Live Mental--Life With Bipolar Disorder, Among Other Things: The land of the lost

Sunday, January 11, 2009

The land of the lost

I think the most difficult aspect of bipolar for me is knowing where it stops and I begin. I'm very much in tune with my inner world as it were, but sometimes even that detailed knowing of self is not a help when in the midst of the hurricanes life throws my way. And in the midst of trying to manage myself, there are others who are trying to figure me out as well.

My loved ones, with the exception of my sister Jayme who had been in this with me too long to not have great knowledge, are all looking for handles to grab on to as they try to climb their way throug the menagerie of moods, different behaviors, and the ultimate shut out I perform while trying to find a solid piece of wood to grab onto in the mids of my mental storms.

I would love to be able to draw up a blue print of my mind so that I might hand it out to the people in my life telling them that is x exists and y exists then the two will trigger to = pnklrs. But that is just not the way it works. What I know is that what I've learned over the years. I know that I must be medicated in order to even affect any sort of normalcy. I know that my personality is very loving and tends to be quite logical and able to detach from the problem in order to find solutions while still being empathetic to the victims. I tend to forgive very easily and take people back into my life when they repent, which leaves me very vulnerable to abusive relationships. I am brilliant and creative and my imagination is the other world that lives within.I know that God's work in my life has made all the difference. With His guidance I have been able to conquer this illness in ways few ever do. And along the way He has taught me some of the dividers between me and my illness. Because of this I have been able to accept mental illness as a coat that does not fit quite right and is envasive in its covering. The bipolar has destroyed my minds ability to subliminaly process many things most can. I have no filter that ciphens through what I take in through the world and so I must do it manually. It would stand to reason that when over stimulated I not only miss some of what needs to be filtered, but I become exhausted. I am unable to affect normalcy with such a set up. The illness begins to erode my persona of "normalcy" that the outside world may see and I begin to exhibit behaviors that are not appropriate in given situations. I may begin to make very poor decisions and become very volitile, unable to control my emotions. If I do not remove myself from such stress, what the world sees, will become more and more inappropriate.

People often make the mistake of thinking that a mood disorder is about emotions. That is not how it works and without getting scientific lemme just put it this way....when you see a storm you may see rain but you know that rain is not what makes a storm. Rain is a final result. That is much the way emotions factor into the bipolar scenario. There are many factors that make up the altered mood. And as with many Montana storms, sometimes there's rain and sometimes not. Sometimes there's emotional production and sometimes not.

These days I'm working to figure out where I'm at so that I'll be able to see on either side of the chasm I'm suspended over, which is me and which is the bipolar. I know that in my instability, God is there. I don't understand how and I don't know why things happen and He allows them but I know that He never leaves me and has never forsaken me. That is more than can be said about me. I give up on others, on God, but mostly I give up on myself.

To all my very wonderful bipolar friends...It's transition time for many of us, the ripple effect of seasonal change will be upon us soon to compound all else that may be already occuring. Those who join me in the wonderful world of mixed state...we'll make it.

T, I'm thinking of you my darlin', things will get better. Faith and endurand, love. And to all who love me and try to understand me, don't give up on me. I'm so much better now than I've ever been and my life has been absolutely turned upside down in the past several months. I'm weathering it fine, no matter how it may look on the outside. Pray for my heart, it has been in jeopardy for too long.

All else will mend. Hope my friends,

Life' s little ironies

I sat on a stool at the end of the counter watching my friend, inventory merchandise she had just received for her natural foods store. We were just catching up on all the gossip in small town Powell when the door was flung wide and a woman who looked to have wandered far and away from the red light district of some other state (none of the towns in Wyoming are big enough to have red light districts) made a rather dramatic entrance.

“Sarah, where is your mother,” she asked, though it sounded more like an exclamation than a question as she hurled the words like small pebbles at my friend. She stepped forward slamming the door shut behind her, its little jingly bells that announced a new caller sounding wildly with the force. The woman took another step forward toward the counter glancing briefly my way, and then dismissing me once she had determined me of no use to her. I heard Sarah answer but what she said was lost to me as I stared in fascination at the woman.

Her hair was a very yellowed bleached blonde with dark roots of about two inches. Her makeup was thickly caked on her face, her eyes painted with frosty baby blue eye shadow. She wore a white tank top that was low cut and kept falling off one shoulder. She had on a wide black belt over her hot pink miniskirt, which was so short it hardly qualified as one. Leopard tights and high-heeled boots completed the ensemble. She was tall and thin and I had the impression of taffy having been pulled to distortion.

But it wasn’t the ensemble that had me entranced. No. It was something else. There was an energy emanating from her; a kind of frenetic-ness that had me both fascinated and frightened. She was hurling words at my friend so fast and with such force, I expected to see Sarah thrown backward from the impact as if hit by bullets. I realized I was staring openly, my mouth ajar, and quickly shut it. I felt as though I was watching a human bomb detonating right in front of my eyes. I couldn’t even concentrate on what she was saying, or even understand it for that matter. I marveled at Sarah’s composure and ability to decipher what the woman was saying, such was the speed of her dialogue.

In my mind it seems as though the conversation was lengthy, but in reality I believe it only lasted a few minutes. The woman left in the same manner she had come, throwing the door open. It swung shut with a swoosh of air, leaving a final benediction of the small jingling bells. I looked at Sarah and said, “What was the matter with that woman? She acts like she’s on drugs.”

Sarah smiled calmly, “No she’s not on drugs. She’s a friend of my mom’s. She has a mental illness called manic-depression.” (bipolar disorder)

I stared out the glass door, still able to see the woman’s retreating form. I sighed, looking up at the ceiling for a moment feeling drained and thinking, “I am so glad I don’t have that.” I was frightened by what I had witnessed and I was so relieved to know I wasn’t like her.

It wasn’t too many years later as I sat in a doctor’s office looking at the ceiling that I remembered the incident with the woman in Sarah’s shop. I was in a psychiatrist’s office and he was in the process of diagnosing me with bipolar disorder, otherwise known as manic-depression. Generally I appreciate irony in life. It is often amusing. In this particular case, though, I was not amused.

Live Mental--Life With Bipolar Disorder, Among Other Things

Sunday, January 11, 2009

The land of the lost

0 comments:

Life' s little ironies

About Me

Followers

Subscribe Now: poweredby

Product Cloud

Quick Linker

Lael on Facebook

Blog Archive