Where to begin this post. Geez my mind is everywhere this morning which I guess is a good thing to document because so many people don't get how our brains work compared to those so called 'normal' people. I have said that I would love to have a day to know what 'normal' feels like because I know my mind works much differently than most peoples'. Yet, I feel I cannot really say there is a 'normal' mind, maybe an average mind.
I have wanted to feel normal mentally and physically for years. I guess I do though right because I am used to the way that I feel. I am used to the pain, the agony, the ups and downs. I know many know about my physical ailments but I want to share them with those that don't know. I have degenerative arthritis in my lumbar spine, accompanied with arthropothy (or however that is spelt), a bulging disk, a nicely pinched sciatic nerve, muscle spasms that are so bad they give me what I call a 'neck boned', and lastly, I have an abnormality in my right hip bone and a focal tear (which thanks to Medicaid should be fixed soon). So pile all of that on top of mental illness and you have me- one bat shit crazy lady that is sometimes neutral, most times manic, and often depressed severely. My husband and a bunch of other folks believe that I need more exercise and I FULLY AGREE. However, I just did an hour workout-dancing like a mad woman around the house as I have heard it burns more calories than most dull workout videos I cannot stand. I took time to stretch everything out nicely, then I went and showered. Well you know how it is usually the next day you are sore well today for me it was right after the shower. I literally fell down a couple stairs as my right hip and leg gave out. FUN! I have also started walking and by the time I get back to the house that hip is on fire. It's very hard to get motivated to do workouts when it ends up in not just the normal workout pains but some heavy serious pain because of your broken-ness. This never helps my mental state. I usually become lethargic and sedentary which is horrible for me
I like dancing around when no one is home, I love taking walks, I love feeling fit when I am, but wow how easy it is to become unmotivated. Mental illness then takes it's toll. You may not want to eat at all or you may want to eat everything in site. I kind of slide between the two. So I lose some weight and am cool with that and then I gain several extra pounds back and I am kind of mortified. Now I am a pretty confident person for the most part. I know I am not ugly, and I am by no means fat at 5'6'' and 142 pounds but my mind does not like working with me. I am a woman who believes that media is fucking stupid and makes beautiful women and men feel inferior and fat and I firmly believe that there is beauty in all bodies. What I hate is that when you are bipolar you can become extremely self conscious and that can be a tricky and dangerous situation because you may end up starving yourself or vomiting up your food.
So here is a TRUTH story;
When I was younger between 18-21 I would buy ipecac and hide them in my room. I would usually skip dinner, and my lunch would be minimal. If I ate a lot of food, guess what I drank some ipecac and would throw it all up minutes later. I know most stick fingers down their thoughts but ipecac was an easier solution and this is at a time when you could just pick it up in the first aid aisle. I don't believe you can anymore. I would workout non-stop (hours a day at home or the gym and at lease 5 days a week not to mention I was in the Army for two years so I thoroughly enjoyed PT because that meant I would get thinner. I even got caught making myself throw up in the unit building by a sergeant but she let it go and didn't bring it up but made me promise to not do it there again. It was surely embarrassing. I made weight, I was always find but I would just get these bouts of feeling so disgusting that that's exactly what I would do. Eventually I realized that this kind of action is making me worse. It's causing me to be sick and I was at a point where bowel movements without all the fiber pills and laxatives was damn near impossible. That still haunts me to this day. Days on end where nothing moves through my body. Which also makes it look like I gained weight when I am really just carrying pounds of food in my stomach because my intestines aren't working right.
The point: don't ever let someone you love who is suffering from Bipolar ever feel like you think she/he is fat, or sagging, or whatever. Just Accept the beauty they have. Sometimes we may blow up for a bit because of our meds but that doesn't mean we are not still good looking or sexy. We may slim down so drastically it's amazingly shocking but that doesn't mean we need to be told nasty things about that either. Who cares as long as they are healthy, alive, and there.
I guess I am in the mood to discuss this because of how I have been feeling. When I am really down I usually daily find something to fixate on- be it weight, manic episodes and why they are what they are, books, so on. I had to put our 20 some year old Cockatiel down and it is devastating. It sucked because I thought he couldn't feel any pain or at least not much because he had paralysis in his feet. We all thought it. But we learned at the vet that he was feeling it all. Just because they had no function didn't mean they were pain free. The little guy was literally trying to chew his one toe off. I held him in the vet's office watching how happy he was to be held, off his feet and pet. He had a way of smiling and I cannot get that out of my head that last few moments with him where he seemed healthy and I just wanted to run away with him. But it hit me; When I get old, or I get very ill I do not want to be kept alive for longer than I have to be-I do not want to endure the pain of dying- I do not want to spend my last days sedated by drugs just to have a few more weeks that I won't even cognitively be there fore. I realized I cannot hold Michael all day long to help his pain. I cannot put him through the torture of being forced into taking meds that will pretty much sedate him just so he can live a few extra weeks, or more like days. His feathers were changing colors, he was starting to smell very poorly, and something was not okay. He most likely had a tumor on his spinal cord (hence him not being able to move his feet), and to get around the cage he had to drag himself across the bottom with his beak. Then he would manage to get up on the little platforms I made him so he could just sit without tipping over. I wish I had known he was in pain. I wish I could have fixed him but it was either do a bunch of test to tell us he was dying or let him go. So we let him go. He deserved peace for once. He deserved to now have to endure all that pain and all sadness I think he felt.
I'm depressed because of that while being maniacally depressed. It's not fun. It hurts. I wish it could all just go away and I could wake up and feel good. I felt okay this morning after I worked out. But then I felt miserable again. I think my doctor will have a field day with me on Friday. There are so many symptoms to Bipolar Disorder you could write a book describing each one. Racing thoughts, immense guilt, anxiety, appetite changes, increased or decreased energy, increased or decreased sexual behaviors that could be dangerous, Drug abuse, worthlessness, making awful decision, being suicidal or simply thinking about death too often, etc. These symptoms are no joke and I feel the longer they go unnoticed or denied the worse they get which is why I am desperately clinging to the hope that my doctor will listen when I say I need an increase in mg for my meds. Nothing is helping really or I am double dosing to take me down closer to the neutral line on the really bad days. That's not okay. And even though I feel that a mania state is about to happen that is not good either because I feel a crap ton of anxiety through mania. I am feeling empty, like a passenger in my own body. I don't think I am even keeping my thoughts straight enough to make the point clear. Or I try and say the why and deviate to some random thought. This is almost exhausting and what am I supposed to do? I just want to scream at the world. I want to fall down and cry almost every hour and I just want to feel okay. For my sake and my family's sake. I feel I am losing it slowly and the bipolar is progressively getting worse with my age. I wonder if anyone else feels that way. I am sure there is but I have to get off here because I will rant on all day and never finish the post. Thanks for reading feel free to comment or ask for support/advice.
Lea Silva
Showing posts with label Stereotypical. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Stereotypical. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 23, 2014
Wednesday, April 9, 2014
The Deepest Depression
It wasn't long ago when they put the mentally ill inside an asylum and left them to rot in there. But today it has been made difficult around the world to find a place that can treat you if you have low income or live in a country that makes mental illness a taboo. So what are you left to do when it seems no one understands, the general physician is not that familiar with mental illnesses like bipolar or panic disorders, and you are stuck because it will either take months to see a psychiatrists as they are all booked up, or because you have no insurance.
One of the toughest parts of mental illness is realizing when you need some help be it medicines, friendly or filial support, or just some techniques to bring you back to reality and none of those are available. I heard that someone I know was going to end it and because I came out and spoke openly about what I have been through that it change that person's perspective. Sometimes it only takes a supportive pal, or a helping hand to get someone to realize he/she is important.
To be very honest there were times in my deepest darkest days were I wish I had died with the failed pregnancies, or did not care if I were to get hit by a car and die and so on (you get the picture). I never felt I wanted to commit suicide but I did have a lack of care about my own life. I did my routine of showering and kind of eating but I just would sleep or lay there and not care. If I was in school I would put all my focus on my work because it dragged me out of my depressed reality. I am sure many people have felt that way thought. A feeling of 'who cares if I die' or 'no one will notice if I die right now'. When I was younger I would purposely lay on my bedroom flow and see if anyone would notice me laying there pretending to be dead. My mom of course did when she was home, but there were times I felt no one would have noticed.
Today I know my husband and mother would notice most of all (and of course my best friend but she wouldn't be living by me to notice right away). It is bad when you start to become very curious about death. Yes everyone thinks about what death means and what will happen but there is a difference between that thinking and the thoughts of death when you are manically depressed.
It's like this- you know how when someone tells you not to do something you get extremely curious and end up doing it to see what happens- or you know you should do action X but you do it anyway to see the outcome- well that's the kind of disturbing curiosity I am referring to when someone is severely depressed. The thoughts role through your mind like 'well it's either better being dead or being dead means nothing' and then that impulse comes flushing in--- 'so what would happen if I just died right now, I kind of want to just know what will happen'. You feel that flood over you because you feel so helpless, alone and stigmatized that you can't imagine death being worse than this life. Death will at least end the mental anguish, the fighting between your rational and mentally ill irrational side, and will end the feeling that everyone treats you or looks at you like you are less than or stupid because you have a mental illness.
But just wait. Do not let those feelings crumble you to the ground. We all have something unique about us that makes us beautiful, and in modern times not many people can see it in themselves. The feel so lonely, so distant from people and the world, so much like they are so extraordinarily different because of mental illness that they cannot see the beauty within. However, there are others that can see it in you, that look at you in amazement. Those people are the ones you need to have as your support. The ones that can say "hey you're worth it, you're a good honest, kind, so and so person" and can find or already know the way to help you. These people are the ones that are open to understanding just how you feel and what goes on in that mind of yours. Letting the depression ruin you is easy, and fighting that urge to do nothing or feel like nothing is difficult. Yet there are ways out. Sadly, some people are just so deeply hurried in sorrow and sadness that they cannot find their way out. I think that those people never quite had the support and love they needed.
The taboo of being mentally ill is a cause of concern for many. This kind of thinking causes those with mental illnesses to feel even more ostracized and left behind. It is actually a good thing asylums don't exist (at least for me) because I believe that perpetuates the mental illness. You are dropped of at some strange place, left to the will of the staff who were not always so nice, and were left to just rot away in there. I can only imagine what those people felt like. And as far as I know it didn't take much to be put in one against your will. Of course now a days they do have psych wards and I am sure plenty of those people feel quite similar to the left behind asylum residents. I find this horrifying. Yes of course there are some illnesses that really incapacitate a person to the point that the family cannot take care of them adequately and the best thing to do is have hospice or whatever take care of them. Yet, people that are maniacally depressed being thrown into places like that I don't think is very helpful. I think it is more helpful for them to be able to talk to their families without being judged or treated differently, and that it is significantly more inspiring and helpful to be able to go see psychiatrists and psychologists in their offices when you need to. This is not really possible today though. Many times because there are so many mentally ill people untreated that any clinic that offers free or discounted visits is over booked. I think an online support group that group Skypes or an online visit with a psychiatrist would be extremely helpful.
I think bringing mental illness awareness to the forefront of issues needing to be dealt with is crucial. If we paid attention to this area in social life we may be able to open our eyes to many of the triggers. People being overworked and underpaid, people not having good opportunities to further their education, economic struggles, a lack of compassion from medical centers (as they have become overwhelmingly greedy and upping surgery and other care prices thousands of dollars more than what they were just ten years ago), family neglect, stereotyping and discrimination, and a lack of understanding about mental illness in general can affect those suffering.
Manic depression is not a joke. It can lead to a very impulsive behavior leading to serious physical harm or death. It may lead to a lack of caring for life, and may just cause this person to burn bridges to all his/her necessary positions in life.
Do not treat people like they are just so stupid that they do not get what you are talking about, or like your smarter than them because that only instigated the problem. That person doesn't want to feel judged in that way or seen as less than or dumb just because they are dealing with psychological issues, and open your mind to understanding what is affecting this individual to become so depressed and be very careful to be polite around that subject or gentle in bringing it up. Often times people are told why the person feels the way they do and after about a week the person who is there for support loses interest in why that depressed person is feeling so. Like I said in a previous post when someone dies that you are close to it affects you for a long period while it only affects a person who wasn't close to that person a short period. So be aware that you are not always acting as if you still care and don't 'get sick' of hearing about your friend or family member's issues because that just makes us feel no one cares at all. If the depressed person needs to talk or cry or scream support them. Help them realize getting help is the best way to go because I wouldn't have gotten help had it not been for my husband being there for me and constantly dealing with my antics and depression. Be kind and love !
Lea Silva
One of the toughest parts of mental illness is realizing when you need some help be it medicines, friendly or filial support, or just some techniques to bring you back to reality and none of those are available. I heard that someone I know was going to end it and because I came out and spoke openly about what I have been through that it change that person's perspective. Sometimes it only takes a supportive pal, or a helping hand to get someone to realize he/she is important.
To be very honest there were times in my deepest darkest days were I wish I had died with the failed pregnancies, or did not care if I were to get hit by a car and die and so on (you get the picture). I never felt I wanted to commit suicide but I did have a lack of care about my own life. I did my routine of showering and kind of eating but I just would sleep or lay there and not care. If I was in school I would put all my focus on my work because it dragged me out of my depressed reality. I am sure many people have felt that way thought. A feeling of 'who cares if I die' or 'no one will notice if I die right now'. When I was younger I would purposely lay on my bedroom flow and see if anyone would notice me laying there pretending to be dead. My mom of course did when she was home, but there were times I felt no one would have noticed.
Today I know my husband and mother would notice most of all (and of course my best friend but she wouldn't be living by me to notice right away). It is bad when you start to become very curious about death. Yes everyone thinks about what death means and what will happen but there is a difference between that thinking and the thoughts of death when you are manically depressed.
It's like this- you know how when someone tells you not to do something you get extremely curious and end up doing it to see what happens- or you know you should do action X but you do it anyway to see the outcome- well that's the kind of disturbing curiosity I am referring to when someone is severely depressed. The thoughts role through your mind like 'well it's either better being dead or being dead means nothing' and then that impulse comes flushing in--- 'so what would happen if I just died right now, I kind of want to just know what will happen'. You feel that flood over you because you feel so helpless, alone and stigmatized that you can't imagine death being worse than this life. Death will at least end the mental anguish, the fighting between your rational and mentally ill irrational side, and will end the feeling that everyone treats you or looks at you like you are less than or stupid because you have a mental illness.
But just wait. Do not let those feelings crumble you to the ground. We all have something unique about us that makes us beautiful, and in modern times not many people can see it in themselves. The feel so lonely, so distant from people and the world, so much like they are so extraordinarily different because of mental illness that they cannot see the beauty within. However, there are others that can see it in you, that look at you in amazement. Those people are the ones you need to have as your support. The ones that can say "hey you're worth it, you're a good honest, kind, so and so person" and can find or already know the way to help you. These people are the ones that are open to understanding just how you feel and what goes on in that mind of yours. Letting the depression ruin you is easy, and fighting that urge to do nothing or feel like nothing is difficult. Yet there are ways out. Sadly, some people are just so deeply hurried in sorrow and sadness that they cannot find their way out. I think that those people never quite had the support and love they needed.
The taboo of being mentally ill is a cause of concern for many. This kind of thinking causes those with mental illnesses to feel even more ostracized and left behind. It is actually a good thing asylums don't exist (at least for me) because I believe that perpetuates the mental illness. You are dropped of at some strange place, left to the will of the staff who were not always so nice, and were left to just rot away in there. I can only imagine what those people felt like. And as far as I know it didn't take much to be put in one against your will. Of course now a days they do have psych wards and I am sure plenty of those people feel quite similar to the left behind asylum residents. I find this horrifying. Yes of course there are some illnesses that really incapacitate a person to the point that the family cannot take care of them adequately and the best thing to do is have hospice or whatever take care of them. Yet, people that are maniacally depressed being thrown into places like that I don't think is very helpful. I think it is more helpful for them to be able to talk to their families without being judged or treated differently, and that it is significantly more inspiring and helpful to be able to go see psychiatrists and psychologists in their offices when you need to. This is not really possible today though. Many times because there are so many mentally ill people untreated that any clinic that offers free or discounted visits is over booked. I think an online support group that group Skypes or an online visit with a psychiatrist would be extremely helpful.
I think bringing mental illness awareness to the forefront of issues needing to be dealt with is crucial. If we paid attention to this area in social life we may be able to open our eyes to many of the triggers. People being overworked and underpaid, people not having good opportunities to further their education, economic struggles, a lack of compassion from medical centers (as they have become overwhelmingly greedy and upping surgery and other care prices thousands of dollars more than what they were just ten years ago), family neglect, stereotyping and discrimination, and a lack of understanding about mental illness in general can affect those suffering.
Manic depression is not a joke. It can lead to a very impulsive behavior leading to serious physical harm or death. It may lead to a lack of caring for life, and may just cause this person to burn bridges to all his/her necessary positions in life.
Do not treat people like they are just so stupid that they do not get what you are talking about, or like your smarter than them because that only instigated the problem. That person doesn't want to feel judged in that way or seen as less than or dumb just because they are dealing with psychological issues, and open your mind to understanding what is affecting this individual to become so depressed and be very careful to be polite around that subject or gentle in bringing it up. Often times people are told why the person feels the way they do and after about a week the person who is there for support loses interest in why that depressed person is feeling so. Like I said in a previous post when someone dies that you are close to it affects you for a long period while it only affects a person who wasn't close to that person a short period. So be aware that you are not always acting as if you still care and don't 'get sick' of hearing about your friend or family member's issues because that just makes us feel no one cares at all. If the depressed person needs to talk or cry or scream support them. Help them realize getting help is the best way to go because I wouldn't have gotten help had it not been for my husband being there for me and constantly dealing with my antics and depression. Be kind and love !
Lea Silva
Sunday, April 6, 2014
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
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
Wednesday, April 2, 2014
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
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
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