The Tide is Changing

I can feel it, the levelness breaking away. Insomnia is starting,  staying up later. Which way will it go; mania or depression? How long will it last? To what extreme?

It is nice to be so aware,  but it is also a curse.  It's not just the insomnia,  the eating too. My mood has been very snappy.

Let's see where this goes and how long it keeps me there.

New Found Sanity

Recently, with a lot of help from my mother,  I moved out of the place I had with my boyfriend and his children and into a place that I can call my own. Granted, I am not alone; I have my son, dog, and cat with me, but it is all mine.

It is a cozy (small) two bedroom house with a great yard,  down the street from a playground.  Just enough for us.

In the weeks that have followed the move, I have noticed a huge reduction in stress and better use if coping skills. Yes, it is scary being responsible for all of this and not being able to predict or control certain changes or events, but with the support of family and friends, I got this!

My Time in the Psych Ward: What Tomorrow Brought

I woke up that Tuesday morning to the sun shining in through the window. The clock on the otherwise bare, stark white wall, said it was a little after seven. The door to my room was open a few inches, but I did not hear much outside if it.  I vaguely remembered someone telling me breakfast was at eight, but first things first, I had to pee.

I walked down to the nurses station, trying to observe and take in everything I could. No one at the station was familiar from the night before, but that would make sense. I did not speak when I got to the nurse's station; I didn't have to. My blank stare and wide eyes, a look they must have seen a million times before, spoke for me. One woman asked very sweetly, like if I were a lost three-year old, if I was Danielle. I just nodded. They all greeted me and a short round of introductions were given. Then she asked me, in that soft, sweet voice, if I need to use the bathroom. Again, I just nodded and someone came with me back to my room to unlock my bathroom door.

Bathroom doors are locked until you get doctor’s approval to have it kept unlocked.

I opened the shower curtain and realized the all-in-one cleanser was mounted to the wall in a soap dispenser. My hair was gonna love this… I turned on the water for the shower and was blown away; it had so much pressure that I actually let it beat on my shoulders, back, and neck for a massage. I stayed in there so long, had it so hot, I was almost limp when I got out, but I felt amazing.

Now I was ready to face my day.

For the next two days I spent most of my time in some sort of therapy. It was very therapeutic and I really started to feel better, like I had more direction, an idea of what I needed to help myself.

The rest of my visit was pretty much therapy and eating, three hots and cot, with my own bathroom, and housekeeping was through daily. The social worker gave me a list of resources to help me when I went back home.

Wednesday night, I ate my last meal with my new friends and left the hospital. My first stop was the pharmacy to fill a bunch of new prescriptions, the second stop was to see my son. It had been almost a week since I had seen him, and when he called me when I was in the hospital, I almost cried talking to him. I went to his dad’s house, gave him the biggest hug I could. I tucked him into bed, we chatted a little, and I sang Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star for him.

I collected my dog, who was also staying at dad’s, and went home. As a side note, the dog was so happy to see me, that he pushed my son out of the way multiple times to get a hug.

When I got home, everyone was watching tv in the living room. I got the dog set up, said hello to the cat, made a very stiff drink and just went into my room and closed over the door.

A little bit later, my boyfriend came in to check on me, sat with me for a little bit and then just let me be. Tomorrow was going to be a whole new day.

My Time in the Psych Ward: The First Night

As I mentioned previously, this is actually something I thought would be easy to talk about, but to describe it is just really weird.  I wish I had a better word for it.

Walking up to the Adult Psychiatric Unit was scary; it was dark and we were escorted by security.  I had no idea what to expect.  The nurses for the unit told me to have a seat in a chair across from the nurse's station.  They took my bag and went through it; I was able to keep my journal and colored pencils.  I traded in my draw-string shorts for scrub pants, and my hair clip for a elastic pony.  I was handed a paper cup with a toothbrush and toothpaste in it.  They took my blood pressure, temperature, and asked me a bunch of intake questions while I was eating a box lunch.

I just remember being scared.  Everyone kept telling me I was safe; but I was still scared.  Of what?  Well I am not exactly sure.  Everything I guess.  What was tomorrow going to bring?  What was going to happen to my son?  Sure he was with his dad that night, but I was supposed to pick him up from the sitter the next day.  How was he going to react when I asked him to pick him up.  Would I be able to ask him?  What was tomorrow going to bring?

I was assigned my room, given a list of rules and told what time breakfast was.  I was also given two towels and one of those huge water mugs/bottles that are so common in hospitals.  It even had my name on it.  I took in the room; it could easily be converted for two people if needed, two desks, two dressers, two chairs, two sitting chairs, but only one bed.

I laid down and tried to sleep, my mind was pretty numb at this point, but all I could do was cry.  I cried for at least another hour.  Who knew I had any more tears to shed.  Eventually I fell asleep.  I slept solid, for the first time in a long time, even though I had no idea what morning, as it was already tomorrow, would bring.

The Medication Roller Coaster

Do not be afraid of medication when diagnosed with a mental illness; it can actually be your friend and help you lead a normal life.  Unfortunately, it is usually a roller coaster of a ride until you find the one, or combination, of meds and dosages that work for you.  This can be a scary thing, but you have to trust in yourself and  your provider that you will figure it out.  

New medications take time to become effective, and the first couple of weeks on a new one can really suck.  Sometimes, even after your body has become use to it, you will still have side effects.  It is important to weigh if they are something you can live with, or if you have to try a different dosage or medication.  

Something else to consider is that once you have been on a medication for a while, your body may become immune to it.  In this case, you may need a new dosage, or even a new med, starting the roller coaster again.  This is not a bad thing!  It is just part of it all.  

Some of the medications may not even be for mental illness; but commonly known to treat something else.  Do not freak out; your doctor is not nuts, some drugs have been known to treat things other than what they were created for.  

Make sure you have an open dialogue with your doctor and your pharmacist.  They will make this roller coaster a lot easier to ride. 

Back to Life, Back to Reality

Monday I went back to work after almost three months off.  Even before that I worked sporadically.  Now I am committing to forty hours a week.  Why?  Well I need to get back into reality.  I am currently living in a toxic situation and need to move my family (my son, dog, and cat) out of our current domicile and into something better, mentally healthier.  

As an update, I now see a therapist about once a month, my shrink about every six weeks, and liking my meds.  I have a list of AA groups for the area, and mental support groups.  Hopefully I can find something in them, some sort of peace or validation.  

I feel like I am starting life over again, new job, new place to live, new goals.  Starting over, again.  We can do this though, we’ll do it together.  I’ll help you by pouring my heart out online and you’ll help me by liking or viewing my posts.  Another goal is to not leave you hanging so long between posts, and to finish things that I have started.

Wish us luck!  We are going to need it :)

Danielle

My Time in the Psych Ward: The Breaking Point

Lake Winnebago

I am really trying to put this all together, but I am finding it very hard to organize all of my thoughts, so I figured I am going to try and start from the being, my breaking point.  I currently live with my boyfriend, his seventeen year old mentally disturbed son, my dog, my cat, and half of the time my five year old son, and my boyfriend's sixteen year old daughter.  If that is not a formula for stress, I do not know what is.  Throw in useless social workers from Winnebago County Child Protective Services and a couple of dead beat moms and you have the perfect cocktail that no combination of medication can cure.  Skipping a bunch of the personal details for their sake, I left my house in tears after a argument with the boyfriend and found myself crying hysterically in the park.

I do not remember driving there, I just remember saying over and over to myself that I couldn't be here (home) and slamming the door behind me.  The park is just blocks from my house and I probably subconsciously thought that sitting by the water would help, since the beach was always my refuge when I lived on the East Coast. Staring out at Lake Winnebago was the best Wisconsin had to offer at the time.  After a few minutes of watching the small waves break, I knew I needed help.  I wasn't right, something was wrong.  I drove to the hospital, parked in emergency and sliced my wrist with a box cutter that I had in the truck.  I walked through the doors, hysterical and could not even talk to the lady at the reception desk.  She just had me write down my name and date of birth, and when she asked me my symptoms, I just held up my wrist (I just want to note that I am a chicken and barely broke the skin, the fact that I actually attempted to do this is really what had me in hysterics), she nodded and told me to go have a seat.

There was only one other person in the waiting area, she started talking to me.  She asked me if I was okay, and all I could manage to answer her with were sobbing nods.  She talked very plainly to me, and told me that I was going to be alright, I did it the wrong way, so I will be fine she said.  I was having a nervous breakdown she said, she told me she had had a couple herself.  The whole time I could not stop crying, a nurse came to get me shortly after, I did not even hear him call my name, the lady that was talking to me called him over to me.  I vaguely remember talking to other nurses and the doctor, but I remember talking to that lady clear as day.  Part of me now wonders if she was even there.  I spent a couple hours in the emergency room, I fell asleep watching Despicable Me 2.  When I woke up, I had no idea where I was or even what I was doing there for the first few minutes.

That night I voluntarily committed myself to the adult psychiatric ward.

My Time in the Pysch Ward: Introduction

So last week I was voluntarily admitted into the adult psychiatric ward at the local hospital after a suicide attempt.  I was originally going to only write one big post about it, but I have been having a hard time adjusting back home and I want to spend some time on certain things that I have experienced in the last week or so.  I also want to do some additional research on a few topics, hopefully adding in some information that you might find helpful.  If you would like to be notified when a new installment is added, please make sure to go to the desktop view and at the bottom of the page, you can sign up to receive email notifications.

One important thing is that I know I am not alone; you are not alone.

This is the most accurate description of how I feel.

Meds & Shrinks

Some days you are a bright flower,
others, you are wilting away.

I am so tired all of a sudden, the energy and motivation I had a half hour ago is just gone. I am lying here in bed, under the covers, trying to motivate myself to get up and do something. This post is my compromise.

I keep saying I am going to add some useful content to my posts, offer more information about bipolar disorder, but I just cannot seem to get my focus together. I think that is because of a couple things, the first being my living situation, and the second being my meds.

I had wanted to do a couple posts about medication and treatment because, well, they are important. I am not going to lie, it is a roller coaster trying to find the right medication or combination of medications and then dosage on top of that. It is kind of scary in a way; I had an allergic reaction to the very first one I tried and that threw me into a mania that resulted in me crying on a closet floor at work with a rash all over both arms.  

Not all people need medication and some will not function without it. It is also not a fix all. I happen to do well on medication and monthly med-check visits with my doctor. I have seen a therapist in the past, and have really benefited from the experience and am currently thinking of starting again. I just tend to not like most of them, so it takes me a while to find one I trust enough to pour my heart out too. And you know what? That is okay! It is okay to not like a therapist or doctor, just move on to the next one! Just ask yourself first, if you really do not like the level of care/treatment they provide, or do you just not like what they have to say because you think they are pompous?

I have been through a handful of therapists, but only on my second psychiatrist. Sometimes you hit gold, sometimes just dirt. A psychiatrist can prescribe medication, and due to a high demand and short supply, usually end up just doing med-check visits, while a therapist helps you sort out your thoughts. That is why a lot of people see both.

It is always a good idea to see your primary care physician to rule out any other health issues. Mine ran a full range of tests and gave me some questions to answer before referring me to a mental health provider. That was my second step, the first was realizing/admitting there was something wrong, things needed to change, I needed help on a professional level.

If you feel you cannot afford treatment, please contact your local Health and Human Services Department for low-income/no insurance options!

Different Stages, Different Authors

I think it is important that I mention that I write during ups (hypo-mania, mania) and downs (depression).  It may seem that there are two, or even three different people writing on here, but I promise, it is only me.  I do not have multiple personalities, my mind just functions at different speeds and levels of clarity so you might read something that seems relativity put together one day, but then something else full of raw emotion the next.  If you read Heart vs Brain then you know what I am talking about.

It is not just about ups and downs either, there are level times, which makes up most of my days.  It is a cycle, an semi-predictable one for me, but that is not always the case.  I can tell when I am riding high, when I am about to crash, and of course when I have crashed.  What I have not been able to pinpoint is when I will rise back up from a depression lull.  It used to be three days, like clockwork, but now the spats last longer, are undefined in severity and hold no pattern.  I can deal with being level, I can deal with hypo-mania, mania is a different story all its own, but depression, that can engulf you to the point that you do not get out of bed for three days.

......  I started this post three days ago an this is as far as I got.  I would finish it, but that thought is now lost.  I would delete it, but I want people to see that this is something that actually happens with my brain.

Danielle

Faulty Wiring

I wrote this short essay a couple of years ago as an extra credit project for Chemistry.  I hope you enjoy it and it gives you some insight!

Danielle

Bipolar Disorder: The Result of Faulty Wiring

The terms unipolar and bipolar were coined by German neurologist and psychiatrist, Karl Kleist, in 1953.  Our focus will be on bipolar, a disorder, not a disease.  How can you tell?  Well, you can catch a disease, but not a disorder.  It can be classified as a number of types of disorders, such as a Spectrum Disorder, in which there is a varying degree of severity of symptoms, a circular disorder, and mental, emotional, and behavioral disorder. 

Bipolar disorder is genetic.  Twenty to forty percent of people have the genetics to develop it and currently affects approximately six million people, over two million are American.  The biological and genetic roots run in families, but are blind to age, sex, race, and ethnicity.

In those that have the markers to develop it, it has to be triggered.  Triggers often include hormones (pre-menstruation and menopause), trauma, illness, injury, drug use, stress, and lack of sleep.  Once triggered, treatment, if diagnosed, would include medications and talk therapy.  Medications are prescribed on a trial and error basis, but research shows we are getting closer to a treatment based on science, not guessing.  Lithium is one of the original medications prescribed and worked well for unknown reasons, but newer drugs have taken its place.  One downside to lithium is that it is a salt and is processed in the kidneys, so in some patients, after a long period of time, a switch to a medication that does not go through the kidneys is made. 

Bipolar disorder is generally caused by a chemical imbalance that deregulate the bioelectric system, causing symptoms.  The amygdala, two almond-shaped groups of neurons (a cell body and two types of projections sometimes wrapped in myelin), play a large role in bipolar.  When physically stimulated, as in brain surgery, it has shown to trigger anger, euphoria, and hypersexuality.  It is located in the limbic system, or middle brain, which monitors all internal organs, and controls the pituitary gland.  It is the initial processing station for input coming from all of the senses. 

Between the neurons are gaps, called synapses, that send electric signals, which turn into neurotransmitters (chemical signals), and vice versa.  These signals tell cells when to release dopamine, serotonin, and norepinephrine, which are monamies.  This controls mood regulation, stress responses, pleasure, and reward.  Cognitive functions: concentration, attention, and executive functions, are also affected.  Brains scanned with bipolar disorder show an average of thirty-one percent more binding sites for signals in the thalamus (involved in sensory and motor signal relay and regulating consciousness and sleep), and twenty-eight percent more in the ventral brainstem.  Some of the cells at these sites are either not firing as much or others firing too much. 

With all of these unregulated signals, it is no wonder that one experiences manic and depressive episodes.  Episodes of mania can include racing thoughts, hypersexuality, rage, euphoria, an inflated ego, memory troubles, confabulation, brain chemical surges, psychogenic amnesia, decreased ability to sleep, unable to stop talking, easily distracted, mood swings, impulsive behavior, and poor risk assessment. Bipolar depression symptoms includes hopelessness, loneliness, helplessness, worthlessness, confusion, difficulty concentrating, self-loathing, indifference, loss of libido, recoiling from social events, lethargy, and thoughts of harming yourself or others.

When the very first episode is triggered, men usually have a maniac episode for the first time, and women tend to have a depressive episode.  As the social stigma is being lifted, there is more and more research being done to establish a cause and potentially a patient-specific treatment, even early screenings!

Bibliography

Bressert, S. (2013) The Causes of Bipolar Disorder (Manic Depression). Available at: http://psychcentral.com/lib/the-causes-of-bipolar-disorder-manic-depression (Accessed: 3 May 2015)

Carter, J. and Dempsy, B. (2009) The complete idiot’s guide to bipolar disorder. New York: Penguin Group (USA)

University of Michigan - General Clinical Research Center (2014) Are Brain Chemistry Oddities a Sign of Bipolar Disorder?. Available at: http://bipolar.about.com/cs/menu_science/a/press_umich0210.htm (Accessed: 3 May 2015)

Letting the Family In

How I feel sometimes when it comes to family..... Alone

So now I have an official diagnosis, a psychiatrist that I trust and some medication, which I will get into more about the medication cycles in another blog.  Now what?

Well, I told my husband (now ex) first, that went oh so well.  He was partially relived, but mostly he was embarrassed and did not want me telling any of our friends.  My brother was a riot, as always, and asked what the symptoms were so he could compare.  We self-diagnosed him ADHD, which is why I love my brother, we both can see the humor in any situation.  My aunt was super surprised, confused, worried, well, everything, but super supportive.  She asked a ton of questions, most of them I did not even know the answers too, so I had to research them and get back to her.  That is the extent of my relatives that know.  There is no reason my parents do not know, I just have not told them.  Some of my friends know, the good ones, you know that kind that you can call at two o'clock in the morning crying and they say they will be right there.  They laughed and said they have known for years, it's about time I figured it out.

So far, this may seem like fun and games, but I assure you that I understand the serious of this and use humor as a coping mechanism.  I cannot dwell on things, especially bad things, I have to roll my eyes, laugh at it and move on to the next step.

The stigma involving mental health is real, and even though I have not personally dealt with it yet, my aunt has encountered people spewing "facts" about what it is like to be bipolar, and how those diagnosed should all be locked up in a mental institution because they are all crazy and a danger to society.  She was flabbergasted, where I would have just rolled my eyes.

I am grateful to say that I have an amazing support group between friends, family, coworkers, and healthcare providers.  I see all of these memes and stuff on Facebook about how people went though hell and back alone and survived just fine, well good for them, but I promise you, you do not have too!!  Thinking about suicide just once, is once too many, knowing just one person that committed suicide is one too many...  Most counties have a Crisis program, that you can call at anytime of day or night and speak with a counselor.

There is also the National Suicide Prevention Hotline: 800-273-8255 or visit their website to learn more about helping out yourself or a friend.

Now that you know a little bit more about me, I hope you will want to come back and visit!!  Please feel free to follow me so you do not miss anything.

Danielle

To Be Kissed

When I picked the title, Kissed by Madness, it was a reference to being diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder.  I have always known that I marched to the beat of my own drum and did not see the need for some of society's rules, but it was something more than just being rebel.  When I hit puberty, things took on a new level.  I started experiencing mood swings, which every summed up to me being a teenage girl.  My thoughts were running wild, I went from being on the honor roll to not remembering what just came out of the teacher's mouth.  Things did not interest me as much, nothing interested me when I was down, I could not get enough of life when I was up (will explain more about ups and downs).  Things were just not adding up.

I talked to a couple of counselors and therapists, all who just dismissed me as being a confused teenager, and just said the heck with it-this is me.

Marching to your own beat is hard when the band is playing a different tune, and it has put me in some situations that I would prefer to not find myself in again, but on the flip side, (there is always a flip side with being Bipolar) I had some amazing experiences due to my bold nature.  I know I am being very vague here, but this is the first time I am publicly expressing all of this.  My hope is to do some follow up articles on Bipolar Disorder, including managing day-to-day tasks, parenting, being in a relationship, and dealing with your family and the stigma of mental health.  For right now though, I am just jotting down some thoughts on a page to share with you how I came to be.

Anything involving a commitment, such as a job or relationship, has always been hard for me. Monogamy is just not in my vocabulary and because of that, I am sure you could image that my relationships are generally pretty short.  I was actually married for almost thirteen years, but I was miserable on so many levels, so I got a divorce.  I will probably blog about that too, cause why not?!  Employment, even though necessary, is another evil.  I could hold down a job for anywhere from a month to three years.  I only passed the three year mark once and made it almost four.  The trick was that I had to constantly change what I was doing. Then I went part-time, that was the real ticket for me, but alas, I am unemployed again.

Does any of this sound familiar?  If so, please take comfort in knowing you are not alone.  If not, then please know that I know I am not alone and someone you care about may be feeling the same way.

In the Spring of 2010, I found out I was pregnant with my first and only child.  I was 31-years old, married, a home-owner, had two cats, and two dogs.  We tried for years before giving up.  It had been years since we gave up.  But now, in the middle of a bathroom demolition, sledgehammer and all, I found out I was going to be a mom, to a human.  This was the beginning of the end of my sanity and life as I knew it.  Little did I know that in a few short months I would be a lunatic, being pregnant was my stresser, the one thing that ended up pushing me over the fence between sanity and psychotic.
I suddenly had no patience for people, I would snap and yell.  I had no filter, what ever I thought of you at the moment is what came out of my mouth.  I did not even try to put my normal spin of sarcastic elegance on it.  Ladies and gentlemen, I was a c*nt, with a capital C.  After I had the baby (boy), I mellowed out a little, but that did not last long, soon I was ready to be out on the town instead of stuck home with a husband and baby.  When I was pulled over and arrested for drunk driving, my life took another turn, a turn onto the long, bumpy road of recovery, so to speak.

In February of 2013, I was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder.

To Be Kissed

When I picked the title, Kissed by Madness, it was a reference to being diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder.  I have always known that I marched to the beat of my own drum and did not see the need for some of society's rules, but it was something more than just being rebel.  When I hit puberty, things took on a new level.  I started experiencing mood swings, which every summed up to me being a teenage girl.  My thoughts were running wild, I went from being on the honor roll to not remembering what just came out of the teacher's mouth.  Things did not interest me as much, nothing interested me when I was down, I could not get enough of life when I was up (will explain more about ups and downs).  Things were just not adding up.

I talked to a couple of counselors and therapists, all who just dismissed me as being a confused teenager, and just said the heck with it-this is me.

Marching to your own beat is hard when the band is playing a different tune, and it has put me in some situations that I would prefer to not find myself in again, but on the flip side, (there is always a flip side with being Bipolar) I had some amazing experiences due to my bold nature.  I know I am being very vague here, but this is the first time I am publicly expressing all of this.  My hope is to do some follow up articles on Bipolar Disorder, including managing day-to-day tasks, parenting, being in a relationship, and dealing with your family and the stigma of mental health.  For right now though, I am just jotting down some thoughts on a page to share with you how I came to be.

Anything involving a commitment, such as a job or relationship, has always been hard for me. Monogamy is just not in my vocabulary and because of that, I am sure you could image that my relationships are generally pretty short.  I was actually married for almost thirteen years, but I was miserable on so many levels, so I got a divorce.  I will probably blog about that too, cause why not?!  Employment, even though necessary, is another evil.  I could hold down a job for anywhere from a month to three years.  I only passed the three year mark once and made it almost four.  The trick was that I had to constantly change what I was doing. Then I went part-time, that was the real ticket for me, but alas, I am unemployed again.

Does any of this sound familiar?  If so, please take comfort in knowing you are not alone.  If not, then please know that I know I am not alone and someone you care about may be feeling the same way.

In the Spring of 2010, I found out I was pregnant with my first and only child.  I was 31-years old, married, a home-owner, had two cats, and two dogs.  We tried for years before giving up.  It had been years since we gave up.  But now, in the middle of a bathroom demolition, sledgehammer and all, I found out I was going to be a mom, to a human.  This was the beginning of the end of my sanity and life as I knew it.  Little did I know that in a few short months I would be a lunatic, being pregnant was my stresser, the one thing that ended up pushing me over the fence between sanity and psychotic.
I suddenly had no patience for people, I would snap and yell.  I had no filter, what ever I thought of you at the moment is what came out of my mouth.  I did not even try to put my normal spin of sarcastic elegance on it.  Ladies and gentlemen, I was a c*nt, with a capital C.  After I had the baby (boy), I mellowed out a little, but that did not last long, soon I was ready to be out on the town instead of stuck home with a husband and baby.  When I was pulled over and arrested for drunk driving, my life took another turn, a turn onto the long, bumpy road of recovery, so to speak.

In February of 2013, I was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder.

Checking In

I apologize, I know it has been a while, but I really have had a lot going on.  I am going to try and figure out exactly what direction this blog is going in, and if I am going to keep the name.  As it turns out, an e-book was published this year with the same name, and if I even can keep the name!!

Since I have always had the intention to use this as a form of therapy for myself, to clean my brain out so to speak, I am going to try and put it in a format that may also be helpful for you.  Who knows, I can't be the only one that is crazy, right?  I will be updating the "About Me" section and thinking about adding in little "corners" for odd tidbits.

If you are reading this, please feel free to take a moment to let me know what brought you here today!!

Thank you for your patience and support!
Danielle

Heart vs Brain

So what is more important; the heart or the brain?  Which do you sacrifice for the sake of the other?  Do you allow your brain to plummet into darkness and uncertainty so the heart can be happy?  Or do you allow your heart to break, knowing that it will eventually heal, to free your brain from its torment, maybe.

If I chose the brain, the heart will break and the brain may heal.  If I chose the heart, the brain will continue to suffer and the heart may eventually break.  The situation which puts me into this dilemma is of my own doing, of course, and unfortunately, it will effect more than just me no matter what I decide.  But honestly, which is more important when you borderline madness on a daily basis?  

A heart, such a valuable, vital organ, that we foolishly associate with love, and of course heartache, why do we hold love to such a high value?  I will not lie, I love being in love, I love everything about it, the comfort and companionship, the intimacy and softness.  What is not to love about love?  Always having a smile on your face, blushing while sneaking a text; I could go on for ever.  But is it worth it; worth losing what little sanity and control of your brain that you have left?

The brain, the organ that controls everything, including the heart.  How could you say it is less important?  How could you say that the thing that makes the heart skip a beat when you see him, how can that be less important?  What price does one who is bipolar have to pay to be in love in my circumstance?  Do I chose to continue living in this madness, watching my mental capacity diminish to have those happy moments, that are actually becoming less and less because of this insanity?  

I just do not know what to do.  That is not true, I do know what I need to do, but I am sure I am going to destroy myself for love instead.

Writing Because of A Book

So you will probably see a lot of little random posts in the begining, evolving into longer, more spaced out posts in the future. 

I got the idea for a blog from a book I am reading: "Writing through the Darkness: easing your depression with paper and pen" by Elizabeth Maynard Shaefer, Ph.D.  I have always found relief from writing and besides this blog, I also keep a journal for more personal thoughts. 

Throughout the book, there are little writing exercises that have really worked wonders for me so far. I am not saying it is a quick fix for anything, but it did give me the courage to share my thoughts and feelings with the world, which feels amazing. 

I was going to keep my writings from the excersises to my self, in the journal, but I may post a few of them to see if maybe any of you could relate.  Maybe someone will benefit in knowing they are not alone, and maybe I can benefit from sharing things that I have kept hidden from the world and myself for a long time.

A Little Bit of Me

I am not entirely sure what I am looking to get out of this blog, but, one thing is for sure, I am tired of being quiet about mental illness.  I do not understand the stigma; is it because it is a "new" thing?  Well, it is not, and I want to scream from the balcony to tell you that we are not alone and we should not be ashamed of having faulty wiring.  There is nothing we could have done to prevent that.  

Roughly three years ago, I was diagnosed with the classic text book case of bipolar disorder, or what we use to call Manic-Depressive.  I personally prefer Manic-Depressive as it is less clinical sounding and more descriptive, even though bipolar is meant to refer to different poles.  Now I say I was diagnosed about three years ago, at age 34, but I have always known something wasn't wired correctly with me.  I always marched to the beat of my own drum, among other common symptoms, but I will get into that a little later.  

I just wanted to say hi, and set this up, hopefully find a direction for it.

Have a great day!