“Try to understand the blackness, lethargy, hopelessness, and loneliness they’re going through. Be there for them when they come through the other side. It’s hard to be a friend to someone who’s depressed, but it is one of the kindest, noblest, and best things you will ever do.”
– Stephen Fry
It’s been one of those days, and if it’s anything like the last half of yesterday then you can count me out.
It’s just one of those days.
I’d rather be down than manic, though. The mania can be dangerous and is exhausting on a whole other level. I in no way benefit from the mania anymore.
It’s strange because March/April is when I usually cycle and experience my mania. So, to be “depressed” or just down is unexpected and, to be honest, seemingly out there in left field.
Even my dreams lately (and I rarely remember my dreams) seem to be a place of ruin where nothing comes together, and sleep becomes a place of complete dissolution. This endless cycle is a prison, and also the only home I’ve ever known.
I have adjusted and adapted to this idea of “normalcy” rather well, but even that is not enough. In the end, it’s all just a matter of timing. Just got to wait for things to catch up.
When depressed, every day winds down to the same thing, the same occurrences, the same happenings, the same void that I go through on repeat. It returns with an almost obligatory vengeance.
My brain beats to a drum, it doesn’t tick to a clock. Still, I’ll remain on this eternal schedule of Hell. And they wonder why I don’t speak of God.
Blame it all on temperament, personality, or a chemical imbalance. In the end, it still falls back on me.
I would say I can’t be the only one with bipolar disorder who knows how well this disorder operates under the pressures of a job and in the workplace, but I already know that I’m not; it’s a topic that is often used when writing about bipolar disorder. It may seem like a tired beat, and I certainly do not have anything new to add to the conversation. My experiences are not uncommon or unique. They are just mine. But I’m assuming you already know that if you’re here reading this.
It’s easier said than done, but the words in the above quote are definitely words to live by if you suffer from the madness that is bipolar disorder. I feel this ideology is especially important to keep in mind when bipolar and on the job.
It’s not like you have a choice and it can’t be described as laziness, but on a baseline level that’s how it’s interpreted. What’s not misinterpreted, however, is when the “typical” or “normal” person needs a mental health day and it’s okay, but when a person with a mental illness needs one…well, you know.
If I sound bitter, maybe I am. All in all, though, I can’t totally blame the illness for some of my past excursions in the work force. I have to take some responsibility. That makes it hard, too: to not be able to control the decision-making process yet feel bad for how that lack of control comes across and affects those around you.
It’s especially difficult in the workplace. When it’s fine, it’s fine. But when it’s not, it can feel like the whole world is closing in on you.
Let me give you an example.
I have a degree in journalism and worked in the field for several years. I was a digital content producer for a television news station at one point. Not my dream job, but you have to start somewhere, right?
I signed a two-year contract with the station and worked diligently and on task for nearly that whole two-year period. Until two weeks before my contract was up when I told my boss I didn’t want to renew. Impulsive? Yeah, sure. But it gets better.
One week before my contract was up, I just stopped showing up. I just quit going in. I turned off the cellphone the station had provided and just cut all ties with all of my co-workers. And that was that. Five years later, I still haven’t sent that phone back.
But that’s the way it goes with me. I’m good for about two years and then I seem to sabotage myself, either because of a level of intense, paranoid anxiety, or just because of an unexpected loss of interest.
According to one survey, more than 88% of people with bipolar disorder say their condition has affected their work performance. About 58% of those people quit working outside the home altogether. This is due in part to the extreme shifts in mood, sleep, energy, and overall ability to function.
THINGS TO KEEP IN MIND WHEN LOOKING FOR A JOB:
interests
strengths and abilities
skills
personality traits
values
physical health
limits, triggers, and barriers
According to statistics, the absentee rate for employees with bipolar disorder is 18.9 workdays per year, while those without the disorder miss on average 7.4 workdays.
Stats are always daunting when it comes to mental illness, but they speak for themselves. I never wanted to be a statistic, even though I know, in many ways, I very much am. I don’t think I would be sitting here writing this right now if I wasn’t.
Like I said, however, my experiences in the workplace are not uncommon or unique. The fluctuation between sheer productivity and total incompetence (for lack of a better word) can be devastating in their extremes. So, one day you could be on top of your game and the next you may be on the chopping block.
It’s not all bad, though. I have been working since I was 16 and I’ve had more positive experiences on the job than not. Out of my 16 years of work history, I’d say 95% of it has been positive and productive. It’s that other 5% that’s the killer, though.
On a more positive note, there are some studies that suggest working can be very beneficial to people with bipolar disorder, offering a sense of structure and increased confidence.
It’s not easy to find and keep work with a mental illness that aggravates your day-to-day ability to function. However, with a little extra work it is possible to find a satisfying, yet manageable job.
“[ ] manic sex isn’t really intercourse. It’s discourse, just another way to ease the insatiable need for contact and communication. In place of words, I simply spoke with my skin.”
– Terri Cheney, Manic: A Memoir
It’s cliche, yes, but nonetheless it comes with the territory. Part metaphors, part exaggeration, “sex, drugs, and mania” pretty much sums up my personal experience with the dangerous and unpredictable nature of the madness.
I hate bullet points, but the symptoms and decision-making skills associated with mania, my mania, are about as textbook as it comes. Everyone is different, though, so mania can manifest itself in different ways for different people. No matter, the madness is still there.
For the sake of not hearing me ramble on about personal experiences I’m simply just going to hit on some points.
Symptoms of Mania
Abnormally upbeat, jumpy or wired – Check
Increased activity, energy or agitation – Check
Exaggerated sense of well-being and self-confidence (euphoria) – Check
Decreased need for sleep – Check
Unusual talkativeness – Check
Racing thoughts – Check
Distractibility – Check
Poor decision-making — for example, going on buying sprees, taking sexual risks or making foolish investments – Check
Check and mate, right?
I’m usually one of the first people who can tell I’m manic or on my way to being so, but I’m never the first person to mention it, which in a way makes it worse. It’s my fault, though, especially in the instances when I’m aware and can still acknowledge the onset of the mania. In a way, it’s like I’m waiting for some validation or something. I go from being curious as to what other people’s reaction to my behavior will be, to being embarrassed and ashamed when finally acknowledged. It’s a stupid, vicious cycle that’s on a constant loop. In moments of clarity, I can reflect and be aware of my condition and behaviors that I plan on avoiding in the future. Then, BAM! Back in the bipolar saddle again.
Whether depressed or manic, it always comes back. I can handle the depression, but the mania can take on a life of its own. And I’m far too old to worry about that.
But the bullet points are spot on. I need very little to no sleep. I’m outgoing at times, but I really step it up when manic. I would blow money like it was going out of style. And on stupid things. If it wasn’t on drugs or alcohol, it was on something equally unnecessary. I engaged in extreme risk-taking behavior (in many ways) and had no ability to see things in a rational, coherent sense. I become delusional, thinking I’m on the verge of a brilliant and great discovery or project. Other than not being able to control your emotions and mood that’s the worst for me. “Coming to” and becoming aware of how delusional I was. You believe it in the moment and then later wonder what the hell you were thinking.
I also get fixated on things. I get stuck on something while at the same time have no control of how fast my brain is moving. Cycling or not, I don’t have the ability to slow my brain down. And it can make everyday life just a little bit harder. At times, it can be totally debilitating.
It’s March and I’m a little perky (right on schedule), but I’m confident in my medication regimen. It’s worked well for quite some time, so I feel confident the mania may be lighter than usual or stifled to a certain degree.
March and April (springtime in general) are my bigtime months for the “sex, drugs, and stupidity” I can embody. However, having recently been diagnosed with a type of rapid cycling bipolar disorder I’m kind of used to the back and forth. It’s noticeable and, for my wife especially, can be very overwhelming and just too much at times. I can be over the top for a week or two and then be depressed for a week and then come back around to “normal”. Cycle continues in that sense. Wash, rinse, and repeat.
But I guess we’ll see. Hope the medication I’m on causes a subside to the symptoms.
As a musician and just as a human being on a very basic level, music is a key part of my every day. I’m making no correlation between the madness and the necessity of music in one’s life, it’s just a fact: music is a key part of my life.
King of and fellow nihilist Friedrich Nietzsche said, “Without music, life would be a mistake.” Is this just another extreme observation made by the philosopher? Should we just take it with a poetic grain of salt? I don’t know. I don’t know if life would be a mistake without music, but I do know I don’t want to find out.
For me, music is an escape. I have found, compared to my wife and other peers, that I am one of the only people I know who devours and rates an album by an artist as a whole. A lot of people hit up the radio hits and go from there (I still can’t listen to Dylan’s Blonde on Blonde without starting from the bombastic beginning and plowing through all the way to the end. Every time.).
I have to say the way we ingest our music and media plays a role in the output we get. Artists and, more importantly, record labels know that all an “album” needs is a couple Top 40 hits. The rest can be filler because it’s the singles that’s going to sell the record. So, it’s a known and very-well practiced formula (unless you’re Billie Eilish and then all rules are thrown out the window).
So, what kind of music do I like?
Well, I of course have already mentioned Bob Dylan. There is a string of albums the man released back-to-back over just a few years in the 1960s that reach an almost impossible state of perfection.
I am more a predominately rock n’ roll guy but have found numerous albums and other styles of music that I add to the spectrum. For instance, The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill is definitely outside of my wheelhouse, but I honestly think it may be the last perfect album ever made. Now that’s an extreme opinion, but mine, nonetheless. With a list of “Favorite Albums” heavily clouded with Dylan, Beatles, and Rolling Stones records, the fact Lauryn Hill’s debut album cracks my Top 5 is saying a lot.
As both a musician and a fan, I have devoured The Beatles, Led Zeppelin, Aerosmith, The Doors, The Velvet Underground, etc. But still, some of my favorite albums fall outside the main party line.
Both Sufjan Stevens Illinois and Seven Swans are in my “Top Favorite Albums”. Stevens has been a folky/electronic music hero for some time, and deservedly so.
Yes, I seek out the “album’s” album. I think the Rolling Stones Exile On Main St. is perhaps THE best rock n’ roll album ever made. The raw grit of the songs, the songwriting process, and the album’s creation says it all. Check it out. You won’t be disappointed.
The White Album by the Beatles is definitely up there with Exile. It’s a perfect collection of songs, and a perfect representation of how the band was working together at the time (not well). That being said, John Lennon is a personal hero of mine and I think he’s responsible for some of the best songs and albums of the 1960s and 1970s. And, yes, I’ll take Lennon over McCartney any day of the week (Shit, I’ll even take Ringo over McCartney.).
I’m admittedly bias as hell when it comes to this next one…but The Strokes have yet to release a bad album. Just saying.
In an attempt to wrap things up, let me pause to reflect. I remember one of my grandmother’s telling me at age 13 that my interest in the 90s “grunge” movement would make me “depressed” because those artists sang about drugs and suicide. So, to prove a point, I played Roadhouse Blues by The Doors (another one of my favorite bands). Her response was immediate and positive. “Yeah! Now this is a lot better! Listen to that beat!” I guess it didn’t matter that the song is a declaration of living in the moment in as raw and simple of a way as possible (“I woke up this morning and I got myself a beer/the future’s uncertain and the end is always near”). From that moment on anyone else’s perception of my musical tastes mattered not.
So, all in all, music is a release and an appreciation process necessary for me to function. I’ve always said I’d rather go blind than be deaf, as I couldn’t live without being able to listen to or play music.
Hell, maybe Nietzsche was only half right: Life without music isn’t just a mistake, it’s an impossibility and an unnecessary evil that should be asked or expected of no one.
TOP 5 FAVORITE ALBUMS (As of this writing and in no particular order)
“If I can’t feel, if I can’t move, if I can’t think, and I can’t care, then what conceivable point is there in living?”
– Kay Redfield Jamison
It’s been a pretty “blah” week on my end of things, personally and professionally that is. My wife has been sick, so I’ve tried to pick up some extra slack around the house while also having two young boys (5 and 7 months) to wrangle. It’s no one’s fault, but it left very little time for creativity to exist in any sense, blog-related or no.
I come here as a “blogger” to decompress in a very matter-of-fact sense, as well as to offer knowledge of my circumstances and experiences and how it relates to this illness. I don’t know if I benefit from it any more than anyone else, but it sure can make me feel better at times.
The past week has been one of what I call “stifled mania” (medicated mania), where the unwarranted energetic part of things has been there, but common sense has somehow miraculously prevailed.
Until now.
We’re coming to the close of the first full week of March, and it was not only expected but planned for. However, it feels a little bit different than usual this go-around. Perhaps it’s just psychosomatic, or because I’m on a different medication regimen than last spring. I don’t know. But I feel not only more aware, but also in more control. This latter observation could very well be a part of the delusions that can be expected to come in the next few days or weeks. But it’s a different form of mania and, I’ll be honest, I’m not a big fan.
We’ve still got time, though. By this time next month I may be crashing the walls and bouncing off the ceilings. I sure hope not, but only depending on what the alternative may be. And I hope it’s not this.
But I mainly wanted to check in. I’ll be back a little later this week if not with anything but an update on this strange state of boring mania.
“Some people with memory loss really need to start writing down the stuff.”
– Anonymous
You know that expression “You don’t know what you got until it’s gone”? Well, boy, is it true! And applicable to damn near ANYTHING!
If the name of this blog (and literally all of my previous posts) didn’t give it away, it probably is no secret that I suffer from bipolar disorder. Not meaning (or attempting) to be funny, it’s a topic us mad ones have to laugh at or else we’d spend all day crying. Or worse.
There are many negative aspects to being bipolar. Believe me, I know. At the same time, I also feel (sometimes) that there are some good aspects of suffering from the illness. They’re not always obvious, but they are there.
But does the good outweigh the bad? Or is it the other way around? Ask me tomorrow and I’ll tell you something different.
“The older I get” has become a new, oft-used phrase of mine, almost a sad mantra of some sort. But over the last year alone I’ve experienced such a cognitive decline it’s more than noticeable. If only by me.
This is one of those instances where the good doesn’t outweigh the bad. There’s no other way to spin it, and it’s scary.
As someone famous once labeled themselves as being “well under the 30”, I cannot….but only by a little bit (the elders of the tribe would scoff if they knew my real age). Which makes it scarier! I shouldn’t be dealing with these types of things this early in life. Or so you might think.
I don’t mean to sound abrasive or whatnot, but it’s been a problem that scared me enough to keep it a secret. Until I couldn’t.
Before the forgetfulness got severe enough to scare me, I started having problems with basic motor skills. Just loss of coordination and perception. This went on for a couple of months before I got “busted” by my wife. After a few times of falling and losing balance one day, the jig was up.
It was strange having to discuss the issue like I had been hiding an affair or something equally dreadful. Of course, my wife wasn’t too happy and it actually kickstarted my deep personal fear of the problem. I was slipping, it felt like. You can take a hand. Hell, you can take the whole damn arm. Just don’t take my mind.
I then started forgetting what I was talking about mid-sentence. I’d forget the whole conversation, the whole subject even. I would get so embarrassed when this would happen with anyone other than my wife that I could almost cry. And sometimes I did. It’s like walking into a room and forgetting why. Except now I was forgetting to even walk into the room. It’s a metaphor, but accurate nonetheless.
I of course went to the doctor and got in with a neurologist. I’ve had at least three MRI’s, one suggesting there were two spots of white matter in my corona radiata and another suggesting there was no white matter at all. Things have been ruled out, just not ruled on.
I’m to have an even more extensive MRI done to hopefully determine something. It’s weird to want to know something is wrong rather than experience this type of loss and there be no cause to its effect.
Fortunately, upon doing some research, I’ve learned that bipolar disorder takes a toll on the ol’ brain. That’s what it is. Has to be. I’d almost bet the farm on it. Especially when it comes to loss of coordination and the cognitive decline.
Now this isn’t an everyday hindrance; 95% of the time I’m fine. Bipolar still, but fine. It’s the other five percent that’s troubling.
I can’t sit around and count the days until I’ve totally lost myself, though. But I’m still not excited about it. And maybe I won’t have to deal with it on a real serious level, but it’s the type of decline that’s been real gradual. Thankfully (knock on wood) I have not had any serious or even real noticeable “moments” in the last month or so. But it comes and goes. Which makes it even scarier.
I go back to the neurologist in April, and I don’t expect there to be any more of an answer than there was a few months ago. I’m not being negative, just reacting to what I’ve learned about this from the doctors so far: not much.
I’ll wrap this up before it turns into even more of a whiny, “woe is me” type of post, which was not my intention. But if I ever seem absent, and to a fault, fear not. I probably just forgot to remember it was blog day.
Again, us mad ones have to laugh or else we’d go crazy.
Mirrored Madness: The Monster In Me 