Oh yes... this WILL be you someday! :)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VxkHM4DUDKM
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
Saturday, December 8, 2012
Part One: The C-word
What better time than 2:45 in the morning..... to start a blog about bi-polar disorder? This is one of those subjects where I have so much to say, and yet feel that words aren't going to do justice to the road I've traveled. When people meet me now, or simply pass me in a store, or on the street, there are several things that they notice straight off. My white cane, my tattoos, and the fact that I should lay off the pasta. :) Some of them are probably a little impressed that I function pretty well, with my vision loss. At times, I've even had people use the word "inspirational", which is flattering, but a little strange for me to hear. My limitations, or my perceived limitations, are virtually broadcast to the world by a white cane, and lengthy track record of knocking things off store shelves. What people don't see, is the illness that has truly handicapped me, for most of my life.
I'm severely bi-polar, and although I'm medicated now, the illness has always ruled my life. No one knows for sure if I was born bi-polar (back in the day, we called it manic depression), but my first symptoms developed when I was two years old. Just to clarify, I was born in 1965, when people were still trying to figure out how to discuss sex and drugs, without feeling embarrassed. When I started school, in 1969, there were no programs for children with mental illness, or even disorders like ADD, ADHD, or ASD (autism spectrum disorder). As kids, we were left to the mercy of the school system, and a society that didn't even want to acknowledge mental illness in adults, never mind in children. We were labeled as "stupid" "weird" and my personal favorite, "trouble makers". I was the kid who got the coveted "trouble maker" label, which at least kept the other kids from calling me "stupid" and "weird" to my face. :)
It didn't take long for me to realize that I was different from other people, and for other people to realize that I was different from them. Not just unique or special.... but uncomfortably different. Someone who sometimes saw, and heard things they didn't. Someone who could be your friend one moment, and your worst enemy the next. Someone who could be happy and laughing one day, and sad, upset, and holding back tears the next. Until I was 13, my by polar disorder presented as "mixed state manic depression". As the name implies, I was experiencing episodes of mania and depression, over a period of hours or days, rather than weeks and months. Probably the worst thing that happened during my childhood, was the IQ test. Oh yeah, back when dinosaurs roamed the earth, we kids were given IQ tests by the school system!
The IQ test was the first, in a long line of misconceptions, that would follow me my whole life. My IQ was impressive, and I'm sure the school was thrilled to have found a "gifted student", that they could pluck from the pool of academic mediocrity. Instead, what they did was take a kid who was already struggling, put me into a confusing high pressure environment, and when I couldn't function, label me as "a lazy student, who doesn't do her best, and is disruptive and belligerent" That kind of talk really turned up the heat, both with the school, and especially with my parents! I was an only child, someone my parents already didn't understand, and now I was not only disappointing them, but as they saw it, I was doing it on purpose, just to upset them,. I lived in that haze of disapproval, and misunderstanding, from then, until I was in my early 40's. I started having the usual episodic version of the disorder when I became a teenager, and the hormones kicked in. I would have a month or so of mania, followed by several months of deep depression, with very few breaks in between. By then, I'd convinced myself that the world was right. I was weird, and lazy, and purposely being a pain in the ass, just to annoy my parents. Deep down, I knew something was wrong, but I'd given up hope. I turned to drugs and alcohol to dull the pain, made it a practice to skip school, and cause trouble. and made two unsuccessful (luckily!!) attempts at suicide.
In the hospital, after one of my suicide attempts, the doctors spoke to me about going into in-patient psychiatric care. To be honest, I was thrilled! Someone was finally going to help me, and show me there was a light at the end of the tunnel. Unfortunately, my misinformed and embarrassed parents, decided it was best for me not to go for treatment. They felt I'd be fine, if I would just "Straighten up and think positive. After all I didn't want people thinking I was CRAZY, did I?". There it was... the C-word! I could tell, just from the way they said it, that my parents were mortified that their only child would bring such an unforgivable stigma down upon them. How could they face their friends? They certainly couldn't tell anyone, but sooner or later people would find out, and they'd be labeled as "bad parents", for producing and raising such an abnormal child. In their defense, people were very misinformed about mental illness back then, and few people talked about it. When they did, it was only in whispers.
I'm ending this post here. I've given you the tale of the first 18 years of my life. If you're curious, or if this sounds familiar, or if you feel yourself in a similar position, then please read part two. This story DOES have a happy ending, not just for me, but for our society as a whole. The perceptions about mental illness are changing, and for each of us who speaks out unashamedly about our illness, there is a chance to save someone else from suffering. Now.... on to Part Two! :)
I'm severely bi-polar, and although I'm medicated now, the illness has always ruled my life. No one knows for sure if I was born bi-polar (back in the day, we called it manic depression), but my first symptoms developed when I was two years old. Just to clarify, I was born in 1965, when people were still trying to figure out how to discuss sex and drugs, without feeling embarrassed. When I started school, in 1969, there were no programs for children with mental illness, or even disorders like ADD, ADHD, or ASD (autism spectrum disorder). As kids, we were left to the mercy of the school system, and a society that didn't even want to acknowledge mental illness in adults, never mind in children. We were labeled as "stupid" "weird" and my personal favorite, "trouble makers". I was the kid who got the coveted "trouble maker" label, which at least kept the other kids from calling me "stupid" and "weird" to my face. :)
It didn't take long for me to realize that I was different from other people, and for other people to realize that I was different from them. Not just unique or special.... but uncomfortably different. Someone who sometimes saw, and heard things they didn't. Someone who could be your friend one moment, and your worst enemy the next. Someone who could be happy and laughing one day, and sad, upset, and holding back tears the next. Until I was 13, my by polar disorder presented as "mixed state manic depression". As the name implies, I was experiencing episodes of mania and depression, over a period of hours or days, rather than weeks and months. Probably the worst thing that happened during my childhood, was the IQ test. Oh yeah, back when dinosaurs roamed the earth, we kids were given IQ tests by the school system!
The IQ test was the first, in a long line of misconceptions, that would follow me my whole life. My IQ was impressive, and I'm sure the school was thrilled to have found a "gifted student", that they could pluck from the pool of academic mediocrity. Instead, what they did was take a kid who was already struggling, put me into a confusing high pressure environment, and when I couldn't function, label me as "a lazy student, who doesn't do her best, and is disruptive and belligerent" That kind of talk really turned up the heat, both with the school, and especially with my parents! I was an only child, someone my parents already didn't understand, and now I was not only disappointing them, but as they saw it, I was doing it on purpose, just to upset them,. I lived in that haze of disapproval, and misunderstanding, from then, until I was in my early 40's. I started having the usual episodic version of the disorder when I became a teenager, and the hormones kicked in. I would have a month or so of mania, followed by several months of deep depression, with very few breaks in between. By then, I'd convinced myself that the world was right. I was weird, and lazy, and purposely being a pain in the ass, just to annoy my parents. Deep down, I knew something was wrong, but I'd given up hope. I turned to drugs and alcohol to dull the pain, made it a practice to skip school, and cause trouble. and made two unsuccessful (luckily!!) attempts at suicide.
In the hospital, after one of my suicide attempts, the doctors spoke to me about going into in-patient psychiatric care. To be honest, I was thrilled! Someone was finally going to help me, and show me there was a light at the end of the tunnel. Unfortunately, my misinformed and embarrassed parents, decided it was best for me not to go for treatment. They felt I'd be fine, if I would just "Straighten up and think positive. After all I didn't want people thinking I was CRAZY, did I?". There it was... the C-word! I could tell, just from the way they said it, that my parents were mortified that their only child would bring such an unforgivable stigma down upon them. How could they face their friends? They certainly couldn't tell anyone, but sooner or later people would find out, and they'd be labeled as "bad parents", for producing and raising such an abnormal child. In their defense, people were very misinformed about mental illness back then, and few people talked about it. When they did, it was only in whispers.
I'm ending this post here. I've given you the tale of the first 18 years of my life. If you're curious, or if this sounds familiar, or if you feel yourself in a similar position, then please read part two. This story DOES have a happy ending, not just for me, but for our society as a whole. The perceptions about mental illness are changing, and for each of us who speaks out unashamedly about our illness, there is a chance to save someone else from suffering. Now.... on to Part Two! :)
Part Two: The Medicated Mind
Hopefully, I've put these posts up in the right order. This is a continuation of "The C-word" post, which I'm sure none of you read just because of the title. lol! it seems weird to me, to have part two of the post come before part one, on the blog, so I did it this way. Of course, it might be confusing for anyone reading this, if anyone does, that I have them in this order. I don't suppose, in the grand scheme of things, it even matters.
My topic in these two posts, is mental illness. Specifically, my own struggle with bi-polar disorder. I'm actually a very private person by nature, but I am making a real effort to talk about my illness, to try and eliminate the stigma that still surrounds it. I know that these days, a lot of young people are comfortable discussing things like bi-polar disorder, borderline personality disorder, and OCD. Some even discuss having schizophrenia, although I think that illness is still rather misunderstood. I can't express how happy it makes me, that many of you are growing up in a world that has a better understanding of mental illness, and cognitive disorders. I have no idea how many kids I went to school with, who were suffering the way I was, and didn't know who to turn to, or how to get help.
As I said in my other post on this subject, I've struggled with severe bi-polar disorder my whole life. My childhood was a nightmare, and my teen years were an even bigger mess, because I began to self medicate with booze and drugs. I barely made it through high school, with a GPA of less than 2.0. Because high school was such a disaster, I decided to forget college, and just get a job. I enjoyed work, but I felt that there was something missing, something more that I could offer the world. It was at that point, when I was 18, that I began dating a guy I had known my whole life (and who is now my husband of 25 years). He was going to college, and he was so happy about it. He saw beyond my illness, saw the person I could be, and encouraged me to sober up, get clean, and go back to school. I did stop my drug use, but struggled with my alcoholism for the next 15 years. Keep that in mind! Self medicating is a disaster! Once you are an alcoholic, you are ALWAYS an alcoholic, and I still struggle with that everyday. I've been sober almost 15 years now, so there is hope for everyone.
I went back to college, and discovered that there was life beyond high school. I still struggled with my illness, but I was learning for myself, and not someone else, so I had a sense of control over my destiny. I went into the teaching program, and even made the Dean's list every term. Just after starting college, I saw something that changed my life. An actress named Patty Duke gave an interview on national TV, and discussed her "manic depression" (the old school term for bi-polar disorder). I cried through the whole interview, understanding for the first time, that I wasn't alone! Other people were going through the same things that I was. I went immediately to the mental health clinic, and started treatment. Unfortunately, the drugs available back then, seriously sucked. They were constantly changing my meds, and instead of sticking it out, until I could find ones that worked, I gave up. My parents weren't supportive, I felt hopeless, and I went on to suffer for another 20 years. To this day, giving up on treatment, is the biggest regret of my life.
I went on to have three amazing children, who somehow managed to be wonderful human beings, despite growing up with a mentally ill mother. My fear and embarrassment about my illness grew, since I didn't want people to know that "someone like me" was raising children. Now, I realize how foolish I was, and how going in for treatment would have been the best thing I could have done for my kids. It wasn't until my 40's, when the hormones started acting up again, that I went back to having mixed state bi polar disorder, rather than episodes of mania and depression. It was brutal! It was at that point, that I realized my life was at risk, and sought treatment.
Many people think of mania as just being overly energetic. It's not. It's an anxiety filled state of mental unrest. You might seem happy and productive on the outside, but inside you are a whirling tornado of confusion. Likewise, people think of depression as just being sad. This couldn't be further from the truth! For most of us, suffering from bi-polar disorder, the depression is a combination of anxiety and hopelessness that is worse than physical pain. I had three babies, ranging from 9 lbs to 10 lbs, and the pain of childbirth is nothing compared to the mental pain that can come from depression, or mixed state bi-polar disorder. The pain and hopelessness, and the impact it can have on your life, isn't going to go away, by "thinking positive"! It's an illness like diabetes, or severe asthma, and it is just as life threatening!
If you have a mental illness, or suspect you do, you MUST seek treatment. This isn't something you did to yourself. It's an illness caused by chemical imbalances and electrical impulses. It's not something you chose to have, but it is something you can choose to treat. Not everyone with a mental illness needs medication, but they DO need support. The people around you need to be aware of what you're dealing with, and many times a therapist or a support group is enough to help people cope. In my case, I needed medication, and taking it has changed my life for the better. The best part being, that I now have "normal" dreams, whereas I had spent my whole life having horrible nightmares, and never knowing what restful sleep really was.
Do I still struggle with my illness? Yes, At this point, there is no cure for most mental illness, but there is help, and there is hope. You CAN feel better. There really is a light at the end of the tunnel, so don't give up without seeing it. Remember, the sooner you get help, the less of your life will be spent in pain and confusion. If you have a mental illness, or know someone who does, do the world a favor, and talk about it! Let everyone know that there is no reason for us to be ashamed of our illness, anymore than we would be ashamed of being diabetic. There are people out there who are still alone, who still feel that no one understands what they are going through, who are too afraid to get help. Don't let them spend 40 years, going it alone. If you can't speak out for yourself, then speak out for them Even if you feel the rest of the world doesn't understand, please remember that those of us with mental illness do know what you're going through, and we'll be here for you. YOU ARE NOT ALONE!
My topic in these two posts, is mental illness. Specifically, my own struggle with bi-polar disorder. I'm actually a very private person by nature, but I am making a real effort to talk about my illness, to try and eliminate the stigma that still surrounds it. I know that these days, a lot of young people are comfortable discussing things like bi-polar disorder, borderline personality disorder, and OCD. Some even discuss having schizophrenia, although I think that illness is still rather misunderstood. I can't express how happy it makes me, that many of you are growing up in a world that has a better understanding of mental illness, and cognitive disorders. I have no idea how many kids I went to school with, who were suffering the way I was, and didn't know who to turn to, or how to get help.
As I said in my other post on this subject, I've struggled with severe bi-polar disorder my whole life. My childhood was a nightmare, and my teen years were an even bigger mess, because I began to self medicate with booze and drugs. I barely made it through high school, with a GPA of less than 2.0. Because high school was such a disaster, I decided to forget college, and just get a job. I enjoyed work, but I felt that there was something missing, something more that I could offer the world. It was at that point, when I was 18, that I began dating a guy I had known my whole life (and who is now my husband of 25 years). He was going to college, and he was so happy about it. He saw beyond my illness, saw the person I could be, and encouraged me to sober up, get clean, and go back to school. I did stop my drug use, but struggled with my alcoholism for the next 15 years. Keep that in mind! Self medicating is a disaster! Once you are an alcoholic, you are ALWAYS an alcoholic, and I still struggle with that everyday. I've been sober almost 15 years now, so there is hope for everyone.
I went back to college, and discovered that there was life beyond high school. I still struggled with my illness, but I was learning for myself, and not someone else, so I had a sense of control over my destiny. I went into the teaching program, and even made the Dean's list every term. Just after starting college, I saw something that changed my life. An actress named Patty Duke gave an interview on national TV, and discussed her "manic depression" (the old school term for bi-polar disorder). I cried through the whole interview, understanding for the first time, that I wasn't alone! Other people were going through the same things that I was. I went immediately to the mental health clinic, and started treatment. Unfortunately, the drugs available back then, seriously sucked. They were constantly changing my meds, and instead of sticking it out, until I could find ones that worked, I gave up. My parents weren't supportive, I felt hopeless, and I went on to suffer for another 20 years. To this day, giving up on treatment, is the biggest regret of my life.
I went on to have three amazing children, who somehow managed to be wonderful human beings, despite growing up with a mentally ill mother. My fear and embarrassment about my illness grew, since I didn't want people to know that "someone like me" was raising children. Now, I realize how foolish I was, and how going in for treatment would have been the best thing I could have done for my kids. It wasn't until my 40's, when the hormones started acting up again, that I went back to having mixed state bi polar disorder, rather than episodes of mania and depression. It was brutal! It was at that point, that I realized my life was at risk, and sought treatment.
Many people think of mania as just being overly energetic. It's not. It's an anxiety filled state of mental unrest. You might seem happy and productive on the outside, but inside you are a whirling tornado of confusion. Likewise, people think of depression as just being sad. This couldn't be further from the truth! For most of us, suffering from bi-polar disorder, the depression is a combination of anxiety and hopelessness that is worse than physical pain. I had three babies, ranging from 9 lbs to 10 lbs, and the pain of childbirth is nothing compared to the mental pain that can come from depression, or mixed state bi-polar disorder. The pain and hopelessness, and the impact it can have on your life, isn't going to go away, by "thinking positive"! It's an illness like diabetes, or severe asthma, and it is just as life threatening!
If you have a mental illness, or suspect you do, you MUST seek treatment. This isn't something you did to yourself. It's an illness caused by chemical imbalances and electrical impulses. It's not something you chose to have, but it is something you can choose to treat. Not everyone with a mental illness needs medication, but they DO need support. The people around you need to be aware of what you're dealing with, and many times a therapist or a support group is enough to help people cope. In my case, I needed medication, and taking it has changed my life for the better. The best part being, that I now have "normal" dreams, whereas I had spent my whole life having horrible nightmares, and never knowing what restful sleep really was.
Do I still struggle with my illness? Yes, At this point, there is no cure for most mental illness, but there is help, and there is hope. You CAN feel better. There really is a light at the end of the tunnel, so don't give up without seeing it. Remember, the sooner you get help, the less of your life will be spent in pain and confusion. If you have a mental illness, or know someone who does, do the world a favor, and talk about it! Let everyone know that there is no reason for us to be ashamed of our illness, anymore than we would be ashamed of being diabetic. There are people out there who are still alone, who still feel that no one understands what they are going through, who are too afraid to get help. Don't let them spend 40 years, going it alone. If you can't speak out for yourself, then speak out for them Even if you feel the rest of the world doesn't understand, please remember that those of us with mental illness do know what you're going through, and we'll be here for you. YOU ARE NOT ALONE!
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