more tales from my memoirs as a manic-depressive teen

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


After having spent the weekend at the beach while on muscle relaxants, I feel like I'm on a big, fat, mallow-flavored cloud. I had hoped to get a light tan to give myself a healthy-looking glow, but there wasn't much sun these past two days - which was great too since that meant cool-ish weather.

Nothing remarkable or noteworthy to blog about on being bipolar this week. That's sometimes the case when I remain at baseline / slight episodes: things are so okay, they're just ... okay.

But I'm not complaining, alright?

Just so this blog won't go to sleep, I thought about sharing another scrap from the memoirs of my manic-depressive youth. I suppose it was from lounging in the pool that I happened to remember a distant pool-related incident from when I was a teenager. In the said incident I exhibited a tremendous amount of antagonistic energy during an apparent manic episode: I pushed a boy into a swimming pool. Why did I do it?, you may ask. To this day, I will answer that I thought it was fun. To be honest, I'm still laughing.

I was seventeen and had just started college. A friend of mine from high school thought of getting some of her acquaintances together for a bit of bonding. She was planning to hold an 18th birthday bash in a couple of months and wanted participants in the program to get along before then. Since it was just a small, unstructured get-together, and since I was one of those involved in her said upcoming event anyway, I volunteered our place.

At that time, I lived with my mom in an upscale apartment complex that had a pool and a large party area. Perfect even for small, unstructured get-togethers. After all the expected people arrived and before anyone got dressed for swimming, my friend (the then-debutante-to-be) collected everyone by the poolside for an activity that was supposed to be an ice breaker and relationship builder in one. She put us in little groups, and each group was to build free-standing but buoyant structures out of drinking straws.

In another group was this guy from the other university who I'd met only a few minutes earlier. He seemed like a very nice person, only he came off as ever so slightly annoying, and was a tiny bit of a know-it all, the kind that could benefit from a little more loosening up. At the moment that their structure was being tested, he was crouching conveniently at the edge of the pool, showing off the Marithe & Francois Girbaud tag on his rump (the year was 1995; jeans were worn low-waist). I tiptoed over to his branded behind and gave it a shove, and ka-ploosh! The neatly dressed, neatly-pressed Atenean was chest-deep in pool water, fancy jeans, leather shoes eyeglasses and all. And I -- well, I laughed away.

The other guys thought that was rather shocking, though not completely unpleasant. The girls thought it was absolutely appalling. Prior to this little gathering by the way, my friend the then-debutante-to-be and a few of our other kabarkadas had already warned the other people about me, that I could be quite an obnoxious pain in the neck. See what a handful I was - my friends thought it necessary to warn people about me so they can brace themselves when I got too vicious.

After I'd had my needed dose of fun, I apologized to the poor bloke and offered the use of our shower. I took him up to our apartment and waited until he finished while the others commenced by the pool area. So yeah, for a solid chunk of time I was alone in an apartment with a guy I just met, who was right at that time taking a shower. Kinky. Seemed like a predictable setup for a B-rate teen porno plot, but no, we weren't the tinyest bit attracted to each other. At least not at that time. ;)

After that day, my friend the then-debutante-to-be thought it clever to stick us together for her cotillion de honor. She said it was because he was the tallest guy, and I was the second-tallest girl, but the tallest girl was close friends with this other guy, so it made sense to pair me with Mr. Girbaud jeans. Needless to say, I had to spend whole afternoons every weekend for the next few months practicing with him, filling up awkward silences with equally awkward apologies.

He apparently came to forgive me, and we eventually became close friends. Due to a daily telephone habit, there was a very slight attraction that grew on both sides, though never really enough to make anything out of, and not ever much for B-rate teen porno scenes. I don't recall how we ended up being not friends anymore, but just as with most of my friends from that period, I dropped out of their lives and hadn't bothered to keep in touch. I thought of finding him on Facebook, but I don't remember his name.

So that was today's tale from the memoirs of a manic-depressive teen. And as abruptly as it began, so shall it end.

discerning the voices

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

I recently read this article written by Matthew Robert Payne, a Christian who happens to be bipolar. I like reading up on "Christian bipolarity", pretty much since I'm in that boat and I want to know other people's thoughts and professional opinions on it.

Payne is also a minister of sorts and a prophetic one at that. He discusses a bit of the challenge that comes with the territory. He says,

Bipolar has a stigma also that takes its toll.

People assume because you have something wrong with your mind that you are stupid also.

As a born again Christian who hears from God this puts me in a funny camp. Some people consider because I am Bipolar that I am NOT hearing from God and am deluded. This sort of relegates me to the side or the fringes in my Christian experience. Because I hear "voices" people assume that I NEVER hear the right "voice" and that they should not listen to anything I say that I feel God is saying to me and to them.

Of course when I consult a professional they are not too helpful as they call my voices auditory hallucinations. I am not really sure what they think, in all my years of seeing doctors, but they definitely DON'T think I am hearing from God as they don't believe in God.

Sometimes I wish I knew a Christian expert in mental illness. Some-one that knows the "voices" I hear[could also be either] the Holy Spirit and evil spirits, some one that knows the difference between them being "in me" these spirits or just communicating with me.

Besides being misunderstood and having a stigma, we are left to suffer alone ...

Taken from here.

I get what he means. It sucks that people around you think you're an idiot and treat you like you're unimportant because you have these weird mood swings.

This is one reason why I make such a darned big deal about my intelligence - my genius-level IQ, my eidetic memory and my skill with language - so much so that I seem overtly, annoyingly arrogant. Of course I'm arrogant. Well, not only do I have enough right reason to be since I truly am so wickedly smart *snicker snicker*; but it's because this conceit serves as my defense of sorts - it's my way of overcompensating for the stigma I am well too aware of (translated: it's my coping mechanism for my insecurity, hahaha). I will not allow people to treat me like an idiot, and I want to make sure they know that I am an intelligent, rational, logical, analytical human being capable of complex abstractions with a higher IQ than most, and with the rare ability to switch brain dominance at will. I want everyone to be aware that I am not stupid, and that my opinion should matter to them.

I am not illogical nor deluded either. I may have mild hallucinations from time to time when my episodes shoot to extremes, but that does not make me deluded. I am far too intelligent and analytical to know what makes sense and what doesn't.

Yes I do hear voices and noises in my head, but they do not communicate with me, and I sure as hell don't interact with them. They can make me feel afraid or upset me, but they don't affect me at other than an emotional level. It's not hard to tell that they're just all in my head, so it's quite easy to separate them from "real life".

I also happen to be a prophetic Christian, and other Christians who've worked with me and know me well can attest that most of my prophetic messages are spot-on, i.e., apparently inspired by God. I just fear what Mr. Matthew Robert Payne fears - that people will just think "it's all in my head" too, nothing but symptoms of the bipolar hallucinations.

The thing is, it's quite easy for me to distinguish the voice of the Holy Spirit. When He speaks, I have ways to determine that it's really Him and not some hallucination.

• Firstly and most importantly, He will never say anything that contradicts himself. His messages will agree with His already-written Word (the Bible).
• He puts the focus on the Lord, not on myself or any person for that matter. It will make me want to worship or at least thank Him.
  
• Even if His message is a warning or a rebuke, it leaves a positive note, like hope or an encouragement. It will promote love, righteousness, peace and joy. It will not leave me (or any other recipient) depressed or hopeless.
  
• He comes on strong. He may speak softly in whispers or impressions, but with His message comes a resonating conviction.
• The easiest way to check is when someone else receives the same message and confirms it.

So there. Not so hard, is it?

It's also not so hard to discern demonic spirits:

• The easiest way to tell is when the Holy Spirit shows me. And that's that.
• Since I worked as a minister in church, I have in the past come face-to-face with people manifesting demons at deliverance sessions (a.k.a, "exorcisms"), and I feel a bit of anger when encountering a demon. If it's just fear, it's probably just my head and not a demon.
• When a Christian tells a demon to shut up, it recognizes the power of God and obeys, especially if you speak scripture against it. If it doesn't obey, it's likely not a demon but a persistent figment of the imagination.

And I'm quite sure I don't have demons in my head. Besides, demons rarely talk directly and so exposedly to committed followers of Christ like myself, because they know we can easily use scriptures against them.

I'm fortunate that I have two doctors that are both Christians. It's just too bad though that Dr. C's office is like three cities away, and I haven't gone in a while because it's such a major effort to go there. Dr. Z, on the other hand, is more accessible; it's just that she was fairly recently widowed and I feel like a pig for wanting to ask for her help when she needs comfort herself.

Still, the uninformed people around me might prefer to be narrow-minded about all this, so it's good to have a ready defense. I've found that it's advantageous to have a rock-solid argument to cram down their puny little minds, and deliver it using impeccable English in three-or-more syllable words, with a defiant, I-am-definitely-smarter-than-you attitude that makes them feel stupid and compels them to shut up. It might not make them change their mind, but at least they will know that I am not one to be underestimated. Sure, I have insecurities; but that does not mean I have to be inferior.

(I'm pretty sure I feel this strong right now because I'm presently sitting on the baseline, and my self-image will change when I get depressed. I'll be more self-centered then but less vocal.)

Schadenfreude

severe elevation | high elevation | moderate elevation | slight elevation | stable | slight depression | moderate depression | deep depression | severe depression || anx: 0 | agit: 1



I recently received a bit of news about a certain other person and how she was found to have a physical illness that will incapacitate her for the rest of her life. Though this person is someone who is supposed to be (meaning expected to be considering the affinity and circumstances, but never actually has been by our personal preferences, but at the level of maintaining a level of civility) a friend, I find myself not having the least bit of sympathy for her.

Okay, okay. Before I am accused of being heartless and cruel: I may feel a little bit sorry for her.

But really, it seems I'm not as concerned about her as other people are.

For that matter, I sense a slight tinge of Well, there you go. Ha-ha! Even a little spark of (shameful) joy and hope that she'll be moving further into the background of my day-to-day scenery. I'm sorry, I am so evil. Shame on me.

And I can't help thinking that she deserves it, considering that she hasn't been very merciful toward other people. I'm sorry. I'm really vile. Well, fine, if "she deserves it" is too strong a sentiment, then let me shift into saying that it'll be good for her in the sense that it will cause her to sympathize with others, i.e., those others whom she previously considered lower and weaker than herself and treated with indifference.

Perhaps it's just my miffled-muffled state right now that keeps me from sending softy-warm emotions her way.

But I know that's not it, because I have still softy emotions today for people (even animals) I like.

Aww, H - E - double hockey sticks, it's schadenfreude, i admit it.

It just so happens that the aforementioned friendly non-friend with said debilitating physical sickness is also the same person whom I found to be one of the most unsympathetic toward me when I sought mercy as I struggled with a severe depression, and even later when I revealed that the depression turned out to be part and parcel of Bipolarity.

I just can't withdraw enough from my nicey-nice-sentiments bank for someone who just didn't make enough deposits. I don't even want to try.

I'm not going to be unkind to her or anything like that. I'm not entirely apathetic either. It's just that it's difficult for me to be sincerely concerned.

yes, i bite

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

I'm having doubts about being the director of the little production I got involved in. I still really want to do it, I'm pretty sure about that. But I'm not too confident about myself handling all the stress that'd come with the package.

I just barked at some people recently - over some seemingly small thing to them but an apparently large problem for me. Naturally I didn't think it was wrong for me to do so while I was in the incident; as far as I was concerned my reaction was in proper proportion to my anxiety and agitation. Which the other people didn't sense of course. It was only after I had withdrawn myself from the stressors that I realized I'd probably been to much for them.

I did not overreact. Triggered bipolars do not overreact. We're just really prone to excessive emotion on either end of the spectrum, depending on which side of the spectrum we're sitting on at any given time. I really hate it when people say inappropriate, insensitive things like "You're overreacting," or "Why are you angry?". Darnit. A lot of times there isn't any reason there doesn't have to be one; just an ongoing episode. Like I said, my reaction was in proper proportion to my anxiety and agitation.

But none of them "normal" folk give a damn about that explanation of course.

So anyway. Back to the directing business. I still want to do it, but I may end up murdering one too many unsuspecting victims and thus once again end up on everyone's list of most unlikeable people. Oh, screw them for getting in the way of my psychosis. I just hate everyone right now.

Venomous Head-Biting Week

severe elevation | high elevation | moderate elevation | slight elevation | stable | slight depression | moderate depression | deep depression | severe depression || anx:1, agit:2



I just about bit heads off this week.

I'm not proud of it of course; it's just a fact. I'm owning up. I hadn't been taking my Lithium as often as I should have been.

Alright, alright; I'm a nasty bwitch. I've always been one and I'm hopelessly wicked. And I deserve to go to Hell.

But so do you, so get over it.

Yeah hell, I'm evil. This week had an unmanageable overflow of vitriol. Of course, people around me have been heavily guilty of being idjits too, but I admit it's primarily my fault for being chemically imbalanced and not being responsible enough to take the proper dosage of medication.

And here's why: I entertained the idea that it might possibly be beneficial to skip the mood-suppressors these days - for a good reason actually. I have a long list of things to do and I want to be productive. I thought of maxing out on the energy and creativity that come with the elevation, so I didn't mind being faithful with the meds. Of course if I allow the elevation, I allow all the other things that come with it - including the irrational anxiety, the extreme irritability, an overbloated sense of self-importance, a blatant disregard for other people, a wicked-quick mind and razor-sharp tongue that doesn't ever back down on hacking-and-slashing especially when provoked.

Thus the vile predicament of being in a position once again of having to apologize for my behavior. I went on a hacking-and-slashing spree because of my obsessive need to be productive. Big sigh.

Some people are prolly tired of it, but I'm certain they aren't even half as tired of it as I am. They can call me abusive if they like; they're entitled to their own opinion. I can at least have it to my credit that I actually bother to make apologies and restitution later on, (unlike some others who aren't even bipolar, so there), so I technically can't be accused of being insensitive, unforgiving, unChristian and / or a jerk. Hmph [SNORT!]

Go hang yourself, I'd like to say to them. Or go hang me. Whichever is fine by me. See if i care.

But seriously, I hate being in this place but can't seem to help ending up in it over and over again, no matter how much I try to avoid it. Believe me, I have been.

Or don't believe me. You can just stone me and heap judgment on your own head. See. I told you you deserve it.

Hearts All Over The World Tonight?

severe elevation|high elevation| moderate elevation| slight elevation|stable| slight depression|moderate depression|deep depression|severe depression||anx: 1, agit: 3


Ugh. Not tonight - not for me anyway. Today 's just too tiring, I feel like pulled taffy. Maybe on Monday.

I think it's been a week that I haven't been taking my meds. I'm not really doing it on purpose; I just keep forgetting to take those frakkin' pills. Raspberries to me. I haven't been journalling faithfully either. It's not that I've been busy or anything; I guess I've just been too scatterbrained lately.

Right now I just feel so wound up - not so much in a good way - and antsy and anxious and just about ready to maim some random bloke. Blam! Blam! Blam! Blam! I don't feel particularly angry toward anyone; I just feel extra tense and pent-up and I have to let it out somehow.

I think I managed to mow down a few people earlier. Without doing it on purpose of course.

Racing mind and rambling mouth again today. I must have delivered several thousand words, and no properly finished sentences. I'm not sure I was coherent. I need to check tomorrow with those people I talked to, whether I made sense or a fool of myself.

Earlier I made an unnecessary mess in the kitchen as I washed the bunnies' food bowls. For some reason, Watto from Star Wars: The Phantom Menace was on my mind. I had this mad urge to exaggerate my movements - I just had to shake the bottled tension out. Splish, splash. Im glad I did, despite the mess I made. I just thought of it as performance art that no one got to see.

'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.

unappreciation day

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


I whine online (insert frowny here) because I am indeed a jerk.

I kept wishing I drank sleeping pills this morning. A still am actually. Wishing, I mean.

I ask myself, what was I thinking, expecting this day to be a good one? I drag myself too early out of bed, dress all dressy and submit myself to the depression-worsening torture of being a prop. An accessory. An extension. An appendage. An escort service. A tool. A decoration.

Banished to the oubliette out of convenience but fetched to be the recipient of certain expectations, worthy of being overlooked and awarded a bunch of ugly ornamental foliage. Go, have your fun, fuss all over him and forget me. Isn't he amazing and ain't I a wonderful accessory. Skills and talents that compliment him - the very things i hoped not to hear. All I am is a talented person, like the guy said, but pretty much useless. Damn their insensitivity. I don't doubt someone will offer the unsolicited harangue of further unappreciation and expectations and such without offering any ears or sympathy. Frustration-dumping and control obtaining that the guy said I deserve under the guise of care. That's the staple. Welcome to the fellowship of the holy and perfect, you must be holy and perfect.

Please don't make me go to the next one if you want me to survive this episode. And don't pretend to care if all you will do is dictate more expectations. I'm too exhausted for any more and I really feel like quitting. Signing off. Taking a bow. Tapping out. Saying good night. No more please. Words don't help unless they are sorry, so please don't bother.

i don't want to be the one to rain on your special day, but... uh ... yeah, i do

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


Petty rant mode .

I know some time ago I said something along the lines of "weddings are happy things and weddings are good things and I like going to weddings and blah blah blah and whee" .

But I don't feel that way today. I'd even like to tell the girl who'd said that to bugger off. I'm leaning toward pissed right now that I have to go to one later that I actually bothered to vent before getting ready to go.

Darn. I don't want to be so assholic about being invited, but I feel like that it's such an unfitting formality that we were, and inconveniently ethical that we show up at the special day of this particular couple. Besides, there isn't really a sufficient reason why we couldn't drop by.

I know. I'm being petty. The bride and the groom didn't do anything wrong. I'm just being a total jerk because I feel awful today.

So okay, we'll drop by . Just to be nice. But we were too busy and broke to pick out a gift this week, so there, I'm sorry.

I sometimes hate how brides want their weddings to be overly formal and insist their guests to wear evening gowns in the morning or afternoon. It's a really unnecessary hassle in a tropical country. At least today's bride is a little bit more flexible about her guest's attire.

The bride at the last wedding I went to wasn't so; I thought she was really primadonna about it, and I was bitchy enough to let her know while she was just about to march. Fine, it was supposed to be her day, and she's my friend, so I gave in to her wishes though it was an utter inconvenience (as in, something enough to make me cry in frustration) and a big waste of time and money for a dress I don't even want to see again. I'm letting her enjoy her honeymoon haze for a while because I'd like to pretend I have manners and breeding and respect for the new couple; but the next time I go out for coffee with her, I'm unleashing.

It really hurts my budget to have to buy another dress. I'd hate to wear an old one again, because people have seen it several times (same church, same circle of friends in the x number of weddings in the past few years). Truthfully, my savings are still in the ICU from certain expenses, including that last stupid dress I had to buy. And I hate having to go to events like these looking like a worn out dishrag next to my girl-friends who actually found something nice to put on.

I am so not looking forward to going in an outfit I don't like, that I can 't even think about what to do with my hair or make up. I haven't even bothered to rub off the old, jagged nail polish on my fingers. The thing is in an hour and I haven't even showered yet. Groan...