The Untamed Brain

Where to begin this post. Geez my mind is everywhere this morning which I guess is a good thing to document because so many people don't get how our brains work compared to those so called 'normal' people. I have said that I would love to have a day to know what 'normal' feels like because I know my mind works much differently than most peoples'. Yet, I feel I cannot really say there is a 'normal' mind, maybe an average mind.

I have wanted to feel normal mentally and physically for years. I guess I do though right because I am used to the way that I feel. I am used to the pain, the agony, the ups and downs. I know many know about my physical ailments but I want to share them with those that don't know. I have degenerative arthritis in my lumbar spine, accompanied with arthropothy (or however that is spelt), a bulging disk, a nicely pinched sciatic nerve, muscle spasms that are so bad they give me what I call a 'neck boned', and lastly, I have an abnormality in my right hip bone and a focal tear (which thanks to Medicaid should be fixed soon). So pile all of that on top of mental illness and you have me- one bat shit crazy lady that is sometimes neutral, most times manic, and often depressed severely. My husband and a bunch of other folks believe that I need more exercise and I FULLY AGREE. However, I just did an hour workout-dancing like a mad woman around the house as I have heard it burns more calories than most dull workout videos I cannot stand. I took time to stretch everything out nicely, then I went and showered. Well you know how it is usually the next day you are sore well today for me it was right after the shower. I literally fell down a couple stairs as my right hip and leg gave out. FUN! I have also started walking and by the time I get back to the house that hip is on fire. It's very hard to get motivated to do workouts when it ends up in not just the normal workout pains but some heavy serious pain because of your broken-ness. This never helps my mental state. I usually become lethargic and sedentary which is horrible for me

I like dancing around when no one is home, I love taking walks, I love feeling fit when I am, but wow how easy it is to become unmotivated. Mental illness then takes it's toll. You may not want to eat at all or you may want to eat everything in site. I kind of slide between the two. So I lose some weight and am cool with that and then I gain several extra pounds back and I am kind of mortified. Now I am a pretty confident person for the most part. I know I am not ugly, and I am by no means fat at 5'6'' and 142 pounds but my mind does not like working with me. I am a woman who believes that media is fucking stupid and makes beautiful women and men feel inferior and fat and I firmly believe that there is beauty in all bodies. What I hate is that when you are bipolar you can become extremely self conscious and that can be a tricky and dangerous situation because you may end up starving yourself or vomiting up your food.

So here is a TRUTH story;
When I was younger between 18-21 I would buy ipecac and hide them in my room. I would usually skip dinner, and my lunch would be minimal. If I ate a lot of food, guess what I drank some ipecac and would throw it all up minutes later. I know most stick fingers down their thoughts but ipecac was an easier solution and this is at a time when you could just pick it up in the first aid aisle. I don't believe you can anymore. I would workout non-stop (hours a day at home or the gym and at lease 5 days a week not to mention I was in the Army for two years so I thoroughly enjoyed PT because that meant I would get thinner. I even got caught making myself throw up in the unit building by a sergeant but she let it go and didn't bring it up but made me promise to not do it there again. It was surely embarrassing. I made weight, I was always find but I would just get these bouts of feeling so disgusting that that's exactly what I would do. Eventually I realized that this kind of action is making me worse. It's causing me to be sick and I was at a point where bowel movements without all the fiber pills and laxatives was damn near impossible. That still haunts me to this day. Days on end where nothing moves through my body. Which also makes it look like I gained weight when I am really just carrying pounds of food in my stomach because my intestines aren't working right.

The point: don't ever let someone you love who is suffering from Bipolar ever feel like you think she/he is fat, or sagging, or whatever. Just Accept the beauty they have. Sometimes we may blow up for a bit because of our meds but that doesn't mean we are not still good looking or sexy. We may slim down so drastically it's amazingly shocking but that doesn't mean we need to be told nasty things about that either. Who cares as long as they are healthy, alive, and there.

I guess I am in the mood to discuss this because of how I have been feeling. When I am really down I usually daily find something to fixate on- be it weight, manic episodes and why they are what they are, books, so on. I had to put our 20 some year old Cockatiel down and it is devastating. It sucked because I thought he couldn't feel any pain or at least not much because he had paralysis in his feet. We all thought it. But we learned at the vet that he was feeling it all. Just because they had no function didn't mean they were pain free. The little guy was literally trying to chew his one toe off. I held him in the vet's office watching how happy he was to be held, off his feet and pet. He had a way of smiling and I cannot get that out of my head that last few moments with him where he seemed healthy and I just wanted to run away with him. But it hit me; When I get old, or I get very ill I do not want to be kept alive for longer than I have to be-I do not want to endure the pain of dying- I do not want to spend my last days sedated by drugs just to have a few more weeks that I won't even cognitively be there fore. I realized I cannot hold Michael all day long to help his pain. I cannot put him through the torture of being forced into taking meds that will pretty much sedate him just so he can live a few extra weeks, or more like days. His feathers were changing colors, he was starting to smell very poorly, and something was not okay. He most likely had a tumor on his spinal cord (hence him not being able to move his feet), and to get around the cage he had to drag himself across the bottom with his beak. Then he would manage to get up on the little platforms I made him so he could just sit without tipping over. I wish I had known he was in pain. I wish I could have fixed him but it was either do a bunch of test to tell us he was dying or let him go. So we let him go. He deserved peace for once. He deserved to now have to endure all that pain and all sadness I think he felt.

I'm depressed because of that while being maniacally depressed. It's not fun. It hurts. I wish it could all just go away and I could wake up and feel good. I felt okay this morning after I worked out. But then I felt miserable again. I think my doctor will have a field day with me on Friday. There are so many symptoms to Bipolar Disorder you could write a book describing each one. Racing thoughts, immense guilt, anxiety, appetite changes, increased or decreased energy, increased or decreased sexual behaviors that could be dangerous, Drug abuse, worthlessness, making awful decision, being suicidal or simply thinking about death too often, etc. These symptoms are no joke and I feel the longer they go unnoticed or denied the worse they get which is why I am desperately clinging to the hope that my doctor will listen when I say I need an increase in mg for my meds. Nothing is helping really or I am double dosing to take me down closer to the neutral line on the really bad days. That's not okay. And even though I feel that a mania state is about to happen that is not good either because I feel a crap ton of anxiety through mania. I am feeling empty, like a passenger in my own body. I don't think I am even keeping my thoughts straight enough to make the point clear. Or I try and say the why and deviate to some random thought. This is almost exhausting and what am I supposed to do? I just want to scream at the world. I want to fall down and cry almost every hour and I just want to feel okay. For my sake and my family's sake. I feel I am losing it slowly and the bipolar is progressively getting worse with my age. I wonder if anyone else feels that way. I am sure there is but I have to get off here because I will rant on all day and never finish the post. Thanks for reading feel free to comment or ask for support/advice.

Lea Silva

Brain is Dysfuntional with No Repreve

I went through a really rough week, well two weeks and it was terrifying, I was hearing things when no one said anything, and I was feeling absolutely crazy. I had a couple mental breakdowns and honestly if I hadn't had class to attend I would have forced myself to go into a psych ward so I didn't burden my family. It was insane how I was feeling.

I had a nice conversation with my husband one morning talking about how we should communicate better and came to an understanding about how to deal with each others' issues and make it less stressful. Well that feeling of calmness and security vanished within NO TIME. I went from accepting the nice conversation and the seeming breakthrough we had with each other to "he insulted me, he doesn't care, I feel manipulated, so on". Now honestly I don't think he really did any of those things but the manic side, the depressed side (and I mean severely depressed side) sulked all day. Ranting in my head stupid irrational things like the above statements. I just grew more and more furious. There was no real reason to feel the way I was because we had a nice decent conversation.

Well we can all guess what happened later that night. I was so passed I sat scrunched in a ball at the end of the couch unwilling to talk or be touched. (mind you I had told him I wanted more attention and here I sit unwilling to accept anything). Well as I always do when I am manic I had what I call bipolar turrets and while he was walking to bed said you don't even care about me. And an argument ensued. Now it is has be hard to understand from an outsider's perspective why this happens, and why a bipolar person turns something good into something negative. We have very little control over these situations. Like I said it's like being a passenger in your own brain. You cannot control the little demon inside you making everything turn into negativity. It was really awful.

My husband said he didn't really know how much he could take of this because the argument was so ridiculous. I obviously understand he was overwhelmed but him saying that made me go into a different kind of panic mode and a weird depressive hyper alert state (mind you I was on 500mg of Seroquel and still acting like this). From an outsider's perspective I am the crazy one who needs to 'control' the outbursts but it just doesn't work that way. I am mentally ill so there isn't much controlling. I can demand to myself to go for a walk, leave the room, go throw something to feel better, but this argument this one was bad. I literally believe I was in a psychosis. There was no control over this demon spawn inside me. One moment it would repent the next it would scream. What I need in those moments is kind of hard to understand. When I get that way the person on the receiving end needs to just accept it and say Okay. Try to help me calm down and feel comforted. I know this is a very hard task because I am being ridiculous and saying okay is giving into my irrational demands. However, this will move me past that stage and usually into one of guilt that leads to be coming back to reality and apologizing.

My mom used to have to put up with this when I was a teen. I would flip out over little things. I literally broke my wrist punching a wall over a stupid flat tire. I mean who does that? I would scream or get hostile or agitated and flip out in a nasty way. My mom would take so much  and then slap me in the face after I went too far. Usually this would snap me back to reality, sometimes it made it worse. But as I got older and my brain knew what that slap would do I would grab her wrists so she couldn't. I remember this one time, I didn't know my strength (which the mentally ill can become extremely strong when they become hostile, stronger than they normally are). I will never forget the face she made when I grabbed her wrists probably with a look in my face of some girl with a demon inside me. She looked at me terrified that I had actually done this and the amount of strength I used to hold her. She said the words "you're hurting me" with a tinge of sadness and with glossed eyes and I immediately realized what I was doing and let go. It sunk me into suck immense guilt that I felt enraged- I know that weird to think about but it happens.

I have been dealing with this from most of my life and I panic, I go a bit nuts, I become someone else, and I can become very vicious. All I want is for someone to say okay fine and hold me. My mom used to do that. I would be in a very hostile and volatile mood and she would put her arms around me and rock me. It would work. But a mom caring is different that for a husband who has only dealt with this for a few years. He doesn't know the tricks yet and he let's it burden him. I completely understand why and I know that it would be difficult to handle someone with a mental illness you never had to deal with before and this is someone who deeply loves you and is all the sudden acting like a different person. Comprehending what is actually happening in my brain is not easy. Sure you can read up on bipolar, what it does to people, how it affects their train of thoughts but you will never get how difficult it is for the person with the illness. Some people just say "you need to find a way to control it" and that's just not really an option. Sure we can control our next move- either freak the hell out or try and find a solitary room and go crazy by yourself, or throw things to get the anger out or whatever helps. However, that doesn't always register. Sometimes you are in such a fit of rage that you forget that you can leave the situation, you can stop talking/yelling/screaming and just walk to a place where you can do whatever it is you need to do to calm down. Write a nasty message on a piece of paper, beat up your pillows I don't know but something. I forget this a lot. I have a very difficult time controlling what my body should be doing when I am in that kind of stage in my illness. It makes me sick when people think it is just so easy to control it, or that there are easy exercises that make it seem 90% better or whatever. Even on the best medications you still go through episodes, just not as badly, but as a severely mentally ill person you can go into a psychosis and have no clue who you are and have zero control. You are paranoid, insecure, feeling manipulated, suffocated, like everything is against you. Yea you can go do something to be distracted but it just boils in your mind all damn day. Never easing up on you just becoming worse. At least for me. Then the blow up happens.

My husband feels he was on his last leg when this occurred. I panicked and laid I the fetal position praying this wasn't real. He came into the room laid next to me and held me and talked to me and guess what, the mood passed. It wasn't just a scare that he would leave me, it was him coming in, accepting things were not good, and still laying down and holding me. Now I do not want to make him feel burdened by it all. I don't. I don't want him feeling this will be the train wreck that will happen all the time. But he does need to understand it will happen here and there. My Brian works in mysterious ways. I need him to know that when I get like that he shouldn't let it weigh him down and that just accepting it and letting it pass and holding me, because at some point I will collapse from exhaustion, will save the situation. No I am not putting any blame on him I am just saying this so maybe other spouses can understand what it is like for us and how I think one could help the situation. There is really no wrong and right when being the one trying to deal with a mentally ill, as long as you are not abusing them, because we cannot accept you to understand the whole of the disorder like we do. But there are ways your bipolar lover can be tamed or calmed down. Brought back to reality. Because let's face it I go to a whole different world.

That's why I understand when I hear someone killed themselves because they could figure out what was real and what wasn't anymore. That's how I feel sometimes. For instance, did my husband really say this or did he really manipulate me- in one world, the one of the rational Lea, I say no of course not, but in the irrational world of my bipolar alter ego I say yes and start a war in my head. I actually had a war with myself about taking all the meds I had and laying myself down to sleep. Somehow I, the rational Lea, won that battle. It took days for me to realize that there is no point to kill myself because this will all pass, me and my husband can always work things out and the world is not really crumbling around me. But it was hard. It's hard for everyone who is bipolar. It's like no one gets it unless they are bipolar and yet, even then some bipolar people say stuff like those meds won't do nothing for you except make you a dull person, or it's bullshit to say you can't fight it. I feel like some of them are either in denial, or have a misdiagnosis because I have seen that many people are being diagnosed with bipolar just because of anger issues and I don't think that is right or good for the patient because they are being put on meds they don't need and that can harm them because they aren't bipolar.

My main point here (which I have to state because I have been rambling) it that the awareness needs to be spread on how to help your loved one cope with his/her illness without letting it weigh you down or make you feel that you have to give too much of yourself to the point of feeling exhausted. We all have something that brings us around to reality or grounds us and I don't know that we always communicate that to our lovers. So I want this blog to reach those that don't understand, or want to understand, or need to know how to cope with their bipolar spouse. Thanks for reading. Feel free to comment with any further advice or questions!

Lea Silva

It's a Mad World

Today I am not that okay. I am so not okay I deliberately threw a glass so that I could get some of my rage out. It was stupid of course but I could not keep it contained and I didn't feel like yelling. Normally I would have thrown something unbreakable but today I wanted to see something shatter. Maybe that says something about my subconscious feelings at the time. Maybe I feel shattered or felt shattered at that moment so I wanted to shatter something else. A weird kind of misery loves company song right.

Sometimes I just feel totally fine and the next thing I know I am in shambles or on the rocks looking down at the plummet, feeling angry, morose, dehumanized almost. It's a weird kind of feeling to feel dehumanized. Is it brain connections that do that sort of thing? Make you feel as if 'this cannot possibly be real, I am not real, nothing around me is connected anymore'. It feels terrifying to think that way and there is nothing I can do about it. I can pinch myself like in the olden movies where they say 'I had to pinch myself to make sure it was real' but it never does help. It's an uncared for feeling that plummets you down the depths of endless lost caves and frightening sounds of your life feeling like it is crumbling around you. Like you're in a movie and you're the only one who doesn't know it. How strange a concept that is and yet that is my perspective sometimes. If I died would I just wake up again in some other world I didn't realize I was actually in? That's how it feels.

Dehumanized- why would someone feel that way in their own human skin? I am not so positive of the answer on that one. Perhaps because I feel all the cares I have are nothing and it's not worth it to care for or because it seems no one else cares about them. Maybe it is my brain saying something to me I don't understand in Morse code and I just don't get it, and because of that I don't feel human I feel OTHER. I do. I don't know how to explain how one feels other in a way that isn't like 'the other race or gender or whatever'. It's an Other like a different human that's not human. I am loved by people but it surely feel like no love sometimes. And it isn't them it's me I know that.

It's just difficult to cope and comprehend when your brain is blending you a nice dish of 'you're fucked up' and there is no end in the foreseeable future that this cycle will ever end. Even on meds that tranquilize you, or are supposed to stabilize your moods you feel the cycling like your on some bicycle marathon for life. I am on 500mg of Seroquel and look how down and mad I am. Mad in the sense of the Mad Hatter. Nothing seems to be grounding me like I wish it would. Last night I was so panicked and angry and annoyed that I took 400mg of Seroquel at 8pm just so I wouldn't have to be awake for the rest of the night. Down fall- I woke up early and that means a longer day of dealing with myself, and others.

I don't know who I am today because at the moment I feel lost in the memoirs of my brain switching stories and memories quickly and yes there was a trigger. I would say a big trigger. But I am going to leave that alone because I don't want to touch that smoking gun. What more shall I do to coax my life in the right direction. Yesterday I couldn't muster up the energy, courage, or whatever to get me to get in the car and go to class. I couldn't. I wanted to be on this couch all day. The one remarkable thing is I had a talk with my mother-in-law and she decided a walk would be best and it did help for a bit but of course my brain said "um no that's not going to happen, you are not going to be any type of cheery, so fuck off'. And I did. I panicked and melted away and then tranquilized myself to sleep. I don't know if I ate anything yesterday but I don't feel any kind of hunger and I am sure it's because of the down turned mood of the week.

My one professor told me he completely understood as his wife has Bipolar. Funny I never know too much about professors, even the ones that I deem my favorite, and this man told me something very personal. It makes the professor more real right. You never really feel like there persons like you and me they are just teachers. And then it become a reality that while you have to do all this work for them that they have to grade all their classes work and deal with the same issues as you and it all the sudden sinks in that we all share a common thread.

Nonetheless the thread can be thicker on one end than on the other depending on the month, the day (if there is bad news that's even worse), even at an event. It all makes a difference in the mind of a mentally ill person. What am I doing? Where am I? Why? Why is a big one for me. I always ask why do I fall into traps, why do I seemingly have to deal with so many struggles (and yes I know there are other people dealing with much worse struggles but that shouldn't make you feel that yours aren't important), and why is it never ending? This world is filled with suffering and hurting, and lost minds, and loss of care, and loss of caring health facilities as the world turns to greed and the lowly are left behind. Our problem are turned to dust to so many and we are left trying to take care of ourselves when we can't even get it together to get in the car and drive without a panic attack.

Whose left us here? Why are there so many suffering people when we could easily care for them? An example I like to use is this; in America a lot of our agriculture is sent off for profit. We have so much agriculture that is 'extra' that we could give to the starving young and families here in the US. The US has a few billion dollar budget for military expenses and what-nots and if we just took even half a billion, even less, we could feed all those starving people here and in other places. It's kind of hard to believe that in a world were fake worth (money) runs the world people can't just come together for those who are starving, or sick, or severely mentally ill, or physically not well and take care of them pro bono. Is everyone that concerned about a green piece of paper? Obviously. I met a person once who thought is was dumb and obnoxious to think that the homeless and those struggling deserve help. Let me tell you we are not friends. But it goes to show that people are losing some compassion. I think they see the green in their accounts and think 'I am not giving any of this to anyone who is apparently struggling because if I earned so can they'. Um in Ethiopia that is far from the truth asshole. I honestly believe some people are so ignorant about what actually is happening to people around the world that they think the world revolves around the US and Capitalism. Idiots.

Let me now get to the point of the above. It's not just hunger that is a struggle, it is also mental illness. Mental illness institutions used to be everywhere. They used to be a place for those who even did criminal acts (but did so in accord with their mental illness), there used to be centers that helped people like me and you with severe bipolar disorder and would give you sessions with someone to talk to, give you meds and help you. Now that is not a thing. Some places do exist to help the mentally ill but it isn't many. So what happened? We have sent them to jails-which have been privatized and that means the owners are making a pretty penny off criminalizing the mentally ill, and those who are so underprivileged they don't have much choice but to steal to feed their family or steal to get their mom her heart meds. We have psych wards that are supposed to help but I sometimes think can make people feel worse and more ostracized. The second someone hears you were in a psych ward they look at you like you have shot all over your face. I was just reading "Brain on Fire" and even the doctors in the book made a threat to this girls parents that if she cannot get controlled "she will be put somewhere worse"- which was a threat of going to the psych ward!!!! What the hell is that! So we are left waiting sometimes months to see a shrink or a counselor to talk to unless you have wonderful insurance (I am referring to here in the US). Waiting and Waiting. And here many doctors are scared to give you therapeutic levels of medicines that can be abused because so many NON mentally ill, or physically ill people smuggle their way into the system and get drugs they don't need leaving the rest of us suffering. But that is also on the doctors. If you know I am ill then don't under-medicate me so I become a crazed bipolar maniac lol. Don't let me suffer constant panic attacks because some other doctor didn't realize he was handing out scripts to druggies. Wake up!

My mind is clearly wondering and rambling because of the mixed state I am in so forgive me please. But I had to release it from my mind. Thank you for reading and please pass on to give others an understanding of what it is to be in the mind of a bipolar person.

Lea Silva

Split of the Mind, Death of the Day

Yes my title here is gloomy. That's because I am gloomy. While I am very capable of letting this NOT show, inside it makes it worse. At least I think so. I think a big problem may be that I am only on Seroquel to combat my illness ATM and do not see the psychiatrist until next Friday-which feels like eternity! Oh how long the days will pass while I sit here freaking out and feeling awful while she sits guiding patients not knowing how bad the ones who have to wait feel. I do not think this is her fault it is the systems fault. I may just try and find a local mental health facility to get in somewhere sooner and tell them I am NOT okay in the slightest bit.


I have no clue what this is inside me. It's like my soul devoured itself-well I use the word soul here because I think it best describes the 'inner me'. I saw my older sister today and probably rapidly spoke because I just wanted to be focused on all other things happening than what is happening inside me. I know I rapidly spoke because my mouth became dry and you know you just can't stop the ramble. Sometimes I think people probably assume I am on some speedy drug because I speak so fast sometimes but ask any bipolar person and they will tell you that manic time is ramble time. Thoughts and thoughts and thoughts and thoughts come rolling through and then sometimes you get stuck not remembering a word which makes it all the worse because your mind is still rambling but the words are not coming.

This post I am sure will be all over the place but I don't really care because I just need to let my brain speak. So many neurons and receptors and chemicals are haywire and it is not pleasant for me. It feels like I am some bystander looking down at myself thinking I have zero control over that person today. My thoughts go deep and dark and into spaces they probably should not wonder to. Thinking like I am alone, and indeed today I feel like I am in solitary confinement even around another human. Why? Well for starters because that person is not in my mind getting what is rushing through me, second I have to type to a computer to feel I am interacting properly. At least here I can monitor what I am saying, and third my poor husband has so many exams this week that he is wrapped up in his studies as he should be. But this leaves me standing still in a corner like I am punishing myself. NO I am not mad at my husband, or my family, or anyone else close just because they are busy. This is my mental illness and this is just another episode of 'Mrs. Manic Lea'- what else is new. It's a constant game with myself to control my thoughts and my actions.
My anxiety is no joke today. It feels that my GABA is down and anxiety is sky rocketing but again what else is new. I have class today and no I do not want to go because I feel so fucking miserable. My computer here is pissing me off by 'correcting' my words when really it is 'incorrect-ing' them. Ah sorry displaced thought. Any way- I am sitting here wondering what it means to be dead and what is it that is so scary about death

I think people fear it because they cling to their lives even if it is super horrible because they are too scared to know what happens when you die. You are frightened by a concept that there is absolutely NOTHING when you die. That you have no actual soul and so you are just put into a sleep that is everlasting and without dreams. No chance to wake back up. Is that so discerning to validate a clinging to life or making physician assisted suicide for the terminally ill illegal. I do not think so. Think of all the stupid, awful, un-beautiful things that happen daily, and then enjoy the wonderful things and then realize that those things have still happened regardless of if you died. What if there is no God- would it really be that far fetched to think there is no God? I doubt it. A all powerful, all merciful, all knowing so on being who is so perfect yet needs you to worship him (um hello needy much) and requires you not to sin (well since we are made as pleasure animals why even bother we are totally going to sin, especially if you have certain mental illness). I am not bashing anyone that believes in a God, I personally believe in some type of creator just not the standard Abrahamic kind. But think- if God were to be real, and he were to be all-knowing then he would know if you were going to kill yourself, get physician assisted suicide, wait until nature takes its course, or whatever, and you would have no power to decide your destiny anyway. So if you do believe in a God than death should not be such an awful thing and people should be allowed to control it. Look I just wrote a paper on Physician assisted Suicide and there are always the 'sanctity of human life' arguments that are automatically thrown out the window because there is no proof of that that is just your own thought that makes you feel special, and there is always the slippery slope argument that if you allow a doctor to help a patient who is terminally ill (and who will lose function and soil themselves and be in no way capable of taking care of themselves) that it will turn into some all out party for doctors to kill the "unwanted" which in essence by the opposition means the mentally handicapped, the elderly that are 'burdensome' and those with mental illnesses like severe bipolar or schizophrenia or whatever. Now this seems to me that the opposition is making some very judgmental claims on who would be the 'unwanted'. For me none of the above listed would be desirable to get rid of except the asshole who said all those people were undesirable. Dick. Anyway I digress. My point was to say that people want to control others' deaths because they are scared of what death actually means. Well I'm sorry but just because you have some fear does not give you some right to control everyone else's choices who are more scared of dying as a crippled vegetable that cannot think or take care of themselves. I'm sorry I would prefer death to that also.

I get like this where I think about all circumstances surrounding death. Do I want anyone to commit suicide? No. I do not want anyone to feel that low, that alone, that helpless as to want to end it all. I know that things can be very difficult. I know what it feels like to feel alone in a situation where you are going haywire and nothing quite makes sense anymore. Nothing. And on top of that you feel so miserable because you are going up and down like a roller coaster on steroids and no one seems to get it. You try and reach out and get someone to realize your are in immense pain and no one notices what you are trying to warn them about-your suicide or your thoughts of suicide. In Today's world people are so engulfed in their own 'issues' they do not realize they are completely ignoring their families or their friends' 'issues'. It sometimes feels like a competition doesn't it? You finally reach out for help and tell someone I am feeling so f**king depressed that I don't care if I die, and they then say 'OMG I have been feeling really crappy too because like my boss is being a total jerk 'ETC. and you know exactly what I am referring to don't you? Like they need to one up your issue with some mundane BS that does not matter. Or there is always that person who tries to one up your illness. "I feel manic and I am becoming so depressed all I see is darkness" other person competitively says "Yea well I have been sitting in that darkness for a year" or "I have a family of 3 I take care of and I am super stressed from working three jobs, and I am a single mom/dad and you don't even know how hard that is so just think you have it easy compared to me". I hate that one the worst because yes raising kids is hard, yes working numerous jobs at once is hard, and I GET IT OKAY but I would like to say someone without a severe mental illness cannot comprehend that it is not something we need to 'suck up and get over', and it is not something that should be competed with or thought of as 'just in their heads'. These people just want you to feel bad for them and martyr them and guess what it ain't happening. You chose your life of kids, maybe not being a single mom/dad but you knew what was gonna happen if you had unprotected sex and etc. Those of us with severe mental illness had NO FUCKING CHOICE. It's not like we were young and in love and made the mistake of having a baby at 19 or something, or were married and had five kids and then found out our husband wanted to leave us. We were simply born with a mental issue. A biochemical / neurochemical problem that led us to a degree of - anger, hostility, hallucinations, panic and anxiety, darkness not many beyond the mentally ill experience, paranoia, severe mood swings that exhaust you and the brain, depression that is not unipolar but bipolar and is horrendous, RAGE that is so uncontrollable, the strangest actions for some unknown irrational reason, and the list grows longer. If you experience all those things that come with mental illness and then put on top of that physical illness, overwhelming scenarios be it work or family, deaths of those close to you, or just bad happenings it makes life feel 109374982749837298472398473 times more difficult. It isn't a joke. It isn't something you can hope or wish away. Shit even medicine can't always help us. Sometimes we just spiral down the 'death slide'. Imagine you have your family of irk 4, and yes you are the bread winner, you have now had a mental illness break -one that is there for a life time- and you still have to find the energy to deal with the family who for some unknown reason can now easily make you hostile, irritated, or Raged out, and you go to your job(s) and all the sudden the work becomes 10 times harder because you just do NOT care at all for some reason and start hating it, even if you loved it at first, and then start getting dark devilish thoughts that won't leave you. How easy is that for you, don't you wish life was back to normal. So unless you want me to point out that if we are going to compete how disgustingly disturbing your life could be if you had severe mental illness, listen to me. Listen to your family members when they try and reach out. Listen to them when they tell you they are not in a good spot mentally because if you don't or if you brush it off like "Well just think it could be worse" that you may never get to talk to them again because they decide well no one cares even when I finally reach out, no one gives a shot about me, and I have no where to turn and my brain is killing me slowly- and then they slice their wrist or hang themselves or whatever.

When it comes to mental illness people just don't always get it and that can be damaging. This is why I write this blog because I want people to know. They need to know. Mental illness is not a joke. As I read about Unipolar depression (the common variety depression the average Joe gets without any other mental illnesses) and then I really research bipolar manic depression it becomes clear that there are a lot of people who think it is the same thing and an easy fix is an anti-depressant. Here's a NEW FLASH- Those with sever Bipolar Disorder who take a anti-depressant usually used for unipolar depression can become worse off! I have dealt with this first hand several times. Even knowing I was Bipolar there have been doctors that started an anti-depressant because I was feeling like I didn't care if I died and those meds spiraled me into a whole new gloomy horrifying place where I snapped at every instances, cried with rage each day and was literally on the edge of the cliff. Severe mental illness is not something to be taken lightly, to be put aside or to be considered anywhere near the 'average' life, or even a somewhat difficult life. Why? Because our brains work in the wrong way- in the sense that instead of keeping us stable, rational, calm, and collected managing our stressors and dealing with things that aren't always pleasant, we instead grow restless, HOSTILE, dangerous, Deeply and severely depressed, and don't care like we should.

Now while our brains work in ways that it probably shouldn't I can say this- Bipolar Disorder has a way of making people beautifully creative. Wonderfully observant of the small things that normally go unnoticed, and can become extremely passionate. The downfall for me has been I quit jobs with no real reason other than I just don't like it anymore, or I can't work there because I am sick of it so on, and I walk out or do no call no shows. I have had a lot of jobs in my short life. I have also been extremely into going to do this or that and then never do it. I have done stupid things that other Bipolar persons know what I am talking about, I have done damage to myself by acting so ridiculously reckless when I was younger, and I have really just done things that the average un-impulsive person wouldn't do. I work on impulses a lot of the time. It is the wonderful world of spontaneity- no it is the awful world of impulse domination were my impulses to do whatever I well please, or whatever I want to buy, or whatever I want to ignore or whatever, and it is a staggering wall in my life. It is so stupid to just let yourself do that and there is no off switch you just do it. Then your feel immense guilt beyond what any other person would feel (just like my ridiculous amount of guilt from my post yesterday about taking a dog to the pound). IT'S AWFUL.

Worse then is that you fixate. Become Depressed. Start thinking bad thoughts. Delve deep into the question of death. And that is NOT a good place to be. I know. You think well I really wonder what it could possibly be. Like it's some sort of distorted surprise we all just want to know about. That's dangerous thinking. You start to wonder if your energy goes elsewhere and if you will be 'conscious' for it, and whether it would be better. Then you wonder if it is just a stop to everything and nothing. Is it bliss or is it nothing. Either way it does not seem that bad. These thoughts need to be handled carefully. If there is no one there the person may just OD on their meds, or take their life in other ways. That is why I wish there were actual emergency psychiatrists or something. Not those sick prison like psych wards that make you feel even crazier. Those are NOT good. Those don't help. Those just sedate you and leave you thinking geez even the system doesn't give a crap about me because if my insurance hadn't covered this I wouldn't even be here or these people pump you with meds and leave you to stagger around the ward wondering if this is better than death. So what do we do then? I just tranquilize myself sometimes, or I start typing and don't stop for a long time. Like I am doing right now. No I am not for the 'sanctity of life' bs but I do feel that everyone has a right to their life, and a right to that life being at least interesting and at least somewhat stable. The mentally ill still deserve a chance to enjoy what they can when they can instead of letting it defeat them and off they go. I want all people's to feel that something special is inside them and that even if almost every lingering day you feel lost among the darkness you may still see or experience something beautiful that made it worth it. Love is something that helps me hold on. The fact that I can see things in a different perspective makes me happy I have a life. And while yes I have my moments where I refuse to get off the couch and do something because I just want to die, I live through it in hopes that I will get to keep loving and seeing things that are just wonderful. I don't know where this is really going so I think I will end it here. I hope I did some good with this. Share it and pass it on and make people aware of what is happening. PLEASE.

Lea Silva

How The World Turns Out to Be So Different

Let me just say that this post may end up just being me venting about the manic days of my week. Who knows if anyone will find it interesting or at all educational (maybe in the sense that it will show my manic/depressive/hyper nature and how my mind thinks during that time).

I feel so strange. Stranger than I have felt in awhile. The Seroquel is helping; I know because I am not flipping every hour like I am in a psychosis. However, I do not know if my Bipolar has worsened, if that is even possible, or if something is aggravating it. At any rate I am definitely feeling other worldly if that is even comprehensible to you out there.

A few days ago I got that darker side of manic and felt so overwhelmed by sadness that indeed it turned to a depression. Crying watching a movie that is not even sad, thinking back to my earlier days which some I do regret. I get into those bouts where instead of being compulsive about some sort of information I really want to know I compulsively think about my past or what actions I have done that haunt me so on. Some of these actions I know can't be as bad as they play out in my head. For instance, I keep thinking about this dog my ex had given me- a Chihuahua and pug mix I named Hops. She was so rambunctious I had a hard time dealing with her. I never hit her or anything but I would just get so annoyed by the poor little thing. She would go hysterical when I would leave for work, so much so when I came home she somehow managed to get poop on the walls, deep into the carpet and on the furniture. It was like some sort of revenge for leaving to be able to pay bills and buy her damn food. She ended up having worms, and then she started becoming even more needy. I ended up deciding that the best thing to do was to take her to the APL and tell them I found her and that she needs to be put up for adoption. I must confess I did not want a dog at the time and it was my exes last ditch effort to somehow make me forgive him for being an asshole. They took Hops and she turned around and started crying as they walked her back to the vet. That very moment will probably haunt me for life. She had no idea what was going on and why I would abandon her. I just didn't have time to care for her and give her the attention she really wanted and I felt someone else would surely adopt her in no time and hopefully someone with kids that would constantly play with her. I know I did the right thing as I was like 19 and was dealing with mental illness not yet diagnosed. So I have no clue why it haunts me. Of course I feel bad for handing her off, as I had to do with another dog the same ex ended up buying- and he too haunts me- but he would destroy the house while I was gone - I mean like I would go to the store for 5 minutes come home and he would be chewing through the carpet. I had to give him up. You must be noticing that my ex never took the dogs though right. Just left them on the 19 year olds lap to handle. I wasn't ready for commitment like that. I guess I feel bad because I was attached to those dogs but I just couldn't take care of them the way they wanted- by that I mean 24/7 attention. I had to work, I had to go out to the stores, and I had to have some kind of life. But these are things I fixate on sometimes. Or other actions like taking dangerous risks not caring what the outcome might be- like doing disappearing acts while out with friends- hello that was not okay. But beyond that. I mean I would defend my one friend no matter what and she had gotten beat up in this dudes house by some girl and her boyfriend and when she got in my car so distraught of course the rage meter elevated (this is before I knew I was bipolar btw). I was so infuriated I ran up to that house and started kicking the door as hard as possible. I must have had the look of death in my eyes because the second the girl saw me she started crying and freaking out that I was 'going to kill her'- no but I did want to beat her to a pulp. A friend grabbed me from behind and I grabbed the railing kicked him as hard as I could in the shin and as I pulled the railing literally came up out of the cement. So like any typical rage monster that can't get into a house I threw it through the window. Right then I saw the red and blue and knew I had to get it together and get out of there. That girl was lucky that happened.

I told my friend to straighten her hair out and everyone pretend we were at grandmas. The cops (all five unit cars) stopped us and surrounded us. They asked us to get out and had a K-9 unit check my car- which was clean. They tell us there is a disturbance call at a known drug house- this was kind of a surprise to me I don't know that I would have gone so far if I had known it was a 'known drug house'. My friend stood there crying because she was so nervous and my other friend stood there like he was used to it (which I am actually sure he was because as a black American he probably got profiled all the time). I explained I was at my grandmother's house down the street delivering some I don't remember what and said I had no idea what they were talking about. Now this is the thing with bipolar- one minute you are raging out, to the point where you would do anything to get that rage out (me personally not ANYTHING, like I wouldn't kill someone or some crap like that) and the second you need to be not raged out because something is happening BOOM you are absolutely charming and manic so you have this thing about you, like you are narcissistic and think you are the best thing on earth- which is charming to some. The cop was not giving me a hard time at all but he then asked for my ID. I handed him my military ID explaining I didn't have my license on me - not true I did- he looked at it and called all the police off me and let us go. Which is why I lied I knew the second he saw the military ID we would be free to go (this was what a year into the war on terror).

Those aren't the only things I have done that were dumb. I have done plenty risky things. Whether it be speeding, too personal to share here, or starting arguments with people-which I was pretty good at and really should have been more careful. I fixate on all of it. I wonder why I would do those things, put myself in those positions, allow myself to be so careless. It is just something I think that comes with the territory of being Bipolar. No way around it sometimes. I would get paranoid people were staring at me, or talking about me, (in the context it wasn't that unlikely but I was still paranoid) and I would just freak out. I don't think I can explain it in words. But let's get to my last few days .

Yesterday I was just blah. Just like a piece of Jell-O that is warming and becoming weird. I was irritated beyond belief and had a panic attack over not finding a parking space _ really Lea! I got to class and just didn't really care. I was so engulfed in my irritability that I just zoned out for what seemed like several days. Time moved so slow. I got home and was just agitated and frustrated and wanted to be alone. I started reading a book I was excited about and got annoyed it wasn't what I thought it would be. Who know if I will finish it. I then got very upset because someone who will not be named took my blanket from when I was a child (which I compulsively sleep with) and put it in a nasty hamper so I was unable to sleep with it. You should have seen my reaction. I was super pissed I hate HATE when people touch certain things and then put it in a hamper and then don't clean it- well that is ridiculous to me because it is clearly something that is my sleep aide since it is everywhere I sleep at. It feels like a betrayal or like a cruel prank. DON"T TOUCH MY STUFF is what I kept saying to my husband, who was not the culprit. I am very meticulous about this kind of stuff. I was infuriated over a bonified baby blanket smelling like dirty socks because someone decided they needed to wash it and then didn't wash it. That was rude to me and an intrusion of my personal space. I don't care if I live in the same house as someone don't touch my things like that. Fine we do each others laundry -clothes and what notes- but don't touch that stuff on my bed. Don't touch things I put in specific places or I will be super heated, don't ignore something that needs attention bc that will anger me, and so many other things. No matter how many times I try to explain these things it seems some people don't hear me. I have friends that definitely don't. I have a mental illness, and I have compulsions and obsessions, and I have serious anxiety. If you consistently mess with my stuff  I will freak the fuck out like I did last night. I'm sure my husband was like oh geez here we go but to me it is an invasion on my personal way of living. I don't like it. 

I just don't think some people get what a mental illness entails and how easily I can be set off into a new mood. I put something in a specific area for a reason, you move it, I flip out alone and move it back, you move it again, I move it back--- why do you not see that I want it where I want it as it is my stuff so stop it. This has happened so many times and I get more angry each new time this occurs. JUST STOP TOUCHING MY STUFF> I don't touch yours .

Maybe I am being crazy to you but it's part of me.


Next day. I wake up today and I am in pain from the back, hip, and nerve issues and I feel even more untested because I did not have that silly blanket. The only reason I slept without it at all was because of my meds. If I hadn't had them I would have been awake all night and would have waited for the dryer to be done.  Any way, I procrastinate going to school because to be honest I feel too exhausted to want to go because of my hyper and anger episodes and today I just feel uppity and exhausted all at once. I have no rose colored glasses today, everything is very vivid and disturbingly detailed and I hate it. I am annoyed. I am angry. I am hyper, I am sad, and I am AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. That's what it feels like. My anxiety is through the roof so much so that while driving I had to take another Klonopin. And that annoyed me because the doctor only gave me 30 .5mg and guess what that doesn't really help when some panic attacks are worse than others and I need more than 1 .5mg pill. So 30 a month won't cut it at the rate this anxiety storm is at. It's either give me a higher dose so I can deal with the panic, or give me 60. I don't think some doctors realize that some people really do have panic attacks or bouts of bad anxiety daily that makes them want to puke everywhere or just die. Sorry it doesn't make sense to you but you can follow me around for a few days if you don't believe me. And then they say 'use it sparingly and only when needed' like yeah use it sparingly because you are under-treating me. HELP ME don't make me annoyed and scroll into a super manic mode because the anxiety triggers it.

Then today driving to school nothing looks real- or maybe nothing looks as it should or how I am used to and it isn't just the layer of snow that just fell. I am noticing things and details that I did NOT notice any other time- so for months these things have been unseen to me and now all the sudden boom here they are making things feel so unfamiliar. Guess what happens then? Oh yes I feel completely disoriented, like I am not a part of reality and I panic. What else is new. Sorry got to go to class.

To Be Continued.....

Lea

Dark Cloud Days

It does not really matter whether you are on meds or not some days are just gloomy. Gloomy like you have sat under a dark cloud by accident and every time you try and walk away it just follows you. The worst part about these days is sometimes that dark cloud rains down on you, sweeping you off your feet, and sliding down the sharp gravel road.

For some reason I just cried last night, thinking of the life I have had, the suffering other people have, and how I truly believe this world is so morally corrupt it be a shocker to see it be anything but. The sadness that sits on street curbs and store fronts, as they passively ask for just 50 cents, watching most people pass them by. Those people have it worse; some of them have mental illnesses that trump anything I have seen first hand. Then there's those sitting in their rooms closed off from what is supposed to be their support group i.e. their family, being stigmatized all the way to their commitment to die.

So what of me? I am not the only one suffering and I do not have it as bad as I could but that does not dismiss the fact that I feel a smothering darkness atop me. It just feels so exhausting sometimes dealing with the highs and lows. My meds do get at stabilizing me for the most part but not completely, never completely. That would be some sort of miracle. I saw a guy in an interview once say all it took was his meds to turn him around and feel 'normal'. What does that mean? And what was this guy taking because I have never felt 'normal' on any med?! I still have cycles of moods on meds, even if they are strong.

There I sit, delving into things that seem impossible, not so much a judgment of that man as an investigation into how he does it. Perhaps it is a lie and he never feels 'normal' he just does not want anyone thinking differently. Why? Because crazy isn't attractive, but I don't know that anyone with bipolar disorder should really be called crazy. Yes we have some strange going-ons that happen to us, some people see hallucinations, and others just cycle so quickly you might think they are two people. Sometimes I feel that way of myself. Me I am assertive on what I believe, I am super weird in general, but me swinging through manic, mania, and depression well that part of me loses patience, feels egotistical (it's a strange high that bipolar people get that makes them feel almost invincible and anyone that gets in our way better watch out), anger and rage become a serious issue, becoming easily annoyed or irritated, becoming hostile or volatile, and for me I can go from doing amazing, just on top of the world, to engulfed in a sobering unimaginable depression. Once that cloud hits I'm not feeling quite like myself. I tell me husband ahead of time (ahead of any kind of snap attitude) that today I am feeling like death and do not want to be teased or played with (you know the loving kind of way a couple plays around with each other like a pinch on the butt or a teasing silly remark-well those things for turn to be a horrible thing and I snap like a homeless dog).
I don't think any of this truly equates to crazy but some may think so. I think it's just a different way for a brain to function. Some days it is on par with what should be "normal" functioning, and other days it has special attributes that most wouldn't be willing to deal with- except maybe that part where you get an extreme high and everything looks amazing to you, you look amazing to you, all the trees and animals and the sky are just vivid and a sign of happiness. I say to myself sometimes 'wow you are crazy' because of the things I think and the ways I feel.

To be perfectly honest I have no idea if I have had hallucinations ever. That is a question for my brain to process because there are times where I am completely disconnected and it just feels like I am sitting in my brain unable to control anything and my body is just doing whatever- and at these moments I do panic because reality does not feel real. I can say this, there have been times where I spook myself because of obsessively pondering over something like the idea of ghosts, what happened when you die, what would a demon really be, and crap out of horror flicks most people don't' sit and compulsively ponder over for hours. When that happens I can tell you, and I have never said this out loud to anyone, I walk around the house extremely paranoid and will see 'shadows' is what I may call it, or I may fall asleep and wake up in sleep paralysis and see 'what would be demons' and I don't know if that counts as true hallucinations because when I read about sleep paralysis many people think they see demons, but I do believe in some kind of theory about ghosts. I am convinced that I have seen them and I was not always alone when they seemed to have appeared and whoever was with me did the same kind of scream-OMG what the F**** so either I hallucinated and that person was just playing along, or I and that person really saw something.
However, I do sit there and again compulsively think I am going to see something come up behind me or around the corner and my BP goes up, I start to panic and I probably do see shadows that aren't actually there but I have convinced my brain through obsessively thinking about it that something will show up. You will see me run out of the house and go anywhere but back home for a couple hours. I am surely digressing perhaps because this part of me is part of the dark cloud.

I remember not that long ago having a very gloomy bad day and I was at school. I did not want to be there and I would have given just about anything to have the choice to stay home without penalty-which I think I should since I PAY for my classes- but anyway, I was in a dark deep think smog. It was awful. I was sitting there trying to mind my own business reading a piece by Plato - Timaeus, which is a Creation story- and normally I wouldn't mind a friendly debate on the topic, but my friend and peer Josh, as usual, picked a bit of a debate about how these kinds of stories are irrational, while he knows I believe otherwise even though I don't know that I believe one myself. At any rate, I was so focused on staying calm and reading this piece that it just passed me off that he was interrupting me. At first I just replied with an attitude and went back to trying to read the piece, and as usually he has a rebuttal which is only normal during the course of an argumentative conversation, and I just flipped out. I was nasty and told him to 'fuck off and for once just leave it be so on' and he made another remark and I hit rage point and very embarrassingly I raised my voice got hostile and cussed too loudly. He left it alone after that like any sane person would clearly being able to see something was off that day. After a day or so, because I had to come down from the manic and mania, and I told him I was sorry and that day was just not a good day for me. Of course he understood and we moved past it, but I think that is the only time, maybe passively in another class, that I had ever got super angry, and the only thing I can say is I am happy that I only got to about an eighth of where I normally land on the rage meter.

I am always regretting those moments of getting so uppity that I get into serious anger mode. It may not even truly bother me what the other person says or does but I am so irritable and aggressive those days that I just hate just about everything but those persons whom I love. Even then though I have taken it out on them. They know the wrath of Lea. Me and my husband actually nicknamed that side of me Lequisha (only because it was the first name that popped up in my head that started with an L and was so different from lea). Those days are tough. There is this awful feeling when you have to put on your 'normal' face when deep down in the darkens you feel so miserable, exhausted, upset, depressed, angered so forth. I put a smile on all the time, or at least I try to when I am down. I think only a couple people can see past that bull shot façade- my husband, my mom, and only once did a stranger say something to me. I don't remember who this gentleman was and he was a friend on Facebook and he emailed me a message that took me aback. He said he knew by looking at my eyes (in pictures of me) that there was a hidden sadness that looks to be unrelenting. That I looked as if I was going down a deep spiral to a place he said he didn't want to see me go because I would end up dead, and that talking to anyone was better than bidding what I knew was in my soul and mind. I of course lied and said I have no idea what you are talking about because at the time I hid that I was bipolar publicly. I mean my mom knew, and other members knew but didn't see much of it because I hid it from others besides my mom and I didn't want this guy knowing anything about it. He probably dealt with it himself and that was how he knew but for some reason it bothered me that he knew.

I have become open about it in the last couple years because I realized hiding your pain, be it mental or physical, only leads to more pain. Suffering under the veil of obscurity helps no one. I am not fooling anyone, they know I go through episodes and I'm sure even my teachers may notice that on some days I am so caught up in my drowning in sorrow that I get aggressive during debates in class, or am aggressive against others comments in a way I normally am not- they know something is up, they have to.

These days I try and stay home because it is no use having me in class as I won't be paying attention I will be sitting there compulsively thinking about dark stuff. In my notebook there is some drawings in the margins of a person with their skull cut open and all these weird symbols falling out, there are pictures of dead flowers, dead faces whatever- and if anyone where to ask for my notes on that day I would definitely lie and say I didn't take any because I wouldn't want them seeing the f***ed up doodles.

Just like today I am so depressed and tired that I don't even know what I want to do. I want to write the blog post to help me cope with the day, see what I am really thinking, and then what- I always feel so antsy on these days- I smoke more cigarettes because I don't know what to do with my self, I will end up reading a few chapters not in just one book but several because I just don't know what I want, and I won't know what to do with my body, or say I want to eat for dinner, or know anything. Homework would be impossible today unless I somehow start floating up past the dark cloud.

I just feel like sometimes I am just not worth it. I am just so off and so weird and can be so aggressive that I am amazed I have my husband. He is wonderful in dealing with me and not many people can tolerate it. I get hurt when people say 'I don't know how much more I can take of this' because it's like hello how do you think I feel! I deal with what is actually happening in my brain you just get a small taste of it. Plus it hurts because I can't help my swings and I don't know that it should always be held against me. Yes sometimes I am just a real twat but I take responsibility for those days, but other days it really just isn't controllable. Now many say being on meds causing a person to lose creativity and fogs their minds but I feel it opens mine. I can explore more because my mind is not preoccupied like it is without meds. I can think of wonderful things to put into words, I can see the beauty stilt that lies outside, and I can certainly still doodle some pretty creative, but not so aesthetically pleasing due to dark content, figures, and I am a better reader and critical writer and editor on my meds because I don't feel as overwhelmed.
However, I do not feel motivated at all today as the dark sands of doom come swirling in around me, warping my thoughts and my visions of wonderful outcomes, I am left in despair over what I ought to be doing. I have been sitting here crying and not really delving into why I am so sad- because I don't really know- but on these days watch out for those horrifying thoughts about what death really is because it can lead you deeper down the dark stairwell that no one wants to be put down. I do that sometimes and those days I am so enveloped in the darkness I lay in the couch feeling sick, wishing reality for me was different and that I could process things more correctly. I sit there and my husband looks worried because he knows when my moods are changing. He tries to cheer me up and it's like I don't even like those things he is suggesting ATM because I am so engulfed in terrifying and magnificently deep fearful thinking. These  days are the days I need to reach out which is why I wrote my post today. I am in that mood, my thoughts are scattered and I am obsessing over particular thoughts and I need to climb the ladder back to the surface where I can see the warm glow of the sunshine. Right now I am in the dark damp pit of sewage waiting to have the courage and strength to pull myself up, or perhaps I am waiting for the helping hand. At least I know that eventually these things will pass and I will become immersed in sunshine at least for a little bit. -On the 25th I will have to tell my doctor that I need something else because I am still cycling and my anxiety is rising- and I may need a higher dosage on that since even at home I am having moments of despair that cause me to quietly panic so no one comes over and cuddles me because that doesn't help. I go sit outside so no one notices. Caught up in a world of doom and gloom and wishing for an escape. Living an ordinary life is not quite as adventurous as living with a bipolar mind, You don't need to see new countries to see and experience new things.

I guess I will have to write another post later because this is getting too long, and I will write about procrastination, moving a lot, being impulsive, and such. Thanks for reading. Feel free to comment and tell me how you're feeling on these kinds of gloomy days.

Lea Silva

The Deepest Depression

It wasn't long ago when they put the mentally ill inside an asylum and left them to rot in there. But today it has been made difficult around the world to find a place that can treat you if you have low income or live in a country that makes mental illness a taboo. So what are you left to do when it seems no one understands, the general physician is not that familiar with mental illnesses like bipolar or panic disorders, and you are stuck because it will either take months to see a psychiatrists as they are all booked up, or because you have no insurance.

One of the toughest parts of mental illness is realizing when you need some help be it medicines, friendly or filial support, or just some techniques to bring you back to reality and none of those are available. I heard that someone I know was going to end it and because I came out and spoke openly about what I have been through that it change that person's perspective. Sometimes it only takes a supportive pal, or a helping hand to get someone to realize he/she is important.

To be very honest there were times in my deepest darkest days were I wish I had died with the failed pregnancies, or did not care if I were to get hit by a car and die and so on (you get the picture). I never felt I wanted to commit suicide but I did have a lack of care about my own life. I did my routine of showering and kind of eating but I just would sleep or lay there and not care. If I was in school I would put all my focus on my work because it dragged me out of my depressed reality.  I am sure many people have felt that way thought. A feeling of 'who cares if I die' or 'no one will notice if I die right now'. When I was younger I would purposely lay on my bedroom flow and see if anyone would notice me laying there pretending to be dead. My mom of course did when she was home, but there were times I felt no one would have noticed.

Today I know my husband and mother would notice most of all (and of course my best friend but she wouldn't be living by me to notice right away). It is bad when you start to become very curious about death. Yes everyone thinks about what death means and what will happen but there is a difference between that thinking and the thoughts of death when you are manically depressed.

It's like this- you know how when someone tells you not to do something you get extremely curious and end up doing it to see what happens- or you know you should do action X but you do it anyway to see the outcome- well that's the kind of disturbing curiosity I am referring to when someone is severely depressed. The thoughts role through your mind like 'well it's either better being dead or being dead means nothing' and then that impulse comes flushing in--- 'so what would happen if I just died right now, I kind of want to just know what will happen'. You feel that flood over you because you feel so helpless, alone and stigmatized that you can't imagine death being worse than this life. Death will at least end the mental anguish, the fighting between your rational and mentally ill irrational side, and will end the feeling that everyone treats you or looks at you like you are less than or stupid because you have a mental illness.

But just wait. Do not let those feelings crumble you to the ground. We all have something unique about us that makes us beautiful, and in modern times not many people can see it in themselves. The feel so lonely, so distant from people and the world, so much like they are so extraordinarily different because of mental illness that they cannot see the beauty within. However, there are others that can see it in you, that look at you in amazement. Those people are the ones you need to have as your support. The ones that can say "hey you're worth it, you're a good honest, kind, so and so person" and can find or already know the way to help you. These people are the ones that are open to understanding just how you feel and what goes on in that mind of yours. Letting the depression ruin you is easy, and fighting that urge to do nothing or feel like nothing is difficult. Yet there are ways out. Sadly, some people are just so deeply hurried in sorrow and sadness that they cannot find their way out. I think that those people never quite had the support and love they needed.

The taboo of being mentally ill is a cause of concern for many. This kind of thinking causes those with mental illnesses to feel even more ostracized and left behind. It is actually a good thing asylums don't exist (at least for me) because I believe that perpetuates the mental illness. You are dropped of at some strange place, left to the will of the staff who were not always so nice, and were left to just rot away in there. I can only imagine what those people felt like. And as far as I know it didn't take much to be put in one against your will. Of course now a days they do have psych wards and I am sure plenty of those people feel quite similar to the left behind asylum residents. I find this horrifying. Yes of course there are some illnesses that really incapacitate a person to the point that the family cannot take care of them adequately and the best thing to do is have hospice or whatever take care of them. Yet, people that are maniacally depressed being thrown into places like that I don't think is very helpful. I think it is more helpful for them to be able to talk to their families without being judged or treated differently, and that it is significantly more inspiring and helpful to be able to go see psychiatrists and psychologists in their offices when you need to. This is not really possible today though. Many times because there are so many mentally ill people untreated that any clinic that offers free or discounted visits is over booked. I think an online support group that group Skypes or an online visit with a psychiatrist would be extremely helpful.

I think bringing mental illness awareness to the forefront of issues needing to be dealt with is crucial. If we paid attention to this area in social life we may be able to open our eyes to many of the triggers. People being overworked and underpaid, people not having good opportunities to further their education, economic struggles, a lack of compassion from medical centers (as they have become overwhelmingly greedy and upping surgery and other care prices thousands of dollars more than what they were just ten years ago), family neglect, stereotyping and discrimination, and a lack of understanding about mental illness in general can affect those suffering.

Manic depression is not a joke. It can lead to a very impulsive behavior leading to serious physical harm or death. It may lead to a lack of caring for life, and may just cause this person to burn bridges to all his/her necessary positions in life.

Do not treat people like they are just so stupid that they do not get what you are talking about, or like your smarter than them because that only instigated the problem. That person doesn't want to feel judged in that way or seen as less than or dumb just because they are dealing with psychological issues, and open your mind to understanding what is affecting this individual to become so depressed and be very careful to be polite around that subject or gentle in bringing it up. Often times people are told why the person feels the way they do and after about a week the person who is there for support loses interest in why that depressed person is feeling so. Like I said in a previous post when someone dies that you are close to it affects you for a long period while it only affects a person who wasn't close to that person a short period. So be aware that you are not always acting as if you still care and don't 'get sick' of hearing about your friend or family member's issues because that just makes us feel no one cares at all. If the depressed person needs to talk or cry or scream support them. Help them realize getting help is the best way to go because I wouldn't have gotten help had it not been for my husband being there for me and constantly dealing with my antics and depression. Be kind and love !

Lea Silva

The Stigma

Often times those who have mental illnesses are stigmatized. Even those with physical disabilities are often stigmatized. It is not fair, it does not feel good, and it certainly is not right. With mental illness people cannot physically see what is wrong so it becomes almost a joke to some people because if they cannot see it it just is not real to them. I have said this in previous posts that people will ask if bipolar disorder or anxiety disorder is even a real thing. To those that suffer from those issues it is more real than a lot of things. Everything can become broken in seconds for you. The oppression from anxiety is so overwhelming that sometimes during a panic attack the thought of death seems more satisfying. When you are going through a panic attack you are overtaken by irrational ideas/ thoughts that at a better moment you know are not reasonable. When you have compulsions people do not understand why; they simply think you are some weirdo. There is a lot of stigma behind OCD because most of the time people think of persons who are germ-o--phoebes or clean freaks, and other times they think you have some irrational idea behind your compulsions (I admit I thought that for the longest time until I was told I had compulsions). I have a compulsion that drives me to constantly look over websites on certain information I hear about, or read twenty different articles about one topic because I feel the need to know it, actually know it and that means looking at things repeatedly.
Bipolar disorder has been so mislabeled by some movies that there is just a huge stereotype on what being bipolar actually means. I once watched that ridiculous movie "running with scissors" (I believe that was the name of it), and it was quite wrong. It was almost insulting. I am sure there are people out there that were represented by that movie, but speaking as someone who has severe bipolar disorder with rapid cycling episodes I can tell you that that movie did not do what I go through justice. Shoot I sometimes have a hard time explaining what I go through.

I bring all this up because today in my book club we discussed the book "Metamorphosis" and most people felt that Gregor turning into a 'vermin' was an analogy for mental illness. Indeed the author did deal with insomnia and his father abusing him so this was obviously a source for his book. This book never explains why Gregor turned into an insect, nor what it was really supposed to represent. There was only one person in the class that associated the change as just how life goes, you change day to day. It made me realize that depending on life circumstances you may view this book differently. As someone dealing with mental illness and having felt the stigma I genuinely believe the metamorphosis represented that. It did not need to tell me why he just morphed into a new creature, I already knew. When I first started becoming angry, and then angrier, and then depressed and then more depressed, I could recognize I was changing in behavior and mental thoughts, but I did not full out come out and say 'Oh god I am becoming some raging monster' and when my panic attacks started I realized that something was off but I didn't know really what. Again I did not come out going 'Oh my god I am becoming hysterical for no reason'. I just dealt with it and went on living how I lived but adjustments due to my changing mind were made quietly and I did not have any need to stop and really analyze it until I became older and it affected me more. But it still wasn't a dead stop in the road revelation about me being mentally ill. In the book Gregory recognizes he has transformed but doesn't care he just wants to go to work. He doesn't think him taking shape as a 'vermin' will impede him in anyway, he can go on being a traveling salesman. That's how most of us feel I am sure. We just feel OK I am different or I have some issues but I am just going to keep on keeping on.

However, as the book progresses you realize that his sister, who could not even look at him even when she was trying to take care of him in his new form, started to feel he was just a burden, and so did his parents. Before he was treated well but before he was also the bread winner. Now they had to do all the work--- Gee Gregor what were you thinking! His father even throws apples at him and impales his back so badly that it causes him some paralysis. No one ever took the apple out of his back and this apple stayed there for months. Hmmm metaphor for stabbing a person in the back? Perhaps. In the end his sister and parents say  that they just cannot take him anymore, he is just a burden, and they have to get rid of him. They had wished he would just understand that and leave on his own accord.

I am not saying all families are like this or even that most are I am just trying to point out that those with issues, especially issues that affect one's daily like and prevent them from doing what they'd like or what they need to do (work, go to school etch.), make people look at you differently. I had a conversation with a girl once, no names given for this, and she believed that most of the people on disability and welfare and food stamps were just lazy people. This is a stigma that runs hot in the United States. There is a HUGE debate on whether our welfare systems are good, or if they just let the 'lazy be lazy'. Now this absolutely disgusts me when people say this kind of stuff. I would like to say that many of those people probably have a mental illness or physical disability that makes them unable to work or to live a normal life. Yes there are always people who abuse the system, that is not a new concept, and yes many people who use welfare systems are not disabled but strictly need help in a time of need. But to just outright denounce all of the people on a welfare system meant to help people establish themselves in a country that is super capitalistic is just ignorant and distasteful.

Most of our homeless here in the US are mentally ill, and they cannot get proper health care so they do self medicate. Or they get the meds that are so sedating they no longer feel anything and so they of course go out and find a way to feel something. Now a lot of these people could be severely mentally ill and no one who think those people are lazy would notice the daily struggle of those people. I hate the arguments like "well I did it all on my own, got a loan and blah blah" or 'well I worked three jobs and managed just barely to stay afloat without using any government help". Okay well that's good for you but that's not how life works for other people. Before I was treated and diagnosed I had a very bad habit of quitting jobs. I couldn't take them or they would bother me or make me depressed and I would just quit. See ya later. Even with school sometimes I need to take a day off of classes because I am having a hard time dealing that day. That doesn't make me lazy, nor does it make me a person that uses others. It makes me someone that is mentally ill and struggling. If you were poor and able to keep afloat working minimum wage jobs without the use of government help well good for you, but it's okay to ask for help, that is why those systems were built. I think pride is one of the reasons many actually don't take advantage of systems that help you get assistance, or free health coverage, or whatever. But all those kinds of sayings put a stigma on the homeless man sitting in front of the gas station who does not know what is really happening, or does but doesn't know how to fix it because his mind works differently. It puts a stigma on people like me, someone who is pretty productive but has serious lapses in her mental well-being, and that yes will use assistance and free health benefits because I literally cannot work three jobs mentally or physically, nor can I deal with not having medical treatment.

When people hear me speak so adamantly about mental illness some get sick of it, or don't care, or think it is ridiculous, and others actually take something away from it. I speak allowed because I am sick of being treated like I am less than. Doctors have been known to speak in a way that makes me think they believe I am incompetent or have the intelligence of a 15 year old. No not any doctor I see now but there was one in particular and I ended up cussing him out and storming out. People have heard I am mentally ill, or even very close people has used it to try and attack me. Being looked at like you are 'dumb' because you deal with something so exhausting and daunting is quite frustrating. And more people need to learn how to cope themselves with having a child that is mentally ill, a wife or husband that is mentally ill (or has a break and becomes severely mentally ill), and general people need to have more awareness about what we go through. Our day is not like your day- we think differently, react differently, analyze differently, become affected by words and acts differently. My view on life is much different than those I know who are not dealing with mental disorders. My outlook can be very dark sometimes but other times it is more like an obstacle course that I am planning. I get overwhelmed easily but I use it to teach me. I can become very frustrated and agitated but it's not something I intentionally do. I become stricken with panic and start flipping out but I don't need anyone pointing or staring or making fun of me, I need someone to comfort me and tell me it's okay. A simple hug that gives a person security during a panic attack goes a long way. I am not less than just because my brain is different than yours. My intelligence may even be much higher than yours so that stigma is just a sad way to say I don't know anything about mental illness so instead of asking what that means I make fun of you or get scared by it, or sickened by it because 'you're different'.

I am bringing this all up because it hurts. Today I felt a ping of it and it felt that me even saying I deal with bipolar disorder made some people feel uncomfortable. Is it that big of a deal? You don't have to deal with me being bipolar, and you certainly don't need to feel uncomfortable that I am open about my issues. I am a person just like you. I am a very open person that feels hiding behind a mask will no longer suffice and introducing myself to the world as I really am is much more appropriate and freeing. For the longest time only a few people knew I had panic attacks, and even fewer knew I was bipolar, unless someone else told other people. I don't know that I was embarrassed but I know at one point I did not want to believe it. I saw my uncle struggle with mental illness and I didn't want to become that way. Not knowing what was real, and feeling disoriented. I eventually came to realize that my mental illness is different than his and while I may still endure some things that he did, my experience will be different. I do in fact deal with bouts of feeling disconnected and disoriented from the world. But rather than letting it scare me like I was I have come to find a way to cope. I let it happen and take everything in as a dream, or as an observer watching myself. It can still be frightening and it is due to my extreme anxiety but it is part of who I am. I am no longer scared of how this will turn out as I age. If I start to become paranoid, or hear things or see things that aren't there well I will just deal with it. I will go on living just as Gregor did. Even if the closes treat me like a burden (which I cannot believe they ever would) I would just keep going, doing what I could and making it matter to me. I have come to the conclusion that there are some things you just can't change and those things make you who you are; they can either make you into a spectacular, unique, mindful, and creatively articulate person, or can leave you in a state of mind that is not particularly nice, that makes you feel like you are drowning beneath your mind, and no matter what your abilities are becoming oppressed. By accepting yourself you can use the different way your mind works for new purposes. Creatively writing about your experiences, blogging, using it to make beautiful art, to write wonderful philosophy, to capture photos of things most don't spot, or simply becoming a very compassionate and kind person. Do not let anything stigmatize you. A person who discriminates or tries to make you feel uncomfortable for who you are, or stigmatizes mental illness is a person who lacks understanding, and knowledge.

Thank you for reading my vent of the day. Another novel I know. Please feel free to comment and add your stories.

Lea Silva

Self Medicating; Mental Illness and Defining Who You Are.

There was a time that I had no idea who I was. Obviously I knew I was Lea, I was a decent person, and I was pretty intelligent. However, I didn't know who I was because everything felt like it was crumbling, I felt I needed attention because I thought it helped me cope with what I was going through, and I always was trying to figure out my morals, my goals, my view on life. When I found out I was Bipolar I didn't really know what to think. It made a lot of sense. I would want to be in a relationship because it made me feel more secure but then I would incidentally feel overwhelmed by the relationship, feel that I didn't know how to deal with my boyfriend when we argued, and I always felt that they were judging me because I would get so down or angry or even hyper. I remember having my ex storm out because I became so hyper-focused on a project I was doing I didn't notice him trying to talk to me. I honestly didn't even notice him leave. Granted he was pretty douchey but I didn't know how to deal with that situation. It seemed really stupid to me and immature, but I felt myself losing patience, getting angry, and being disgusted. I flipped out thinking wow how immature can you be, why would I even tolerate with this? Is it really that hard to believe I was so focused I didn't notice you standing behind me like a creep? I cannot help that this happens to me, nor is it that out of the ordinary as far as I know. The anger I felt was out of the ordinary as he really ticked me off by being so not understanding. He didn't understand much about me. He didn't realize why I would get overly upset by remarks made towards me, why I would get offended so deeply by rape "jokes", why I would get so angry at intolerant people, and why I got so offended or upset by jokes that poked at people with mental disorders. I get upset by a lot and I cannot control that. Somethings I get upset at I understand- people making jokes about rape, molestation, mental illness, pokes at people with bipolar disorder so on. I would also get very aggressive when someone I was dating would tell me to just fuck off, or get control of myself, or instigate me so badly I would rage out. It didn't feel very fair that I would get picked on by someone that was supposed to understand me. It felt awful when I would find something they did very disturbing, annoying, or just wrong and they wouldn't understand that me getting upset as I did was not because I wanted to be that upset. It makes you feel like an outsider and question if you have a right to be upset, and this led me to stay in relationships longer than I should have, to the point that it would exacerbate my issues.

When I found out I was bipolar it had made sense because I had issues with spending money (too much spending), I self sabotaged because of my impulses to do what at that exact moment felt correct (which was usually out of anger or depression or lack of caring), and I had a problem dealing with others. I just could not deal with a lot of people because I felt they just didn't understand anything, or that they were just so ignorant I didn't want to be associated with them. Most importantly I didn't like many people because I had alway felt stigmatized without understanding why. Finding out you have bouts of crying often, having a serious boiling point that caused rage, having a significant amount of pent up anger, having the feeling you should do whatever you feel like doing (which can be dangerous), and having the lowest of low depressions that made me lethargic and feel so demotivated I would skip work or quit jobs made me feel "At least I know why. At least I can understand that part of me now, and hopefully I can get it in check."

However, a big problem with being bipolar is the impulse that can be risky. I would get on meds and be doing so well. I would be able to be calm, stay pretty laid back and only have manic and mania episodes every once in awhile rather than daily, and I could get along with more people (although, I still disliked a lot of people). Yet, once I felt like I was at a good stable point I would get off my meds. For about a month, maybe two, I would still be okay and then there would come a time when it all came crumbling back down. I am not going to lie, there was a point in my younger twenties where I drank too much (around 21-22 maybe 23). I didn't drink daily, and I didn't drink during the day (like that really matters), but at night, because I have always been more of a night owl) I would drink and I would do this a few times a week. No big deal right? Most young twenty something adults drink a few nights a week until they get it out of their systems. My drinking was not like that. I drank to self medicate. I would drink because it usually brought my moods to a neutral, at least that's what I thought. It did not though. Sure sometime I would be what we call "happy drunk" but it actually made me much more hostile. I didn't really notice or I just ignored it. I didn't want to ever become an alcoholic like my dad, and that thought really scared me. But I didn't do drugs. It just wasn't part of my thought process, so I drank thinking it would move me away from the feeling of being "crazy". Being bipolar does NOT mean you are crazy but you certainly may feel that way when it is happening to you.


Eventually I realized that this was not okay. That drinking was making things worse when I was drunk. I am already impulsive at times so add drinking to that and it turns out to be a bad conclusion. Fighting as a grown adult is stupid, especially physical fighting. Getting in arguments with people you are in relationships with becomes a bigger issue than it was, and causing issues for other people. Additionally, I constantly pulled houdinis. This means that I would go out with friends and my sister and at some point I would get either very agitated by someone at the bar, or agitated in general for unknown reasons. When this occurred I would leave. I wouldn't tell anyone I was leaving and I would just disappear. Now this may not seem that bad but when you are downtown at 1 or 2 in the morning it becomes dangerous as there are a lot of creeps out. It also isn't safe to go disappearing when you are so drunk you can't see so well and you are walking around the city not really knowing where you are going to end up. I usually ended up in my bed alone, but there were times where some stranger would pull up and ask if I need a ride. Thinking I was invincible I would take the ride. I indeed ended up at home alone BUT WHO DOES THAT? I could have been in a lot of trouble or done something really stupid and regrettable. I always have to thank my lucky stars that I was lucky and never had anything bad happen to me. There is a story though that really shook me out of the drinking to self medicate.

I got very drunk at a bar and got into an argument with a co-worker who was there. I got a ride to another bar where my now ex was. I was so angry my friend behind the bar gave me the bottle of vodka (bad idea). I ended up being very wasted to the point that I started a fight with my ex. I don't remember any of this, the story I am telling is a story from those that were there. I went outside and started a fight with him, and embarrassingly I tried to hit him, and trip him (which I am not known to be violent at this point anymore towards people in a physical manner). I apparently then start screaming because he is bear hugging me trying to get me to calm down. A car with two girls pull up and I jumped into the passenger's lap and told her I was scared of what he was going to (I was screaming this). He actually did throw something at me and tried to pull me out of the car. This gave them the impression that he was trying to harm me. They drove me by my house, about a block away and I ran out (dropping my migraine meds and my phone in their car and accidentally grabbing the one girls purse.... oops). I passed out on someone lawn and was not responsive to anyone so I was rushed to the ER. I was so angry when I woke up out of this daze that it literally (and you can ask my ex or my mom) took 4 male nurses to hold me down. I had so much rage strength that they asked me if I had taken PCP. I started yelling at them that they were f*cking idiots and to check my blood for PCP. When they drug analysis showed no signs of any drugs they were not very pleasant towards me. I assume it was either because my rage strength was so great that it messed with them mentally because they needed several people to hold me down, and/or it was because I had been that vicious without drugs that it was more offensive that I wasn't on a mind altering drug. I ended up having my mom give the passenger her purse back in exchange for my phone and meds. The girl said she didn't have the meds and I am sure she thought they had some recreational use because they said "for pain", but they were drugs that dilated your blood vessels, so yea have fun with that. In the end, after three days of the worst hangover ever I realized how awful I was when I binged to escape my reality of having a manic mind.

I did date a guy who drank frequently and I would drink more often than usual when I was with him, but I usually did my trick of getting a drink and pretending to take a sip and when I brought my hand down would dump the shot on the floor (sorry bar owners). I did this because of how he reacted if I didn't want to partake in drinking or didn't want to go out. Like I said I ended up staying in bad relationships. Usually I only really drank two maybe three drinks, and only once in awhile did I let loose and drink more. However, this was not a good thing. I could have easily slipped back into that mentality I had had previously. This guy was a piece of work. He was overbearing, controlling, so insecure it was aggravating, nasty towards me, and I believe he intentionally instigated me to become super agro so he could turn the argument around on me. This didn't work because my rage was no thing you want to mess with. In the end I broke it off with him because I couldn't deal with his neediness or his manipulative games (like saying I am gonna leave you if you don't do x or if you do y.. he would do this often and throw shit all around the room and try leaving when he was sauced and I would have to sit in-front of the door for hours until he gave up. It was such a disgusting relationship I couldn't stand one more minute of it and when he said ok well I'm leaving I said okay bye, with the encouragement of someone I thought was a friend but that's another story. I was actually engaged to this guy and had months before asked him to slow it down and he flipped out on me like any alcoholic would. So we broke up a week before we were to be married and I couldn't have been happier. He of course spread the rumor that I cheated on him, which I did NOT but I didn't really care because I was away from him. He made my challenge with bipolar disorder more difficult).

Now I of course have done a lot of impulsive things like getting into relationships without thinking about it, breaking up with people very quickly and coldly, and deciding I need to do x right now, or I need to go buy x this second. I had not so much control over what I wanted, or what I thought I wanted.

I dealt with this kind of stuff for a long time. I would go into severe depressions that led to a corrupt state of mind. I would get so depressed I couldn't eat, sleep, think straight. It would cause me to be very aggressive, and in my much younger years I was violent but as I got older and learned to cope at least a little bit that kind of behavior subsided. I couldn't imagine myself doing that kind of harm unless I was defending myself.

At anyrate, when I got away from that relationship I slowly was able to get away from the bar scene. Yes I had a couple nights of getting drunk because I was trying to deal with the craziness of the situation, but I did stop drinking except for a glass of wine with dinner every once in awhile. I am to the point now that I don't drink nearly ever and to the extent that a half of a drink will get me a little tipsy.  My point is a lot of bipolar people and anxiety ridden people will self medicate and submit to awful relationships. When this happens you have to get out of the relationship because it will affect how well you deal with your disorder, and because it will cause you to self medicate more, and this can lead to dependency.

I had to come to the point in my life that I felt I was smothered, I didn't know who I was, and I didn't have the ability to cope to realize what I was doing to myself was wrong. I had neglected my intelligence and went back to college, I would stop a relationship that didn't make me happy or matter to me and I found the love of my life. Finding someone that can help you cope and can support you through your episodes is someone you want to be with. If being in a relationship is not something you want, which I did feel that way around 20 and 21, then that is fine too but you have to learn to deal with yourself. Actually even when you are in a relationship you have to learn to deal with yourself, support yourself, and instead of making yourself feel helpless or lost you need to find ways to make you feel better and encouraged.

Finding ways to deal with mental illness can be very tricky because there are times where it gets so out of hand you have no idea who you are. That usually means you are off your meds lol. Usually when I am on my meds I know when I am going overboard, or I can recognize something that has started to make me angry shouldn't be. Not everyone needs meds, some are very capable at dealing with their mental illness but for severe cases like mine it is damn near impossible. I cannot ever control the panic attacks or when they come, and I have a very difficult time bringing myself down to earth when I have surpassed the rage mode or manic depression level. The anxiety will stress you the hell out and can affect your entire day which is why I usually suggest some sort of medicine whether it be a modern medicine or an herbal supplement like valerian root (which smells like farts and you usually need two at least to combat a panic attack), these will calm you so that you don't lose focus all day. I know that when I start to panic all I focus on all day is how I was panicking, what if the panic attack comes back, and so forth. I have accepted this as part of my being and embarrassed it by letting people know that I get these attacks and sometimes I need support because they overwhelm me. Communication goes a long way. So don't be scared to admit your issues, and don't be scared to ask for help, tell your professor I need an extention I am having some issues mentally (they usually do make exceptions for you), and tell your family so that they can understand and help. This also allows them to realize why sometimes you may act out or seem overboard but by knowing what's going on they will realize you aren't trying to burn bridges.

I have come to realize who I am. I am a beautiful young woman (I used to see myself as a complete wreck of a person), I am an intelligent being (I had times were I thought I was just so dumb because I couldn't control myself and didn't know why), I have a very amazing mind that does have a compulsion but one that makes me want to learn things fully and thoroughly and if I don't read all the information I want I feel like I can't focus, I am stronger than I think (I always felt weak because of my mental illness but really it is just a part of me that I can make use of rather than look at it negatively), I love wisdom, ethics, helping the needy (which helps with my deep depressions), giving love to others because it makes all parties feel nice, I am very empathetic towards animals to the point where I will cry if I see one being harmed, I am a person that loves music as a form of therapy, I am a person that is so passionate that I get very involved in my projects, and I am not a push over. Now maybe this all sounds narcissistic but it is a coping mechanism to see the positives in yourself, and describing who you are. I know I want to help others, I want to defend those that are left behind, and those that are stigmatized (mentally ill, certain races so on). These things give me perspective on what I want to do. By having this perspective I can the courage to not just impulsively stop because things get overwhelming, which I used to do frequently. You have to come to realize that you are smart, and amazing, and special. That your mind is different but that doesn't mean it has hindered you. By having encouraging goals and thought about who YOU are teaches you ways to deal with life while being mentally ill. And here you can find support from me and maybe some good advice.

I know this was another long one so if you made it down to this point thank you. I hope this helped you in viewing life through a different perspective. Please feel free to leave comments or ask for advice or whatever.

Thanks

Lea Silva