this is the recurring drama of my life

 today's flavor: BASELINE
anxiety : 0
agitation : 0

 
A mental filter installs itself  during depressive episodes. It really depends on how bad the depression is, but we bipolars tend to color things really bad during the gloomy days.

For example.  An ordinary nicety, such as:

 

... would morph into an innuendo ...

and therefore ...

 

I rarely ever say it our loud, but I think it.  This is probably the reason why I don't - or rather, won't - often purse deeper friendships with most people. Because the way they said hello seemed to me like a masked insult.

Then come murderous intentions.  The murders immediately turn inward ...

Thus begin my suicidal ruminations.

 

Here's another recurring scenario in my life:

Someone says to me, "Oh hey, you're here!"

I would think it was meant to say, "What are you doing here?"

And then, "You aren't wanted here".
"You should leave."

And I'd think, I shouldn't be here.

I want to die.

I should kill myself.

I'm not kidding.  I'm not even exaggerating.  I may have skipped a few steps in-between, but that's the thought process.  It may be too absurd to believe, but every bipolar would know what I'm talking about and agree.

It often if not always ends up with "I should kill myself" or its different variations.

This week, I had that sort of mental drama.  A day or two after I posted the last entry (in which I was at baseline), I started drifting into sadness.  I tried to fight it of course.  But it just so happened that someone said something to me that I didn't take so well .  It was a harmless response to a statement I said, but I interpreted it as a rejection.  I didn't have the presence of mind to react to it, so I stuffed it down until I headed home, and when I got to our bedroom I was paranoid and distraught over the imagined implications.

The following day, I was paranoid.  I was in bad shape -- but I had a lot of work to do, so I yanked myself together to function.  I needed to take breaks to cry - nay, bawl - because I was so disturbed about something that wasn't said.  The interesting bit is that I logically knew that there wasn't any malice in the aforementioned remark, but I was emotionally unable to process it any other way but as a rejection.  I was pathetic. 

My thoughts had turned spiteful, and I knew it was an overreaction. But I also knew I had to wait it out.  There was no point in confrontation over something I was certain didn't really happen.  I knew it was my own problem, and making a fuss about it would only make it worse.  The most amicable solution is really to wait it out, and then interact positively when I see the concerned persons again.  Play nice.  Choose love, joy, peace and happy things.

So yeah, I waited out the cycle. And today I saw the persons concerned again, and confirmed that it was no big deal.  Really no malice, no rejection of any sort intended.  It was all in my head.  And now I feel I'm the idiot -  again - to have been the malicious one.  Such a sap.

That's just the pattern.  It happens. It will happen again.  It sucks, but that's my life.  I just have to cope with it.

I took my yellow pill today, by the way.

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.

home again, home again, jiggetty-jig!

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


I've absented myself from the blogosphere for a month and a half, primarily because I was away at some other country and I wanted to savor my trip (The rather lengthy absence is also partially due to the difficulty of finding a good connection where we were, and the resolution to prove that I ain't no slave to my blogging habit).

Besides, it's quite consistent with myself to hardly ever post new entries whenever I feel good. So it's often a positive sign when I don't post anything new - it likely means I am pleasantly preoccupied with something I enjoy.

And enjoy myself I did. I was in a good NORMAL/BASELINE stretch with occasional symptoms of depression. The trip to Nevada and Southern California proved beneficial for me, and it successfully lifted me out of the depressive round I was scheduled to have.

Currently, I feel an elevation looming. Today I feel uncannily alert, faith-filled, cheerful and energetic - despite the pain-medication-slash-relaxant I've been taking for my impinged nerve (early carpal tunnel syndrome) that the rheumatologist assures will make me drowsy. Well I do feel slightly drowsy, but I otherwise feel great.

A Definite Upper

today's weather: S L I G H T D E P R E S S I O N
anxiety : 1
agitation : 1

As expected, I am experiencing a lift in mood since I discontinued the nasty anti-allergy meds. I'm still feeling a wee bit depressed, but less sad, less irritable and not fatigued. I'm functioning normally and thinking a bit more clearly, I'm getting things done. So far so good. I took a happy yellow pill just to give me a boost; I need it, today's a busy day.

Today's the last whole day before the Hubby and I make our flight to see my Mama, her hubby and my little sister. That's a definite upper; I'm quite excited to see them. But in the meantime, we've got a lengthy TO-DO list of last-day preps, including cleaning our room, grooming the rabbits (too bad we have to leave them behind :( I'll really miss them) and buying stuff for the trip. I hope everything gets done before I crash.

I also hope that I'll be back on baseline by tomorrow, or at least within a few days. I need to be all present for this trip.

We Have To

today's weather: S L I G H T D E P R E S S I O N
anxiety : 1
agitation : 1


I seem to be in an extended period of depression. If I don't count the few days of baseline in mid-April, I would've been in a depressive episode for over a month now. That's ugly. I don't know if the blues have anything to do with the abominably warm weather or the new anti-allergy medicine; all I'm sure of is that I'm experiencing inexplicable sadness and fatigue.

The Hubby and I need to fly over to Nevada to see my Mom. She's had some surgery recently and is requesting our company. It would be a bad idea for me to travel alone, especially in this episode, so the Hubby has to come with me (and take an unpaid leave from work). This major move disrupts our agenda and our budget, so there's a bit of stress over that. We're particularly stressed out about the money. Some relatives and Mama's friends are doing what they can to make this trip possible, but we have no way whatsoever to pay them, and we're hoping that their sense of urgency will make them generous too. We don't have any money for this trip.

This isn't really the wisest thing to do at this time, but it's a right thing. I'm just setting my mind on the joy of seeing Mama and my little sister again, and meeting my Ma's husband for the first time. It''s going to be fun spending some time with them, and this sudden change in routine might just jolt me into a happier state.

Or it could do the opposite - stress me out enough to drag me into a deeper depression (BTW, I slid down into moderate the other day when I thought about the money and all the necessary hassle related to this trip. As is usual in a moderate depression, I was too physically weak, with areas of pain, and I spent almost the whole day in bed). My ruminations have lately quite often boiled down to a graphic death wish.

Waiting for the tickets, we've borrowed luggage, set aside stuff to pack, made inquiries about what we need to take note of, and so on. The hardest part is finding bunnysitters for our two rabbits - we don't have one so far, and that's a cause of further stress. I love those rabbits so much and I don't want to leave them with someone who won't know how to care for them. We'll figure something out. We have to.

And we'll figure the rest out too as we go. We have to.

The Positivity Sublimation

today's weather: S L I G H T D E P R E S S I O N
anxiety : 1
agitation : 1

I have no idea if this has anything to do with the half-bag of Cheetos I consumed yesterday, or if this is all purely chemical.

I know I'm depressed today and not just sad, mainly because there's nothing to be really sad about. I know it's a depression because my energy is low, my mind is hazy, and I'm feeling quite anxious and agitated.

No fair. :( I was just getting the hang of the recent upswing.

This morning I had trouble getting out of bed again; not only was I feeling fatigued but I had a severe difficulty in finding a reason to get up.

I noticed the descent last night as I went to bed. For one thing, I felt exhausted and wanted to sleep earlier than I usually do. Indication of low energy. For another, I noticed I kept saying the words I'm tired and I don't want this anymore. I realized those are my usual depression reflex mantras. The contentment I had been feeling until the other day was fading.

I felt like I was enveloped by a heavy shroud of hopelessness. I had all of a sudden lost my purpose to live again - I know I had it just a couple of weeks ago, strong and clear. I searched my mind for it as I waited for sleep to overtake me, and found it, but it was all watered down and irrelevant. The yell of fervor in my heart at the beginning of the year had been muffled into a mousy whimper.

Darn this.

There was another obvious sign last night. I entertained the thought of slitting my jugular vein with my craft blade. I savored the idea, swished it around, let its various flavors seep in. I had just enough leftover manic courage from the previous elevation, and just enough decrease in wonder and hope due to the incoming depression. I felt like I could actually do it.

The pen-blade sat in a basket under my purse on the shelf, just a few steps away. I mulled over doing it in the morning. I would be alone with the rabbits, I think I should feed them first. I'd wear either my favorite red dress, or the lacy white one, for effect. I'd do it on the bed, feet toward the headboard. Depending on the angle of the blade, I might make a spatter on the bed or the nearby wall, like the effect in that scene in Akira Kurosawa's Ran. It would hurt, but I hope it would be quick. I wonder if the rabbits would notice. I wonder what the Hubby would do when he found me.

But I apparently didn't do it; I'm still alive right now.

Don't worry about me, I'm not really going to do it.

Paper-winged Ideas

today's weather: S L I G H T .E L E V A T I O N
anxiety : 0
agitation : 1
today's guests: paper-winged papillon ideas


I love elevations. In an elevation, I feel happy and healthy and pretty and energetic and overall positive. I feel like all things have a very good chance of going right - and if they don't, everything's still hunky-dory.

My mind keeps uncaging little ideas and possibilities, setting them free to flutter about and orbit around my head. If I don't catch them soon I lose the little lovelies. I want to catch them - no matter how trivial and irrelevant they are - and pin them into shadow-boxes for showing off, but sadly my hands are hardly ever quick enough.

There's that constant feeling of "antsiness" and discontent. If I had canvasses and paints, it would be a nice idea to mill out a few "whatever abstracts" that just happen to be outbursts of excess energy but might turn out to be something meaningful to someone else.

I mused about buying painting stuff but decided against it; it's unwise to make big purchases at this time that we're saving up for a trip.

I thought about creating new necklaces and fashion accessories but realized I still haven't recovered from my tendonitis. I could keep forcing my right hand to work, but I know I shouldn't.

I settled for drawing in my sketchbook. It didn't quite have the satisfaction of filling up a big canvass, but it was fun still. My hand movements were limited by the pain of tendonitis, so I can only make big, sweeping lines. I'm going to have to fill in the details later on when my hand is okay.

I thought about writing poetry, but I found no inspiration. The thing about elevations is that it's kinda hard to focus, and I can't seem to access the depths of my soul (During depressions though, writing poetry is as easy as giving myself a manicure).

High on Antihistamine last night, while my conscious mind was engaged in watching West Side Story, I let my subconscious write. I forced the words to flow out onto the paper as quickly as they flowed into my head, blocking out rules or logic and grammar. As I remarked how flawlessly airbrushed Tony and Maria looked, made fun of the phony "Puerto Rican" accent, and imagined how spectacular WSS would have looked on the stage, my right hand scrawled this on a sketchbook page:

if i knew how to reach it with
the tiny arms i have
and nothing but a dream
perhaps i could
even without

if it were so

and if i didn't know how far
i still might

something so beautiful
desirable
deserves a dream

wounded as my hands may be
something so absolutely wonderful
must be sought
outside the dream
i take it in my hands
and make the dream mine

Jagged and disjointed as it is, it still kinda makes sense, me thinks. A little later I'll polish this up a bit, switch the lines around and make it presentable for "sharing" (i.e., turn it into a "poem").

The process reminds me of a time when I was younger and I'd write while I was drunk or hungover. It often produced interesting verse in a pretentious style that hoped to emulate e.e. cummings.

I quite enjoy letting my mind flow like that - no thinking, no editing. It gives me a glimpse into what's really in my heart. Maybe I should do it more often, maybe have a small notebook dedicated to it. Looking at what I came up with last night, I seem to be fixated on the fulfillment of a dream.

exit, depression; enter, creative rush

today's weather: S L I G H T D Y S P H O R I A
anxiety : 1 | agitation : 1
unwelcome visitors: ambient noise

It seems the depression dip of the year has passed; it usually happens within the period from July to September. In October I usually go on an upswing and catapult into dysphoria during the Holiday season.

This year's depression has been the happiest in the past few years. I sank into a moderate depression for one day only as far as I recall - much, much better than staying in it for weeks as have before. I believe the blues were curbed a bit by my having to shuttle to and fro regarding important family matters; it was a bit stressful but it kept my attention away from myself.

Also I commend myself for the wise move of getting out of RavenCorp; it's a huge factor.

Lately I haven't blogged as much - which ordinarily occurs when I'm feeling happier. As usual, I have a rush of creativity. These days' creativity is channeled into making decors for a Tim Burton Un-Birthday Party I'm organizing with my sister and a few of her friends (it's a wholesome alternative to Halloween). I've already made a bead-garland to hang from the lighting fixtures, and a few fake abstract paintings. Currently I'm working on a Nightmare-Before-Christmas tree (it's going to be oh so cute!) and little rag animals to hang on it.

cylindrical

today's weather: S L I G H T . D Y S H P O R I A
anxiety : 2 | agitation : 2






I'm glad that my skin hasn't been breaking out this year. I didn't even change my skin care routine. I believe it's really just a benefit of less stress.

It seems like the elevated phase didn't last long; darn my rapid cycling. I had a few days of dysphoria in which I had racing thoughts, had an increase in creativity and found a lot of things funny. But at the same time I felt extreme fatigue, lost interest for the books that I earlier found compelling. I also noticed my meditations easily slunk into sadness and almost-suicide. I knew better than to stay in bed, so I managed to immerse myself in making pretty things so I wouldn't.

I may only be feeling depressed today because I've been sick, so this might not be a real depression. I'm still hoping it's not. No fever - just some nasty gas trapped in my tummy with accompanying muscle pains and headaches. My torso was nearly cylindrical yesterday; it would have been a funny sight if everything didn't hurt so much. I'm feeling better now because I've had some treatment, but I still feel kinda woozy.

I gave my books a rest awhile because they started to give me headaches. I don't know what exactly it was I couldn't keep up with, but I had this feeling I couldn't keep up with something. I'll return to the books when I'm feeling a bit better and can read a little faster again.

I kinda think this is a depression, but I'm still hoping that it's not. I hate being depressed. Given, I write better when I'm depressed, but I just hate how it feels. I still do those coping things but it gets real tiring at a point. I usually slowly get worse at this time of the year, then hit deep depressions after another before the ber-months. Those are the ugliest, most horrible parts of the year.

I'm hoping things might be better - or at least, more manageable - this year because circumstances have changed.

summer bummer

severely elevated | very elevated | moderately elevated | slightly elevated | BASELINE | slightly depressed | moderately depressed | deeply depressed | severe depressed || anx : 0 | agit: 0

I started taking sleep-aid capsules again. This particular brand isn't friends with Lithium Carbonate, so it's good that I've been off Li for the past month. I think I need the sleep aids more than the Lithium right now. I already spent one entire night not sleeping, and I don't want another one.

It's around this time of the year that I escalate, so I'm going to have to watch it. I don't have any exciting or challenging activities lined up this summer (not anymore, sob sob, I miss you GenChurch), so that means triggers are likely to be kept to a manageable minimal-to-moderate.

Coming to think of it, it might just be a boring summer this year, now that the youth ministry days are over. Bummer. Now that gets me down.

do you suffer from long-term memory loss? (i can't remember)

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

Okay. So far so good in usually-dysphoric December, but not entirely.

Since the Lithium, aside from the decreased passion and creativity, there has been a whole lot of mental dullness. I am not as quick-witted and mentally sharp as I used to be, and I'm sure it's not just because of aging. The change has been too drastic.

I've also been experiencing not just a difficulty but an an utter inability to focus, which may also be contributing to my difficulty in retaining recent information.

I've also been having a hard time the meanings of multiple-syllable words I am positively certain I used to know.

Bugger all this. I feel like my brain cells have committed hara-kiri in the shame of being treated with Lithium. Bugger, bugger, buggerbuggerbugger.

after september, things get better

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


Things often- if not always - get better after September. After a dip into the deeps, I lift into happier zones ad stay there for a while.

This past week has been a happy, full one. Since last Saturday's typhoon and massive flooding, I've been busy contributing my efforts into relief operations - packing, dropping off goods, visiting affected churchmates, photographing. I quite like the rush of being so busy - busy in a good, helpful and productive way. We've got this great big national problem, and I like the thought that i am a part of the solution.

wake me up when september ends, part 2

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


August to September is usually the time when I'm most pathetically depressed. Really, I'd much rather sleep through September and reboot when the mixed-but-mostly-elevated-episodes kick in (usually) in October. I was stuck in the blues for the past couple or twos, so I needed to turn to the happy yellow pills for some enlightenment. I'm doing better now; not quite fantastic but a bit more realistic. I was hoping I wouldn't have to turn to the yellow pills again because though they give me a helpful and much-appreciated lift, they boost anx., agit. and aggr.

Of course the very loving Hubby's constant affection and emotional support has been extremely beneficial in establishing some sort of security and making life considerably easier. Without it, I would've ditched for good a long time ago.

There's something about the feeling of being not just loved, but needed and wanted as well, that makes me feel ... uh, I dunno ... significant? ... that life is worth all the turmoil? ... that here's something to be happy about despite internal rainy-days on-end? ... like there's a reason to live after all?

I want, I want to be want to be wanted,
I need, I need to be needed ...

And it was helpful to have met a nice older lady - non-doctor, non-counselor, non-church minister - who could help me heal.

It also doesn't hurt that I bought some new books to give me some new preoccupation.

I want you to want me
I need you to need me
I'd love you to love me
I'm beggin' you to beg me

I'll shine up the old brown shoes, put on a brand-new shirt
I'll get home early from work if you say that you love me...

wake me up when september ends

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


August to September is the span of time in which I am usually deepest in depression. Really, I'd much rather sleep through September. I was stuck in the blues for the past couple or twos, so I had to turn to those little yellow pills for a bit of help. Doing good now.

October to November, I usually get mixed-but-mostly-elevated episodes that are more fun to be in, so while I have nothing worthwhile to blog about for now, I look forward to October.

Pork

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


Crap. I'm revisiting the Doldrums again. So soon. Too soon, me thinks.

Dr. C calls it rapid cycling - I mean going into an episode, staying there for merely a few days then shifting into the opposite pole for a few days and then shifting back for a few days and so on. A look at my charts says I'm prone to rapid cycles.

I hate this. I was looking forward to a happy manic high all summer.

But wait - coming to think of it, this might actually only be a side-effect of going back on Lithium (I went off it unintentionally for a while, as mentioned in previous posts). I'm feeling that underwater sensation again, and I may be confusing it for depression. I'm not anxious or agitated - just numb and lightheaded and kinda sad - so maybe it isn't the Doldrums after all.

Speaking of Lithium side effects, I'm having some dizziness, headaches and body pains (but no fever); some nausea (but no vomiting). And if I use my eyes too much (like when I read or watch the telly), the headache gets vicious. It's the exact experience as it was when I first started taking Lithium, I mean, before I got used to it. Blech. Those symptoms faded out in about two or three months as I got used to my medication, but the underwater effect and numbness-sadness stayed on.

And no surprise - I gained weight. Just like the first time I took Lithium. Even if I stayed on the same diet and daily activities. Heck, I've even been eating less these days! But the pudging-up is so obvious and I feel so puffy and porky.

Oink oink.

I noticed that If didn't engage myself in some activity, it would be easy for me to slump into the blues. As long as I kept myself busy, I'd be fine (so yeah , maybe it isn't really a depression after all). But here's the dilemma: I get too dizzy and headachey if I engage my eyes. Like right now, typing at the keyboard. Darn this. I have to rest my head for a while. I've been having to rest my head so often that I feel like nothing is happening in a day.

Porky behavior. Eat and play and have to sleep every now and then. The result is a porky appearance. Darn this. Bright idea to break the Lithium habit, eh? I really shouldn't try that again.

Normal, Garden-Variety, Like-I-Don't-Have-A-Chemical-Imbalance Days,

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


My 365Project is keeping me busy, and I'm enjoying it immensely so far. It helps me remember that I'm supposed to be artistically inclined.

I think I'm at baseline. Everything's generally fine, fine fine these days. More or less, I mean. I suppose it also depends on whether I took my meds or not. I confess I haven't haven't been entirely consistent. Same old. Days are relatively normal, garden-variety, like-I-don't-have-a-chemical-imbalance days; so I guess that means I won't have interesting blog entries for a while.

These days I'm around the neighborhood of stable - dysphoric - slightly depressed - slightly manic. Still haven't mastered the proper medicine intake ratio.

It's that time again that I simply detest having to go to sleep at night, either because I'm too sad that I'd hate to face another blah day, or because I'm elevated and inspired ad excited about what to do the next day. I ran out of my sleep medicine (lost the prescription, have to make a long trip to Dr. C again soon) so I just have to depend on melatonin for now - and it doesn't do much. Going to sleep is a mad challenge. I can't even stay asleep.

And while I stay up at night, the rabbits stay awake too (Coming to think of it, I haven't seen Davey take a long sleep in a while; the poor, unsleeping rabbit must be acquiring my poor sleeping habits).

If my fluctuations follow a similar pattern to those of the last few years, I should be stable to slight in the next couple of weeks, maybe dip slightly, then spike come March, and continue on the upward swing through April and probably peak in May (unless properly curbed by the Lithium intake) and come down slowly in June and crash sometime August-September. I'm glad that summers are happy at least.

Lah-dee-dah...

'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.

I Could Use The Excess Energy For a Busy Week

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


Today was a busy and tiring day, but an extremely fun one. The coming week will be full of days like this - I'm helping to organize an event and I'm excited and anxious. This event means a lot - well, for me personally - since we've never done something like this before and there's this (manic) sense of making history.

I can feel the weather escalating. The signs are there.
No need for yellow pills in almost a week. That's certainly good.
Apparent need for the Li daily. May indicate something not-so-good. But as long as I'm faithful with the Li, I suppose I 'll be fine.

Yesterday, I felt like I went monster. Like I needed to be bridled emotions-wise. Too much excitement and agitation; I might have been too intense for some. That usually happens when I'm inclining toward elevation.

The busy schedule of the coming week may be a succession of triggers. I'm tempted to skip my meds; I'm thinking I could use the excess energy of a Lithium-low this week as I help plan and execute an event. Besides, the calling-down-fire kind of faith could be useful right now.

But I also know that If I do skip, things could turn ugly. I don't want to risk becoming a megalomanic, murderous idjit.

So okay. I make a choice to be faithful to the meds this week. I'll need that.

Lift

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

Dear God,
Thanks for the lift. I'm glad that I haven't had to take the yellow pills in more than a week (uh, consider as well the fact that I'm stretching my last one until the next batch arrives.. still, I haven't had to take it). But yeah, thanks; I really like it.

I was actually worried at the beginning of the month since (according to my previous charted data on my BMD fluctuations), September is the time that I usually dip, sometimes into severe depression. I made arrangements to replenish the mood-lifters (yellow pills) as a precaution, but so far so good.

I think it's also partially because of a few cheerer-uppers in the previous week:

• I got to spend some time hanging out with some girl-friends. A nice birthday picnic on the holiday.
• Couple-friends got married
• I went gift-shopping for the bridal shower and for the newlyweds. I love picking out gifts and wrapping them.
• I had a Dairy Queen brownie temptation blizzard.
• Hubby stayed home because he had a fever. It wasn't so bad since it meant I didn't have to stay home alone.
• The in-laws returned from a trip abroad and hubby and I spent some time with them.
• A whole lot of pancakes.

I like cheerer-uppers. The goal is to stay safely in the green zone. With sufficient cheerer-uppers, I may not need to resort to the yellow pills. Life is good.