Bipolar – Page 5 – A Most Unreliable Narrator

shoes

Dear Internet,
It is nearly two years since my surgery and where I should be versus where I actually am are two wholly different things.
Whenever I get angry about the state of my feet, I seem to conveniently forget I was laid up for four months after surgery number one, on a wound vac for another two, then laid up again for another two months before finally being released from care nearly a year after the first surgery. Of course I’m not going to be where I think I should be at — nor would anyone else.
Logic and rational are not players in this game. When the world in my head is crashing, far easier to blame something you cannot control versus something you can.
In this case, the size of my feet.
This was much of my attitude this morning on my way to work. TheHusband had gifted me with a pair of fairly expensive ballet flats for the holidays, a pair similar to the brethren I purchased last summer. Instead of leather, however, the fabric was cloth so when I slid my feet into them the shoes had no stretch.
That is something I have to account for now post-surgery: my feet will be different sizes during the day and I need shoes to be flexible to fit that criteria. The company’s reputation for customer service was earned when a new pair in leather arrived on my doorstep, same size as the previously purchased pair, which I threw into my travel bag when I hopped a flight to San Francisco for a job interview in April.
During that trip, the new pair felt odd but I couldn’t put my finger on why the shoes felt weird. They went on easily enough but they didn’t fit right. I sized the new pair against their brethren and found the new pair was 1/2″ shorter than the pair I had been wearing for months. I contacted the company who sent me out another pair in the same size — maybe the first replacement was a mismatch? Nope. The now third pair of flats were matched up against my happily worn pair also had the same problem. Perhaps my original pair was the mismarked ones then? I sent the request in for another pair to exchange, this time for a size up which arrived the day of my birthday.
A size 12.
For some reason I’m recalling my first pair of adult shoes was purchased when I was 9 or 10, in a woman’s size 10. I have always not been tall, so size 10s at a young age made sense to me. I wore 10s for most of my early teenage years and into my 20s when the 10s stopped fitting — weight gain, arthritis, life — moved me into 11s. A few years ago when trying to size running shoes, the sales person tried to convince me I needed 12s not 11s and I laughed in her face. I don’t care WHAT your scale says, I wear 11s and then proceeded to stomp out the store in due form.
Because I apparently cannot have fat feet.
Feet change and they grow (and shrink!); they are not consistent no matter how much we want them to be. The part of our body that we abuse the most, we treat with so little respect. This is not a treatise to feet, but maybe it should be.
I tried on the 12s, which fit like a glove out of the box. I attempted to get over myself on the shoe size prejudice. A size meant nothing if they fit well and were comfortable and this was true of the new pair. My right foot, now an 11.5w thanks to the surgeries felt great. The left foot? 10.5b felt a little loose. I can make this work, I thought. I added on a pair of secret lady socks to keep my feet in place (leather!) and went about my merry little way.
Except yes, my feet do change. By the time I was leaving work nine hours later, my right foot had ballooned (as it tends to do after a day where I’m on my feet a lot) and was snug in its shoe. The left shoe, however, flapped off my foot like an evil clown smiling to children as I walked.
I angrily walked to my car, feeling as if my frustration of my life was based solely on this pair of ill-fitting shoes. Why couldn’t I own a nice pair of shoes that fit? How was the first pair I purchased a perfect fit but its brethren were horrible matches? Why was everything so complicated? Why were people such assholes? Why can’t we have nice things?
Why am I so angry over a pair of shoes?
xoxo,
Lisa

This Day in Lisa-Universe:

attending shenanigans

Dear Internet,
It’s spring and along with it being the prime for allergies, it’s also cold drink season. Years ago I was introduced to the Toddy Cold Brew system via Kate and have been hooked on it ever since. Since I’ve been (more or less) caffeine free since January 1, and my recent exposure to caffeine did not end the world, I decided to mix 60% decaf and 40% caf coffees together for my first cold brew batch of 2014. The reason for the mix was that I did not quite have enough decaf for the brew and had extra caffeinated hanging around, so why not?
Big mistake.
The standard serving measurement is 1/4 cup of the concentrate per 8oz of milk or water. On Saturday, after brewing the coffee for about 24 hours, I mixed 1/4 cup concentrate, ice, and about 12oz of vanilla almond milk for consumption.
I was high all of Saturday and far into Sunday. I was so manic I opined the following on Facebook:

J. seriously considered throttling me in stores.
Case in point: Looking for shorts to wear to play tennis tomorrow, thought it bright idea to try them on outside regular clothes mid-aisle.
Subtitle: Keeping it classy since 1972.

I was so manic that even though I took one Klonopin that night to knock me out, that wasn’t quite enough to knock me back into the netherworld I so desperately needed, which lead into more mania into Sunday.
On Monday, because I hate throwing away waste and rather enjoy the brain mixing, I tempered down to 1/8th cup of concentrate, ice, milk and the mania was still on fire. Not as bad as over the weekend, but still pretty awful. A Klonopin was produced.
Tuesday, I took it down to a tablespoon of concentrate, then mixed in the ice/milk and we seem to have a winner. I can still get coffee taste without wasting what I had already produced AND most importantly, without enflaming the mania. I’ve been doing this combination, mixed with 1/8th cup of water to help the dilution, all week and so far its been working.
It will take me a very long time to go through this batch.
As the cycle of the mania continues its elliptical path, when I was feeling so calm a few weeks prior, I wasn’t too surprised I started crashing Thursday morning. I’ve noticed my agitation on certain things escalates when I’m peaking during the mania, right before the downward dog starts occurring.
One thing I’m super impressed with myself on is my new superhero power of pulling in the crazy before all hell breaks loose. I found myself in a variety of stressful situations this week where I could have done some real damage. I swallowed hard the impulse, which seemed to sap a lot of my strength, but I’m just puffed I was able to keep it together. To be sure, there some difficult situations I had to address, even if I tried to escape from them, so I settled on brusque politeness to get the job done. That seemed to have done the trick.
Sometime this week, I found out it was National Mental Health Month, which lead me to my twice yearly search for a national foundation for people with bipolar in the United States. The United Kingdom has one, why don’t we?
After much digging around the Internet, I finally found a nationwide organization that supports both depression and bipolar, what has a local chapter here in Grand Rapids. I got in touch with the leader and they do indeed meet 2x a month, so I’m going to be checking this out.
I am suspicious of such things, as I am always suspicious of these matters. The last group meetings I did was about a decade ago for Borderline Personality Disorder which freaked me out more than helped. People obviously much sicker than me, barely able to cope with their daily lives, that I felt like an imposter within their midst. I wasn’t REALLY sick, because I was functioning far more in day to day lives then they were. The doctor amped them up on drugs for control, she pulled me off of mine and kept telling me how lucky I was to be so well adjusted despite my maladies.
Right now I feel like I’m grasping at straws. Drugs don’t work, thus I need better coping mechanisms. After awhile, you get tired of crying in your car as you head home because you’re too manic to cook bacon, because you know if you do you may accidentally set something on fire. You’ve done it before and you know you will do it again. Your whole life is a chain reaction against a single action, inflamed by this disease.
I wonder if any therapist ever gets that we want more than to “function”? We want the normalcy that we envy in others. We want to do more than just be able to hold down a job or attend school or keep a house. We want to live.
xoxo,
Lisa

This day in Lisa-Universe: 2013

A coil of rope worn over the shoulder by smugglers

Dear Internet,
Mania works like this, with ADHD added for extra charisma (+4):
Your mind is not in any one place. It is HERE. It is THERE. It grabs things in between and forces it into an imaginary motorboat that leaves your mind wet.
Things are started and not finished. You tell people you are forgetful not because you actually forget but because you have too much to remember.
Onlythebravewillaskyoutoslowdownwhenyoustartspeakingsofastthatthewordsjusttumbleoutofyourmouth. Mostwillpickupontheeveryoddwordtomakesenseofwhatyou’resaying.
Everything is shiny, but there is often long periods of boredom which is underpinned by how overwhelmed you are. So projects are started, dropped, picked up, dropped, started over. Add. Rinse. Repeat. You used to liken it as learning to play chopsticks and thinking you could then produce Beethoven in a fortnight.
You still think you can play Beethoven in a fortnight.
During mania, your confidence will teether on being megalomaniac. No, not teether – is megalomaniac. You are invincible. You are infallible. The world is your oyster. You can get, and have received, nearly everything you’ve wanted. You will take it by any means necessary. You are the BEST. You are the ONE.
You will do it your way or tell people who disagree with you to fuck off. You think those who are not like you are weak, and especially those who display low self-esteem. You laugh at stereotypes often applied to you, because your megalomania trumps normalcy. You do not fit into a perceived idea of what you should be, so you think you are a special snowflake.
You might be right.
Your mind does not rest. It is a painful slow curve of a headache that stretches low across the forehead. Throbbing. Continuous. You’ve gotten so used to that feeling that not having it seems abnormal. Drugs can sharpen your mind from the fuzzy waters it treads on, but there is always a price to pay for the drugs.
Sometimes you rationalize you just cannot care.
You’ll shoot from the hip, your mouth smoking from the rapid fire comebacks, but that is just your way. You’re brusqueness, because you are economizing on time and emotion, most often repels people but you disagree with their assessment (of course you do) because if they can’t deal, then you think they are not worthy of your time. People will either love you or hate you.
(Truthfully, most humans are pretty useless.)
When you’re maniac, you can create a wondrous world around you and invite everyone to see, and all that do see seem to be entranced. You are EXCITING. You cannot decide if they are enraptured with you or think you’re a hot mess, but the truth doesn’t really matter. The dichotomy of your brassiness is tempered with charm, so you at least recognize you’re an acquired taste but you hypothesize you’re worth the wait.
(Many do seem to agree, to the chagrin of a few.)
You’ve done a pretty good job of starving off most personal friendships. You cling to a few, but you are often too exhausted to expand your circle. Keeping your mask on to function does take its toil. If not emotionally, physically. But you pine for the groups and friendships that always seem to elude you.
You crave that normalcy, the days when your mind is not whizzing along at the speed of sound, when you don’t create tick off a list to keep your personality in check before you leave the house.
You do understand that day may never, ever come.
We have not touched upon bad life choices, indiscretions, and other vague regrets when one is manic, but that is okay. Those stories are better in one off settings when you’re preparing to entrance a new groups of people, to woo them to your lair.
You have become a modern day Schenzernade and it suites you.
There is also the lack of sleep, the existing on 2-3 hours a night that will happen if something is not put in check, whether by drugs or other. You think with that much open space, you would get work done, BE CREATIVE, SOLVE CANCER, but mostly it just turns into you wandering the internet late at night, wondering why you feel so alone.
You’re okay with everything because you’ve finally learned to live with your gifts and recognize when the crazy hits and how to react when it does. While you can balance the mania, and create a structure to keep it contained, what you most fear is the day when you will crash.
Because one day it will and then everything begins anew.
Stay thirsty my friends.
xoxo,
Lisa

This Day in Lisa-Universe: 2011, 1999

familiaritas obscenitas

Dear Internet,
I knew mania was upon me not because my brain was slightly throbbing or that I was feeling more invincible than usual, but when having lunch with work husband #3, I was keenly intent on the fish monger and his ice. So much so, I struck up a conversation with him about the habits of keeping the oysters and other delicacies chilled as they laid prettily in the case. I followed up my witty banter with some succinct comment on ice machines and what not.
Really, I am quite the charmer.
Sometimes I don’t know what is worse, curled up in bed in an attempt to keep the world at bay or when it flips and I need to fix all of the world’s problems right this very minute. And if it means staying up until the deepest witching hours to get started, then so be it.
Two weeks ago I was so struck with anxiety and despair, I could barely leave my hotel room while attending a conference. Earlier this week, I was so overwrought with rage that the only way to keep myself from falling apart is reading trashy literature. Then it shifts again and now I am HAPPY, HAPPY, HAPPY.
And making inane conversation with random fish mongers.
I used to long for normalcy, or even better, a chance of being more even. Now, as soon as this week, I’ve realised those are not the things I need, they are the things I want. What I need is a way to harness, if that is even more possible, and make the fan dance of moods work for me rather than against. Stop censoring myself, for one.
And if the darkness comes, and it has , then I need to surrender to it. As long as I don’t let it swallow me whole, as long as I remind myself it will pass (and it will), to be mindful as much as I can that this is cyclic and I will whirl around the peg board towards something else, then I can survive. To quote Neil Gaiman,

Fairy tales are more than true: not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us that dragons can be beaten.

And even the very most important thing to remember, (somehow I have to create very visible reminder), to is to apply self-care. Generously. Without regret. For that is how we will slay the dragons.
xoxo,
Lisa

This day in Lisa-Universe:

Queen of the Pussy Posse

Dear Internet,
I came home from the work ‘do today to find my blog has been quietly exploding across the library-sphere due to a mention and a link back from a professional online publication to my ALA code of conduct round up post. Again. Coupled with popularity of the ripped open belly of my psyche posts, this instant love feels a bit strange.
It’s hard because when people praise, compliment, or are effusive towards me for I get WEIRD. I want you to recognize my brilliance, but please, let us not speak about it publicly. Think of the children.
Don’t you worry though, I do plan on owning the title of Queen of the Pussy Posse but right now I’m just kind of warming up to the title.
The work ‘do was rather good! I tweeted from my professional Twitter account to be engaging with my colleagues. Our poster session went over pretty well and lots of snaps were taken while I was demoing some of our goods and services. It was after the poster session was over my color combination was not particularly a good choice for photography — I was wearing a purple skirt with dark purple polka dots, dark green tights, and a similar color to the tights shirt and a light grey cardigan. Plus I’m currently a redhead, which always throws off my make-up and color choices when I quickly switch back and forth between dark, dark hair and red, red hair.
It has been nearly two weeks without caffeine and the weirdest thing is how balanced I am beginning to feel. I keep telling TheHusband I went off of caffeine, and soon I’ll be limiting refined sugar, to help with the bipolar. The strange effect is going off of caffeine has helped my ADHD. A lot. Like noticeably a lot. Which is downright strange since all almost all ADHD drugs are stimulants.
I’m able to put together tasks and complete them in a reasonable amount of time that I had not seen since the early days of when I was taking the drugs. A week after being caffeine free, I would wake up on my own accord, create a list of things I must do for the day and do them in order. The tasks were completed. I did not leave things unfinished or undone. Physical tasks are one thing, but digital tasks I’m still kind of all over the place on. This post was started five hours before it was finished because I kept skipping around reading my RSS feeds, stalking social media, checking email, talking to friends on gChat, and so forth. Even though I’m still digitally all over the place, in comparison to where I was before, I’m loads better.
Additionally, I’m not only sleeping really well, but when I get up, I get up on the first ring of the alarm. No more 45 minute snoozes or feeling fuzzy brained or dragging my ass around in the morning. I realize my medicating doctor refers to me as a peculiar case, but I had not thought the reverse prescription for my ailments would possibly end up to be true: take me off all stimulants, the number one antidote for ADHD, and my ADHD becomes asymptomatic.
First day back to work is a perfect example. I set the alarm at 6 for I knew I had to wash my hair and shave my legs, which can take me longer than usual for I often like to dawdle in the shower. I gave myself a soft time to get in the car at 7:15 to start warming it up to leave at 7:30 to make the 5 mile drive to the event space to be there by 8. The event actually started at 830, but we had 30 minutes for socializing and breakfast before hand. I wanted to give myself a wide berth of time due to weather and roads and Lisa.
The alarm went off at 6. I was out of bed at 6:04. By the time I ate a banana, drank some coffee, checked work email (wanted to make sure the event was still happening due to recent weather trials), showered (I always set an egg timer for 10 minutes on work days when I shower or else I will never get the fuck out), shaved, dressed, blew dry and did my hair, make-up and etc, I actually did not get into my car until 7:34. I gave it 10 minutes to warm it up and even by running late, I made it to the event space at 8:05. Roads were much cleaner than anticipated and traffic was still fairly light. Having a soft and hard leave time helped me control my time management and I pulled it off fairly well.
My impulses are getting better. After the work ‘do was over, I was out running errands with the last errand dropping off a script at the pharmacy. While there, I trolled the make-up aisle, as you do, for I wanted to get some lipsticks or nail polishes in Pantone’s color of the year. Before I would have bought up everything that I could find remotely related to the color on the spot, but this time after a few crawls up and down the aisle I realized that since I was coming back the following day, I didn’t need to buy anything this second, which would give me time to go home and search for reviews online. I paid for what I did have in hand and left.
Genius.
xoxo,
Lisa
P.S. Let it be said that by me now that public confessions of the soul tend to warrant others to confess privately to me. I am totally okay with that. I think I’ve made it pretty clear that any confidences given to me remain confidential. Additionally, please understand that sometimes pulling at the scabs can take a few days to reorder myself to be human again. If I don’t respond right away, I will get to you. I promise.

This day in Lisa-Universe:

That roams around the world

Ophanim, 13thC via Bavarian State Library

Dear Internet,
It’s late in the evening, ticking towards midnight [now significantly past midnight, thanks mania!], and we’ve been sloths all day. Not too surprising, with the current weather we’ve been having, leaving the house would be borderline stupidity. To be fair, TheHusband and I were at the gym on Saturday, coupled with an hour spent shoveling this morning from the first part of the snows, we feel like we’ve got our exercise in for the weekend. But also to be fair, my own silliness for not taking any kind of drug before gym tripped my arthritis up and while the pain has been moderate, it’s still annoying and it has meant I’ve been spending a lot of time with my leg up rather than being active.
Monday has been called a snow day across the midwest as the snows have started to come down, including MPOW, which makes me slightly sad as I’m naturally off so I can’t claim a snow day in jubilation. My nearly four week holiday comes to an end on Wednesday and I’m both slightly delighted and slightly not. I watched a lot of telly, read a few books, wrote a lot here, and did a lot of research for my book. My MIL was in town for a week, we stayed in on New Years, my dragon tattoo fill started, and I wore a lot of sports bras. Not a bad staycation overall.
But.
I need structure. If there is anything this vacation has finally drilled in my head, I thrive in structure. When we were getting up in the mornings early, setting our rhythms for the day, I found I was more productive than when left to my own devices. As much as my inner bad girl grits her teeth while admitting this, sometimes chaos is not always the best answer.
Monday, I will start prepping to get back into work mode. My brain has been in hibernation for the last month, so it’s time to take off the sports bras, yoga pants, loose t-shirts and get things back in order. To get this in the right frame of mind, I cleaned out my personal inbox today so if you are wondering where the email I owe you is, you should get it in the next day or so. If we talked about doing projects together, I’ll start getting in the groove for those as well. Monday, I’m also planning on sorting mail, finishing up bills, and maybe taking down the Christmas tree.
While we were absolute sloths during our staycation, we did join the local Y the day after Christmas (via online of course). As it turns out my brother and his girlfriend, my tattoo artist and his wife, my friend Liz and her husband also joined within the same week. It’s time to walk, yoga, and swim. Saturday, during the break of the snows, TheHusband and I scrimmaged playing basketball, where I was not as bad as I thought. We kept getting run over by little kids playing soccer, all wearing European team gear, with one of their parents yelling drill instructions in Italian, which were often punctured by our “goddammits” when we missed shots.
I played basketball all through primary school (but not secondary) and some of the old drills came back to my hands as if I was 12 all over again, not nearly 42. I hate watching the game, but apparently I can get into playing it without a second thought. I give no fucks about NBA, March Madness, or Top 10 or anything basketball related.
In the guilt department, the damned post about being fit has been sitting in my drafts folder since December 2012. I am promising myself this is not going to be another year in which it gathers dust, but talking about being crazy is far easier than talking about being fat because you can’t judge crazy by looks alone.
Speaking of crazy, I’ve been caffeine free since January 1. I have been reading some personal anecdotes as well as studies about the effect of caffeine on bipolar and decided to create a one person sample study – me. On one (and many) of my drugs I was on in 2013 for my ADHD, caffeine was off the table since it amped up the effects of the drugs, which are stimulants, for me. Again, a lovely side effect that affected no one else I knew had. I know many ADHD sufferers who self-medicate with caffeine sans the drugs, but I was finding that maybe that is not working for me since caffeine feeds into my mania. I was already cutting caffeine out of my diet after 12PM, and had been for ages, coupled with my caffeine free existence in 2013 for a bit, maybe it was worth a go to see what would happen.
Not surprisingly, I have felt a lot more stable in the last few days then I had in the last month, and my brain has been less foggy. My ADHD has been getting symptomatic. Crazy or unfocused — oh how shall I ever choose?
It’s now significantly past the witching hour and I need to get to bed. Or pretend to. Or something.
[The internal network went down while I was writing this so I missed my midnight deadline, so I’m backtracking this to 23:59.]
x0x0,
Lisa

This day in Lisa-Universe: 2013, 2013, 2013, 2013

Sick of Shadows

happynewyearedwardianpostcard
Dear Internet,
The crazy has been hitting me pretty hard for the last few days — well the better part of the week, which for me means lots of mania which rolls over into having a constant headache that I cannot shake. I’ve taken 1/2 a Klonopin this morning when I woke in the hopes it would quiet down some of the noise, but it feels like it has barely made a dent. I will more than likely take another 1/2 dose when I’m done writing this and a full dose before bed.
We kicked off the New Year by Wednesday having a pooping accident on our bedroom floor which she proceeded to then fell in to, which led to us giving her a bath and the obligatory anal gland squeeze, which was followed with her pooping more in the utility sink.
We sure know how to party.
TheHusband has been working with TheMIL on her oral history today, which has freed me up to do writing but with my brain spinning a million miles an hour, I’m finding I cannot concentrate more than a few things at a time. At best I’ve done is finish up my Book List of 2013, start the 2014 page and kind of putz around my office. The day is still relatively young but I am not feeling much to do anything at the moment.
The weather has been awfully frightful and currently sits at 10F/-12C with dipping down to 2F/-17C this evening with the never ending parade of snow. Even with several layers on, I’m constantly freezing. I’ve been chugging hot tea like there is no tomorrow to keep my innards warmed, but it doesn’t seem to be helping.
Tonight kicked the beginning of season 3 of Sherlock in the UK, which has Twitter enflamed. Several people asked nicely to not spoil it, so I won’t. Instead I’ll give you the teaser that was released for Christmas from BBC on Sherlock’s return.

xoxo,
Lisa

This day in Lisa-Universe: 2013, 2012, 2003

Preface

Thomas of Cantimpré, Liber de natura rerum, France ca. 1290. Via Valenciennes, Bibliothèque municipale, ms. 320, fol. 72r — Thomas of Cantimpré, Liber de natura rerum, France ca. 1290.
Via Valenciennes, Bibliothèque municipale, ms. 320, fol. 72r

Dear Internet,
The other day I received two unexpected gifts from the same person. The first was the admission that thanks to my writing, this person went on to seek mental health assistance and now treatment on their own. Secondly, in thanks for simply being me and giving them the courage to seek help, this person went to my Amazon wishlist¹ and bought me the bundled ebook version of the first four books of George R. R. Martin’s A Song of Fire and Ice series, or as the rest of the world refers to it by its rightful name, Game of Thrones.
Floored by this person’s generosity, I thanked them profusely for being so kind. This person’s gentle heart and reasons for sharing with me paralleled into the increasing visibility of my journal. Daily keyword tracking shows I’m getting a lot of traffic from organic searches by those looking for answers on drug interactions, bipolarism, ADHD, and everything else related to the crazy.
This seems like a perfect time then to write a preface to the blog for if my writing my experiences can help someone else seek professional help, then I need to make sure they are clear on a few things in regards to my own experiences. This post will be in the main nav bar for easy access.
I am Bipolar I/II (depending on which doctor), with ADHD, moderate anxiety, and a side of Borderline Personality Disorder for extra flavor. While I have been diagnosed since my late teens, my most recent professional confirmation came in 2005 and 2012.
I am what is commonly referred to as high functioning, which means that while I exhibit many of the extreme symptoms of my afflictions, I have coping skills that allows me to function, more or less, with little interruption.
In December of 2012, I decided after nearly a decade of being off any kind of medicating drugs, to start the drug treatment again for bipolar and ADHD. If you are a fairly new reader, and you want to see what someone is like within the throes of bipolar, start here and go forward for a play by play look of my last year as I live blogged it all. If you want to hop around, the subjects in the right sidebar gives you the breadth of the crazy as well as my other non-crazy interests.
This journal is not a journal of bipolarism, but I do write a lot about my gifts. Please keep that in mind.
In March of 2013, I decided to stop hiding behind the journal as the only outlet on the discussion and made the conscious effort to being open about my disease.
I am drug free not because I choose to, but it is because I cannot tolerate drugs. I have been on a wide breadth of various bipolar and ADHD drugs on and off for years, all well documented on this site, and none of them work for me. I am what my medicating therapist calls, “a peculiar case.” Simply put, my brain chemistry does not allow for metabolizing of most commercial drugs for anything. For example, most SSRIs take 2-3 weeks to metabolize and for the effects to show up. In me, I metabolize the drugs within days of ingestion. This becomes problematic when addressing doses for stabilization. I also have the unfortunate luck to get all the rare side effects associated with that particular drug.
Drug interactions are typically listed on the drug’s bottle. If not, use a reliable health site such as the Mayo Clinic for more information.
If you are taking medication, take the medication as directed and do not skip a dose. Do not self-medicate unless it’s for an extremely good reason such as when Adderall makes you psychotic like it did for me.
I do not dispense individual advice nor do I recommend you seek your medical treatment from the Internets. Mental health, in particular with afflictions that have cross symptoms, can be triggered by reading others experiences. I also do not frequent forums, while some find them useful and supportive, I find they tend to trigger my anxiety.
Websites that I link in regards to mental health advocacy or support are ones either I have used or have vetted as being legit. There are a lot of schemey sites out there looking to exploit the mentally ill. Using common sense and asking yourself the usual “Who/What/Where/Why” should give you the foundation of whether or not a site is legit. Remember, if you cannot find an about page or if the person is not willing to share credentials about their expertise, keep the fuck away.
Part of managing this disease is creating a supportive network and self-soothing routine for when you go into crisis, whether that crisis is manic or depressive. Make sure your partner, parents, siblings, and close friends know that you are doing this for yourself.
Those who are bipolar tend to also be heavily anxious, so it is even more important you create an on demand self-soothing items / routines in your skill set. This can be anything from having a favorite sweater around, to reading a particular passage from a book, eating a piece of chocolate, and the list can go on. In short: Anything that gives you comfort, bring you down, and give you peace is what you’re looking for AND can be easily accessible. Additionally, when you go into overly anxious mode, also have tools to cope such as TheHusband and I sing the 12 days of Christmas – backwards. Usually I do this when I cannot take Klonopin (the one drug that does work for me) immediately for some reason or the drug is taking too long to kick in. Another routine is five things taste, touch, sense, hear, see. You do a round of each item, finding five that fit the description, and keep going until your calm down.
Almost every encyclopedic entry on bipolar will mention a mind/body connection, that one way to help alleviate the pain of the disease is to eat right, cut out caffeine, and exercise. Even mediating can be boon.
If you think you are bipolar, hie thee to your general practitioner to get a recommendation for a medicating therapist. Bipolar is nuanced enough chemically that almost all those who are gifted with disease will have varying symptoms and medication needs. This should not be treated by your GP.
In addition to a medicating shrink, make sure you have a talking shrink as well — sometimes it can be the same person. You will need someone to monitor your drugs as well as be your touchstone that this is a chemical fuck up in your brain and you’re not a terrible person.
There is no known national bipolar foundation, though some exist in on a state level. If you are unable to get to your GP and are in crisis mode, call the national suicide prevention line at 1-800-273-TALK (8255). I have used similar services in my past which have gotten me to the next day.
Keep a journal of your moods, to track when you’re up, UP, UP UP and down, down, down. Also figure out your triggers and prepare for them. Like, when I get manic, I compulsively shop. Case in point: I own 250+ tshirts. Putting together a systems of checks and balances in place has helped me from spending thousands. I also know that any caffeine after 12PM means I could be up until 4AM. Keep a list. You will find some friends are toxic, some music sets off your mania, and watching a film about old people will send you into depression for days. Know your triggers and avoid them as much as possible.
And it’s okay to have a terrible day or several terrible days. You know these days will pass and in the great words of Stephen Fry, it will be sunny one day. If you can make it through one day, and then the next, it will get easier.
It does get easier.
I believe in you.
x0x0,
Lisa

1. Yes, I do indeed have nearly 20 wishlists under the main wishlist title, neatly sorted out by categories. TheHusband thinks I’m insane and Beth thinks I’m adorable, but I did this because I needed to separate out various works based on topic. So this organizing is for my own edification, not for people to peruse at except for TheHusband who shops from the Holidays and Lisa-mas Gift Ideas Wish List to get ideas on what to get me for gifts.

This day in Lisa-Universe:

May The Lemon Be With You

Lemon pendant that arrived today courtesy of my good pal, Val.

Dear Internet,
Yesterday, my irritableness got worse as the day and evening progressed. TheHusband helicoptered all day, “Are you okay? Is something going on or is it just the crazy? I love you – here, let me hump your shoulder.” I wavered between telling him to fuck the right off and then shortly after, clinging to him like a wet blanket and then pounding my fists weakly into his chest.
“Why are you doing that?”
“Because isn’t that what all maidens in distress do?”
“It’s definitely the crazy.”
Before it got terribly late, and the dog had been taken care of for the evening, I popped a full Klonopin, snuggled under my warming blanket, and started main lining the second season of Miss Fisher before falling asleep. I have to be careful when I take a full dose, for it knocks me out cold and depending on how exhausted I am, I have been known to dead sleep 10-14 hours before even beginning to stir.
Whatever I was expecting the drug to do, it did it for a little while but this morning when I woke, my teeth were grinding and I was on edge. This is fairly unusual since Klonopin tends to reset me, which of course sets the pace for the rest of the day chock full of anxiety. It is a good thing I am heading to my shrink, Dr. P., this afternoon.
It was a year ago this month I went back on my bipolar meds and then started up on the ADHD drugs, while live blogging it all. For nearly a year, until I went off the Lithium again 2.5 months ago, my emotional life was in a constant state of flux. In addition to the flux, I felt so fucking defeated when the ADHD drugs would not work as promised. But I was not surprised. I had been down this road before a decade ago and I remember swearing I would never do drugs again and yet, here I went and here they were.
And here I am still struggling.
Today marks the fifth day since I’ve left the house, which is not as depressing as it sounds. We have been bombarded with snow for nearly two weeks, the accumulation probably between 2′-3′ and more is coming this weekend. TheHusband and I, neither of us keen to be out in this near blizzard like conditions, were dutiful enough to get two weeks worth of groceries together to keep us going during the time. I promised food posts and images, but i kept forgetting to take my camera with me as we cooked. But let me assure you, everything has been delicious.
Presents have been trickling in from friends and family, which has been cheering me up. The winner of Christmas this year may be my friend Val who sent me a traveling lemon, which I can wear on a chain and is a reference to one of my favorite radio shows, Cabin Pressure. My Mother-in-Law sent us books, a new crock pot, and this Hark! A Vagrant viking tshirt. You can never go wrong with buying me a t-shirt.
I have not worked on my book project in several days, of which I am not trying to get too stressed about. I keep reminding myself that while it is a lofty goal to cram a novel in 3.5 weeks, even just by the amount of work i’ve done already is far ahead anything I’ve done before.
Now it is time to leave the house for the day. Wish me godspeed!
x0x0,
Lisa
P.S. My guesstimates were not too far off on snow accumulation – since December 8, our area has gotten 22″ of snow.

This day in Lisa-Universe: 2012, 1998

mondo bizarro

Pig, East Asian Museum, Bath, England, 2008.
Dear Internet,
Every week, like a dependable clock, I make it to Dr. P.’s office to talk about what is going on inside my head. Even if I do not feel like going, this is my weekly touchstone so I force myself to go because on occasion, a lot of occasions I should add, I am not a dependable narrator of my own life. I felt totally fine Thursday morning. A little manic in the brain, but nothing I felt like I could not handle. My plan was to wrestle over some ideas I had brought forth earlier, which we did, and then head on my merry little way to work for the day.
[It should be noted he tutted my fears of not having grown as a person. As he explained it, we will have similar feelings at 15, 25, or 55. How we react with those feelings are the strength of what moves us forward as human beings.]
Instead of taking the right fork off of Cascade Road to head to downtown, I took the fork to the left to head home. In the short drive from his office to that point, I had triggered myself into some kind of hyper mania mode in which I tried to drive 60 MPH on a residential street, Google a question on my phone, and make a phone call all at the same time. Coincidentally, none of the events are related to the other. Thankfully, I had caught myself right when this started, threw my phone down to the passenger foot well and put forth all of my effort into driving. My head had started pounding and I felt like I could not think behind the next breaths worth of words. I was snapping in and out of forgetfulness of what I needed to do (stop at the light, slow down, do not hit the car in front of you, put the phone down).
I needed to get home. Now.
Once I was safe, I called in sick to work with the complaint of a migraine which was not that far off from the truth. The spinning of thoughts and the need to do all the things at once can happen with the speed of a whirling dervish. At times, the incredibly intense headaches start pulsating so hard, there have been occasions where I have felt faint or sick.
After coming home and unpacking my work stuff (God. What a waste of war paint.), I grabbed a big cup of tea, the heating blanket, took a Klonopin and read for most of the day in bed. I started and finished one book and put in another 100+ pages split between two others. I knew if I looked at any electronics, the mania would intensify. Case in point: I had nearly $500 in my fab.com cart with the intent of purchasing before realizing what I was doing and putting away my iPad. Shopping, aimlessly shopping for no other reason then to get stuff and spending money, is another symptom of my mania.
As the afternoon ticked on and thanks to the Klonopin, my mania began to subside. I started feeling better, not immensely better, but better. The world started coming into focus a bit more, I did not feel like I could barely speak, and the steady stream of tea and print books filled in the missing bits of the puzzle.
The dog snoozed at my left hip, I dozed in and out of sleep myself and around 5PM, I was feeling strong enough to sort out some afternoon chores. If I could make it through those simple tasks (unload and load the dishwasher, wrap a few presents, get food stuffs ready for tomorrow), I could give myself permission to read, write, or do whatever for the rest of the evening.
Edited note: Morning interlude. Dinner last night was pizza, which I greedily consumed after eating Benadryl and Lactaid before the gooey cheese hit my mouth. An hour after dinner, while I was writing this, the Benadryl kicked in, coupled with the effects of the earlier taken Klonopin, I almost fell asleep with my hands still moving over the keyboard. I kissed TheHusband goodnight, who yelled as I left his office to not forget the bocce ball tournament in the morning with the ladies from the home (his joke on my age). I shuffled down to our bedroom, set the alarm for 6AM as I had to be at work at 7:30AM this morning, took my contacts out, set the heating blanket on 3, turned on Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries, and was asleep before the blanket had warmed and the opening credits were done rolling.
I woke this morning on time and feeling fantastic. Not mania fantastic, just regular fantastic. But sleeping for nearly 10 hours, in a lovely drugged effort that allows for no brain interruption can do that for you. I have been rebooted, for the moment.
I edited this piece before publishing to clean up the debris from the night before. Writing when I’m manic, even subdued, reads as if I am concocting my own language. Words are out of order, incorrectly used, or are missing altogether, punctuation has gone to the wayside, and my word retrieval is fucking awful. When I am depressed, it is the complete opposite – suddenly I’m laying it thick like T.S. Eliot and Hemingway copulated and I am a product of that copulation.
Welcome to my inner world.
xoxo,
Lisa

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