Thoughts, Questions, and a Poem

First and foremost I’d like to thank you all for your comments. They really helped me think about the situation. You seem like a pretty tight group. I am glad I found you. Thanks again.

We have decided to wait until my 19th appointment with the P-doc and see is he can recommend someone good. I’m not sure if I need a referral or something like that to get my insurance on board or if they will pick up my therapy without him. With the talk ever present in my mind, I will try to remain cognizant of how I am interacting with the Fam. I will try to stop being so damned irritable, judgmental, and snappy.

I don’t know about the Zoloft issue ~j~. The P-doc took me off of it because we thought that it might actually be causing my depression. I have been depressed and distant for way longer than the week or two that I have been off of Zoloft.

It is my birthday today. I am 32 year's old. That's cool I guess. I've gotten a lot of stuff in the last few weeks so this has been a real nice birthday gift-wise. I finished my Futurama DVD set. I/we got a new Dell that just replaced the 6 year old Gateway. I bought a RPG game called fate that was loaded on the new Dell. I have already bought the full version. I am currently addicted to it. I haven't even played poker in 2 days now because of the rush it is giving me. And that means a lot; there isn't much that can take me away from my online poker.

On a brighter note I won’t have to make the Tennessee trip now; they lost funding for the moment. That doesn’t hurt my feelings one tiny bit. I was going to get fucked out of some time off anyways.

Today is my first day back this week. They gave me tomorrow off due to my Smoke School trip starting Monday. So I will end up losing only two days off this week. I get tomorrow off, go to Minnesota all week, get Saturday off, and come back in Sunday.

I think I talked about them making me work 11 out of 12 days, and how I was going to pimp my boss on it. Well, I waited until he came in that next morning and confronted him. I was instantly spazzing inside. My heart was pounding in my chest and my breathing became labored. My eyes were shaking in their sockets. My blood seemed to boils in my veins. I was totally scared of how this situation was going to be resolved. I just wanted to run from the room.

Here’s the deal, my boss is an egomaniac. He is a big guy and it is obvious that he was a bully as a kid. He rules by brawn and not intellect. He likes to think that he made a decision, so you have to play on that trait. If I would have came at him all stern and threw fault his way I would get nowhere. So I just instead told him that the other sup was getting 2 days off in the front and 2 in the back of our trip later in the month. I pointed on the calendar at the fact that I was only getting 1 day off. I then just shut up, without saying how much I thought that it was total bullshit, and that I shouldn’t have to find these issues myself and that others should obviously have figured it out on their own when they wrote out coverage for my trip. I stood my giant over-sized printer shaking inside. Hopefully it wasn’t visible He just sat there looking at the calendar quietly. If he would have said just deal with it I don’t know what I would have done, but I know it wouldn’t have been pretty.I spontaneously would have berated him for his lack of insight and inability to run a smooth department. I was in a situation that I couldn’t just run out of the room so I would have had to interact, yet I wouldn’t have been able to act appropriate in the state that I mentally put myself in. It is called emotional intelligence and I am emotionally dumb as shit most often. From the moment he walked in and I was anticipating the conversion, I was all worked up. I felt high and wired. I think this was what one would call a panic attack or anxiety attack. Is there a difference and if there is, w ay pray tell is the differences? I get this way every time that I have any kind of confrontation. It is a huge problem for me. It has gotten me in a lot of trouble at my job. People find my demeanor intimidating when I get like this. They say that it looks like I’m staring right through them with eyes of fire. To play to his ego and to defuse the situation, before I made it a situation, I asked him if he would just look into it for me. This took him off the spot, not making him have to be hasty, and put him back in control. When I came in the next night I found that I had another day off this week. Not great but hey, at least I manipulated the situation and accomplished what I had set out to accomplish. I still hated that panic attack. This will surely be something that I discuss with my therapist when I get one.

I bought a Radiohead CD yesterday and am currently zoning out to it. Mood music: there’s nothing like it. “I wish I was special, so very special, wish I were special, so fucking special, but… I’m a creep.”

An aside. Could someone explain cutting to me? I’m not condemning the act or anyone that does it, I just what to know why. Is it that you feel dead inside and that is your way of feeling alive? It seems to be an act during a depressive state. Shit I haven’t had my liver checked in close to a year because I don’t want the poke from when they draw blood. I don’t know why I am that way. I don’t know why I fear the needle. So I couldn’t even image cutting myself with a blade of scraping with a needle. Does it hurt or are you in a state of numbness to it physically? Are you in a state of emotional numbness and that is the only way that you can feel alive? Answer only if you want to. I am in no way trying to get anyone to read this and feel bad. I am just curious. Shit maybe it will spark a conversion that might actually help someone that cuts. Thanks.

I won’t be posting for a five days or so due to my trip. I want to leave you with a poem that I wrote close to a year and a half ago, about a week after I got diagnosed. I still remember going home and googling bipolar up and reading everything I could find. I remember sitting there with tears in my eyes as I read each symptom and trait of the disorder. Each symptom hit me like a brick. I just kept saying out load that that was me. How could it have been here all along and me never even really know what bipolar was? I truly didn’t know what bipolar was. It’s like how you never really noticed a word being used anywhere, until you learn it, then you hear it on the news and see it in magazines. It was always there for the noticing, you just couldn’t see it until you found it. If that makes any sense. I didn’t even know what manic meant until I looked it up. I went in for anger issues and impulsivity. When he said that he already knew what was wrong with me on that first visit and said bipolar, I said holy shit I’m crazy. All I could think about was that nasty stigma that we hold. The only time that I had ever heard bipolar was when someone went nuts and killed some and they were discussing it on the news. I wasn’t educated whatsoever on the condition yet I thought I was. The media wrongly portrays us all as psychopathic, psychotic loonies that are a hazard to ourselves as well as the community. So here is my poem. I zoned out, my brain totally manic with my thoughts going a hundred miles an hr. I locked my office door at work and it came forth.

See ya next week. Ash out.


What am I?

Through the years my tears swelling,
mind-raping, my madness escaping.
Insane, inhumane. Sane, humane.
Hi. Low. Where to go.
I’m here today, what a boon.
Duality, Introspection,
Hyde’s erection, in my life. Strife.
What am I? Tears well, swell. Fell.
I feel creative. Free-ranging thought flowing.
Thoughts spinning, mind’s winning.
No sleep. Not one peep.
Bad judgment, money lost,
shopping spree, at what cost?
Needless, worthless, mirthless,
heedless, sleepless, reap less.
I can’t get up today.
Dark outside. Dread, drear, dead.
Thoughts keep running. Halt, stop.
I need the sun. Warmth, light.
Fog is thick, never knew I was sick.
Knew something was wrong, amiss.
Had to say sorry a lot.
Chemical embrace.
Where’s my ace? What is this place?
Insanity, let me free.
Journal now, to remember who I am, was.
I’m changing, mind’s rearranging.
Thought expanding, demanding.
Am I babbling yet? Just turn me off. Click.
What am I? Tears well, swell. Fell.
Paranoid. Dreaded void. Only grows deeper.
Are they out to get me? Ha. Right?
Never thought I was crazy, figured I was just lazy.
Procrastination was a way of life. Rife.
Friends wane. Time fades.
It always rains, (Autumn,) then comes Winter.
Cabin fever, snow blind. Can’t hide.
Get me off this ride. Sliding down, losing grip.
Who am I? Tears well, swell. Fell.
Letters backwards now. Ha.
Never knew I was crazy,
thought I was just lazy. Who cares! Right?
Anger rolls. Relationships halt.
Is everyone so incompetent? Yes? Yes!
Or is it just me? Or is it I?
Irritation, aggravation, agitation,
Can’t you see, what they’re doing to me?
The train’s jumped the tracks, how to get back?
Never realized my mind’s eye was blind.
I’m lost in myself, the corners’ so dark and different.
My eyes can’t open anymore. I’m tore.
I’m babbling? Idea dabbling, rambling,
brain’s scrambling. See?
What am I? Tears well, swell. Fell.
Manic Monday. That’s how it went? Right?
Anger’s back and he’s livid.
Always just thought I was just moody.
Maybe I am anyway. Today, or for life? Rife.
Everyone thinks I’m arrogant, ignoring them.
I’m not. merely losing focus.
Thoughts spinning, internal commotion.
Hocus-pocus I lost focus.
What was I discussing? Please stop fussing,
it seems so loud. It’s getting crowded in there.
It’s tragic, yet magic. Ha. Right?
I haven’t slept for days.
Brain’s swelling, mind’s rebelling.
Fog’s thinning, manic’s winning.
Sleep wanes, invention gains.
Darkness falls again. I can’t win.
Sadness ensues. I lose.
What a ruse. Madness, rues.
Thought these pills were supposed to work.
It’s just a quirk, Chemical Imbalance, if you like?
Have to get you regulated. Sedated.
So you don’t get aggravated.
Treat my family right.
There’s the light.
Spring’s here. Isn’t it queer,
that, that’s enough to make me happy?
Snow’s melting, thoughts pelting.
Looney, Lunacy, so lonely. Ha. Right?
Where’s my head at? Did I forget that?
Alienation, starvation, indignation,
I need a summation, of my illness.
See if a pattern develops,
before darkness envelopes, my life. Strife.
Mental swell-ups, flare-ups, relapse. Collapse.
Back on Earth, the followers are happy, laughy.
Why, oh why, ain’t I? Normalcy please.
I need release. Thoughts never cease.
Thoughts are strange. In need of change.
The gallows’ wire, Hangman’s ire,
no, I’m not there yet. Ha. Right?
There’s the light!
Summer’s here. Ain’t it queer,
that I’m so happy to see the sun.
Feel the warmth on my cheek.
I can see the motes in the rays,
hear them calling better days.
Fog’s lifting, thinning, I’m winning.
Time to get out this bed, clear my head.
The thoughts are coming so fast.
What was I talking about?
Switchback. Brain-ache. Numb pain.
Zombie, lethargy, chronic fatigue,
thinking in mud, I’m a dud.
That’s how it feels today.
Insomnia calls, knothole walls,
descrying shapes, faces, all the flaws.
Counting sheep sucks.
Closing my eyes opens my mind.
Please keep it down in there.
It’s ugly in here. In need of repair. Ha. Right?
Scenario after Scenario,
pours forth from my pillow.
Make it stop, sleeping pills pop.
Sweat pours forth from my pores,
as my mind soars.
Who am I? Tears well, swell. Fell.
Thoughts come so fast I can’t keep up.
The babbling brook overflows.
That’s how it goes. Ha. Right?
Do I really need to get up today? Can I?
Info slows and so do I.
Humiliation, insubordination, contagion,
pestilence of my mind, bane of my brain.
Switching quicker now, I realize to my dismay.
Who am I? Tears well, swell. Fell.
Try to trick my mind, to no avail,
mood music and TV wail.
Still can’t sleep. Dark shrouded lids,
portray my defiance of the sandman.
The epic nightly struggle for supremacy.
He must win in the end. Hopefully soon.
The raving raven raves and smiles.
Smiles that defiant smile. Did I forget to smile?
I’m now close to the grand defile. I won’t let go!
Pride and resolve must be absolved,
before I fall. Sleep or death, my last breath.
Who am I? Tears well, swell. Fell.
Neurotransmitters, exacting in their discontent.
Never knew what they were, this week’s a blur.
Bipolar. What a wondrous euphemism.
Disorder, chaotic, Catatonic. Ha. Right?
What am I? Tears well, swell. Fell.
Bipolar.
What am I?
What am I?

I Need Help...

I thought my Psychiatrist was supposed to be my therapist? You know: Psychotherapist. But with all this P-doc/T-doc shit my eyes are opening. I wondered why my sessions only lasted around 20 min. and focused mostly around my meds. So when my wife came in the bathroom while I was bath-reading, and she talked about maybe me seeking some counseling with a therapist, I said yes. I think I will do it out of town though. I live in a small town and I would hate to start getting paranoid when people look my way.

She was despondent and steadfast, like she had decided something difficult. She sat down and waited for me to put down my novel. She said that she had done up the bills and figured out that she had so much that she could allot me each month after all of our bills were paid. She said that she wanted me to go way for a while and live somewhere else. That she wanted me to take that money and go find myself: to make myself happy again. I told her no way, that I’m not going anywhere, that I loved her and the kids. She said that I could go anywhere, anytime, anymore. She said that I was free to do whatever and that she wouldn’t stop me anymore. I said that I wanted to stay home and be with the family. She said that I wasn’t at home with the family and hadn’t been there in awhile. That I sleep all the time to escape reality and when I was awake I was in the tub reading away from the family or on the computer. She said that I am cold and distant. I haven’t even been eating with them in the past few weeks. That I sleep until dark and then get up or sleep until work and have to take my supper with me.

She is right I have been distant. I am getting worse. I have created my own little world that I live in and I don’t let anyone in my little territorial bubble. I fucking suck. I have been getting worse. I don’t even barely associate with my own family anymore, even with them right in the same room. Fuck. I’m not really observant sometimes. I am emotionally neglecting my family. I must stop this. I am getting deeper every day. I don’t even talk to my wife. She is pissed that I can write all the shit for anyone to read, but I can’t tell her these things. It hurts her so. She deserves so much better than me. She says that workers, relatives and friends call me when they need counseling from someone that is compassionate caring, but also tell them the way I see it. Why can’t I be that shoulder for her? I don’t have an answer.

I think part of the reason I have faded away is my mood swings and the anger that I feel at times. To save them from my demons.To save them from my mental abuse. Sometimes their voices pierce my skull. The laughter screeches across my mind like nail on a chalkboard. Some days the TV is a horrid droning that threatens to tear me apart. When I’m like this I am very short with everyone. I am quick to scream. Hell, the other day I just woke-up after the sleep of the dead. I hadn’t seen anyone all day. I walked down the hallway and my 9 year old daughter was singing. She was just holding one note and bellowing it out. She’d take a breath and commence to do it again. I said hey stop that in a calm voice even though it was killing my brain. She stopped, took a breath, and started again. I screamed didn’t you just hear me. There was deep-throated bass in that scream. Pure evil. I felt the fire in my eyes the flush on my face. My daughter cringed and then they all stopped what they were doing and turned to stare in shock and the me. I just turn around and went back into the bed room and stared at the ceiling as I grabbed the sides of my head and quietly berated worthless self aloud. I have done this their hole lives. I am horrible ashamed of it. I will get help. I have been tons better than before the meds, but my demons are still there and they are sneaky. They want out. Sometimes I can’t control it. I will get help. My meds aren’t cutting it. I hate myself. I don’t mean to be a bad father. I love them so. I am crying as I write this. I am such a pussy. I think meds might not be the culprit. Maybe I’m just a delusional fucking piece of shit. I need help. I have treated everyone I know like shit at one time. Everyone walks on egg-shells around me. What kind of mood is he in today. I’ve noticed that my workers actually come in to my door at the beginning of every shift and ask how I’m feeling. They’re testing the waters – is he CRAZY today? Do we have to hide from him or is he the nice, funny, congenial, sympathetic, rational, Ash.

It is time for the kids to get up for school. I need to get off and wipe my pussy eyes before the kids see me. They would know what to do if they ever saw me cry. I’m going to give them both a giant hug this morning. My wife is a great person. I love her and I’m so sorry that I’m such a dipshit. I will get treatment. I thought I was. I need more. A different kind. I can’t keep going on. I was going to was going to wait to go to my p-doc and get him to recommend someone, but after this I have to open the phone and get so help. For my family’s sake as well as for me.

My wife said that there are 2 me’s: the fun, happy, caring, sympathetic Me; and the hateful, rageful, discontented, evil Me. And that she wants the fun me back. That I’m slipping away, farther and farther between visits.

Prelude to a Kiss -Plus the Aftermath

The more I read these blogs the more situations and items remind me of past issues that happened in my life. I don’t know if they are truly repressed memories or just the forgotten past by a guy that sometimes doesn’t put 2&2 together. I am now sure that this was a bipolar episode. KansasSunflower mentioned her ex-marriage and how she knew it was doomed from the start. It brought back recall of my marriage ceremony 14 year’s ago. Now looking back I realize that I had an episode right before my wedding that last through my wedding onward.

The night before my wedding I told my wife I wanted to call it off. I don’t think this was merely butterflies or any shit that simple. I think it was a full-blown depressive episode. I never really thought about much it even though she has bought it up on occasion these last 14 years. I never realized how much that conversation must have made her feel. How it must of cut deep and put a bad vide over the next day’s proceeding and her view of her intended perfect day. What an ass-hole aye? I still vaguely remember her telling me to fuck off. She then became somber and distant. She said that we had already put so much into it to just call it off. Slowly I resigned to my fate and said that I’d go through with it. What an asshole! God, I have to slap my ego tomorrow and give my wife a heart-felt apology that’s been 14 years in the making. The next day I went through the motions and we became One. How she must have felt empty inside for other reasons than I felt it, due to my depression. I was the one that made her have that hollow spot deep inside as likely she wondered if our tied knot was inevitably to become untangled. I now have to live with that.

It was so bad that I didn’t even make an appearance to my own wedding reception. It was a small one with just her relatives due to my parents not being drinkers. How she must have felt as she sat without her new husband on the day that was supposed to be to most memorable and happy day of her life, other than the birth of our 2 children that is. I remember that the Super Nintendo had just come out and I was totally obsessed with the game The Adventure of Link. I recall finding a reason to skip our reception just to play that game. I felt all anxious and warm inside. It was a part of my that I addictively, compulsively had to have. My mind thought of little else, even on the day of my wedding. Sad really. So we are talking a full-blown depressive episode to a manic one in 1 day’s time or less. Even the sheer power of such a life changing experience couldn’t break me free. I remember sitting on our make shift-couch, made from a spring-less mattress and folded into a seat on the floor, playing my obsessive fix as I contemplated my new life and made internal excuses as to why it was OK for me to not be there at my own reception. I had to play.

She came home drunk as hell and demanded sex. I said that I didn’t want to have sex with a drunken person. She broke down and cried, telling me how much of a piece of shit I was, and how I had ruined her day. That she had to make up excuses all night to her family why my selfish ass wasn’t there. I had already worked out all my rebuttals, though they didn’t work on a drunken hurt mind. She said that I had ruined the day of her wedding and that I damn sure wasn’t going to ruin her fucking memories of her wedding night. I gave in and performed the act and actually got into it, so at least it wasn’t a total farce on my part. I still remember that sour beer breath and how offended it my olfactory senses.

Now if those aren’t bipolar episodes, then I don’t know what is. It is weird that I never realized it until a blog post and the fact that I’m writing this stupid blog shook it loose from my partitioned mind. I think this blog and reading others’ accounts is going to actually help me cope. It seems that I have a lot of wrongs that need to be righted. Was that grammatically correct sentence? LOL, fuck it, who cares. I will make a mental list and try to apologize as I realize my previous mistakes. No wonder my P-doc thinks that I beat the bipolar percentages by being in a relationship that long. The more I realize the shit my family has put up with over the years, the more I truly feel like emotionally incompetent. The mental abuse is inexcusable. Sadly I couldn’t help it, I was sick, as I still am. I am evil inside; I feel it there. Like all the genocidal psyches in history crammed into my black heart. OK, that’s a little dramatic, yet the way I’ve treated my family has been atrocious. At least as far as I can tell, I haven’t caused any permanent personal/psychological/emotional harm. But only time will tell if my son and daughter subconsciously seek out manipulative, controlling, abusive partners later in life. That is a cross that I will have to bare if it comes to fruition. Will they scream at their children and treat their spouses like second-class citizens and mentally bombard them with painful epithets that weaken their personal self-images and self-efficacies.

Bombarded by Stress

I am really stressing myself out right now. I have 3 big things about to go on in my life and career, and I want to do well on all of them. We all have the need of accomplishment, I think. The drive to do well. Anyways, here they are and a few thoughts on each.

1 - First and foremost is my Psychology exam. It is a proctored timed exam. I think the timed part is what is getting to me and of course the perpetual doubts and thoughts that I’m not good enough. I just hope my thoughts don’t become a self-fulfilling prophecy. I don’t think the Psych part will be much of an issue. It is the business courses that worry me the most. And I can’t find it in myself to study. I checked last week in I could take it, but it hadn’t reached my proctor yet. I called and it should be there any day now. I need to do it soon as possible because next month is shaping up to be a hectic schedule. I can do it, I hope. Damn stress.

2 – I have a business trip in a week. I have to go to Smoke School and will be gone for 4 or 5 days. It is in Minneapolis, MN. You learn how to read smoke and what the limits are. It is environmental training. At the end of the training you have to go outside and be tested on your ability to read opacity. Industry Factories, Plants, and Mills have smoke stacks that give of forms of pollution. Basically what I am being trained for is so that when I’m at work I can be responsible for the emissions coming from our smoke stacks. We have an Environmental Department that is solely employed for that very purpose. I find it unfair to add this extra criteria to my job. I could actually be held accountable on the rare occasion that a system was malfunctioning and giving off high opacity levels and I did nothing about it. I could actually get a jail term for this. I think that I would have to show neglect in some way for the accountability to be that extreme. I would have to know that it was out of parameters and purposely run the equipment anyways. I could just see me being the fall-guy for some corporate negligence just because I was working during the permit offence. This isn’t very likely, mainly because it would be an extremely rare occasion that we would be polluting. It would have to be a complete malfunction of equipment, personnel, chart recorders, and contingence plans. The big concern for me is passing this test. There are for of us Production Shift Supervisors (all) going. We all run and are accountable 24/7/365 days a year of the whole multi-million dollar operation, which is fucking stressful enough. Now throw this shit in my lap. The test is very subjective. It is based on 5% increments of opacity. You can only be off like 10% either way. Put it this way is you see no smoke that is 0% opacity; if you can’t see through the smoke at all that is 100% opacity. Wind makes it more difficult. I have actually gone once before years ago when they made Relief Sup’s do it. The Environmental Lead Man and I both passed, but the Plant Environmental Manager himself failed to pass the test. I hope I do well. You get more than one chance to pass. Hopefully I pass and if I don’t I’m not the sole failure of my peers.

3 - I have a business trip at the end of April. Another Sup and I have been elected to do this. Whoopee. I was being sardonic there. I think this sucks. I have to go to the University of Tennessee for an SBC training course. Statistical Process Control. I will be there for a week. The sun and warmth will do me good. Not looking at snow for a week will be kickass. So there is actually a positive aspect to the trip. Rock and I were volunteered to go due to our background in Quality Control. Testing, charting data, plotting dots and all that jazz. The other 2 Sup will go at a later date, they say. I am worried that I won’t pass, even if there is a test. I will likely do well but I have that nagging feel of failure that just eats at me.

I don’t know why I am so stressed. I guess I don’t want to lose face. I am fiercely competitive and my biggest opponent is myself. And truly the biggest issue bringing about this stress is the fact that I need to personally perform well at everything that I do. I truly think that perfectionism is a symptom of bipolar disorder. It seems evident in most of your blogs. I think the fear of failure actually plagues us with depressive thoughts sometimes. I am rarely ever satisfied with anything that I do, art, writing, projects, grades, achievements, etc. It is a character flaw.

Warp Speed Dumbass

Do you ever sound like a total dumbass in a conversion because you lock-up in mid sentence? I do this often. It’s appears to others like a click in my brain or a skipping of a record. I’ll start the sentence or in the middle if making a point, and start stammering shit umm, umm…uhhh, ummm. They look at you like you’re a jackass. The reason I do it is because my mind has already past that part of the conversation and is thinking about my next point, counter-point, rebuttal, how they will take my statement, how to best get my point across to my satisfaction, analyzing temperament, tone, situation as a whole, etc. It’s like an internal chess match. I am already moves ahead of where the conversation is currently at. I am actually overtaxing my brain processes by intellectually asserting my thoughts through analytical problem solving skills, meticulously steering and manipulating the confrontation or conversation, yet I lose the moment and end up sounding like a complete jackass. I am dictating the conversation. I don’t mean to sound conceited here. I’m sure it came off a bit arrogant. But that is what I do and I do it quite often. My thoughts are racing farther ahead than I can verbalize effectively. I truly think this also a part of my bipolar issue. Maybe I just try to blame everything that I don’t like on my illness.

Does anyone else experience anything like this due to excelling thoughts?

Women vs Men Ratio

If I remember right, more men than women are bipolar. Right? Although for so odd reason more women have my bipolar type: rapid cycling. So the weird thing is that the vast majority of bipolar bloggers seem to be women. First thing that comes to mind is that men suppress their feelings as much as possible. We bottle problems up until they spew forth. No nothing’s wrong – like I usually tell my doc. Masculinity and ego are the likely culprit; it’s a penis thing really. I think that women are more comfortable writing about their thoughts and feelings than men and are willing to tell others in our community. Just something that I have noticed in my brief submergence into the bipolar blogosphere.

Any thoughts on this?

Chicken or the Egg and Other Ramblings of a Madman

My moods change at a drop of a dime. Often I cycle multiple times during a day. I know that sounds crazy, but hey, aren’t I? I always cycle at least once a week. But I don’t often hit the extreme highs and lows. I think that my quickly changing moods actually help me. I have felt totally impotent and thought that the world would be better off without my worthless presence. But I have never put the pills in my hand; I have never looked down that blued-steel barrel; I never put that dull blade to my vein, I have never stood on that edge and thought it was time to pay the piper. Yes, I have morbidly fantasized the “what ifs,” but never have I truly hit rock-bottom, where I actually contemplated doing the deed. I think that is because of an internal self-preservation system inherent in the Ultra Rapid Cycling part of the disorder. You never get to stay long at the extreme poles, because it turns you back in the other direction before you have too long to experience those powerful emotions long enough to elicit those ultimate acts of destruction. Make sense? So it can be a blessing yet a curse. It can be a blessing or a curse at the depressive pole. A blessing to get much need fresh air and join society’s happy sheep. A curse when you are deeply in your blue period and you are rolling out a montage of dark, lonely, and demented works of morbid passion. It can be both a blessing and a curse at the manic end also. A powerfully sweet blessing when it lets you diminish those inescapable thoughts to a slow and manageable level. But it can be a curse when it takes your talents and ambitions that were in hyper mode, and thus you lose a part of yourself that you exceedingly want to preserve. And most of the time I don’t finish the project before it’s gone. Am I just rambling incoherently here or does this seem like a valid hypothesis?

Don’t get me wrong, I do hit the far ends of the spectrum sometimes. On occasion I am so manic that I think I could conquer anything I wanted. “Top of the world!” I have lofty hopes and dreams, and anything that I put my mind to is attainable. Often I find a creative outlet at these times. I write or draw or paint or just sit and let the universe unfold in my mind. I also sometimes hate my life and accurately realize that I am an underachieving piece of shit, with a to-do list longer than quantum mathematics will allow. I have endless wants, needs, goals, ambitions, ideas, plans, and contrivances galore, with the talent to achieve most with little effort, yet I procrastinate with reckless abandon. I am an achiever of shit. I have a million and one half done or un-started projects to prove it. When my extreme mania is gone so goes my ambition. I often become depressed and sleep to escape the world and my self-defeating thoughts. Once I spent 3 months in bed except to go to work. Any free time was dead time.

I often daydream no matter where I am. People say that I’m zoning and that it is kind of creepy. When people bother me while I am in this mode I often zone out why they are talking to me, right in mid-conversation. I cannot help myself. Sometimes they finish what they are saying and then sit and watch me for a min. I come to and they look at me like I’m an arrogant bastard that thinks that I’m better than they are. That their thoughts and concerns mean shit in my grand scheme of things. It also happens on occasion when I know that I can get in deep shit if I zone. Let me reiterate; I cannot help myself. Sometimes in the morning meeting with the Plant Manager and Department Heads, where I’m one of the two main people to give reasons and accounts of previous shift issues, a zone off because I am hypo. I am supposed to be listening to the comments, questions, and concerns of the Table, ready to supply answers on a whim. My mind rambles on, thoughts swarming and plaguing my resolve. Suddenly through the drone voices a sound pierces my thoughts; I hear my name. Get this, I am standing up in a meeting and not even there. What do you think, they say or what happened with this issue or that problem? The whole room has been looking at me since I was first addressed. I pop back into my body and have to admit that I zoned off and could they repeat the question. My bosses look at me with disdain because it appeared that I didn’t even care. It often gets chalked-up to me being up all night long. A select few know the true reason and due to the stigma of my illness, likely think that I can go postal at any moment. The actual getting caught doesn’t happen often, but my zoning does.

The insatiable thoughts demanding my attention is a big problem. It is something that I have a hard time with. Occasionally I will drive home from work and as I pull in the drive, realize that I don’t even remember anything after getting in the car. Or on a drive down the highway I will come to and find that I have driven 10 miles or so and it seems like in the blink of an eye. Shit just the other day my wife broke me free from my reverie and told be to stop obsessing about you guys’ blogs. This can’t be safe. I have read about something similar to it in my psych book – it is called using your unconscious mind, not subconscious mind. We use it when we multi-task. Our minds are so used to performing the task that you don’t even have to focus on it, your mind just effortlessly does it for you. Like getting engrossed in a cell phone conversation while driving in russ-hour traffic. It is possible due to the unconscious mind. But they warn that it is dangerous, as cell induced car accidents tell the tale. I digress, but you get the point. My mind doesn’t stop. I am always thinking.

Kind of a chicken/egg – egg/chicken thought. I wonder if my moods are shaped by my reality or is my reality shaped by my moods. That sounded a little more complicated than I meant it to. What I’m trying to say is: do my reactions correspond to my current mood or do situations actually cause the swings in my mood? You see? I swear that a stressful situation can change my mood. I can be down and in the dumps, trudging through my depressive thoughts during the day, and have something stressful happen and instantly I turn manic, where I can’t stop running that scenario over and over in my head. My mind becomes a total jumble and anxiety enthralls my senses. I will not be able to focus on any thing until I go to sleep. And I will not be able to fall asleep without medication. I have to do that anyways. I will actually zone out and my unconscious mind will continue to drive my body in this world, thus driving, working, etc., while I continue to over-analyze the event.

Sometimes in the course of the same day if an employee comes to me with a mundane question that I find unworthy of my time, I will respond differently. One time I will get very irritated, cynically snapping at them with condescending comments about their inability to figure out simple problems. A few hrs later I will be very understanding and run them through the problem in a concerned and polite demeanor with absolutely no irritation even though I find the need for my help totally unwarranted. A few of my workers that I am close to, say they walk on eggshells around me at times; that they can tell that I’m in a bad mood by the way my eyes look. They say that one minute I’m happy and adding to conversations and jovial camaraderie and then an hr later I am a totally different person. Duality. Does anyone else experience this? Could it just be different moods in the same mood? Sometimes I feel like two people. Maybe I should get a small fake triangular beard and wear it went I feel agitated. That would be the shit I tell you. My own little doppelganger.

I’m done rambling. Later Donkass out.

Shades of Gray...AKA... Cabin Fever

I always knew I was different, but it wasn’t until the winter of 2004/2005 that I knew something was truly amiss. I’m not the most observant person when it comes to my emotions. Back then I really wasn’t. But that winter I spent 3 months in bed. I knew something was definitely wrong. I had never had a depressive episode last that long. Each winter it was getting worse. I called it cabin fever. I thought it was likely due to me being brought-up in the South. (NC/SC) Then with the move up to the UP of Michigan where the winters can last 5 months or more was a big shock. I just thought that I would likely never become acclimated to the cold gloomy weather. Like I said, I thought it was normal. I would always live in the neurotic/cynical/negative/depression zone during the winters, especially late winter when I just needed it to end. I needed the light, the warm rays upon my face. That 2004/2005 winter was something all together different. I lived in that bed, the only time that I left the house was to go to work. My days off I lived in that bed. I could sleep forever. I was living in that stage one dream realm where the real world vaguely intermingles with the dream realm. I was a very neglectful father and husband during that horrid winter. My 9 and 7 year’s old children actually took care of me instead of the other way around. During one of the rare times in the day that I was awake lying in bed watching TV, they would make me Roman Noodles. I lived on those that whole winter and so did the kids. They cooked for themselves also. If they had issues or questions I was snappy with them. They were tender and gave me hugs often; they could tell something was wrong. I am still ashamed of the way I was that winter. Your young children shouldn’t have to care for you like you’re an invalid. My wife wasn’t real supportive that winter. She just thought I was being a lazy piece of shit. I don’t blame her; she didn’t know. I didn’t know either; I just knew that I couldn’t get motivated whatsoever. I hated myself. I was worthless in all of our eyes. I was shit.

I still didn’t get help until another few months in August of that year. But that is a story for another time. It was the swinging ruthless animosity that brought about reform. Luckily I decided to intervene before I hit rock bottom. I was definitely spiraling out of control.

I think my work also plays a role with my depression. I think you add my schedule to the gloom and doom of a Michigan winter and presto: Depression Squared. I work 4, 12 hr days, then 4 days off, and then back for 4, 12 hr nights. Then it’s back to 4 days off and the cycle begins anew. So basically on the 4 days that I work I only have time to sleep, eat, and bathe. (No real contact with the family) My wife would get home from work when I was on nights, wait a few hrs, make dinner, and wake me up to eat in bed at 5pm. I then would lie in bed until 6 or so, get up and shower, and head to work at 7pm. Try to regulate your life rhythms and cycles around that shit.

Cabin fever is here again this winter. Not as bad as that dark winter, but a negating-ly debilitating coldness that seems not only to bore into the bones, but also into the soul. I have read lately that a lot of you bloggers think spring is a depressive season. I will admit that our short summers are my happiest times of the year, but spring begins the process for me. The sun. The longer days. The meltoff. The birds coming back and singing. The world becoming green and colorful again. Winter is just different shades of gray. I will watch and see how it comes along. I’ll see if it is a depressing time for me. Maybe it is currently a placebo effect for me; I think that it should cheer me up, and so it does. I will watch and learn.

Spring is almost here: I need it. Time to open the drapes and let it wash over my dreary, weary soul. Reading your blogs is really helping me out right now. I have found that thing I’ve been searching for lately. And it is you. My new obsession.

Enter the Box...AKA...Master of My Domain

I need you he says
I need you to find the way home
I need you to find a way to be whole
The partition stretches far and wide
I see through the film
The glass is thick
It won’t break under my pounding
I sense the wolves coming
They smell my masculinity
The blood of my dreams
My thoughts now muddled and numb
I fear them but I will not succumb
I will stand my ground
Inside my glass prison it’s just them and me
I will stand firm I say
Outside the glass the world goes by
They see without seeing me
I talk with the smile in the jar
Normalcy, they see my ruse
I communicate, my facade is strong
I interact, yet I’m alone inside this cage
Alone but for the wolves
They come to hamstring me
They come to take me down
I stand firm
The glass is opaque now; yet I see
The glass is strong; it laughs at me
The blood smudges from my knuckles
Smears portray my struggle
They increase the hunt, blood fueling their determination
I look up from my defeated musings
I will stand firm
It dawns on me the path I must take
I will climb out
My hands fumble yet again in defeat
The glass laughs at my impotence
Time fades and I fall deeper
They snarl and lick their chops
I need the light
Spring you know I need you here
My mind warms
I stand erect
I am the master of my domain
My back erupts, I writhe in pain
I am truly alive
Icarus wings bloom from my spine
Upward I lift as the wolves nip at my soles
The cusp of my dark precipice is before my eye
The clouds part as I enter the world anew
The sun blesses my face
I have beat you once again
I am the master of my domain
I stand firm

Medication Sucks

Let me say it again, meds suck. As I’m sure you all can attest to. Here are some of the most common issues.




Weight gain: Some make me eat. I have put only 40lbs since I started my meds over a year ago. I’m 210lbs. That’s not huge for my 5’11’’frame, but I now have a gut. I know it’s not real masculine to whine about weight, but neither is discussing my feelings. I have pushed away my pride to disclose my emotions, so deal with my girly weight talk. LOL. I have stabilized at this weight but I’m a bit insecure about it. Damnit there goes my feminine side escaping. I suddenly have the urge to do the dishes. Umm, wait… not that that is women’s work. Shit. I’m already making friends. LOL.

Sexual side effects: My dick doesn’t work. No not in that way; I don’t have ED or anything like that. Well, maybe a little. No really, my man-junk works. My problem isn’t my member; it’s my mind. It’s my overall libido. I just don’t really think about sex often or get in the “mood.” And that isn’t normal for me or guys in general. Also when I do decide to do the deed, I often find it hard to climax. And believe me, that didn’t used to be a problem before the meds. LOL. Guaranty if I have sex on back-to-back nights, I will not go on the 2nd night. Not only is it aggravating to say the least, it also makes the wife feel somewhat inadequate, which in no way is her fault. Anyway, enough about my unit.

Depression: I believe my anti-depressant actually contributes to my depression. If I don’t have to be at work or do something pressing that I just can’t get out of, I barely make an appearance in the living room. I often sleep off and on 16 hrs a day. I ran out of it a few weeks back and a few days without it and I became energized. That could just have been a swing, but it was one hell of a coincidence.

Headaches: I’m not sure which one/ones are causing these, but they suck. It could be all in my head also. Not the pain. Well yes the pain. You know what I mean. Hopefully.

High cholesterol: Likely not from the meds themselves, yet likely a byproduct of the eating due to the medication.

Liver damage: I have to get my blood checked semi-annually due to this risk from some of these meds. Hopefully this never becomes a problem.

Oh yea, did I mention that my dick doesn’t always work right?

Meds I am currently on:

Zoloft – 200mg

Risperdal – 1.5mg

Lamictal - 250mg

Seroquel – 75mg

My Psych just changed it all around. The Zoloft is gone. So med-induced depreesion and man-junk issues should be a thing of the past.

Hurtful Statement

I slept all day again. I was supposed to talk to my proctor about taking my exam on Monday. I still haven't. I should do that tommorow. I only have thurs left this week that I can do it.

I went and saw my shrink yesterday. He had a training psychiatry student with him. He asked if it was ok. I had decided to confide in him how I was really feeling instead of my usual lie. “Everything is going great. Just perfect.” I told him I didn’t mind. I don’t know why I care what they think anyways. It just still hurts to tell the truth. I think that I feel that maybe if I don’t put it into words it really isn’t happening. Crazy huh? Meh… who cares!

Anyways he starts rambling on with a recap of my visits; I think this was for her benefit. When he finally asked how I was doing, I pulled the list from my pocket, as I told him not well. I started reading of the list like it was a to-do-list, stopping on occasion to elaborate. They both started jotting down notes on their little pads. I don’t know why this aggravates me. It almost seems an invasion of my thoughts and privacy. Stupid huh?

He has been my Dr for close to a year and I have never really talked to him. I usually only see him once every 3 months or so and so far that’s really just to get my scripts filled and modified. That sucks also – my meds always change. I am never stable to the point of normalcy and continuity in doses and medications. That sucks because you never feel like your getting better, plus I always have to fear that the change will make me unstable and I will erupt and lose my sucky job. Anyways the only real notes he has on me are from my previous Dr who was his colleague. Plus, the fact that I’ve never really told him much, other than current issues that I needed to reveal for med changes. He just seems cold and clueless to my problems. It’s really my fault I guess.

Anyways while he was talking to me he said twice in our discussions, “if it is bipolar…” I let the comment go the first time, but the second time it irked the shit out of me. I asked him if he was saying that he didn’t think I was bipolar. He started stammering a little. And said no that that wasn’t it. I asked again, “Do you think I’m bipolar?” He said in his opinion that he thought that I was. It kinda hurt. I have been obsessed about that statement for 2 days now. I have run the scenario over and over. I talked about it so much on the way home that my wife got pissed. I said that maybe I’m just a dumbass. Maybe it’s all in my head. I said maybe my obsessions were normal. Maybe me sleeping for 4 months straight during the winter before going to the Dr was normal. Maybe me feeling high with emotions, thoughts and feelings, like I could create anything I wanted was normal. Maybe not being able to sleep but for brief periods because the thoughts just want stop; scenarios running through my mind like a raging river. Paranoia. Indignation. Procrastination. How about my shopping sprees, where everything was an impulse buy, with great plans for everything I put in the cart. How about my need to write or play poker or read or play mood music perpetually to fantasize to escape this plane of reality.

Maybe I should just stop taking the meds and I would be better I said. My wife said that she would leave and that she would never live with me evil mike again. That her and the kids had put up with it for too many years before my diagnoses and henceforth treatment. She said let him try to live with me.

She thinks that he was teaching his intern. Like saying, “If it’s bipolar, you should blank?” And then answer his own question about what to do with my meds. I think maybe she is right. It makes sense. But I kept thinking that maybe he doesn’t think that I’m bipolar; that I’ve been his patient for a while and never have had any real bad episodes. That I have held a job for 12 years. That I’ve also managed to stay married for 14 years. That I am not a drunk. That I haven’t done drugs since I was a teen. That I wasn’t diagnosed until I was 30. That most bipolar people aren't stable enough to maintain a life. That I should have just given up long ago and filed for Social Security. What, does he think I originally swallowed my pride and embarrassment a went to a Shrink, thus admitting that me, a man, was unstable, and wanted to be medicated just to do it. That I am psychotic and just love to treat people like shit. That I love to mentally abuse the ones I love. Is that what he fucking thinks? Maybe he doubts me. He said that he didn’t. But just to make that comment stuck with me. I still can’t believe he said it. It rocked my world.

Anyways, it fucking hurt, you dickshit.

Manic Ramblings

I am quite manic today. My mind is swimming. I can’t focus. Thoughts are spinning. I am searching for something. It is intangible and fleeting, but I am feeling for it. Searching. I should be studying right now because within the next few days I have my semester exam. I keep opening my book, but my mind wanders away before I even get through one paragraph. I really need to study.

I feel light and lofty. It is what they call a euphoric state. My thoughts and emotions almost seem to be able to lift off away from myself. I don’t feel whole, but in a good way. I need something. I haven’t left my office but a few times yet today. I keep zoning out, daydreaming about odd things. I want to sketch and draw for some reason.

Pat said that he was standing outside my office staring at me zoning for a few mins. I didn’t notice him until he started walking. I’m not grumpy today, I am actually happy. Not really happy, but carefree. Nothing seams to really matter at the moment because I’m not focused on reality at the moment. My time is mine. Hopefully I have a good day at work with no issues so I can continue in this mood. My head is tingling. I almost feel high in a way. Maybe my blood sugar is low. LOL.

I feel creative, that’s it. They say that many famous people throughout history were likely bipolar. Creative minds: philosophers, artists, inventers, writers, etc. I’m not comparing myself to them, just my current mood. They say that bipolar people do some of their best work when they are in a euphoric manic mood.

All cylinders are clinking at their optimum. Not that nothing can go wrong in this state. I’m sure if I went to the store right now I would spend way too much money. I would be hyper-impulsive and buy, buy, buy. I would surely start a few new hobbies or buy things that I have great plans for. I likely would then wake up tomorrow or come down later today and those plans would never come to fruition. That is the extreme manic’s shortcoming. Your ambitious motives that aren’t somehow saved while manic are often utterly lost. Like a dream that you just can’t quite remember the way it was; you just recall a feeling that encompassed everything about the dream.

I wish I were home so I could maybe try to watercolor or even play some poker. I’m sure that whatever I decided to focus in on right now, I would do my very best at. Other than try to study that is.

So you have your good and bad. But hey, that is the very nature of the illness. There is a difference between manic and extreme manic. Euphoria isn’t a byproduct of being normally manic I don’t think. Not in my experience anyways. My senses are at a heightened state but usually I get irritated with others. I think that might be a narcissistic kind of issue, thinking that I am partially superior or at least intellectually. My opinions and logic seems almost simple and common sense like and if someone thinks otherwise they are just wrong or misguided. I lose empathy; I think that is it. Maybe I see their perspective, I just find it second to mine. Am I rambling enough for you yet. I really don’t think I’m a conceded person, but maybe I actually am somewhat.

I think that this blog has already begun to help me. At least it is getting me to document my different emotions so far. I am an extremely observant person about certain things, but I don’t retain that observation for long. Unless it is things that I care about or am interested in. I might notice something, but if you ask me tomorrow, it is gone. My wife can tell things that I have totally blocked from my memory until she brings it back up. She recalls with supreme clarity. On the other hand I am very selective in what I retain. If I find it superficial, it is than that night when my neurons are doing their nightly housekeeping. So I guess what I’m saying is that if I didn’t write this stuff down about how I’m feeling mentally and emotionally, I would forget and only remember when my wife brought up specific instances. That’s why when I go to see my Dr I usually don’t mention the bad weeks or days that I had, I only talk about how I am currently feeling. I forget all the times I slept 16 to 18 hrs and day just because I didn’t feel that I had anything important enough for me to get up for. How I hate myself and find myself worthless. How I get so wound up that I think my head will burst if I don’t find some alone time. How I get so stressed that I actually want to cry and maybe just end it all. How I walk to the edge of high places at work and just think about jumping and actually have to walk away because I can’t think about anything different but the plunge. How I sometimes think about steering the car into the other lane and going head on with a semi or and car and just start fantasizing about the aftermath to the point that I have to find something on the radio to zone-out on. I forget the few times that I just snapped at the kids and screamed like a banshee at the smallest thing with evil in my eyes. I forget getting irritated at the slightest noise and taking offense at the slightest question, like my family and everyone around me is somehow beneath me or my time. How the slightest noise could pierce my skull and make me cover my ears and have to get away from everyone’s droning voices. How even the TV torments my sanity sometimes with it’s incessant babble. I don’t mean to do any of these things. I love my wife and kids, though I sometimes don’t think I deserve them. They shouldn’t have to walk on eggshells around me. I love them so much. Fuck everyone else. I am sick but I seem to forget these issues when I go visit the Doc.

I was diagnosed by a different Dr in the beginning. I liked him so much. He actually talked to me and seemed to understand what I was going through. But then the hospital downsized the Psych Dept. and he lost his job. I really miss him. He talked to me. He asked the right questions. I was secure and felt safe with him. I was able to tell him things. I wasn’t embarrassed as much by my thoughts and feelings. I could confide in him without worry of ridicule or thoughts of inadequacies. I think maybe it was because he was my first Dr and he was the one that figured out what was wrong with me. I didn’t tell him everything and likely I won’t tell you all, because they would lock me up to keep the world safe.

I actually like my new Dr but I haven’t connected with him. We don’t talk. It’s not his fault really. He asks open-ended questions I just don’t respond. We basically discuss my meds and if I think any chances are needed. But you know, If I don’t tell the guy anything, maybe he does think I’m doing fine. How could he know otherwise? I must breakdown a few walls and admit that I have issues. Shit, I should, I’m fucking crazy. I must work on our communication. I will tell him that I’m not doing that well. That I have fought bouts of depression. That I’ve felt worthless. That I have been irritable often. That I’m not in good control of my emotions. That I snapped a few different times. That my wife left with the kids for a few days because I snapped during an argument and threw a half-empty can of pop at her. That I sort of snapped at work a few times. That I have said things because I just couldn’t hold them back even though I knew I was pissing my boss off and that me might fire me at any moment and continued even after he told me that I was disrespecting his authority. That I am swinging from depression to manic often. That I don’t truly think I am stable at the moment. That I am sick of being sick. Yes, I must talk to him. My meds probably need to change. I don’t want to be over-medicated and zombified, lethargically trudging my way through life. That life just wouldn’t be worth living. I love to think; I couldn’t take being muddled. But I need help. I am stressed beyond belief. I just can’t take it.

I have come down, likely because I swing quickly or possibly because my guys came in my office and wouldn’t take a hint and leave. I am very irritated right now. I have a headache. I wonder how my Dr will react when I tell him that I don’t think I’m well at the moment. Hopefully he doesn’t do anything to drastic. I won’t tell him everything this time. But hopefully he can fix me. I still need something. I am searching.

Another Day

I feel better today. I am back to work today. It is the weekend though, so no bosses are here, other than me of course. I am left to my own vices. No stress really. Just my crew and me. Weekends and night shifts are low stress times at my work. That is if the place runs well.

Yesterday I called in at 5am. I got on the computer until 6am. I got in the tub and read until 7:15. I woke the kids up for school and got back on to play cards until 8:30. I just couldn’t stay motivated to stay awake. I went in the bedroom and laid down with the wife and I went back to sleep soon after. I had slept all night long so I should have been tired, but I slept until she got back home with the kids at 3:30 from school. I then slept off and on until 5 something, when the wife told me to come spend some time with the family. I stayed up until around 10pm and went back to bed. I went to bed at around 9pm the previous night. So, we are looking at only being up for 9 or 10 hrs in a day.

I’ve been asked twice today so far when my guys came in my office if I am angry about something. They say I am snappy and ornery. I don’t mean to be short. It is just kinda aggravating me today when they come in and ask what I’m doing. I just wrote this to log how people view my temperament today.

My Paradox

Life is a game of misinformation,
Often it's hard to even see the equation.

I'm having issues. Let's just start right there.

I have a very stressful job. I don't have the skills to find another. At least not what I make at my current one. I need my job. I have burned my bridges. I have no road left. I must walk the fine line. I stand on the plate with 2 strikes.

My evaluations state that I a great employee. Better than average in all areas. Except one: Professional communication. I have a hard time keeping my mouth shut and just being a normal compliant lackey. I say what is on my mind no matter the consequences, no matter where at.

It's a character flaw you see. It's called spontaneous combustion. It enters my head and BOOM, I blurt it out. I usually even know it is not a good thing to do. Sometimes I can suppress it. It's almost like an addiction. I just can't control it at times. In the last year since I've been medicated, I have handled myself rather well professionally at work. It is the whole reason I went to the Dr in the first place. And why he sent me to a psychiatrist. And why I swallowed my pride and feeling of inadequacy and went to the shrink and found out what I am and why I am what I am. I needed my job. I need not to erupt. I needed to stop getting irritated at a drop of a hat. I needed to stop being so impulsive. I needed to find a way to remain calm.

I have had a few minor blow-ups at work since becoming medicated. Not quite bad enough for them to fire me yet, but they are sick of my shit. All I have to do is spaz-out one time and I'm done. All I have to do is get someone to go up front and say that I acted out against them and I'm done. I truly don't know what I will do if I lose my job. I have had arguments with a few people, but nothing heated enough that they turned it in. Basically, like my boss said, it's not what I say it's how I say it. My points are usually valid. I just don't express them well. I get defensive easy. I get offensive easy when I get defensive. I truly can't help my emotions sometime.

I need to remain calm, but my illness is like the hydra, you defeat one head and 2 more pop up. It is a never ending battle. I must support my family. I must support myself. I must support my illness. If I lose my cool, I lose my job. If I lose my job, I lose my insurance. If I lose my insurance, I lose my meds. If I lose my meds, I lose my stability. If I lose my stability,...

I don't always snap at minor problems, but I do more as of late. I go see the Dr in 2 days. I almost think I am having a near breakdown. I am hyper-stressed. I called in sick today.

I hate my job; I need my job: my paradox.

Worry Wart

It’s time for my psychology 1st semester exam. I have taken an extra month to get this last course done because I am nervous about the exam. I know this is why I can’t stay focused. I just keep procrastinating. I am afraid of failing. Well, I have decided that I will get the last course done this week and sometime next week go down and take the proctored exam. I am really worried about this. I know I will lose sleep over it soon.

It is a 50 question multiple-choice test with 10 questions on each course. I have 3 hrs to complete it. It is also open book. I can only miss 3 questions on any course. I should be able to pass it with no problem and likely will, yet I am worried.

I will recap all the courses this week and study hard.

Sleep of the Dead

I have to go see my shrink on Monday. I think I will try to get off my anti-depressant; I think it is actually making depressed or at least intensifying it. The reason that I think this is because I haven’t kept track of my prescriptions well as of late. I ran out of my Zoloft and I procrastinated for 4 days or so before I called and got a refill. After a couple of days I became chipper and happy. This could be mere coincidence I know, but I still want to be sure. I ran around playing with the kids and joking around with the whole family. When I got back on my meds I was back my lethargic self, just kind of lumbering through my days. I would sleep in late. I would then get up for a few hrs and go right back to bed. I would then get back up for a few hrs, take my sleeping pills, and go back to sleep for the night, sleeping in again. I was putting in 16 hrs a day sleeping. I had or have no ambition. I didn’t even play poker this week much. I would get on and soon after get off and go back to bed. I only left the house 3 times in those 4 days. Once I went to get a movie and twice for commitments that I couldn’t shirk. That isn’t living. So I will try to get off my happy pills.

The problem with changing meds is that if they make me unstable, I get uncontrollably irked at the smallest of circumstances and I could easily lose my job. The Zoloft isn’t a mood stabilizer so hopefully it won’t affect me in that way. I am on 2 different mood stabilizers. They seem to work for the most part, but I still find it hard to control my impulses at times. If there is any kind of confrontation, no matter how small, I immediately get livid, my heart beats rapidly in my chest; I start breathing heavily, my eyes bulge, and my voice trembles. I appear totally agitated, which is intimidating to whomever I am talking to. I don’t mean it. I hate this about myself. This is really hard for me. I find it difficult to be couth or respectful at these times; I have a quick wit and spontaneously blurt out comments that I would be better off keeping to myself. Often I do this to superiors or peers. Telling them how I truly feel even when it inappropriate. That is antisocial and also could be detrimental to my future employment.

Depression sucks.

Obsessions, Enthrallments, and Fixations, Oh My

I always knew I was different, I just didn’t quite know why. I guess everyone kinda feels that way in a sense. I always have had obsessions. Not stalker shit or anything like that. I mean that I would get an insatiable need for knowledge. I craved something; like how one gets a craving for a kind of food, but you just can't put your finger on it. My wife calls them fads or phases. I will find something that interests me and I will live that thing until I run out of knowledge on the subject or at least the info slows down to a trickle or I find a new obsession. The internet really helps for this; everything is on there. I literally eat, breathe, and sleep that subject. Then all of a sudden I'm done. I put it all in a box and often I never look at it again unless I’m in a nostalgic mood. I got into comics, magic the gathering, D&D, canning, taxidermy, deer hunting, trapping, painting, modeling, miniatures, crafting, gardening, drawing, sculpting, writing, etc. Reading, music, moves, video games, and online poker are in a category all there own, with many subjects, types, and subsets. But just like every thing else, it is hard for me to stay focused on any one thing until the end. I dive right in but usually barely ever finish anything. I haven’t finished a video game in years. I haven’t finished a novel either. I get a CD and play it for a month straight. Poker is quite addictive for me, but I do lose interest every couple of months. Yet with Reading, music, movies, video games, and poker, I always got back for more. Sometimes not exactly where I left off. I have 4 unfinished books beside my bathtub. One I picked back up and just started rereading. Video games I usually just pass on to my son. I once got obsessed with serial killers. For over a month I was printing out reports, reading about them and different cases. I did this until my wife and the guys at work started telling me that is was a little too much. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t really fantasizing about being one, just reading about them. Trying to figure out why they are broken. This is more than the normal hobby I’m talking about here. I’m talking about being totally engrossed in these fads. Often I can’t sleep or think about anything else. I will lose focus and find myself virtually catatonic with the rest of the world in some ways. People often think me aloof, distant, and arrogant because I zone off thinking about my current fixation. Another thing that I do is analyze conversions, events, and situations to the point of anal enthrallment. Anal enthrallment didn't quite sound right. This is something that I do often pertaining to work issues. I run scenarios over and over in my mind. I have to take pills to sleep because of these nightly mini-obsessions. I think most of these things happen when I’m manic.

I will go further into most of these subjects in greater detail as we go on. That’s all for now.

Where to Start…

Your Vision will become clear only when you can look inside your heart...
Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakes.
Carl Jung



Where to start…

There have been validated studies done proving that when people write or confide in others about their problems and worries they actually live happier, healthier, and longer lives.

GENESIS

I’m starting this blog to help me cope, analyze, and learn from my disorder. First off, I was diagnosed in August 9th, 2005. I am Bipolar. More precisely, I have Ultra-Rapid-Cycling Bipolar Disorder. I am medicated. The mood swings still occur often, yet usually they aren’t as intense with the medication. Often I have moods of deep introspection. I think this is when I am manic mostly. Well, maybe not, I think also at times I am depressed when I think inwardly. As you can already see, I contradict myself and I’m sure I will continue. I feel and know that my medication suppresses my ability for introspection and insight into what and why I am what I am. Hopefully I still am able to write vivid feelings and accounts of my torment. But the medication also suppresses my anger. So I understand that need it. I will try to write here as much as possible. I am also going to write in a personal notebook, trying to document how I feel from day to day and swing to swing. I will try not to bore you with too much of that, I think. I will slowly start to write about early events and episodes or any thoughts or stories that I might think relevant. I will be very blunt at times. I am a very frank person and I think that is partly due to my illness. I know that I will never get better, but maybe I can learn to live better with it. I am also a psychology major and am currently finishing my first semester. I’m trying every angle to figure this thing out and this, like school, is another tool to help me along this path that is my life. For those that are here to learn, I say thank you. For those that are here for the freakshow, I welcome you also. For anyone with my disorder, I would love to here from you and your opinions. All comments are welcome and will be much appreciated.