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????????????????These earrings personify the bipolar experience for me. When I am manic, I am like the skeletor face and when I am depressed I am the personification of the drooping mask…even though we are required to wear masks in our day-to-day life I don’t know about you, but it is nearly impossible for me to wear a happy face in all arenas.

For the longest time I was reluctant to wear these earrings because I thought they were too weird and Aztec pagan, but recently I realized they are the perfect expression of my personality. Someone from outside could look at these and think they are weird or cool. But no one but myself will know what they truly signify. And I don’t know about you but sadly being bipolar is part of my identity.

I think, from DBT class and a lot of other blogs, that bipolar shouldn’t define a person. You can use your social and behavioral skills to mask it and not rock the boat for anyone else. But, right or wrong, being bipolar is part of who I am. I cannot escape from this, no matter how acceptably I behave; no matter what positive philosophy I adopt.

And I truly do believe that these positive philosophies are the way to go. Bipolar DOES NOT own you. But for my part, though it doesn’t own me, it is still a part of who I am and I do get sick of all the “positivity” and “cheerleading”. Does that make me a person who gives up? I don’t think so. Being aware is OK. It keeps a person ready to think a moment before reacting to something.

Because you are aware. Awareness isn’t a failing. Acknowledgement is not a failing. Acknowledgement is important and really the best way to help yourself.

Acknowledgement is not the same thing as characterizing oneself. I have been guilty of this. Acknowledgement does not give the disorder its power. Its power comes from characterizing yourself.

You are more than your bipolar disorder. But acknowledging it, even gaining personal power from the knowledge and experience, are good things, in my opinion as a person who has struggled with self-hatred and inferiority from this disease.

So I do like my earrings. They don’t mean the same thing to everyone.

Nothing does.

There is power in personal symbols.

 

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Reasons why Bipolar is difficult to diagnose:

It has different components, which manifest at different times, so often the doctor has only what s/he sees at a given time to go on, eg:

– has similarities to other illnesses such as major depressive

– when presents as psychotic, any disorder which includes psychosis

– may present as a normal, well person, etc.

This can also apply to someone who is seeing a psychologist for crisis evaluation or a psychiatrist for emergency med management, you can seem normal then too. How? Read on if you wish. (Be warned, it’s another of my personal horror stories, very recent)…

All few of you who read this blog know I’ve been struggling for some time now with a great depressive epoch, and have recently found that some of the symptoms of my “depression” are actually more symptoms of mania. . .. therefore I’m rapid cycling like the wheels of a bicycle racer near the finish line. (please forgive the obvious metaphor, I’m not too creative at the moment, heh).

My life is unpredictable, my family never knows what will happen next. I don’t either. I know something is wrong with my meds, yet I’m reluctant to have them adjusted, especially by a doctor who no longer is familiar with my case, because of the release I’ve experienced on my current meds from cognitive dysfunction, and having regained a lot of my lost memory on the current regimen.

Yet, I sensed a crisis impending so my husband, who also sensed it, did what we both had sworn we’d never do. . . call that place for crisis help again. In this oddly rare instance, a “crisis counselor” was not available, though we’d expressed our reluctant understanding of the need to jump through that deplorable hoop before seeing a psychiatrist. It turned out that we were referred to the main crisis guy, over the phone, who mysteriously was able to produce an opening in the psychiatrist’s schedule on the spot!

Wonderful, we thought. So we saw her, and she, after only a few minutes, pronounced me normal and doing well and no adjustment of my meds was needed and she would see me again in 6 months. No opportunity to dispute that was apparent. Period. Then (unbeknownst to us) she canceled my previously scheduled appointment with my regular psychiatrist, which had been coming up fairly soon. A week later, I had the crisis my husband and I had feared.

Something triggered my destructive half, and I knew I was losing it fast. I felt rage and frustration and knew I was going out of control. So I went to an area where someone had stacked T-posts without consulting me and where I did not want them, and began heaving them out of there. What I was doing appeared like random destruction, to observers, but I had every intention of re-stacking them in a more appropriate place when I was done heaving them out of the stupid place. The kind of thing I had been counseled to do, take out my feelings in a safe way without hurting myself or exposing my family to my “episode”.

The observers (hubby and daughter) did not know what I was doing or why, and so hubby attempted to interfere with my work. Well, he successfully interfered with it, and there I went, set off. An argument ensued, which quickly escalated into something beyond my control and I began to self-harm in my usual way when out of control, which is to start bashing my head into things.

I was being yelled at to “just stop it! Please stop!”

What my interferer didn’t know was just how hard I WAS trying to stop it. I was bashing my head into the horizontal 2x4s of the horse stall wall instead of the 8×8 cemented support post that I FELT COMPELLED to bash my head into. For example. Also, how when I was smashing the bowl in the kitchen, my body/brain was screaming at me to smash WINDOWS. And other things, which I was given to understand made me a bad person who was acting out on purpose. It ended up hours later with me lying on the thin, softening ice of our stock pond trying to “cool off” but preferably go to sleep there and actually perish of hypothermia.

Unfortunately, my crying kids found me there and begged me to get off the ice. I was heartbroken, for them, but could not move. Then my husband showed up and was a little more belittling than I felt he need be. I felt, soon after I had been gotten into the house, that I was being treated the way Therapist K had treated me all those months ago, calling the police to the mental-health facility, like I was a sub-human animal who was acting out on purpose.

The horror of the whole thing for me was that I had all these self-harm/suicide prevention strategies hard-wired (I thought) into my brain. And yet they were not sufficient.

All this about a week after the psychiatrist had pronounced me normal and in no need of a medication adjustment. Boy were we glad I had another appointment already scheduled with my usual psychiatrist  (who was to be leaving the institution soon).

The next day, of sound mind, it occurred to me that I’d better check that. Make a call to confirm that appointment, since I already knew the system was broken, the front desk people were overworked, and the policies were often stupid and usually detrimental to the mental health patient.

So I called to confirm the appointment and surprise, surprise, there was no appointment. My recently-visited psychiatrist had cancelled all other appointments in favor of the one six months away. I was a bit disappointed about that, considering what had happened last night, and insisted the appointment be rescheduled since I had been suicidal. Oh, no, that appointment was already filled, did I want to be put on a cancellation list?

I explained how important it was that I see a psychiatrist immediately, so I got an appointment for three weeks hence. And I was told I am on the cancellation list, although I’m pretty sure that if I were, I’d have gotten in by now.

My husband has tried very hard to get through to them. Not even my new therapist, who had replaced Therapist K on my case because she was of a more appropriate age and qualification, had anything at all helpful to offer him. So he went to the head crisis  guy, who found him to be in crisis himself! My poor husband, doing all he can with what he has, and has been doing so for 19 years! What greater love can there be from a mortal than that I am blessed with from him???? ❤ ❤ ❤

So, there’s an example of how bipolar can present in ways that result in incorrect diagnoses with potentially disastrous results. In my case, I had the diagnosis, but my status was incorrectly evaluated, or rather, not evaluated at all, because of how I seemed when I walked into the consultation room. So a patient, with or without a diagnosis, should be very sure to make certain the doctor hears the whole enchilada and doesn’t have to go only by what he/she sees in the consulting room.

Sorry to write another pissed off post.

A prisoner againI am very upset by today’s sermon. This was my SECOND time back to church in-at least-over a year, –after months of being immersed in scripture and praise– and now I have almost no inclination to return. I feel that the pastor said he condemns (or strongly implied that God condemns)  people who lack self-control (are “out of control”) because they are crazy-makers. No argument there, but it was also directly stated that “people with no self-control are trying to defy God’s relational law of physics.” (read: purposly, frowardly spitting in God’s face).

So, because at times I lack more self-control than others, being bipolar, I am therefore worse than others. There was no tolerance expressed for people like me who cannot control themselves. At so many times. What am I to do, be grateful to God that I have to work 3x as hard as other Christians to do so?

Romans 3:13 was used “Let us behave decently as in the daytime, not in carousing and drunkenness, not in sexual immorality and debauchery, not in dissension and jealousy.” That was the scriptural basis for “OUT OF CONTROL: OUT OF BALANCE BECAUSE OF CONTROL ISSUES.” This was not a sermon to help people such as this. It was a sermon for how people can protect themselves from someone like this. I am not saying such a sermon is not important, or has no application, but I am saying that a sermon that blindsides people with problems and blames them for other Christians’ troubles is unacceptable to ME. A major example that was given was the difficulty of dealing with alcoholics, who just “CHOOSE not to deal with it” or are “in denial.”: Giving no quarter to anyone with an ADDICTIVE DISORDER. By extension, us who live with bipolar illness must only be exhibiting our symptoms because we just CHOOSE not to repress them and intend to use them to control others and/or are in denial. What about everyone else with mental/emotional challenges? Where is the compassion? Nowhere to be found here.

This is bullshit and may have just nipped my joyous returning to church in the bud.

There was also a lot of talk about setting up boundaries against people like me, even though no one seems to have the least iota of respect for MY boundaries. Galatians 6:25: “Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ…each one should carry their own load.” I have been told more than once that this disease is my load to carry, not a serious burden that needs to be helped and shared by others. If this is true, well I suck at carrying my own load and should be “loved without rescue.”

Proverbs 19:9: “A hot-tempered person must pay the penalty; rescue them, and you will have to do it again.” Well all I can say to that is extreme thanks and appreciation of those wonderful people who have rescued me in the past and will do so again, because I need rescuing; I have not chosen for God to give me this disease; I am not in denial about it; and I am doing my level best to recover and not be a burden to others. So thank you for your superpowers of rescue, good loved ones, but by all means change your behavior now because this sermon has shown you that I am just a piece of crap who needs not to be helped but to be reprimanded: Matt. 18:15 ‘ir your brother or sister sins, go and point out their fault.” Otherwise, you will have to rescue me again and will be an enabler of my sociopathic behavior. Yes, please confront me and point out my faults, because I don’t know that I’m a sinner and I could give a crap that I hurt you. I just sin wantonly.

That I pray for forgiveness to God, and pray forgiveness of others, apologizing to them, confessing my sin, every time it occurs, is irrelevant, for now I find that I’m actually commiting these sins of bipolar illness on purpose, for I am a crazy-maker.

I do not want to go back and listen to this pastor’s crap anymore. this is the first time I have EVER responded to a sermon that “convicted me” without being pissed off. I did not choose this. I do not use my symptoms to control others. Every time I hurt someone inadvertently I apologize. I do EVERYTHING I can not to hurt those around me to the extent that I am able. And then at church to be treated in the sermon as one to be Boundaried against because I am a bad person is just too effing much.

So- I sin now with my bitterness, my tongue, my lack of self-control, and in coming to bed so I can “govern my tongue” against saying angry words makes me also guilty of the sin of sloth and not being a good woman who “worketh willingly with her hands” (Prov. 31:13) and “girdeth her loins with strength and strengthenist her arms.” (Prov. 31: 17)

Plus, I haven’t yet found a Word condemning this yet (but I know it’s out there), yet I have taken 2 whole clonazepam tablets, knowing full well they will NOT help me with my depression or anger, but after the desire to be knocked out so I will not be governed by my bitter tongue and cause further grief to my loved ones thereby, as I do so very often.

Now I thank God for revealing this stuff and clearing my head through his Word. I should be convicted in a constructive healing way by the sermon but I am just pissed off. I have begun, after weeks of being immersed in scripture, to harden my heart again.

Prov. 28:14 “Happy is the man thart feareth alway; but he that hardeneth his heart shall fall into mischief.” Yay.

That being said, I do not blame God, am not mad at God, and continue to immerse myself in his Word, both to become a better person in Him and to live gracefully with my bipolar disorder. But I’m back to “screw church” sorry.

Pain is not the same thing as behavior. Pain is pain.

So why is all the “therapy” available around here “behavioral” therapy of some kind?

Does “behavior” manage pain? Really? Or does it just make  “behavior” safer and more appropriate in spite of pain, much like intolerance training of horses makes them run and perform while they are in silent agony?

Huh? Am I stupid?

Has pain made my cognitive function below acceptable standards?

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