bi-polar days we wonder if we can survive...

As I said in my last post, I'm now attempting to kick Doctor dope, methadone which I began four months ago. The said part is that my ability to tolerate any medications is getting worse and worse. If there's a side effect to be had, I'll have it.

The worst part is my thyroid and what it can do to me, mentally and emotionally. These days I am having a difficult time talking to anyone. I don't desire conversation.

But it's the combination I know of having a low thyroid levels, my pain levels are way up, and my ability to carry out many tasks is limited. I know I have to give up a couple weeks to get off the methadone, but on the other hand, I'm a polar and we don't like to wait. So, I've kept it down to the lowest dose and until the pain and discomfort brings on tears.

Then I have no choice but to feed my body a medication it needs. They say quitting smoking is like kicking opiates, I just quit smoking around x-mas, and it wasn't this bad. So, I don't know if you have any real comparison to make.

Smoking is will power. So, is this I guess too.

The game I'm playing with myself is that it doesn't matter anymore whether or not I like it, I'm in the middle of someplace I don't want to be. I don't want to open my eyes in the morning and dread the day. Dread the feeling of being completely and hopelessly lost and miserable.

Friends who are missing and calling me, don't. I don't want to hear from anyone until I can put this negative situation behind me or die from it. I've had to endure too much in the last few years and this is just not what I wanted to happen.

When the news came in that my thyroid medication was being discontinued I could feel the cold chill, trust me. I knew that the stupidest fucking thing they did to me was to take my thyroid. "We can control it easier from the other side."

I hear that over and over as the morbid depression has it's icy fucking claws around me. My doctor was so wrong, I was not knowledgable enough to counter that claim. Now I know.

I'm the person who can't take the synthetic thyroid without getting low t3 and t4 numbers, which are the levels that count. And the depression is beyond me, I haven't felt this since...never. I've never had to actually keep myself alive mentally as my mind wanders to only the final sleep, which I know will be boring.

I actually have to remind myself that death is boring.

This is why the bipolars have to stay away from doctors to survive. Your first steroid episode may be your last when you kill somebody as your chemistry gets out of cognitive control.

I've known something is wrong with me for months, but it took that long to convince my doctor there is something off. It was the thyroid, but it's also this methadone and then there was the lupus medication.

Yes, most people can keep their lupus under control with steroids and Plaquenil, and some pain management.

That's not going to be me. I'm going to have to accept my fate, that I'm screwed. Or blessed who the hell knows.

But for now, it's a day to day, minute to minute thing, and I keep writing. Focusing away from the distress is the desired effect, and we will see what happens. I do seem to get alot done though. Funny enough. Hilarious.

So, it's going to be a couple more weeks before I can drop off the dose and see what happens. And then it will be about the thyroid. I've got an idea, it's not going to be doctor accepted I'm sure, but I've got a plan. If I can make it through this then I can make it thru anything I'm sure.

If this is not the end of me, then I'm meant to go on and do "grandiose" things, or more so than before. We will see...

If only it would go away completely...there's much to do

I have an appointment next week with a doctor and a CEO, who I'm sure will love to have to collect all my records from 2003 to 2009 so we can discuss the health situation I am in.

Sometimes I find myself mumbling, "give me my thyroid back" and I catch myself knowing there's nothing I can do about it now.

Except, there is something I can do and that is make them figure this out for me. I can't take the synthetic or compounded thyroid supplement,and it has caused some of the worst depression I've had to deal with.

Admittedly, there's still the withdrawl from the pain killers for my neck and the overall pain break outs, but I know there is something wrong.

It's not going to be pretty next week, and I'm sure they know. But there is plenty they don't know which will make this even more interesting.

There has been a change in my life and I wish my health would catch up with it, but it's not exactly that simple. I pray to the creator daily asking for help and direction. I watch for the signals and they are always there. It's just that there is more to do than I feel I can get done. But i don't stop, and nobody should.

If you are on a path, the one with heart, according to Castaneda, it's always a good path. I know that now, though my progress has been slowed, and my lessons are pretty tough and very painful, there is little outside influence which can stop me.

But the inner workings, the body chemistry being so susceptible to being thrown off, I worry sometimes. And then there's a thing called depression.

Depression is like gangrene, it eats at good flesh killing it with it's negativity. I've had to watch my mind throw all sorts of things in the road at me. Why I kept asking would I want to harm myself?

I realize I'm not perfect, nor would I want to try to be. I know I'm just a beginner in life, learning to follow my heart and certainty. So far, I like the results.

What?

Yeah, I've taken it step by step all thru my life, being hit each step of the way. I am assuming that in some way I picked up the negative feelings of my family and others which I internalized into my own thinking: I'm not worthy.

We all have to feel worthy. As I've worked with different people different ages on creative projects, I've seen people who cannot even show you their work or anyone else. They hate everything about their work and themselves.

With my short fuse I'm not the greatest teacher, a much better doer, but I have seen how my attitude effects them.

Some have no problems with some criticism, while others have moved from the valley based on what I've said about their work.

They can't write as fast as me, they can't think of topics, they have one excuse after another to get things written. And when i see their disappointment in themselves, I do understand.

I have those same feelings, but I keep pushing past them as I know where I want to go.

But when I get the weight of my insecurity, my depression, my dislike for what I could of should of done in my life, I struggle. People around me get nervous that I may harm myself. But they also see that I am driven, and won't stop. I can't let anything or anyone get in my way at this juncture, so I don't.

It has caused some pain, but my friends are not out of touch with who I am. I'm their friend and they can count on me, whether or not they agree with me, or agree with my attitude. What i do is for us all though, not simply for me. It's the work I enjoy, it's outrunning fear to finish a goal, and it's about learning to enjoy the journey.

If it doesn't come to you at once, don't worry, keep your eyes set on what you want and it will happen. Creativity is an exercise, keep writing, painting, drawing, imagining, and you will draw the poison that stopped you from stretching out your life, and fill your heart with clean, pure, thoughts to transfer into magic.

Depression is not a struggle or you lose. I've been watching it ooze out my pours as each day has brought me a new lesson. I don't believe in negativity, it's not necessary for any of us.

Writers and artists are wonderfully sensitive, funny, people, and I thank everyone for their input, their pats on the back, and mostly for hanging with me. Now, let's get going here, it's getting fun....

Kicking some bi-polar ass...getting past the depression...

"What did you say to him," a friend of mine asked me last week after I told her another friend was angry with me...again.

"Nothing, actually, it was all done with my hands."

So it seems I can make people angry even without uttering a single word. Wow, the power. (geez)

I apologized for doing whatever I did, which I'm not exactly sure of, but am sure that I was not happy at the time, and things can get misinterpretted very easily.

Sometimes people take things personally, which is the title, we have decided for the third book in the series, "The Chronicles of the Bi-polar Reporter." It has to do with a time that the medical establishment decided to give me some Paxil, and SSRI antidepressant, not meant for bi-polars.

I took one dose and went from depressive paralysis, to vigilante butt kicking, eradicating drugs from a whole city, maniac. None of it's true. Okay, I'm lying. Some of it is true. Well, most of it is true. People have not forgotten my bi-polar war on drugs. I'm thinking it should be called, "Tweekers versus Super Tweek." I don't care how much meth you consume, there will never be a rival to a bi-polar on antidepressants. That's what a whole city found out.

Anyway, I truly dislike it when my friends are more sensitive than I am insensitive, because I end up saying or doing something that brings them down.

Not knowing depression was on its way to my door step and into my mind, I was in what everyone around me likes to call a "mood." It was depression worming its way into my thinking and activities like a virus.

This is a serious subject as I know so many have suffered and even killed themselves because of the chemical breakdown which occurs during depressive phases of the bi=polar cycle.

I've said I would be honest and forthright on this blog, as an outlet for me, and a demonstration to the younger bi-polars, of how to handle these psychological challenges.

I wish I could say what happened this week was treated with my wisdom and experience, but it's not true. Depression hit like a rock against my head, and only now, more than a week later can I say that I feel...different. Nothing really happened except someone made me angry and it helped my mood.

Is that fucking crazy or what?

(I can hear the hissing of the hose filling again, and the mania on its way. )

What happened?

Sometimes nothing happens, and like someone told me this week, "what goes down, must come up," which is the only way to explain it.

There was an email on my computer last night that left me irritated. I didn't initially respond, because I didn't think this person was worth a mere sentence of rebuttal, but when I woke up this morning, I changed my mind.

I wrote back and made sure in four sentences to put this person quickly in her place, and left the sword hanging from her back. Felt pretty good actually.

But even as I did this, I recognized that my mood had changed, and stayed aware so I did not do more damage than was intended. I hit a target and left it at that. Pretty straightforward really.

Again, the game is this, keep aware of what you are thinking and doing at all times. It may seem a cumbersome task at first, but it is totally necessary to control the bi-polar.

This is not an easy life by any means, but it is interesting, never boring. I say always make it through the depression, don't let them be the defining moments. There are places our minds can go that others cannot follow or would be too afraid to follow. Its actually amazing if you can survive it.

I always have to remember that depression is a phase which will pass. And not to fuck everything up while I'm waiting.

Yes, I have tried many times to kill myself. So, I said it, even though it is difficult to admit.

The first attempt I was only 11 years old. After years of depression and a sudden onset of mania, I couldn't take it anymore. Obviously, it didn't work.

But try, try again. I attempted to kill myself in many ways, and was for some reason, always unsuccessful.

That is why this is such a serious subject and we should discuss it regularly. I've heard now, many young bi-polars talking about the "way out."

There is no way out, only a way through the mist kids. All of us at one time or another want to get out of the pain, but we have to, whether we like it or not, ride out the tidal wave of negative thinking. If I can do it, anyone can.

I'm no example to follow, and certainly no one to look up to. But I am someone who has done her best to not just stay alive, which is really nothing, but to create the best me I can create. When I go to sleep at night, I need to know I did my best, even if it didn't work too well. Your own life is your work of art. I'm a little abstract to say the least.

One of the funniest things said this week to me was when I related the manic rage incident from last week, where I tore myself up being angry over really nothing that couldn't be solved by a quieter mind. I was saying how stupid I was for getting so angry. I was simply told, "so what? You're human."

Now, generally speaking, people usually tell me in no uncertain terms that they agree I'm a dumbass, but to be told, I was human, well, that actually seemed okay.

Since a lot of us bi-polars feel like aliens from another planet most of the time, it was actually nice to have verification of my human status. That goes for all of you.

I'd like to apologize to everyone around me for my depressive attitude this week, and thank you all for understanding.

For some reason, when I get down, I bring everyone down with me. I hate that, and don't know exactly why it happens that way.

Now, the hose is filling again, by tomorrow a whole new outlook will replace the tattered remnants of the depression...so, let's kick some bi-polar ass...are you with me?

Crazy days indeed...depression...illness as a metaphor

So, I got my sorry ass out of bed this morning and headed over to my new doctor to get some trigger point injections in my neck and back. I had completely forgotten about the fact I had blood tests run a week or so ago.

The doctor tells me today, that my tests are showing that I have Lupus.

That's called a diagnosis. I've had quite a few of them in the last six years as I've struggled with my health. Grave's disease, still have that I guess.

But as I was thinking about the depression yesterday, and pondering the idea that I might just "hate" myself, I realize today that Lupus is an autoimmune disease which attacks the host, me.

So, something in my body is attacking me, stripping me of my weight, causing me pain, and there just may be some sort of link, I think.

My childhood was stressful at best, but something must have influenced me to a degree that I was not worhty in some way to be free to enjoy my life, how I see fit to live it.

How do I handle things from here? I'm not sure yet.

I know that the treatments consist of steroids, which I cannot take, so there's not much in the way of medical treatments to help.

Somehow, I feel like I'm going to have to help myself, and come to terms with whatever energy/thought patterns/unexpressed feelings which are causing my illness.

I'm sure it will be interesting, it always is when you learn about yourself.

So, I'm not out of the depression, not fighting it, just praying for answers.

Thinking again, what does this mean, this diagnosis? And how can I learn from it?

I'll let you know.

Depression and the void of laughter...

Well, I guess I blew all my good chemicals out my ears, as I'm in the middle of severe depression. The kind you don't really want to talk about.

After a family meltdown, and additional craziness that keeps me from trying to recover, I started to think about what the hell I can learn from this.

Yes, I can spin anything, even my own dark thoughts.

I've come to a point where its tough to admit, or talk about, but I think I hate myself. I think there has been a build up of dissappointment internally, and it plagues me.

When I get into this awful state of mind, I realize there is nothing anyone can do for me. It's all about me doing what I can to try to do to change this energy.

I've had all the helpful advice I can take, I just want to be left alone. And I've been verbally attacked, diminished, which didn't help either. Funny enough I'm too depressed to be angry about it at this point.

My energy is so bad, I can feel it, I don't know what it is all about, but if I plan on continuing my life, I better find out soon.

Hurting myself the other day made matters worse, as pain is not a friend, its an impediment. It's adding to the despondency.

All I can say to you people who have to suffer through this shit, is to not use your brain to figure it out. It's like submission, just accepting it, and praying the answers will come.

I've wrangled with depression all my life, but found myself intellectualizing it all. I could list all the reasonable things to do about it, but I didn't know how to utilize them.

When I can't laugh its like a void as it is my emotional tool.

Since everyone involved whirled right in behind me when I hit manic rage, they were affected which always makes me feel terrible.

So, now we're all depressed. And everyone is wondering what I'm doing. They have to call and check in.

I'll tell you I'm just trying to get through it that's all. Apparently, I've got to deal with these demons on some level so that I can find my way back from being lost.

Don't fight it, see it, and find out what happened to lead to the darkness.

I'll get back to you on that...

There's a manic in the neighborhood...

I'm sure it was lack of sleep, and too much expectation, or something that caused me to head to manic rage yesterday.

The day after such events, like today, leave me feeling drained and deeply depressed. I slept until this evening, got up, only to the feeling of pain probably caused by yesterdays "big scene."

My sister arrived with a trailer full of my stuff left at my father's house, which was fine.
I stayed up to wait for her in the middle of the night arrival, but she didn't get here. So, after two hours of sleep they rolled up.

After unloading and a few hours to chat, she and my nephew took off.
I understood there was a big scene at my father's house, and I had told my sister you don't want to deal with them after their five O'clock martinis.
Well, her timing was perfect as they were drunk and obnoxious. There was nothing I could do about it, so I just stayed out of it, until I hit manic rage late yesterday afternoon.

A invited a friend of mine to come over and have some ribs with me, but the timing couldn't have been worse.

I went to look thru the boxes which arrived, only to find that insane people had packed the crap. I started to get madder and madder as I opened each box.

My friend arrived, who is bi-polar as well, so the scene was not "shocking."

At least at first.

I should have walked away, but before I knew it, I was throwing things all over the yard and hitting the boxes with a baseball bat.

My neighbor looked across the street and asked me what was wrong. I couldn't answer I was too angry and the chemicals were pumped up in my brain and body.

Since I have disc problems in my neck and a nice long cut in my abdomen from surgery which has weakened my lower back, it probably wasn't a good idea to begin picking things up and throwing them.

But I did.

I'm sure it looks like a schizophrenic garage sale outside my house, but I ended up hurting myself more than the boxes I threw around.

My friend whipped up the ribs, which I could have cared less about at that point, and watched with neutrality as I spun out right then and there.

Next great thing, get mad and get on the phone. Of course, I did it, making things worse in the process as nothing I could say at that point was even remotely nice.

Yes, I cuss and yell, but I took it to a new level yesterday. Every sentence contained the word "fuck" and then just about everything else I could say contained foul language.

Could I stop? No.

This went way into the night, and my still alcoholic brother, tried to talk me down. He even mentioned the irony of the situation, as I am usually the one doing the talking down for him.

We talked for hours until I finally got tired, the chemicals beginning to recede long enough for my emotions to begin to make sense to me.

Then the depression hits. I blew off all the good chemicals in the angry rage, so the next feeling is one of embarrassment and resignation.

When I woke up this morning, I didn't really care if I lived or died. Then there's the lingering feeling of "how stupid am I?"

That quickly passed as I realized I had hurt myself lifting and throwing and swinging that bat around. The pain was everywhere which made me even more depressed.

I got up for a few minutes, long enough to make some calls, wiping tears away so I could speak.

I was told that I should get someone to talk to about it. Like a psychologist or a Preist? Whatever, they are useless to the bi-polar in this state of mind.

My sister told me not to let crazy people make me crazy. Well it seems to be an infectious situation.

So, we shall see what comes of this, as deep depression has settled in, and mania is gone for now.

I told my dog to eat all the crap I threw in the yard. He had some fun today.

I'm not having fun yet. From this vantage point in time, I feel like it will never be fun again.

It's fucking great to be bi-polar: see you around, maybe.