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

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 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

Insider's Perspective Part Two

I left off my conversation in the last post on how I had to endure a second ectopic pregnancy, and how two months prior I took myself of my meds. The second pregnancy was not as far along as the first, and I had high hopes for this pregnancy. Although I had been spotting but I didn't think much of it. When I went to the ob/gyn I found out my numbers were really low, my hcg was at 90.Because I am high risk they checked my levels every other day because they should double. Well they never did double, they just stayed at 90. We though I may be miscarrying because of the bleeding (remember the first time I had bled internally) but the day my next appointment was to see the doctor I started to feel very ill, faint, started to feel very bad cramping, and the memory of the first pregnancy was haunting me. I waited for the appointment rather than going to the ER which worked out well because my doctor did an ultrasound and found the pregnancy right at the end of my tube by the ovary. He told me to go to the ER right away and he would be there shortly to do the surgery. This time my tube was salvageable. He made sure to clear out any scare tissue and a few months later he pushed dye through the tube and since it passed through it means I still have at least some possibility to get pregnant.

Losing this pregnancy sent me into another deep manic episode. This time it wasn't nearly as bad, probably because I had endured this loss before but it made me feel helpless like I will never be able to have kids on my own without some scientific technology to help, or without adoption.

Now many people would recommend a surrogate who could carry my egg fertilized by my husband's sperm but I absolutely refuse to do that. This is probably my bipolar, and ocd side coming out. If I even think about another woman being able to carry my baby to full term it ignites an anger and sadness in me that I don't normally encounter. Just typing it is making me agitated. So why is that, what is going through my mind? Well I feel that a strong amount of jealousy would wash over me because this person can actually carry pregnancies and feel MY baby growing and moving. I would feel deep resentment towards that person because they got to feel the baby, feel it hiccup, kick, roll, and so forth and I would sit on the side lines wishing I knew what it felt like to have my baby inside me, not her. Maybe that seems selfish or ridiculous because it is a very good option for those who cannot get pregnant but to me I know I would be whirling down the dark staircase.  I would despise the world, and my body and not find any enjoyment because of it. That is simply the way my brain works. Plus I would be even more angered if I got the crazy person that believed since they carried MY EGG and my husbands sperm that it is somehow still also her child. You know why people feel that way even though it isn't there biological child? Because they bonded with the baby through the pregnancy, and thus is why I cannot bear to think about it. I wouldn't get that bond someone else would. Weirdly adoption I would encourage more because while it may not be my biological child it is a child I want and I want to love, a child who was abandoned or given up because the mother knew it be better off. Yes someone still got to feel the pregnancy but I didn't have to sit by and watch it, and it wasn't my egg and sperm that I couldn't carry, it would be a baby that needed a loving home that was already created. There are so many babies that need homes that adopting, rather than using a surrogate, seems much more harmonious with how I deal with things mentally.

Back to the main point- Last summer is when I lost the second pregnancy, and this time video games were not really there to help. I certainly read a lot, and wrote a lot in journals scattered here and there, but I mostly laid on the couch not wanting to do a damn thing. I was so depressed again and I didn't want to have to talk to people about it, or really acknowledge or deal with it. I would snap at little things, small comments made that were meant to be jokes I took deadly serious. It was awful. Sometimes I would just sit and cry, and while it was partly due to losing the pregnancy it was also partly due to the fear of others dying because of all the people I had lost over the last couple years, and then partly because I didn't know how to cope with my mental illness but wasn't willing to admit it. That same year, on January 3,2013 my uncle Ron, who was like a dad to me and had always been there, had died in front of our house, in his car, due to a heart attack. So over the summer I obsessed a bit over the concept of death and what life actually meant.

It made me so curious about what death actually is and how much someone, even my fetuses, felt pain when they died. Did they realize what was happening, at least instinctually? Does their energy just disburse or is it more than that? I know scientifically matter just re-disburses so we could have some of President Washington's atoms inside us, but I think the question of whether something happens to you at death or not is always on a person's mind when someone close dies, even if they say they are atheist I am sure they still sometimes wonder if they are wrong, or if science just hasn't realized what takes place.

These kinds of thoughts running through your mind all the time drag you down into a lethargic, haunting place. It really is quite hard to get back up the ladder, and even harder to deal with little annoyances. I do not know how many times I was super snippy and short during telephone calls or regular conversations. I just didn't want to talk to very many people. I felt left alone by everyone except my husband Nathan. Yea my best friend would try and get me to hangout but I felt like everyone forgot that I was still trying to cope with life. It's like this- If something bad happens to you, and let's assume you are NOT mentally ill, it takes some time to cope but you move one. If something bad happens to me it drowns my brain in depression, anger, grief, annoyance, and very little happiness or enjoyment. Then think of those around you- sure they recognize something bad has happened to you and may even realize that you have a hard time coping due to mental illness but after a couple days, maybe a week or two, they don't think about it much, if at all, anymore. They coped faster because it didn't happen to them, or did not affect them like it does for the mentally ill. This is very aggregating because they forget that you may still be fragile about certain subjects, or make jokes that aren't very funny to you because somehow they remind you of how awful things have been, the dark cloud around you, or the bad event(s) that have happened. Worse still they may also make you feel guilt or bad because you are more distant or don't want to talk for long periods of time, or because you can be very irritable, but guess what? That's just how it is with bipolar people sometimes. You may think well she looks happy and active today, (maybe for a few days), but you don't realize that we cycle through episode so one week, month, maybe just even one day we are manic, and the next day, week, month we are going through mania (hyper, sometimes aggressive, shopping a lot or doing things that aren't that safe or that rational), and then all the sudden we may stabilize for a period of time.
 
Panicking all the time is embarrassing too. The losses in my life have caused me to panic about losing others when I think about how x will die someday, or I panic driving because if I lose control someone could die, or in social places because I fear being around these people and them judging me or getting on my nerves, or prying too much etch. It can be humiliating when you start to shake with anxiety, or start sweating, or even crying and there isn't much you can do besides find a bathroom to be alone in, go home, wait it out, or take an anti-anxiety med if you can. When I lose someone close I tend to have more panic attacks, and when I lost the pregnancies sometime I would panic seeing small babies because I would start thinking how I may never have kids, and what if Nathan would leave over that (he wouldn't but that doesn't stop the panicking).

So it can be difficult and frustrating because others don't understand why you are so inverted, irritable, crying for 'no reason', or just not able to be social or diplomatic. When traumas happen we tend to fold inward and our brains just don't want to deal with other people's stuff because it is having a hard enough time coping with it's own stuff. Being patient may be off the table too. It becomes overwhelming especially when people expect you to do certain things, or act certain ways, or 'get over it already'. I tend to not have very many friends because of this. It can be extremely taxing to have to leave the house and be 'friendly' when you are exhausted from being maniacally depressed and agro.

For all of you out there with bipolar disorder and panic disorder all I can recommend is to try and stay on your meds, be honest when you are feeling manic or mania, and I tend to put things around rooms that are unbreakable so if I get too upset or too angry I can throw them and they won't shatter. For panicking I suggest keeping a rubber band on your gear shift in your car, and one in your purse, wallet or on your wrist. When I start to panic snapping the rubber band against something or my skin can sometimes help bring me back to reality, or at least make the panic attack have slower onset. I have come to realize I don't have control over my moods or my anxiety and I have to accept me for me. I have to be honest with people that it affects and I have to talk about it or I become too overwhelmed. I need meds to control it but I also know I have a tendency to think "I'm fine, I don't need these" or "these meds don't do anything". I realize how wrong I am once I get off them and the cycles starts again about a couple weeks to a month later. I should know better because even on my meds I still go through episodes and panic attacks, just not as bad.
For those who don't have this mental illness, or one at all, take these words seriously. My blog is not a joke and it may seem scattered but that's just the way it comes out. Support is needed when a person is being tried by his/her disorders. Joking, or insinuating that they can just stop feeling that way or acting that way is hurtful and harmful. Just because you don't understand it doesn't mean it cannot be real. I know it may seem hard to accept these things because they aren't seen, you cannot just take an x-ray of the mind and say oh they are bipolar. It's mental and I think a lot of people equate that to meaning "it's all in your head and not real so just find a way to stop". It's just not that easy and a lot of neuronreceptors are in play. But I should stop here because this has turned into a book. I suppose it makes up for not writing a post yesterday! Thanks for reading, please pass it on for mental illness awareness.

Lea Silva

The Insider's Perspective Manic Depression After A Loss

I often find it difficult to convey to those who are not bipolar exactly what happens, what the thought process is, and what it means. Forgive me if I repeat some things from other posts but I wanted to write clearly the inside perspective, at least in part. This may take more than one post.

I cannot tell you how many times I have gone through different cycles of manic, mania, depression, overtly happy, hyper-focused, etc. I do not know how many times I have fought irrationally, or even started rational and became irrational. It's one of the hardest things to deal with. Imagine feeling like you cannot control what you say, how you are feeling, or even who you are sometimes.

To give a good idea of what it is like I am going to refer to the hardest time of my life because it spiraled me into the worst manic depression I have ever known. Some back story is necessary. I have endometriosis, a disease of the uterus that causes womb tissue to grow outside the womb, causes scar tissue to form, and causes cyst growth. I had had two surgeries to remove this tissue growth and went through a time where my menses was way off. My doctor informed me that I was not dropping eggs on a regular basis which was causing serious issues with my endometriosis. At the time I was dating my now husband Nathan. Not long after we started dating I got pregnant. I knew me and Nathan would be together no matter what so I was ecstatic to find out I had actually gotten pregnant. We were both crying tears of happiness and just so excited.

A few days later I felt a pain ripping through my groin like I had never experienced. Now I have some pretty bad back issues that cause me severe sciatic pain so my first thought was that the growing of my womb was somehow causing bad sciatic pain. I called the Dr and he told me to go to the ER immediately. Obviously I knew I had tried to talk myself out of knowing the truth. I went to a hospital that did not treat me very well, and sent me home saying they weren't sure. The next day, during my finals, the pain erupted from my abdomen. It was so bad I walked out of the class room and when I just about fainted I knew I was losing the baby. I went rushing to my professor, crying my eyes out, and told her what was happening. (she let me do the final at home). I rushed to a different hospital, Metro, and the immediately got me in a room, injected me with diluated (sp?), and prepped me for an ultrasound. Sure enough the fetus was in the fallopian tube, the size of a golf ball and I was bleeding inward, which explained why I did not bleed out which made things a bit confusing. I ended up in emergency surgery bc we couldn't wait or the pregnancy would have ruptured and caused sepsis. I lost my baby and my left fallopian tube.

The fact that I was just told I wasn't dropping eggs regularly and that it may take a long time to get pregnant, if I could, this hit hard. By hard I mean like I was ran over by every single semi in Ohio. I was absolutely devastated. My tube was so scared from endometriosis that the egg was not able to get to the womb. My husband was devastated. It was the first time I saw him cry. I'm crying right now just picturing that moment in the ER when we looked at each other and I started to wail. Now one can imagine how hard this is in general, and then you add on bipolar disorder and it becomes a whole other thing

The couch became my sanctuary where I just laid for hours. Yea I would go ride my bike but I didn't care about it. I didn't care about anything (besides caring about my families well-being of course). I did NOT care about myself. I felt tricked. I felt cheated. I felt anger, rage, sorrow, such deep deep sorrow. I couldn't see a life in my future. I could not imagine how anyone could deal with this or deal with that kind of depression. Now I fall into manic depressive states when other very important loved ones have died, but for whatever reason this one brought me to my knees. I believe it is because I felt my baby dying inside me. I felt my body dying. I felt the world coming in on me. I had the scars to look at. I had the knowledge that now I would have even less chances of pregnancy because I was now more prone to ectopic pregnancies (which it happened again almost exactly a year after this one but my tube was salvaged), and I was missing a tube.

My world filled with darkness. While I got a new perspective on what was important, and what maturity really meant, I was falling down a very demented rabbit hole. I could barely sleep. I stayed up until 6 am many nights playing video games where I could kill monsters because I was so full of anger and sadness that I needed an outlet that took me to a new reality. Me and my husband became closer though. Very very close. He dealt with everything I went through. My non-stop crying days, my silent days, my aggressive days, and etc.

In my mind I felt worthless and like the life I had was nothing anymore. I lost my dad two weeks after losing the baby. Talk about a horrible month. When he died I thought I couldn't grieve for him. Well I did but it was delayed. I had to grieve over that pregnancy first.  I tried to control my emotions, and I didn't do well because I took it out on others by yelling, or by quitting my job, by throwing my manic fits of rage. Finally when it really hit me that I would never get the chance to build a real relationship with my dad I drowned.

Imagine yourself in a dark ocean bottom. So dark you cannot see anything. Lonely and frightening you sit. It starts to feel like things are around you prodding you, hurting you, tearing you apart slowly. Your brain feels like it is just melting, that is the best way to describe it. Just mush. Your thoughts seem to be continuous streams of negative dark thoughts. Then out of nowhere change to self defeating thoughts ( like what if's and imagining what your baby would have been like, how beautiful it would have been, how you and your dad could bond over the baby, how I will never hear my father again, and I will always still be sitting wishing I would hear him on my birthday). You get the point. And then you start thinking- is anything worth it? I am going through so much misery and pain and everyone else is able to keep going and living , so does my existence even matter? Would my lover be better off with someone without problems, who could have a healthy pregnancy, who won't be medicated for their whole life because they are depressed, because I feel so differently day to day or even hour to hour? Would it matter if I disappeared? Would my family really feel my missing presence? Would it have been better to die with the pregnancy? And then it emerged into this

I wish I had died with the pregnancy. How many times do I have to feel so down that it feels like it be better to not exist at all? My body and my mind are against me and here I sit self loathing and pitying and that makes me pathetic. My lover deserves better than me. I am truly nothing ( I did not mean this I the philosophical sense, bc I do believe that in the philosophical sense which isn't as dark as the sense that this was in).

I did not care if I got hit by a car and died, or if I was murdered, or if I simply died from a broken mind. I felt crazy. I felt like I was falling so deep into a hole that I would never get out.

This is what mental illness does. But still more than this. It goes beyond what I have written just now. It is much more complex. To say a few last important things:

Eventually I got into a horrible fight (verbal) with my now husband. I just yelled and yelled and never got what I truly wanted to say across (hang on I will tell you what it was in a minute). I would then break and start sobbing and fall to my knees or lay in the fetal position and he would just suck it all up for me and hug me. He knew. Then I went rage out a couple days later, and I spurred out "I wish I had died" and that's when it all poured out. Every thought I had either knowingly held in or every thought I didn't even know was causing all my manic problems, came gushing out of me. My mind felt like it was on fire. Searing with pain and suffering. If I hadn't had my husband I don't even want to say what I think would have happened to me. He let me get it all out. He dealt with it all. He took me to a doctor who gave me anti-depressants. Big mistake because I flew into a whole other whirlwind so we went back. I literally broke down in her office. I told her all of my dark feelings, and how my anxiety was very severe. She drug tested me!!!!! Can you believe that. Here I am finally being honest and she drug tests me to make sure I am not lying trying to score drugs. REALLY! I passed by the way. (She checked for crack, meth, heroin, PCP, cocaine, and marijuana! Really do I look like I take hardcore drugs or something. I came to you because I needed to be medicated not because I was self medicating). I have been diagnosed since I was like 19 or so. Anyway she put me on my meds and it was a miracle.

I had never been given Seroquel, even though I had asked to try it several times as I heard it combated severe bipolar and anxiety well.

While I still feared that everyone was going to die, or got scared I would somehow lose Nathan to something horrible happening, the medicine smoothed me out within a couple weeks. I was put up to 500 mg total, which I am currently at today, and my perspective on life came back slowly. While I still do go through manic depressive episodes and have anxiety still, the Seroquel helped a great deal. Then klonopin was added thanks to the NP at psych, who didn't feel a need to drug test me. Rolls eyes. Then also lamictal. However, after several months I stopped taking my meds thinking I was fine and normal, and didn't need meds to keep control. Typical bipolar person! Seriously I have never met a truly bipolar person who hasn't done that. This is after I got married to Nathan, and got accepted into the upper division Honors program at school. Guess what? J got pregnant and again it was ectopic. So the story goes on, but not now, you have to wait until later.

To be continued....

Lea

Diagnosis, and the 'Episodes'

There are millions of people out there suffering from some sort of mental illness be it depression, some sort of anxiety, OCD, schizophrenia, sociopath, psychopathy, PTSD, ADHD, Bipolar disorder, and so forth. Do you ever wonder what those people must be feeling? I certainly do. Are they feeling like I felt in my teens when I had no idea why I acted the way I did. I was told by friends and some family members that it was because my dad wasn't there, or because my father had had a temper but I knew that could not be it. I felt lost in a big world with a brain I didn't understand. When bad things came my way, no matter how big or small, it changed the way I felt instantly. I thought I was broken, something was wrong with me. I broke phones, glasses, pans, windows, my wrist, toes (from kicking things), hurt others with my vicious words, and struggled. I still struggle daily but at least now I know why and that makes it a little easier. I have learned to cope with having mental illness, and I have learned to be humble and apologize. I will never be able to stop myself from fixating on one thing that hurt me, or feel so hurt I fall deep down, and I won't be the typical average 'non-mentally ill' person (whatever that may mean). I will always struggle to hold my tongue, focus my mind on not raging or getting angry, and my greatest fear is I will never learn to cope with dealing with work everyday. I have a hard time coping with school 4 days a week, so I fear not being able to do what I want in life (unless I find a way to do it at home). I am going to present here a tale from my life that affected me forever. An event that affected me and caused my 'episodes' to start. While I am positive bipolar disorder is just in my genetic code because I have done therapy for this specific part of my life several times, I do believe this set me off earlier than if this hadn't happened. I am opening up on something I HATE talking about so please no harsh commenting, and at the end of this post you will understand why I telling you this. So here goes it.

As a young girl I was raped. I was 12 and he was 24. My friends and me went to a friend of a friends house and I had my first 40 (big mistake kids to think you are ready for that when you are not). In the end I was left passed out in some strangers bedroom. I awoke to a man, who was much bigger and stronger than me, maybe 6 Ft or so, on top of me. I looked around panicking, not knowing what I should do. Do I yell? If I yell he might hit me. Do I try and run? No he will probably hit me. And that's the answer I just kept coming to. My 12 year old body was drunk, and was so trapped and afraid of what was about to happen. Trying with all my might to get up from under him and I just felt paralyzed. Holding my one wrist he ended up getting the clothes off below the waist and here I am frozen in terror. I felt so horrified. I remember tears coming down the side of my face silently. I could muster up only the courage to say this "I'm a virgin please don't hurt me". The sick bastard smiled at that. I won't ever forget that look. EVER. My wrist was released but I had no power. My tiny short body was stuck under this disgusting piece of s**t. I wanted to die. I tried pushing him off me but realized the more I fight the more he will fight and I just waited. I waited to be set free. When I was I b lined my way out of that house. Dazed and not really knowing what just happened, what I should do, and where exactly I was I just started walking.

The worst part was I didn't want to say anything because I felt humiliated. I felt like nothing. I felt that what was special about me wasn't special anymore. I didn't know what to tell my friends, and I definitely did not know what to tell my mom. I simply said I lost my virginity to friends and mindlessly answered questions and the whole time I was doing this the image of me dying was in my mind. The image of me, at 12, dying was all I saw. I was so mortified I feared telling my friends the truth. I don't really know why but that's how I felt. My mom figured it out. I asked 'Do tampons break your hymen?" She immediately knew something was wrong. She asked me "Did you have sex?" I swallowed my vomit and said 'kind of'. She was starting to get the point. When I told her he was 24, told her my friends got me drunk, told her 'no I don't know if he wore a condom because I was not awake when he got atop me', she flipped like any mom would and took me to the police station.

I tell this story because this is what I thought caused all my issues. I'm sure it caused a lot, and I am sure it slowly formed my panic disorder, and my rage that usually is worse with men  but I do not believe it is what caused me to be bipolar, it only made my episodes worse. I look at my younger sister who is 12 and think about how tiny she is. She is strong, but she is tiny. She is a child. She is so innocent. Her skin has not met time yet and her body has not even taken shape yet. I am 28 and I look at her and see a baby. How any 'man' could look at a young child like that and watch them get drunk and then rape them is far past my ability to understand.

When I first saw a psychologist he asked me if I had every been abused in anyway and I shortly said yes, I was raped. I refused to talk about it because it always would throw me into an 'episode' as my mother would say. He backed off the subject and discussed how abuse affects the mentally ill, how holding it in exacerbates it, and how to try and combat my rage. Note: I went to a doctor finally because I was raging out on everyone so I needed help.

I had come to realize that I CANNOT let that disgusting worthless pos take me down. I may always have to deal with bipolar disorder and panic disorder, but I can get some control by not letting his actions control my outlook.

It took me a long time to realize that even though I can be absolutely nuts sometimes, that I do not deserve bad treatment, that I don't have to turn a blind eye to a douchebag boyfriend cheating, and that even with my crazy moments my mind is wonderful and I can offer something to this world because of my experiences. I can tell my story and hope it helps others. I know that what happened to me is awful but by working through it I helped my coping skills. Much more has happened to me since then that was not pleasant but it gave me perspective.

I sometimes do wonder though how would I be if that hadn't happened to me? Would I have lived differently? Would I have chosen the path I did as a teen? Would I have had such a bad bipolar break and panic disorder?

I answer these questions as such:

If that had not happened to me I may have lived a life without actual knowledge or understanding of what people are capable of. We all hear these stories and all see news videos of gruesome events but most of us think that will never happen to me, or we see it, recognize it, but have this strange habit of not really thinking of it as real. I dealt with this in reality so I have an inside perspective. I have more empathy for victims of all sorts of crimes, which makes me try and be moral and kind. However, my knowledge of this kind of abuse led me to realize how awful this world can be. Because I can empathize so much when people are mistreated I feel deeply. This deep feeling is ignited by bipolar disorder and I drown into a manic state. So deep I won't leave the house or I will go MIA and not talk to anyone but my mom and husband. So maybe if this hadn't happened my manic stages wouldn't be so severe, but I learned I have to find silver linings or I will become very sorrowful. So I am able to see the world in a different way than most; I see the world without blinders and that makes it easier for me to connect the dots in life.
This awful experience caused me to delve deep into my academics as a young teen. However, even though I was offered several full ride scholarships I turned them down. I was not ready. I had too much going on in my head and I had no clue what I would even go for. I ended up taking a couple classes here and there at the community college and hated it so I stopped. I worked under the table and learned a lot about what really happens in this world and not just what media wants us to think, or what materialistic people see. The world can be disgusting, greedy, addicted, and dirty but can also be moving, kind, and beautiful. Through this stage in life I could not control my illness. I would have 'episodes' all the time. I didn't like staying at one job for too long, hated working on a specific schedule, and hated having a boss. I couldn't cope with it. I was so dysfunctional. The psychiatrist put me on Abilify and Cymbalta which just put me into a sedative state, while the Cymbalta caused another manic episode. I soon learned I needed out of my real life lifestyle. I needed to get away from the guy I was dating who made me go crazy, and I needed to let my intelligent mind work.
I went back to university with a scholarship (6 or so years after high school I still got the scholarship). I have been to so many doctors trying to help me mentally and physically and I had seen the discrimination first hand.

I'm sure I am not the only tattooed bipolar person that has been drug tested with no reason to even suspect abuse (I never failed any of them). I also felt I was sometimes treated poorly or condescendingly because I was bipolar. One doctor refused to listen to me about how sick I was feeling and he insisted it was anxiety and a mania stage. I of course flipped out and he of course dickishly said "see it's just your bipolar disorder". The next day I had emergency surgery to get my appendix removed because it was about to burst. So my intentions are to advocate for patients via ethical systems. I am sick of feeling like I need to keep things hidden, or like I will be stigmatized or discriminated against just because I need specific meds. I don't want anyone to deal with all of the BS I have dealt with. I want to advocate for the mentally ill, especially when it comes to bipolar disorder as so many people have asked "oh come on are you really bipolar? I think that is just an excuse. Bipolar disorder isn't real is it?" That always hurts and reminds me why I like staying inside. But as my panic disorder progresses and I cope with rapid cycling bipolar I find myself more determined to tell people all about my experiences. It may take forever but if this helps one person it is worth it. If one person can learn what it feels like to deal with this it will be worth it. Every experience that drives my anxiety or throws me into an 'episode' gives me more perspective. Learning to deal with doctors is important too. So while I have here written a novel, it was to show that while many find it hard to express their problems, experiences, or how they were abused and how that affects them, that letting it out is helpful. It is calming. I find some peace from my minds antics when I write and I find sanctuary in books and others' writings about their experience. I am here to support anyone that needs it. I am writing to help myself and hopefully others. I am here to show those who think its not real, or an excuse, that it is more complex than they can imagine. And I want to write this so those that have someone who deals with bipolar disorder and/or panic disorder can maybe get an inside look on how we think, our process in thought, how we link things together, and perhaps then understand why certain things put together can make us snap. I wrote my long story today to shed some light on how I process when I am manic, to see how far I have come (or maybe not lol), and to recognize what is on my mind that I didn't realize was even causing my depression today.

I know this was long so thank you for reading this if you made it down to here
Pass the links to the posts along to those who may not understand bipolar or panic disorder but need to, or to those who are having a hard time coping. I am more than happy to try and give advice. Thanks

Lea Silva

What a HORRIBLE ride!

It's been one of those days where you wake up feeling great and you do your normal routine, feel like a million bucks, and then start driving down the highway and feel completely disconnected from life. Here comes the PANIC!

How miserable it is to feel as if your brain is being weighted down. Everything appears so surreal, like it is all just a dream. You try to talk your self down saying things like "it's okay you are not going to crash and kill people. You are not going to fall asleep for unknown reasons and crash. You are not going to go blind while driving. This is real, take deep breaths and realize you are being irrational." None of these ever work of course. Sometimes I think "just hold on until you get off the exist and then you can take a klonopin". I don't take them while I am driving-That would cause a problem!


You feel your heart pumping faster, literally feel your blood pressure raising (it feels like you are swelling up), fingers, toes, tongue, or some other part of your body starts tingling, and then the shakiness from being on edge, and then BOOM here it is. The dreadful moment of a full on panic attack! Concentrating on anything but irrational thoughts is out of the question. Calming down will not happen for about 20 minutes, and even then your blood pressure will still be high. When you panic it feels like the world is coming in on you through a tunnel. It is eating away at your security, your confidence, and your motivation. It is disturbingly horrifying, especially because deep down you know you are overreacting and NOTHING has or will happen.


How do I deal with this?
I stay for the ride. I have no way of escaping this panic attack unless I am in an area where taking klonopin is acceptable and not dangerous. It is the longest 15 to 20 minutes but it will end. I just keep saying "this will pass" over and over again. Swallowing the lumps of fear, trying not to shake too badly. Eventually it will end. However, this panic attack will make you not want to do the activity that caused the panic attack to begin with. For me it can be driving, social areas filled with people, or having to talk about something medically serious.  It's one of the toughest things I deal with besides manic episodes.
It started when I was 19. I was singing an oldies song and this awful feeling washed over me like the world was about to come to a halt. Not knowing what was happening I of course started to panic more! Thinking to myself "I am having a stroke, or a heart attack, oh my god what do I do". I ended up in tears parked in a store's lot. I called a friend to come get me because while the house was only three blocks away I could not force myself to get back in the driver's seat. My mind absolutely forbid it. This happened more and more and got worse and worse to the point were I barely drive and barely go out. I finally did see a doctor when I was 20 who diagnosed me with Bipolar disorder and panic disorder. All the previous years my mom would say I would have 'episodes'- I would rage out and just be so angry, or I would become so down it would scare people because I went into a very dark place. So when this doctor told me what was happening I did not know how to feel. Good because I know now, or Bad because this is going to be my life forever?

More on this later!

Class time.

Lea