self care – Page 2 – Mirrored Madness: The Monster In Me

An Inconvenient Truth: Shame, Regret, and My Ugly Theory

“Shame is a soul eating emotion.”
– Carl Gustav Jung

If this were of any consequence and if I were a person of any significance, this one certain belief/opinion I have regarding a specific matter I hold would most likely be considered controversial or just plain ignorant. No, it’s not political, or derogatory in any other fashion. It’s a simple idea on what some may call a “philosophical” matter, but for me, it’s really a non-issue.

It’s regarding shame and regret, and simply put I do not believe anyone can truly be ashamed of anything. This is usually where the two camps of thought get together and meet to either attack my “negativity” or speak of my stunted and simple intelligence.

Now to clarify, the emotions stemming from what I would call “genuine shame” are very real: the embarrassment, the humiliation, and all the other awkward emotions. Shame tends to take form on outward reactions.

I just don’t believe people can do something they would be ashamed of, not on a primal, base-line level anyway. What I’m trying to say is that I understand why my “belief” is not of the majority and is considered to either be arrogant or ignorant. So, I’ll at least try and explain.

According to verywellmind, shame can be described as “a feeling of embarrassment or humiliation that arises in relation to the perception of having done something dishonorable, immoral, or improper”. Although I agree that those emotions exist within us at certain times, especially after that personal sense of humiliation sets in, I think they are more so interrelated with how we feel about ourselves.

Shame, however, in the minimalist and misinterpreted way it exists, can be used as a tool for both good and bad purposes.

Arlin Cuncic, a therapist and author, writes, “Since we want to be accepted, shame is an evolutionary tool that keeps us all in check.”

I agree with that ideology, but I always go back to the idea of human nature and how something like “shame” fits on Mother Nature’s “emotional food chain”. I just don’t believe people can truly do something they are ashamed of. It’s an under-the-surface issue in which I predict semantics will play a role in the outcome of said debate.

It’s a bold statement to make, I know, but here goes: I’ve never done anything I was ashamed of, and I only say that simply because I believe human nature disallows us from doing something we would be ashamed of. I don’t doubt that the emotions tied to shame exist and are real. I feel shame is like a selfish, personal Band-Aid. Being ashamed is being humiliated after the fact. Would you do that one thing that caused you so much shame again? No. You’d stifle it and hope you have the strength to keep the lion in its cage.

Regret is an “intelligent and/or emotionl dislike for personal past acts and behavior”. One may say, “Well, what’s the difference between the words?”. There is one major difference: Shame is about personal humiliation. Regrets are about guilt. It may not seem like a big difference, but I assure you it is.

Many think the words “shame” and “regret” can be used interchangeably, but that would be incorrect. They both express different meanings. To sum it up, regret is about wrong actions, while shame is about being wrong as a person.

So, although shame and its surrounding emotions do exist, it does only in a certain context. One can feel shame and its sister emotions, but, in my opinion, we can never truly do anything we are ashamed of. It’s human nature on a primal level. Regret is the awareness that you’ve done wrong, and you feel remorse for having done it.

Below is a clear example of the differences:

Regret: I did something bad.

Shame: I am something bad.

Shame is a feeling of humiliation after having done something whereas regret is a feeling of guilt after doing something wrong.

a day in the life: one day at a time

red flower near white flower during daytime

“There is a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in.”
– Leonard Cohen

As I write this early Tuesday morning, I can in good faith look back and reflect on how good yesterday was. Not that I can sit here all “woe is me” like I never have good days, but yesterday felt like a fresh start.

First off, work is picking back up as the warmer weather is (maybe) finally starting to settle in. I work for both a lawncare and a construction company. Yards will need to be mowed; houses will need to be built or repaired. Things are about to pick up and get busy. It’ll be mornings of rushing to get the kids shipped out to whoever is watching them on that day by 6 am. It’ll be the “get-up-and-go” this household really needs.

On another note, I had my second ketamine treatment last night and the relief was immediate. No, there was no “high” or “buzz”, as I’m often asked. It takes a few minutes to wake up and come to after the infusion, but there is nothing other than that if you’re someone trying to chase the dragon. I just felt all of the stress go away. I’m less tense and uptight, and I can even handle some of my OCD/superstitions that could laughably be debilitating. But that in and of itself is proof there is something to this ketamine regimen.

I am thankful for my family and am slowly starting to realize to not push them away. I’m learning how personally devastating it is to be bitter and to hold onto those little feelings every day. Let it go. I have an amazing wife and three beautiful sons that need me. And they need me to be me, not the person I have been and will still (unfortunately) become at times.

But even after writing that last sentence I still can find some level positivity in the situation, if only by not dwelling on the issue. That is new for me. My usual moody attitude would’ve normally kicked into full gear, and I would’ve ended up dead or in jail.

It’s nice to be able to reflect in a positive sense, not having to worry about getting fixated on a topic that concerns me in no way. That’s an intense state of mind and I’m happy for the relief. At this point in time, I’ll take whatever I can get.

Just remember when you wake up every morning to find or think of a few positive things right off the bat. Easier said than done, right? But it can be done. I’m doing it as I’m typing these words right now. If I didn’t know better, I would think I’m in the beginning stages of a cycle. Fortunately, I am not on any drugs, and I am lucid and have been for some time now. So that’s a nice feeling, too.

Well, it’s early and it’s about time for work (don’t you know there are yards to be mowed and houses to be built?). I just wanted to check in and remind anyone who needed reminding that, even through the madness, there is light. You may have to look a little bit harder some times, but it’s always there.

Happy Tuesday everyone!

On the Fear of Death, Dying, & Drowning

close up photography of concrete tombstones

“Death is as natural as life. It’s part of the deal we made.”
– Mitch Albom

It’s a subject as old as time, and a personal dilemma everyone experiences at some point in their lives: the fear of death and dying.

It would almost be negligent to let on that I’ve never fixated on the thought of dying and, of course, what’s to come after.

I’m not of the belief in a “Christian God” or a “White Jesus”…but on the same token I’m terrified of going to hell. It doesn’t make any sense, I know. But it’s true.

I’m not scared to die, though. I think I’d die for anybody. I would just want it to be quick, painless (who wouldn’t, right?). Don’t get me wrong. I in no way want to die, but you have to accept dying as a part of life or you’ll get too hung up on it, and that can be dangerous.

I get hung up on a specific fear of dying: drowning. I’m outright terrified of water…yet it never stops me from getting in; I’ve been in pools, ponds, lakes, and two oceans. But the entire time I am I’m in a state of anxiety and fear like no other. I hate water. I’d rather burn alive than spend my last moments in that type of fear accompanied with drowning.

The fear of drowning is called aquaphobia. In fact, aquaphobia is the irrational fear of drowning. I would say, partly because of my “condition”, most of my fears are totally irrational. For instance, I have to have the volume on the TV on an even number. I know it’s insane, but it’s a true fear. I honestly believe your shooting dice with the Devil if you have your TV volume on an odd number. I’m as neurotic as they come.

Fears can either teach or they can torture. They say you have to “face your fears” to conquer them. Most people try to avoid them completely so as to not have to even bother with the thought of it. I mean, how can the fear of death and dying be conquered? At best, it can only be accepted.

The fear of the possibility. That is a true fear I suffer from, and it can be debilitating. The anxiety that comes with just the possibility of something bad is phenomenal, except not in a good way.

The fear of death and dying is definitely a rational fear. It’s the fear of the unknown. The fear of what you have to leave behind. It’s rational, I just “handle” it irrationally.

I’ve decided to avoid the time spent on thinking about death by just never dying. I never want to die so that’s the plan. It may be irrational, but whatever gets me through the night, right?

But am I scared of dying? I don’t WANT to die, of course. but it is a part of life. And I have accepted that.

I agree the idea of not dying may not be a good plan, but it’s all I got (If I didn’t laugh all I would do is cry). We’re all going to die. And I’d like to believe we just drift off into the stratosphere, but as a nihilist, I honestly believe that after we die it’s all just black, an eternal void.

If I’m wrong, I just hope that when I die I make it to hell before the Devil knows I’m dead.

Food for Thought: Blogging and its Impact on the Brain

“Beauty you’re born with, but brains you earn.”
– Jay Kristoff

If the mind is truly like a muscle, then blogging must be the last leg of a 10-mile race. That might seem like hyperbole, but it’s actually based in some reality.

The health benefits of writing have been known for decades, but only in recent years have the specific impact of blogging been analyzed. For example, research suggests that writing in a more anonymous format, such as blogging, helps one reframe their relationship with their mental health. On the same note, however, blogging can be beneficial in the amount of self-worth it can provide by offering a public element to one’s writing. It seems convenient, but it makes perfect sense.

As bloggers, you already know how empowering writing can be and is. For us, it’s the writing that provides that essential sense of purpose.

There is also research to suggest that this type of “communal communication” has its own benefits, such as lowering anxiety by offering a constructive way to process thoughts.

I started to think about blogging last night and how I have personally been affected by both producing and consuming content. When you’re blogging, you have to give a little bit of yourself away with each post. It’s totally necessary but can still be exhausting. One can get a lot of shade thrown their way just for being open and transparent.

Yes, there are certain downsides to blogging. With social media being such a prevalent part of our collective existence, there will always be haters with their own negativity.

So, like with anything, there are pros and cons to blogging. As writers and creators and truth-tellers, we just have to decide if the good outweighs the bad.

I already know it does for me.

And then there was Ketamine…

“Bipolar robs you of that which is you. It can take from you the very core of your being and replace it with something that is completely opposite of who you truly are.”
– Alyssa Reyans, Letters from a Bipolar Mother

So, I go in for my second ketamine treatment on Monday, and boy, am I relieved!

I did my first round a few months ago and I could tell an immediate difference. But the farther apart each treatment is the less effective it will be. In fact, it’s recommended to do six rounds in three to six weeks. At $450 a pop, however, that was just not realistic at the time.

WHAT IS KETAMINE?

Ketamine got its start in Belgium in the 1960s as an anesthetic for animals. Ketamine has since been FDA-approved as a safer form of anesthesia for people, as it doesn’t slow down breathing or heart rate.

But most notably, ketamine is getting a lot of attention as a more serious, long-term treatment for depression, PTSD, and bipolar disorder. It causes what doctors call a “dissociative experience”.

John Krystal, MD, chief of psychiatry at Yale-New Haven Hospital and Yale School of Medicine in Connecticut, described what this dissociation may feel like.

“Ketamine can produce feelings of unreality; visual and sensory distortions; a distorted feeling about one’s body; temporary unusual thoughts and beliefs; and a euphoria or a buzz.”

However, the drug’s potential as a treatment for depression and antidote to suicidal ideations has piqued the interest of many researchers. It has been studied and administered to people for decades with mostly positive results.

“We’re reaching out in a new way to patients who have not responded to other kinds of treatments and providing, for some of them, the first time that they’ve gotten better from their depression,” Krystal says.

BRINGING IT BACK HOME

After my first ketamine infusion, I felt an immediate sense of relief and release. It was so nice to not even be able to remember what being depressed felt like. But if you don’t get the full recommended treatment plan up front, the effects of the ketamine ultimately wears off. And you’ll know it when it does.

It’s also recommended that talk therapy should commence as soon as the patient “comes to” after the infusion. Ken Stewart, MD, expressed this same sentiment.

“It’s my sense that this is important,” Stewart says. “When people come out of this really profound experience, they have a lot to say, and these are people who have a lot of baggage and a lot of experiential pain. A lot of times, ketamine leads to an unpacking of that baggage.”

My upcoming ketamine appointment couldn’t have been scheduled at a better time. When in the throes of mania or in a bout of depression, reality can be fragmented and frightening.

Bouncing around between mania and depression isn’t easy, and if the ketamine infusions are proven to help then I’m going to do what I need to do to achieve some semblance of normalcy and relief.

Hey, whatever works, right?

a day in the life: oh, sweet depression

“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.

And Don’t Go Out Smiling: A Poem

And don’t go out smiling –

In the reverie of death’s sweet delivery,

a smile would only cloud

and be monstrous.

A vagrant would, but you?

The romance in dying

is like the alcoholic’s valor,

the vine in the wine,

the poison of being intoxicated

I won’t, but I want

Dying:

Body releases soul emissions,

spirit forms, falls,

and encountered are magnitudes of cosmic growth

only attainable in the rays of death

But don’t go out smiling,

stifle your grins and be beckoned by the angel’s smile

Let them, but not us,

oh no

Smile not

and leave this world in great Trumpet Death

H. Town: A Poem

If these city blocks could talk, would you hear the hollow echo

of my soul’s soles,

edging around the lonely buildings,

thru the twisted and deformed night?

The streetlamp spotlight,

and a little slice of neon –

pierced atmosphere.

The slanted, pale red brick,

now crumbling and blackened by fire.

The stiff, blue mechanics of alleyway night,

crooked neighborhoods, dividing tracks, and road.

Masked by the golden Sunday sunlight,

this town is as pure of an example as anything,

Nature,

and rough.

Superficial, sing-song birds pilfer thru car washes,

and seek salvation on power lines and in other bird-way terminals

The halls, shops, liquor stores, institutions etc.

all have twisted paths that lead to

One.

The hills have eyes

but so do the streets,

with their piercing stop lights, headlights,

bright lights, night lights –

This town stabs my soul with the pitiful remembrance of a strangled youth

Bipolar Disorder in the Workplace

“If you’re going through hell, keep going.”
– Winston Churchill

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.

Sex, Drugs, and Stupidity: My Manic Self

“[ ] 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.

I’ll keep you posted.

When the Music’s Over, Turn Out the Lights

“The only truth is music.”
– Jack Kerouac

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)

The White Album- The Beatles
Exile On Main St. – The Rolling Stones
Nevermind – Nirvana
Astral Weeks – Van Morrison
The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill – Lauryn Hill

a day in the life: manic monday

“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.

Happy Monday.

Old Age, or Something Like It

“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.