busybody poked me unkindly on the face and stared me down, as if I'd said a racist remark or something - but I did nothing of the sort, not even close. I wondered why Brother Busybody was picking on me, when I wasn't even the one who opened fire. Just then I happened to glance at the rear view mirror and saw my face - I had expected it to be smiling back at me (or at least sneering), but what it wore was a snobby pout. Good grief. Tactless Friend was born with the kind of face that looks like it has an idiotic smile plastered all over it all the time, so people adore him even if he's a ginormous jerk. Also (as I learned via his admission sometime later), Brother Busybody had evaluated me negatively way before the said incident, simply by the way I looked.

I know that shouldn't have been my problem but his, for his being narrow-minded and judgmental. But it merited my obsession since it's been another constant pebble in my shoe since preschool: I've often gotten labelled as suplada, maldita, and other tags more hurtful because of the way I look.

I've grown accustomed to that since, and eventually expected and embraced people's tendency to misunderstand me. Yeah, sure I'm maldita. I'm vile. Got a problem with that?

... But before any embracing was possible, I unnecessarily experienced being determined to be as likeable as a sugar cookie. ;)

After the van incident, I'd started to pay more attention to how my lips appeared. I looked at other people's lips. Observation led me to the conclusion that some people have naturally happy-looking faces (like Tactless Friend does), and some have naturally saddy-looking faces. I happen to have the latter; I even have a smile that looks like a smirk. It's not due to years of frowning, as some might accuse me of - I was only twenty at that time, way too young for wrinkles. Besides, stupid people have been poking at a nonexistent frown since I was a child, so I must have been born with disapproving lips.

Let me illustrate.

These here are my lips when relaxed, i.e., no particular emotion:


Actually, you know, I even have a slight smile here.

Couple those lips with my large, intense eyes, and my day-to-day expressionless expression could look somewhat irate. Like something that says "You are an idiot, and I hate you".

Let me illustrate further:
First of all, my mouth is small (something that ungentlemanly male friends use as fodder for off-color jokes, which is really beside the point but interesting to mention). And my lips are naturally pouty.

Thanks to Angelina Jolie and a lot of Angelina-wannabes who've had their kissers surgically enhanced, pouty lips are considered sexy these days. But pouty actually makes you look mopey if you aren't flashing your pearly whites for the paparazzi.

Speaking of teeth, my teeth are really small too, so they don't show much when I smile or even speak. No dazzling toothpaste commercial grin here.

So really, for me to smile in a way that other people consider acceptable would take a bit more effort for me. I have actual deficiencies at both the emotional and the physical levels. Whenever I twist my face into a more socially laudable smile, I feel like I've just padded myself with insincerity and buffoonery.

My lips are also puffier on the left side (my left), due to an accident I had when I was nine in which I punctured my lip and required ten stitches (four on the outside, six on the inside). I have an ugly, asymmetrical smile, so when I do put a bit more effort into stretching my lips into the happy pose, it often looks like a condescending sneer.

I won't even put a picture of that here, because it's just not pretty.

And bah, I don't have dimples.

A handful of people have told me they actually like my buffoon smile. I know that's supposed to be a compliment, but I find it insulting. It's likely an attempt at flattery, an act of charity or a tool for manipulation. Even if it were sincere, I still wouldn't like it, and I still wouldn't believe anyone who told me I had a nice smile.

I choose to express joy in ways I prefer, not necessarily in ways people will like. I will let the glee show, even glow when I'm overflowing, but I don't have to fake it when there's nothing to share. I don't have to change the way I smile, and I don't have to "smile more". I actually smile a lot, and if people don't see that, I'd rather live with that rather than give them the satisfaction of thinking they have any effect on me or my lips.

i'd rather be intense than ordinary

today's weather: S L I G H T E L E V A T I O N
anxiety : 1 | agitation : 1

It's not uncommon for me to be described by someone else as intense (or other synonymous terms). It's often meant in a not-so-endearing manner, sometimes intended as a criticism, but I quite like being thought of as intense. Depending on the situation and the behavioral expectations of observers, I suppose it could mean offensive, ostentatious or downright appalling. It could also mean passionate, strong or extraordinary. It definitely means I'm not ordinary, and that's what I like about it.

url change

severe elev. | high elev. | moderate elev. | slight elev. | BASELINE | slight dep. | moderate dep. | deep dep. | severe dep. || anx: 1 | agit: 2

Today I changed the url for this site. Due to the recent goings-on, I just felt like it was desecrated and didn't want to touch it. Kinda like the feeling you get when someone pretends to spit in your drink so you'd give it to him. Or the feeling you get when you find out some floozy has been fooling around with your boyfriend. Disgusting. I wanted to destroy the blog altogether, but I've invested a lot in it already and I can't discard it just like that. So I simply decided to move to a new spot in cyberspace.

I had to do it. Or so says the ruthless dictator in my mind. If I don't, something bad will happen. So i had to do it.

I also changed the layout a bit so it "feels" different.

I also deleted the last three posts.

When I have a inspiration for the header art, I'll be changing that too.

If you were able to find me here, you're really clever, I salute you.

This time I'll be very selective as to where I leave the links and with whom I'll share.

The thing is, I wish I didn't have to. But readers have tended to misinterpret and chose to think evil rather than good, vilify rather than give the benefit of doubt - and that spoils the honesty in a specialized blog. I don't want to be one of those bloggers who write to please, so I'm pretty much keeping the intent for which this site was conceptualized.

If any more readers want to make more noise than they should, I could always change URLs again.

oh, help me but don't tell me to deny it

severe elev. | high elev.| moderate elev.| slight elev. || BASELINE || slight dep.| moderate dep. | deep dep. | severe dep. || anx: 0 | agit: 1


I recently attended a meeting in another church - a rather nice meeting in a rather good church, held by a rather impressive preacher. It would have been an entirely delightful experience for me except for one little detail. Just one little detail.

I was offended at the ignorance of the preacher in belittling biologically-predisposed mental disorders. He told of a story in which he spoke to a man who explained he was having a difficult time with his behavior because he was born with ADHD. The preacher's advice to the man? He basically pooh-poohed the ADHD and told the man to just get ahold of the mind of Christ.

That was real spirited advice (take note: small s), and otherwise excellent. But considering the context, I don't think it's very helpful. I think it's even inconsiderate. Chances are, the man will pray his butt of and find himself relapsing again and again into the repulsive behavior associated with ADHD, and he will feel like a poor, hopeless, Christian.

Mental disorders are very real and debilitating, and getting healed of them requires a miracle just as much as a missing limb or a paralysis does. Telling an ADHD sufferer to just get ahold of the mind of Christ is like telling a blind person to see or a cripple n to dance without extending healing.

Furthermore, the preacher's statement supposes that a man with ADHD or some other mental disorder doesn't have the mind of Christ. Just because he has a mind that can't function normally doesn't mean he isn't influenced by the Spirit of Christ. Even mature, Spirit-filled-to-overflowing Christians will have their quirks, mental, behavioral or otherwise. Even the Apostle Paul acknowledged a condition that the Lord did not take away from him.

It's just tragic how people in general are so naive about mental disorders, and even more tragic that Bible-believing Christians overlook the reality of them. You can't simply pray away ADHD and expect the person to change in one go. You can't just give someone with Borderline Personality Disorder a list of verses to pray out and hope she gets better. You can't cast out a phobia - it isn't an evil spirit.

I'm in no way belittling the power of prayer and the possibility of miracles. But biological / mental disorders have more than just a spiritual dimension and will take more than just spiritual weapons. We do still live in the world, you know; that's why we still do bodily things like eat, sleep, work and earn. Spirit-filled, Bible-believing Christians should not take forgranted the effectiveness of medical research, scientific fact and cognitive therapy. Besides that, wearing Christ's name and all, there should be a measure of love and acceptance of people with mental aberrations, and heaping expectations on them isn't the best way to do it.

Discrimination

severe elevation | high elevation | moderate elevation | slight elevation | stable | slight depression | moderate depression | deep depression | severe depression || anx: 1, agit: 1


Discrimination is pretty much it.

I know that people are afraid about things that they don't understand. But it's hardly an excuse when it's easy to get educated. That is if they want to be educated.

I suppose it's safe to assume that they'd rather act defensively than proactively. It's so human nature, after all.

Kill the ogre.
Burn the witch.
Stew the white man.
Hang the pirate.

Stone the bipolar.

In that organization, nonetheless.

Exclude the bipolar from anything public so as not to give good people the wrong idea.
Exclude her from opportunities.
Deny her the freedom to obey God.
Don't go to her because she'll bite your arm off.
Prevent her from preaching or teaching even if she already has been, and even if she's qualified, because we'll never know when she'll rip out a gun and kill everyone.

Okay, I'm exaggerating of course. But it's the general attitude.

"We have to protect the church," I was told - and that is not an exaggeration. That is an exact quote.

Thank you for making me feel like I'm not part of the church too.

Yeah. I suppose maybe I'm not.

"People don't care how much you know until they know how much you care," I was told, telling me that I wasn't fit to be in ministry because I often give the wrong impression. If that's the motto they'd like to drop at me, then it would be nice to quote back at them. I'd just like them good church folk to know that I don't really care about the advice they keep shoveling at me, because it's quite apparent that they don't care about me. They only care about "the ministry".

Like I wasn't part of the ministry.

Yeah. I suppose I'm not.

Now they wonder why I don't like attending their events and they get all disappointed at my Hubby. They just don't get it that seeing them causes me distress, social anxiety and grief. I need to know what to avoid. No, that is not a copout. A lot of those people have been real jerks; I've spent a great deal defending them to others but I am right now having a hard time defending them in my head to myself.

I mean, yeah, I understand people don't want to risk the safety of "the majority", so it's better for them to keep me at arm's length from everyone else. But it's not like I'll wreak havoc one nice Sunday and slay everyone unawares (though I must admit I have thought about that). The problem is they've got these wrong notions of me because don't understand the condition. They just labeled me and dismissed me, never sought to understand.

No one ever really asked how I am.
No one sat long enough to listen to an explanation about the condition.
No one wants to believe that THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH ME; they just keep asking my husband for proof that I'm "alright".
No one really asked me about it, so I have reason to believe they think the wrong thing.

They can always ask me what it's all about. If they're afraid to get their heads bitten off, they can always make a Google search. But like I said: big, fat IF.

And they don't because they don't want to.

I understand that of course, but I'm just not willing to accept it. They, including those who pass themselves off as my "friends", are busy with ministry. Like there was no real ministry needed in my corner of the globe, and like I never expressed that i needed them. It would have been acceptable if that went on for weeks, maybe even months. But its been years, and no one, not a single one in the lovely local fellowship of believers has reached out to me. Not a single one of them who pursue the heart of Christ. Not a single one.

Their way of "reaching out" is telling me how disappointed they are at me and tell me to comply with their expectations. They don't realize that their expectations are out of line because they did not first seek to understand. It's like those things they teach on compassion and relationships are just suggestions that they themselves choose not to apply.

I've been right there in the sheepfold all this time - I never left, never lagged behind, never turned my back, never slacked on the job - but I was lost somehow. And I saw no good shepherd who would leave the 99 to go out and find me.

Oh yeah, I just remembered. "It is never about the people. It is always about the organization." -- That is another direct quote. Is she telling me that the one who is lost is not important as long as the 99 are intact? What I know about Jesus and the Bible tells me that she is wrong, and that he never intended for an organization. I understand what she is trying to say, but I do not accept it.

I don't see the point anymore in staying in an organization that causes me more harm than good, one that I no longer believe in at that, and one that does not make an effort to walk its talk.

And if you are offended by this, you are likely among one of those narrow-minded, unloving individuals from the organization who preach about Jesus and seem not to act the least bit like him. React to this and I've blown your cover. Thank you for your maturity.

the awkward lull after all the action

severe elevation | high elevation | moderate elevation | slight elevation | stable | slight depression | moderate depression | deep depression | severe depression || anx: 0, agit: 0

I hadn't realized that I haven't written a new entry in this blog for over two weeks. I think that's a good sign - it means I'm fairly busy and productive that I haven't had much time for rumination.

So yeah, it has been a moderately busy and enjoyable past few weeks. I worked it and tried my best to maximize the slight high. Though I do experience slight elevations, I don't get as elevated as I used to, and I kinda miss that (even thirst for it). There's even this feeling like I'm missing something - missing something like an intense passion. Still I'm glad for the drug-muffled highs.

(And I'd really have to say that I am SO not glad for "friends" who still don't get it up to now. Major frustration. Just last week some idjit "friend" was getting all controlling again, thinking he was helping but was actually a big, bold FAIL, because he wasn't willing to b e sensitive in the first place. Sheeeesh.)

Today that all the action is finally over, I realize that I am bored and face the possibility of slumping into another chemical depression.

Behold, the awkard lull.

Darnit, I don't even want to think about what comes after.

God, please - can just have back-to-back manic episodes? May I please skip out on the depressive lows? Even if I don't have stable times anymore, it's okay as long as I don't get depressed again. Big heavy sigh.

the mess in my closet is a mess in my head

severe elevation | high elevation | moderate elevation | slight elevation | stable | slight depression | moderate depression | deep depression | severe depression || anx: 0, agit: 0


The plan was to eat an early lunch, take a shower and get dressed, get to the office by one p.m., print some stuff and arrive early and all prepared for my 2:00 meeting. That was the plan. That - or something like it - is always the plan.

But more often than not, it isn't carried out as planned.

And more often then not, the plan gets screwed up by the getting dressed part. Deciding what to wear and wear with what to whichever is a lot more hellish than the grueling task of applying for a U.S. Visa. I don't exaggerate in saying that it frustrates me to tears because nothing in my closet is ever the right article of clothing during a depressive stretch. Especially in the summer when everything is just too uncomfortable to wear.

It's just freaking silly, right? No one would believe me if I said it's as serious as life and death for me. I can't quite explain it clearly to someone who has no idea of how impossible it is - let's just say that it's one of those nasty triggers that are unique to me. i.e., one of those peculiarities that go with my manifestation of psychosis / neurosis / chemical imbalance / disorder / what-have-I. I've been misunderstood for it and been tagged unacceptable, and you can't imagine how it frustrates me that it's been that way since childhood and I still haven't found a way around it.

Of course I've been told thing like i should think about my clothes and prepare them the night before, and so on. But gee whiz, I'm not stupid. I've thought of that already, and it still doesn't help. I would spend hours - literally, hours - the previous day, as early as mid afternoon, thinking of what to wear. I often don't come up with anything when it's time to sleep, and I stay up all night still thinking about it. Needless to say I fall asleep in the morning and wake up at noon; by then I'd be thrown into a panic because I still don't know what to wear. I scrabble around while I throw hissy-fits, holding on to a thin shred of hope that I might still make it on time. I settle for whatever is sufficiently comfortable, speed off and still arrive late. I'd be out of sorts, out of breath and out of time to prepare other things that I need. I'd be fretting of course because I'd be hearing another person complain about my lateness.

And that right there is another vile trigger.

To add insult to injury, people just wouldn't mind their own business when it comes to clothing. If my lateness didn't offend them enough, my not-so-put-together look would. It'd even seem that the time I really need them to lay off is the time they lay it on thick. There's this whole expectation on propriety and such. Bah, humbug.

That pretty much means that the advice to "just wear anything" really doesn't apply. Naturally I've been told that useless grit of advice too. [ "Just wear anything?" Come on. If I really could wear just anything, I'd be wearing big-sized sleep-shirts and flip-flops to everything. If I did, it would be unforgivable, of course, and people won't get off my back for being dressed inappropriately]

It's still a problem even after I go shopping for clothes, and even if [as it would seem to others] I had a bottomless supply of pretty clothing. So really the clothes aren't the problem. It 's really just me.

What is depression like for me?

severe elevation | high elevation | moderate elevation | slight elevation | stable | slight depression | moderate depression | deep depression | severe depression || anx: 0, agit: 0


I realize I've been having to explain the nature of depressive episodes to different people over and over. I thought of composing this entry as a ready page to refer to whenever they ask me about it.

For one reason, some people just have never experienced depression and have no idea what it is like - which is exactly the case with my oh-so-loving Hubby, and most of my very sanguine friends.

For another, most people think that depression is just "feeling sad", so they can't quite forgive me for ditching an event or arriving late or skipping church service or withdrawing at a party for "being depressed". They'd say insensitive things like, "So what? You just stayed home all day," or sarcastically ask, "You arrived late because you were feeling sad?". So far, the most insensitive thing ever said to me was "I expect you to shape up, bipolar or no".

Sometimes I wish those people would be stricken with my depression even for a day so they'd know just how hard it is to even do the simplest things. How difficult it is to even just get up from bed in the morning, and how choosing clothes to wear can be something to cry about. It's more than just "feeling sad".

I have to do a bit of defending myself before I get further misjudged regarding the nature of my condition. I happen to be a responsible person, a goal-setter, a good leader, a fast worker, creative and highly productive. I was raised in the household of a strict military man (that is, my father), so I am used to doing things that I don't like doing (including going to school with a high fever at age seven). I am even used to not getting things my way; I know how to suck it up and deny myself of comfort whenever necessary. I am very disciplined and have a good work ethic - my former coworkers can attest to that. I have never used my mood as an excuse to myself or anyone to bail out on anything; in fact I've learned to suppress emotions from childhood just to perform as needed. So establishing the above mentioned things about myself, I cannot and should not be accused of being lazy, spoiled, demanding, mood-driven / emotion-driven, unmotivated, or anything of that sort. I am not the kind of person who has to be told to "shape up" or "suck it up", because I don't think anyone else is more qualified than I to say those words to me. I just happen to be bipolar. I simply have depressive episodes form time to time. Meaning there will definitely be some periods of the year in which I cannot - repeat, cannot - perform as I normally do, and thus should not be expected to.

And that is not the same as "just not in the mood".

Having a depressive episode is not the same as "feeling sad" as most people suppose. First of all, a depressive episode is not caused by external factors as sadness is (although it can be worsened by them). It's primarily chemical. It just happens, even with no apparent reason. And I can't just make it go away; I have to wait for it to go away.

It's not like I can switch it on or off at will; all I can do take my meds, avoid triggers and wait it out. I can suppress the emotion, condition myself to function as needed, but the depression is still there and will get in the way of my life, depending on its severity.

There is also this wrong notion that it only has to do with the mood. I kinda think "Bipolar Mood" is a misnomer (Besides, "mood" is such a subjective word; it can mean anything from "current disposition" to "general ambience"). Depressive episodes also heavily affect thought patterns, alertness and physical energy. It's more than just a feeling.

When I try to explain bipolar depression to non-bipolar people, I usually explain it this way:

Think of the worst ever day you've had.
Imagine it coupled with a lot of physical and emotional discomfort (like having PMS, if you are female).
Throw in a lot of mental restlessness, a feeling of heaviness (both physical and emotional), tiredness and maybe some muscle pains and headaches.
And then, because you're tired and heavy, your passions and interests and the things you love doing suddenly become uninteresting.
Then add a lot of insecurity and feeling of inadequacy.
Put in some sense of aloneness, purposelessness and utter hopelessness.
And then because of all those various feelings, everything is upsetting, everything is a big deal. You get obsessive, but you feel a bit dull and you find it real difficult to make decisions.
Now stretch all that to a duration of several days - a minimum of four days to a maximum of four months, and there's not much you can do about it except wait until it's over.
Top it off with the knowledge that people around you can't understand it nor are willing to. You feel like a burden to yourself and others. Then you have a growing paranoia that your loved ones don't care and the people around you are against you.
You feel like the best way to end your suffering is to just end your life.


By the way, the suicidal feelings that come with depression are real. They aren't some emo-type masochism for attention-grabbing shock-value without any real intent of suicide. They are an honest-to-goodness desire to end one's life so as to end one's suffering. I actually think wrist-slitting is for wusses. I personally obsess over sure-kill (but artful) ploys that involve direct cuts to main arteries or the use of guns.

Although a depressive episode has to be waited out, it isn't totally out of control. One's behavior is controllable, although the emotions and energy levels are not - and that makes it difficult to carry on with everyday life like you "normal" people do.

There are also some drugs and coping skills that can be applied to help pull mood up. They don't make the episodes go away, but they help to make things a bit more manageable.

About the drugs: People around me seem to think that everything is perfectly hunky-dory because I am taking meds. They say thing like, "But you're medicated, aren't you?," or stupidly insensitive things like "You're okay now, aren't you?" or "When will you be okay?" Dangit. The truth is, this condition has no cure. The meds are just for treatment. I still experience the episodes, with or without the meds. It's just that the Lithium helps to muffle the symptoms, but the symptoms are still there, big time. Furthermore, Lithium is not the only prescription for BMD, and it's prolly not even the best, but it's the primary one. Besides, it's what's available in my country, and it's the one I can afford.

Another thing that annoys me is that people think that I've had a meltdown. A depressive episode is not a meltdown, darnit. I did not "lose it", "go crazy" or "break down". It's just that when stressors and / or triggers come one after the other, it becomes harder and harder for me to manage my stress levels, so the episode becomes worse and I go deeper into depression. When this goes on for a period of time, I go into a severe depressive state (which has happened only twice in my lifetime, and only before I started taking the meds), in which I become a totally useless, self-destructive human being. But whether the depression is slight or severe, it doesn't affect much my logic, intelligence or memories; that means I don't have to be treated like a psychotic, retarded amnesiac.

Furthermore, bipolar isn't a psychosis. It's NOT a psychological disorder; it a biological disability that just looks like a psychological disorder.

Lastly, this condition is not a sickness. Considering my Bipolar Mood Condition as a sickness would be like calling your gene-related baldness a sickness, or your color-blindness, your retroverted uterus, your heredetary predisposition to obesity an illness. You don't want to hear me praying to God to "heal" your disproportionately big nose, do you? Bipolar is actually more like a birth defect - like dimples, or a cleft chin. I was born bipolar, born with a predisposition to cycles of depression an elevation. I inherited it from my mother's side of the gene pool and I've had symptoms of it from childhood. I hate it when people ask my husband or my counsellor things like, "Is she healed now?," or "Can she be reliable now?". Truth: This isn't going to go away, ladies and gentlemen. I've already had it waaay before we even met, so don't suddenly treat me like I turned into a vegetable after you found out about my so-called "meltdown". I still have all my faculties, skills and high IQ, and you can bet I can still whoop your asses at Scrabble.


How to tell if i am in a depressive episode:

• I have less energy than usual. A good indication is I am often sleepy, or take naps at awkward times and places.
• I don't talk as much and I withdraw. People who know me quite well know that I talk a lot and am very witty. When I seem "shy" or disinterested, or when I suddenly answer in short sentences, that's a sign.
• I can't make decisions. I'm normally decisive and opinionated, so being indecisive is an abnormality.
• I won't be very nice to look at. At depressed times, it is extremely difficult for me to smile (so please, don't try to jolly me up), and i won't likely be the best-dressed person anywhere.
  
  

How i hope you can help me when I am depressed:

• Whenever possible, make sure I am never alone. This part here is important.
  
• Don't try to jolly me up, though you may try to cheer me up indirectly (see below). Don''t say things like, "Why the long face?," or "Smile!". It's really upsetting.
• Drop some cheerer-uppers like little gifts, visits, rabbit-toys or things you think i will appreciate, or suggest some activities you think will distract me.When I talk about suicide, take me seriously.
• Don't expect anything from me. Don't give me a list of thing to do or ways to act. Don't try to "shape me up". In this situation, YOU are the normal person, so YOU have to be the one to understand me. I know it sounds demanding, but trust me, it's for the better. You can ask my doctors about it if you don't believe me.
  
• Don't force me to do things i don't want to; don't wheedle, don't argue.
• Don't make fun or make jokes at my expense.
  
• Listen more than you speak. For that matter, keep your sentences concise, because it's tiring to have to entertain people.
  
• Be a friend. This is a time when I need tons of acceptance, belonging, understanding and ice cream. Make me feel important to you. But don't overdo it as I can easily feel smothered.
  

stupid things to say to a (triggered) bipolar

Calm down.
Better alternative: Do or give something calming yourself, such as lower your voice, smile, or offer tea.  Subtly introduce a diversion, like a nearby butterfly or a shopping invite.  Try "Let's go for ice cream," or, "Hey, why don't we go out and watch that comedy you've been wanting to see."

You're overreacting.
Understand that bipolars have more extreme emotions, so they may not feel they are overreacting.Better alternative: See "Calm down".  Address the inappropriate reaction without invalidating his emotion. 

Don't get upset.
Honestly, a bipolar can't promise he won't get upset.  It's a stupid request.Whether or not it's your fault, apologize profusely before things get out of hand, maybe even just to show sympathy.  Offer something positive and calming. After he calms down, that's the time to have a discussion about whose fault it really was.

Why are you angry?
Stupid question.  Know that sometimes there is no reason for the anger; it's just a symptom of the episodes.  It may not even have anything to do with you.
Whatever you do, don't respond in anger, because this will worsen the episode.  Sheathe your claws. Someone has to be the pacifist, so take the initiative.
Better alternative: "I understand, but you don't have to be angry".

Smile!
Don't try to jolly-up a depressed person; it won't happen, and may just have the opposite effect. Better alternative: Invite him to do something he enjoys, or get him something he likes.

I wish you were dead.
... or anything similar, like I wish I never had you in my life.Careful with this one.  This can tip the scale if the person is already contemplating suicide.
Find something to appreciate about the person.
Be sensitive. Take suicide threats seriously.

It's nothing personal.
Though it may be true, it sometimes isn't very helpful.  A Bipolar can take things personally to the point of formulating conspiracy theories.
Better alternative: You have to show proof that it isn't personal.  Counter the offense with niceness in the future.

You're being childish.

Better alternative: Be an understanding adult and keep your judgments to yourself for a while.  Correct him when he's calm.

You didn't have that problem yesterday / last week / whenever.
If you bring this up, then that's a good sign you don't understand Bipolar Mood.  Do your research first.
It can be frustrating, bit just be understanding and and supportive. Know and help to avoid the triggers.

It's your fault.
Better alternative: To avoid unnecessary arguments, be the first to apologize even if it isn't your fault. When things settle down, discuss how the both of you can improve the situation.

Stop that!
See "Calm down".

You'll be healed / You're healed.
Read more about BMD.

Are you stable today? / Are you normal? Better alternative: "How are you feeling today?"  - When asking this question , be sincere about it and be ready to really listen.
Or don't ask. Be sensitive and watch for symptoms.


I understand how you feel.
Believe me, you don't.
Better alternative: Be a sounding-board or a shoulder to cry on, without being preachy or feigning sympathy. And for the meantime, keep your judgments to yourself.

This other person is bipolar but he doesn't act like that.
Every person is different, Sherlock.
Better alternative: Read more about the illness.


You should / shouldn't  ...

Better alternative: Avoid saying "should". Try to be more understanding and don't heap too many expectations. If you want to impose certain behavior, you have to be ready to take up changes of behavior yourself too.

I don't care.

Better alternative: Listen. Uncross those arms. Pay attention. Assume a friendly disposition. If you want a positive response, initiate a positive demeanor.  The one thing your bipolar might need at that time is just someone to acknowledge him.

"You'll Be Better"

severe elevation | high elevation | moderate elevation | slight elevation | stable | slight depression | moderate depression | deep depression | severe depression || anx : 2 , agit : 3


I just remembered that it was on Christmas Eve last year that an overspiritual older lady, in an effort to "encourage" me only succeeded in offending me. She talked to me consolingly like I was an invalid saying, "You'll be healed ... you'll be okay".

Big thanks. That was stupidly insensitive of her.

First of all I'm not sick. I was born with chemical imbalance; I didn't acquire it by omosis. To say this is a sickness would be like that saying people with bald spots, cleft chins or red-green color blindness were sick.

But yeah , for short-sighted, narrow minded idjits, we could just use the word "sick" so there's a word they can understand.

Secondly, there is no cure for bipolar mood, so no, I can't and won't get healed unless God sends a miracle, and to be honest, I'm not counting on one.

Chances are, she heard about my condition from other people (like duh, she didn't hear it from me!), and chances are she was misinformed. She probably even heard that frakkin' rumor that I had a nervous breakdown and /or had to be admitted into an institution and /or I turned psychotic (Oh yes, some wanker actually used that cursed word). Darned rumor rats.

Is schadenfreude their pasttime?

Now a year after, I still feel like I could benefit from giving her a piece of my mind for her unsolicited meddling. For that matter, I'd like to find the rumor rats and stitch their tongues to the floor. But yeah, that's futile so forget that.

'Tis The Season To Be ... Jolly?

severe elevation | high elevation | moderate elevation | slight elevation | stable | slight depression | moderate depression | deep depression | severe depression || anx : 2 , agit : 3


You mean right now? Ugh.

'Tis the season to be dysphoric is more like it. Mind is racing. Mind is racing mind is racing mind is racing. Mindisracingmindisracingmindisracingmindisracing. Raging. Restless and edgy (manic symptoms). But overall lethargic, fatigued for no apparent reason, touchy, broody, kinda heavy and having no appetite for eating (deppressive symptoms). Stressed and stretched due to the holiday hassle.

www.istockphoto.com

I told myself I'd try to have a great time today, and really, I tried. But party preparations, the volume of people in our house, and a rapid-fire of stupid interlocutions and interruptions just had me retreating into my room even before lunch was served. To add insult to injury, somebody told me to relax (!?) Buggre alle this. I wanted to not come out until after all the guests have left, but I decided I didn't want to be a no-show at a party we were hosting.

Why does Christmas have to be so darned complicated?

Yule '08, I rub you out with a rag doused in turpentine.

I don't even feel like eating all this food.

Sigh. I at least got a few nice gifts. Most were thoughtful rubbish I wouldn't really care anything for except to sell at the next garage sale, but there were some keepers. I'm glad I didn't spend much for gifts and trimming this year; at least I don't feel shortchanged.

MIL

severe elevation | high elevation | moderate elevation | slight elevation | normal | slight depression | moderate depression | deep depression | severe depression || anx : 1 , agit : 1


Hubby was chatting with mother-in-law over the phone last night and she asked about me. She warned against my taking too many drugs and asked so many questions. Hubby assured her it was all safe and it's the only way to go - for now, at least. He explained my condition to her (which he says he has already done before) and gave her a name for it so she could look it up herself if she wanted to. I hope she does; I just hate it when people are misinformed about my condition.

I find it so irksome and tiresome when parents - especially mothers - think their adult children are still stupid little kids. Come on, mom; we know how to go to a doctor. We know how to read and Google like you do; we're prolly more informed about this than you think we are. Trust us; we have brains too .

Que sera, que sera.