10. 24. 08

8pm

Hexagon Lounge

RCBC Tower, Makati

Being single for the rest of my life doesn't bother me. The idea that I might not ever have a long term relationship that lasts bothers me a little, but the idea of being single doesn't bother me. I have done it alone for so long that I am used to being alone. I used to think that I didn't want to be alone, that I, too, wanted a relationship, that I wanted to not be alone anymore and to settle down for the long haul. But over the last few years I've slowly, by degrees, realized that it doesn't matter anymore whether I am single or in a relationship, being settled, happy, and content is more about my own self not whether or not I am with someone.

Being single has its good points. There is no one you need to answer to, explain things to, or worry about disagreeing with what you're doing, saying, etc. As a single person I alone am responsible for my own happiness. If I am miserable then I can do something about it. If I don't like what is going on in my life then I can do something about it. If I want more interaction with others then I can socialize more. If I want sex then I can do it myself or find someone to temporarily relieve my desires. If I want someone to hang out with I have friends and family. What I don't have to worry about is someone telling me that I didn't call when I was supposed to, or I didn't call to say I was going to be late, or why didn't I think before I spent my money on a car that is 16 years old and is going to be expensive to fix because it's a Volvo...(Smile). Truth is, I never minded calling to say I was going to be late, it made me feel good that she was concerned about me. Though I completely understood her point about the car, I disagreed with her because I had searched all over the place (on the internet and in person) and it was the only thing that I found that I liked and that was in decent shape for the amount of money I had to buy a car with.  I did a great deal of research before I bought the car.

Anyhoo, I loved being with my ex for numerous reasons: I loved her, she made my heart smile and my soul sing, being with her was my dream come true and it was easy to be with her, comfortable, interesting, fun, passionate, and it made me feel safe, loved, and secure. However, I also felt like I wasn't good enough, insecure, and inadequate. Those were my own feelings of inadequacy and my own feelings of insecurity, and not due what she did or didn't do. It's the story of my life actually. Feelings of inadequacy, feelings of insecurity and little self worth. I love her still, but for years I didn't love myself and didn't really believe that I was worth anyone's love so it was really hard to believe that she wouldn't make me leave, that she wouldn't end things, that she'd want to stay with me-I didn't believe I was worth the long haul. 

Spending money and lying about it was a huge mistake, the spending money impulsively I can blame on the bipolar but the lying I can't. It's a unhealthy coping skill, both of the behaviors. Spending money makes me feel better, it's a temporary fix and I know that through therapy, but what I had not understood is that lying about my behavior is also a temporary fix and an unhealthy coping skill. I do it so that people won't know how bad things are, so that I don't disappoint those I love, so that people around me don't think I am fucked up and worthless because that is how I feel, and though the shopping makes me feel temporarily less fucked up and worthless I feel worse afterwards because I fucked up and that makes feel even more worthless. It's a vicious cycle and after being in a few different bipolar support groups and talking to two different therapist I realized I do other things, I can find other means of feeling good about myself other than spending money, doing irrational things, etc. It's hard because spending money is in part due to poor judgment and poor impulse control which has to do with the bipolar and not something that I am actually completely in control of but if I take better care of myself and take my meds and keep up with my moods, etc then I can have better control over things like that. It's harder to maintain things like impulse control and judgment when you are stressed out, when there are a number of triggers, when you're not taking good care of yourself, when you're not on meds, and when you're not going to therapy or being honest with the therapist. The truth is I was going to therapy and had been back on meds for a couple of months, but I was under an immense amount of stress. It's no excuse but it does help explain.

So...

Here I am single. Knowing that when I do finally start dating it has to be when I am ready, really ready. And to be ready I need to have my moods under more control, I need to have been on medication for at least more than a couple of months, therapy needs to be working well, and I need to be happy with myself. I am happy with myself now, and I'm on meds and going to therapy, but I'm not ready for any type of relationship yet. Not for quite a while.  I know this because there are some issues I want and need to work on by myself and until I get them done I won't be able to be an equal partner.

So I'd rather be single for the rest of my life than get involved in another relationship until I can be a true equal partner. If I am never in a relationship then it's okay, I am and can be happy alone.

                                                -Chris_

É pessoal, parece que alguém levou a mal o Artigo: “Moda, faça a sua!”, sinceramente, não era intenção ofender ninguém, mas acho que nós devemos ter atitude e personalidade o suficiente para fazer-mos nossa própria moda, ou misturar tudo o que gostamos à tendências atuais.

O que eu quis dizer naquele artigo foi: não quero que tudo que gosto vire moda, porque as pessoas nos criticam sempre a partir do momento que algo que já usamos vire moda. Se por acaso ofendi alguém, sinto muito, mas não se pode agradar a todos e blog é isto, é opinativa. Não escrevo matérias e sim artigos, e no jornalismo artigo seria “uma matéria opinativa”.

Bem, queria agradecer as pessoas que mantém este blog vivo, sei que sou muito ausente nos artigos, mas quando possível coloco vários dele para vocês.

Para alguns leitores em especial:

No artigo “Dicas para brincar com o garotão”, há um comentário: “hi,
- tens muitas fantasias ou és expert no negócio.

PS. As mulheres nasceram ensinadas pa essas coisas… já cá andavamos antes de vocês… perguntem à lua! Porque nos puseram algemas e negoceiam a nossa boceta como se fosse um diamante? Se keres toma…
Anda tanta patetice na cabeça (na de cima)… ke vos faz chuchar no dedo… parvos!

Ângela”

Bem em resposta a Ângela: Querida, não, não é fantasia, não sou “expert” mas acho que a vida ensina muita coisa agente e temos de partilhar algumas. Não estou tratando a vagina feminina como um diamante a ser leiloado, não use tradutores on-line, eles distorcem muitas palavras, inclusive, não compreendi metade do que disse. E o artigo era uma forma de lidar com coisas que podem nos ocorrer, como chupar um pênis grande ou um pequenino. Há quem não sabe, eu não sabia, mas aprendi.

· No artigo “Tabus – masturbação Feminina” há a seguinte pergunta:

“Oi, Realmente, a masturbação é ótimo. Aprendi novinha, tinhas uns 12 ou 14, mas fazia com o travesseiro. Aliás, Butterfly, esse vício da masturbação persiste ainda hoje?

Bjos

Jane”

Em resposta a Jane: Eu, ao contrario de ti, aprendi velhinha, aos 19 quase 20 anos, não sei se me fez falta ou não este período perdido, mas sei que é muito importante para nosso auto-conhecimento, sem a masturbação, como iríamos saber onde sentimos mais prazer. Realmente a masturbação é algo que pode viciar, mas ao contrario de uma serie de coisas que viciam, a masturbação é maravilhosa e você não deve sentir medo de se masturbar ou viciar, isto não irá prejudicar seu desempenho sexual. Mas não exagere, pois há brinquedinhos que podem machucá-la.

· Agora há um comentário que me chamou muitíssimo a atenção, é da Chris, no artigo sobre namoros problemáticos, Bipolaridade: “VC nem sabe o que é conviver com o medo de nubca ser suficiente o que estamos dando para quem amamos. Sem transtornos tb temos medo de ser abandonados por qualquer coisa. Qualquer motivo pode desencadear uma reaçaõ que não cosneguimos compreender. Dói para todos, quem tem e quem não tem. Vcs são maravilhosos, sedutores, cheios de “amor”, mas de ódio tb. Quando não têm o que querem, são capazer de mágoar, maltratar. A palavra é destrutivos. É possível amar para uma vida, não se pode vciver cobrando o tempo todo por medo do abandono. Não maltratem o amar. Amem!!!!!”

Para Chris: Querida, se precisar desabafar, estamos todos aqui. Estes problemas estão cada vez mais presentes no mundo, e você não é a única a passar por isso, eu sei bem o que escrevi e o que vivi, pois também sou bipolar e sei quantas chances de ser feliz eu já estraguei! Então se alguém aqui quer desabafar, precisar de apoio a isto, vamos unir forças. Meu perfil no orkut é este: http://www.orkut.com.br/Main#Profile.aspx?uid=4635033245541810095

Sim eu leio todos os comentários com muito carinho, até os ofensivos como o do Leonardo que comentei acima, mas não sou obrigada a aceita-los.

No orkut eu digo a mesma coisa, não estou lá para ser ofendida, então aceito quem bem entender. Se quer ser ouvido, se quer tirar duvidas ou algo mais, fique à vontade para falar.

Freak Butterfly.

*Foto: meu arquivo pessoal! (rs)

Abstract:

Few systematic studies have examined the reasons why patients with bipolar disorder and substance use disorders misuse alcohol and drugs of abuse. Such reasons may depend heavily on context so qualitative research methods that made no prior theoretical assumptions were employed. We explored the reasons patients give for misusing drugs and alcohol and how these relate to their illness course.

Patients based their patterns of and reasons for substance use on previous personal experiences rather than other sources of information. Reasons for substance use were idiosyncratic, and were both mood related and unrelated. Contextual factors such as mood, drug and social often modified the patient's personal experience of substance use. Five thematic categories emerged: experimenting in the early illness; living with serious mental illness; enjoying the effects of substances; feeling normal; and managing stress

Patterns of substance use and reasons for use are idiosyncratic to the individual and evolve through personal experience. Motivating the patient to change their substance use requires an understanding of their previous personal experience of substance use both in relation to the different phases of their bipolar disorder and their wider personal needs.

For the full-text of this article please email: susan.jennings@lancashirecare.nhs.uk

An Update:

Since dropping out of uni in April I have been working consistently as a nursing auxiliary until last week when I returned to my final year of university.

Just coasting along happily I was, on a sea of normality.  It was fucking amazing.  Apart from the occasional dip I felt so normal and remembered what it was like to have good days and bad days but to be able to take everything in my stride, smile and get on with things.  I loved ranting with my colleagues when shifts were rubbish and laughing and joking when they were good.  Or even laughing and joking when there was a high chance that someone would cry you'd been hit so many times and cleaned up more shit than a sewage worker with a broken machine.

And then..... I went back to uni.

My first day back, no joke, was like my first day at school all over again.  I felt so alone. It was strange walking into the building and not seeing the usual croud of people I spent the last 4 years hanging about with.  Instead I was faced with the face of a girl who hates me and a sea of faces with no names.  I went to the first class and sat next to some girls I had met briefly on a night out about a year previous, thankfully they decided to take me under their wing.

I have since went between being totally hyper to the current "why the fuck am I doing this all again?"  The thought of repeating the whole lot is stressing me out, having only superficial friendships (not that my previous ones were any better) is hard- I am sure they only hang out with me as they feel sorry for me.

First class the lecturer introduced the girl who had taken a year out and the new girl who moved up from England...she totally forgot about me and it took me waving at her for her to notice her mistake.  Easy mistake...aside from the fact she is my new tutor and was supposed to be working with me over the summer to make my reintegration as easy as possible, needless to say it wasn't the best of starts.

So I sit despairing in lecturers kicking myself for not doing better last year, for being pathetic and laying around when I should have been working my ass off and getting a degree like all of my classmates, I guess this is my punishment.

University isn't the only cause of this stress related rant.  You know those days when you get nothing but bad news and you think you couldnt find out anything worse but then you do.  It's been one of those weeks.

Firstly a friend got admitted to a mental health ward completely manic- we're not talking bouncy happy shiny people- more the conspiracy, suspicion, "I'm a voluntary worker", "I'm writing a book to get people their rights back".

The type where conversations run along the lines of:

ME: What are all the scribbles on the paper about.

FRIEND: I was drawing sound.

ME: Oh ok...how do you draw sound?

FRIEND: duh, like that.

Didn't I just feel like the cleverest person on the planet.  All very well but some of their conspiracy theories started to sink in and familiar thoughts about poison meds and people hating me have crept in again.  No I haven't stoppped taking the meds I promise.

Then my best friends friend (got that) someone I'd met a couple of times but didn't really know died.  (I dunno if it'll be classed as suicide or not but that's not really the issue.  The point is more my friend was totally cut up about it, to the point it made me sad.

The more upsetting thing was she had "recovered" from her eating disorder a year ago and was out living life to the full.

This puts two thoughts in my head:

1) How long do I have left to spend with my best friend? (it brings it home that death can happen at any time)

2)What's the point?  If I could drop dead tomorrow why am I striving to get some kind of normality back.  Maybe natural selection means I am supposed to die, either by suicide or other means.  Am I just fighting against fate?

Enough, enough.

Another friend tells me today that she has been in a psych unit for 3 weeks on constant obs, she didn't think to contact anyone.  She took an overdose with copious amounts of alcohol and slashed her wrists....shes 17....and to top it off (the major worry) shes 7 and 3/4 months pregnant.  That just made me enormously sad.  I knew things were tough and that her best friend had committed suicide about a month ago....she never came to me for support and I wish there had been something I could have done.  I am glad that she is going to be in hospital long after baby is born and I hope that the help she gets puts her back on her feet and that the baby will be the making of her...god knows the father is a worthless piece of shit so it's up to her.  Fingers crossed she can look after him.

I guess it's no wonder I cut myself on Saturday, the stupid thing is none of these problems are mine.  But they are.  I just can't sperate myself.  A girl fainted in Primark today and I froze...just stood and looked, there were other people around thankfully but I just froze.  I am so annoyed at myself.  I could have done something, ok it might not have been entirely useful but I should have done something.  It's been eating at me all day.

I'm just useless, people pretend to like me, I take on everyone elses issues and am just a wreck.

I can totally see why I am such a catch ;)

Ja. Svart. inte som natten just nu, men det är svart. Talade med mobila teamet idag. De besöker mig ju inte, utan ringer mig varje dag för att se hur det är. onödigt kan man tycka, men de flesta av dem har varit riktigt bra att göra med. Skulle dock ha svårt att tro att jag verkligen skulle ringa dem om jag fick ångest och vill skära mig.. De är liksom inte högst upp på min lista över folk jag ringer i sånna lägen.

Har funderat himla mycket kring det här med självskadande. Varför man gör det och vad det liksom beror på. För mig har det nog varit ett sätt att märka min kropp så att andra ska kunna sa direkt att jag har ont i själen och är sjuk inombords. Det finns ju liksom inga gips för ätstörningar eller så.. Ser någon mina armar eller ben så förstår de direkt att jag mår dåligt och behöver inte fråga. En del gör ju det ändå och blir shockade över att jag svarar som jag gör. "Jag har skurit mig." Men det är ju det jag har.. Finns ingen anledning att linda in det i något. Med tanke på hur illa det varit i höst ser det för j*ligt ut just nu, så det är långärmat eller armvärmare för att dölja det värsta.

Jag vet ju att det är onödigt och ett dumt sätt att hantera sin ångest på. Men det är ju inte riktigt bara ångesthantering för mig, det är helt enkelt ett sätt att varsko omgivningen på att det är skit. För jag visar det inte så mycket utåt. Är en mästare på att hålla masken. Frågar någon som inte tillhör den minimala klick människor jag orkar vara ärlig mot så får de bara ett "jotack bara bra..." Såvida jag inte är helt slutkörd, då kan till och med tele-försäljarna som ringer få sig en skopa ovett och ett "nej, det är förjävligt!" Enda fördelen med det är att jag slipper fler samal från dem.

ECT imorgon igen. usch. Vet hur risigt jag mår av narkosen... Hon som ringde mig idag från mobila teamet var riktigt bra. Vi pratade lite kring anledningen till att jag får så många och varför jag inte blivit tilldelad någon psykolog. Ska lyfta den frågan imorgon med den stackare som ska med mig ned till OP.. har lite funderingar kring min medicinering också. det känns inte helt 100 nu. vill ju få antingen risperdal eller ännu hellre abilify. Dessutom hjälper inte de ångestdämpande jag fått. Vill helst ha ett preparat som inte är benzo, men de är helt enkelt inte lika effektiva. slutsvamlat. måste skölja ur hårfärgen och ladda för morgondagen..

Bidragsyter: Virrvarr fra Revolusjonært roteloft

Mens jeg skriver dette, er jeg manisk. Fingrene mine skjelver over tastaturet. Jeg har løpt frem og tilbake til Bislet for å få kløen ut av kroppen. Det går ikke. Todo-listen min har blitt halvert det siste døgnet. Planen var at den skulle vare to uker. Med denne farten holder den to dager, max. Eller- to døgn. Adrenalinrushet har stjålet nattesøvnen min, men det gjør ingen ting. Jeg flyr oppover bakkene. Jeg kjenner ingen smerte. For to dager siden hatet jeg hver tekst på harddiscen min. Nå er jeg et geni.

Jeg ser fremtiden min lyse opp foran meg. Jeg skal gjøre store ting. Jeg er så flink og effektiv at jeg er helt uspiselig. Jeg vet det selv, jeg snakker langsommere og er mer beskjeden med vilje. Jeg modererer manien så lenge det er andre til stede. Så fort jeg er på todameshånd med meg selv, kniper jeg meg i å rope høyt, danse helt ubevisst og synge sanger jeg finner på underveis. Hjertet smeller mot ribbena mine. Blodet banker i tinningene. Jeg må skrive-tegne-male-danse-synge-sende meldinger til alle jeg kjenner-lage helt ny matrett-løpe-fikse. Nå.

Jeg er heldig. Jeg har cyclothymi - en lettere variant av bipolar med raskere humørsvigninger. Jeg er manisk to dager, ikke to måneder. Jeg er depressiv tre dager, ikke tre uker. Jeg ser på Steven Frys dokumentar om bipolarite og kjenner meg igjen, men får også perspektiver på hvor hardt sykdommen rammer andre. Ja, jeg har fasadeklatret seks etasjer uten sikring selv om jeg har motorisk feil og nedsatt balanseevne. Ja, jeg har skamklippet håret mitt i desperasjon og kastet opp på indre kommando. Ja, jeg har prøvd å gjøre det til et prosjekt å kopiere berømte personers selvmordsforsøk. Og likevel greier jeg å hente meg inn, fullføre innfallene mine og holde psykosene på avstand. Jeg bruker ikke for mye penger. Jeg har ikke tilfeldig sex. Jeg er rusfri. Jeg har fullført videregående og studert en del. Selv om det siste året har forsvunnet i psykologtimer og psykehusinnleggelser, ser jeg lys i enden av tunnelen. Jeg kommer ikke til å være sykdommen min hele livet.

«Helsepersonell som synes det er praktisk med klare, psykiatriske diagnoser» sier psykologen som utreder meg på psykehuset. «Har du en bestemt diagnose, kan de gi deg medisiner og vite hvor de har deg. Du går utenfor alle skjemaene, du er vanskelig å plassere. Det betyr at du må i psykoterapi, og at de ikke kan skrive ut medisiner uten videre. Du er et vanskelig tilfelle. Du er litt personlighetsforstyrret, litt bipolar, litt traumatisert og har litt angst. Drit de delene av diagnosen som ikke er nyttige for deg.» Jeg har fulgt rådet hennes. Jeg skriver humørdagbok, går i kognitiv terapi, holder en streng diett, trener, mediterer og lar være å gjøre ting som kan ha noen permanent innvirkning på livet mitt når jeg svever i toppen eller kræsjer i bunnen av skalaen. Jeg har litt kontroll og jobber for å få mer.

Det er mange rare holdninger til psykisk sykdom der ute. Jeg tror noe av problemet er at folk har vanskeligheter med å forholde seg til hjernen som et fysisk sted, at de ikke vil tenke på viljestyrke, personlighet, tanker og følelser som kjemi, men som ånd. Jeg sitter sammenkrøket i sengen og kjenner billene kravle på huden min, kjenner munnen og nesen fylles av blod og hører klokken på veggen indrodusere seg og vet at det er dopaminnivået i hjernen min som stiger som følge av lite søvn, lite mat og mye adrenalin. Jeg vet at psykosen er en kjemisk tilstand som går over. «Har jeg et sår i munnen? Nei. Blør jeg neseblod? Nei. Ok, da er det hjernen min som tuller.»

Jeg kan ikke ta meg sammen og slutte å være redd når jeg får et angstanfall. Selv om min redsel for en telefon som ringer virker absurd for utenforstående, vet jeg at følelsen kommer uavhengig av min rasjonelle tenkning. Signalet «telefon ringer» hopper glatt over den rasjonelle ytrehjernen min og går rett i amygdala, reptilhjernen som styrer følelser og instinkter. Amygdala sender beskjed om at kroppen min skal fylles med adrenalin. Det er ikke min feil. Det er hjernen som hopper over et ledd i tankeprosessen og gir meg en følelse som er usynkronisert med det som faktisk skjer rundt meg. Jeg kan ikke stoppe amygdala fra å handle, men jeg vet at adrenalinet løses opp i leveren etter 15 min om jeg ikke lar det rive meg av gårde. Jeg puster dypt og rolig til angsten går over av seg selv, plukker opp telefonen og ringer tilbake.

Hvis jeg skulle tenkt på meg selv som «gal, feig, engstelig, svak og udugelig» ville jeg hatt det mye verre med meg selv enn det jeg gjør når jeg tenker på meg selv som «person med tidvis for mye dopamin og adrenalin grunnet arv og miljø». Jeg tror folk trenger mer informasjon om hva psykiske lidelser er, og om hva hjernen vår er. Hjernen min er vant til å tenke «Virrvarr er verdiløs, alt er Virrvars feil» fra før jeg kunne snakke. Den tankebanen er en motorvei i hjernen min og er lettere å tenke automatisk fordi jeg kan den så godt. Den tankebanen er en fysisk, elektromagnetisk tilstand, ikke min fikse idé som kan byttes ut med en annen fiks idé. Det er ikke sjelen min. Det er ikke sinnet mitt. Det er ikke ånden min. Det er den fysiske, grå nerveklumpen som er pakket inn i fett og ser ut som havregrøt - hjernen min.

For å få en bedre forståelse av psyisk helse, må vi kvitte oss med den gammeldagse forestillingen om at følelser, tanker og impulser ikke er en del av kroppen vår. Det som har skjedd med meg i livet mitt har preget meg psykisk- og dermed også fysisk. Erindring er en fysisk reaksjon, det skjer innenfor huden min. «Etter voldtekten kunne jeg ikke bruke tampong en gang. Jeg var helt snurpet igjen.» forteller jeg psykologen. «Ikke så rart. Kroppen din husker hva som har skjedd med deg, selv om du ikke tenker på det hele tiden.»

Jeg tror skillet mellom kropp og sjel er skadelig for god forståelse av mental helse. Hvis psykiske problemer er relatert til personligheten min, er det mennesket Virrvarr det er noe i veien med. Jeg er halv, jeg er gal, jeg burde hatt mer viljestyrke, mer kontroll. Problemet er at Omega 3-fettsyrer hjelper bipolare mer enn det å skjerpe seg gjør. Hjernen trenger masse fiskefett for å holde seg humøret mer stabilt. Likevel betyr ikke det å se på psyke som en del av det fysiske at alt kan løses med medisin. For å fjerne den mentale motorveien alle tankene mine foretrekker å kjøre på, må jeg lage nye veier bevisst. Men ved å vite at hjernen min er formet av bipolare rusmisbrukere i arverekken før meg, at den dysfunksjonelle familien min, mobbingen og overgrepet har satt sine spor i hjernen min etter at jeg ble født gjør at skyldfølelsen knyttet til å ikke strekke til forsvinner. Det er et problem jeg må lære å leve med, ikke en karaktersvakhet.

Jeg ønsker meg mer biokjemi og hjerneforskning inn i skolen, jeg vil ha psykisk helse som en del av undervisningen. Jeg vil at det at jeg er bipolar er like merkerlig som at mannen min har astma. Ja, det preger hverdagen hans. Ja, det kan begrense ham. Ja, han kan få annfall. Ja, han må ta hensyn til det. Men ingen ser rart på ham. Ingen tror at han er «gal», ingen tror at han plutselig kommer til å falle overrende og puste som en pes. De vet at anfallene kommer når han har løpt langt uten medisin. Sånn er det med meg også. Stress + lite søvn + lite mat og vann = crazy Virrvarr.

Vel, dette var mine kloke innspill rundt mental-helse-problematikken. Mulig jeg modererer meg i morgen. Akkurat nå er jeg manisk, genial og overmenneskelig.

I have the day off today.  I don't really have any plans other than to spend time with M after he gets out of class.  I could say that I'm going to mow and do laundry, but the chances of that actually happening are slim.  I always find better, more exciting things to do!  So much for responsibility.  At least I am keeping up on my diary card.

I was supposed to be able to go to DBT FINALLY this week (my work schedule has sucked).  Now I can't go, because the girl that was going to work for me told me she no longer can.  What BS!  So now, I have to cancel DBT plus my haircut that was scheduled.  So, I'll just go around with shaggy hair and will have to settle for a brief phone therapy appointment with Goddess of Mindfulness instead of the three hours of therapy I should have had this week.  Ahh well.  At least all is going well...but it's really those time when it is going well that it seems I need it the most.

Mom and DHut had their bonfire party this past weekend.  It was a lot of fun, even though it made me realize just how much older everyone is getting (my parents' friends).  They all crapped out around 11:00 p.m. and Mom had to remind me that most of them were retired and getting older.  It's funny that, as you age, you lose track of time in a way, forgetting that the people around you are moving through time, as well.  Sometimes it still shocks me that I'm 27.  I'm not sure what I thought would happen, but it seemed like I would never get to this point and now I'm in my LATE TWENTIES.  ARGHHH.  Haha...just a joke!

I like the age I am now better than anything before.  Life keeps getting better by the moment.  I am learning day by day what I want to do with my life, my likes and dislikes, what I'm willing to tolerate and what is unacceptable, what makes me happy.  If only I had known all of this sooner, the last ten years would have been a lot better...but that's what life is all about -- growing and learning.  I think you can't really appreciate where you are if you don't acknowledge where you came from.  At least that's what I've found.

I have decided that maybe I am allergic to milk.  The skin on my face stays broken-out constantly and is sooo dry and itchy!  I'm not using any acne medication, because it just dries it out further, but am instead forever putting lotion on it (I read about doing that in a magazine).  I also switched face washes from something somewhat abrasive with "micro-beads" in it to a soothing aloe formula.  It seems to have helped some, along with staying off my cell phone all the time.

Speaking of cell phones...my plan switched yesterday.  I now have a landline that I am going to use the majority of the time, and am only going to have 600 anytime minutes (plus free nights/weekends) on the cell.  While that may seem like a lot, I talk a lot.  I mean...A LOT.  I am really hoping for this phlebotomist job because I think it will keep me off the phone more during the day.  It doesn't hurt that M works second shift, so that keeps me off the phone a lot for the most part, even though I miss him like crazy when he is not by my side.

Seems like I have fallen really hard for M in such a short time.  I'm not sure how to describe it, but it is like I have known him forever.  He's the nicest and most thoughtful guy I've ever met.  I think the fact that he's never really been screwed over by another woman makes him somewhat innocent and more giving with his love and time.  In other words, he's not been jaded by the hatred and games and drama that some women spew.  I hope, and am fairly certain, that I can keep that going and be good to him.  I know I want that.  And he deserves it.

Beatles, Blackbird -- see comments for lyrics

In an article, Dr. Candida Fink, who is an expert in pediatric bipolar disorder, states that treating the depression side of bipolar is a challenge. It goes without saying, that all too often prescribed anti-depressants either don't work or have undesirable side effects.

But new research shows that a substance manufactured by the human body could be a key factor in treatment of depression in bipolar disorder. This substance is called glutathione. Glutathione is a master antioxidant that rids the body of free radicals that damage cells. In the case of bipolar and depression, it seems as though these sufferers often have low blood glutathione levels. These low levels open the way for free radicals to do oxidative damage to brain cells responsible for "mood function".

"According to researchers who performed the study, individuals with both depression and bipolar disorder experience a glutathione deficiency. Glutathione is an antioxidant that protects cells from toxins." says Dr. Fink.

Dr. Michael Berk of The Mental Health Research Institute of Victoria of Victoria, Australia, led a team of scientists on a study of brain glutathione and its effectiveness on bipolar sufferers. In an article recently published with the research findings, Dr. Berk states, “Brain glutathione metabolism appears to be a valuable new treatment target for psychiatric disorders, and we hope the impressive results of this study open up a new treatment option.”

Ashley Bush, M.D., Ph.D., the article’s corresponding author, further explains: “Glutathione is the brain’s primary antioxidant defense, and there is evidence of increased oxidative stress in bipolar disorder."

The article goes on to relate how difficult it is to increase one's glutathione levels through oral supplementation. Study's show that on the average, folks using ingestion methods to increased the body's level of glutathione only increase their levels by 10%. This level is not in the range to be theraputic for most individuals.

However, one company has recently developed a way that users can increase their glutathione levels dramaticaly.

Using just a small non-transdermal patch, The Lifewave Company has discovered a safe and effective technology to tell the body to produce glutathione at levels that send the body into rejuvenation mode.

Because LifeWave technology is capable of triggering metabolic changes within the cells, their Glutathione Booster patch has been clinically shown to elevate your blood Glutathione levels by over a whopping 300% in just 24 hours!

A double blind placebo controlled study was performed to independently examine the effectiveness of the LifeWave Y-Age Glutathione patch in being able to elevate blood levels of Glutathione over a period of 24 hours and several days. Baseline data was collected for all subjects; the average Blood Glutathione levels for all individuals was an average of 2020 umole/L as displayed by the graph on the left ("Normal" value). After 24 hours of using the Glutathione patch, the average blood Glutathione levels of all individuals was 7326 umole/L. This means that within 24 hours of using the Glutathione patch the average increase in Glutathione is over 3 TIMES HIGHER than normal. The graph on the right shows how over a period of 24 hours blood Glutathione levels increase dramatically for LifeWave patch users versus not using the LifeWave Glutathione patch.

Present methods that attempt to elevate Glutathione levels are not very effective. Oral supplements of Glutathione are destroyed by stomach acids. Glutathione is a tri-peptide composed of three amino acids and adding these amino acids to the diet does not guarantee elevated levels of Glutathione. Injections of Glutathione does translate into elevated levels of Glutathione in the blood however this method is undesirable on a daily basis, is expensive and inconvenient.

The LifeWave Y-Age Glutathione patch is a new way to dramatically increase Glutathione levels in the body on a daily basis. Our clinical studies show that the AVERAGE increase in blood Glutathione levels over a 24 hour period is a remarkable 3 TIMES HIGHER than normal. Our patch technology makes elevating Glutathione levels convenient, effective and safe.

If you or someone you love suffers from bipolar disorder, this news about glutathione and its hopefulness to the disorder is monumental. For more information about the glutathione patch, visit glutathione patch. To view Dr. Berk's study summary, click here.

I thought I'd share some pretty pictures of the drugs I'm on.  The Cipralex (Lexapro) is new.  Funky side effects the last couple weeks that I'm hoping will end soon.  Nausa, weird swirly head feeling, anxiety actually much higher than usual.  And I'm weaning myself off of Lamictal.  Not sure it's the best thing, but the new psychiatrist thinks it's probably OK.  Can't remember things well, especially words I've always known (which for a writer is bad news).  So, increasing the Cipralex while decreasing Lamictal slowly.  And a roller coaster inside while all this is happening.  Jolly fun, this.

[caption id="attachment_7" align="alignright" width="300" caption="Blue are my eyes, my heart and my soull..."][/caption]

  I was ecouraged by a friend to start a bi-polar blog to help people understand the disorder better so this is my attempt at doing so. She was going to assist me but as a part of my disease I ran her off with my illness. It's complicated, just like everything in the life of BP  is. So this is my attempt at doing something that I really want to do and hopefully it can help me and maybe even someone out there too.

                                              -chris-

At least, that's the conclusion that my therapist has come to and I'm slowly coming to accept.  I'm not Bipolar I (the kind that go a leeeetle bit crazy) but it looks like I have "soft" bipolar disorder.  I thought I'd pretty much accepted that's what I had a couple of months ago, but when the doctor told me she was almost positive that was it, I started crying.  Seriously, it's genetic, you can see it all through my maternal line, which means if I ever get married and think about having kids, this is yet another thing for me to consider.  The bullet seems to have missed my brother (so far) but any spawn of mine are pretty much directly in line.

On one hand, it's kind of a relief to know that maybe my problems have a name.  Like, perhaps my negative self-image and thought processes have a reason behind them.  On the other, I have bipolar disorder!!! I mean, it's not going to go away, it's permanent.  And talk about social stigma!  I mentioned it to a friend before the diagnosis was firm and she nearly freaked out on me.  Granted, her cousin was murdered by her husband who had stopped taking his meds, but it was still a sharp reminder of the stereotypes and stigmas associated with any kind of "mental illness."  I talked to a very good friend of mine and one of her suggestions was (in nicer words) to shut my piehole.  I have the tendency to tell everybody most everything, but this isn't something the world needs to know about.  Which is going to be a battle and a half.  It complicates things with Mel, too, since I really shouldn't be doing any discussing while I'm in the middle of all of this.  I'm already wanting to maintain radio silence and I think maybe some time for me to stabilize could be a good idea before we go having a(nother) huge heart to heart.

I've never taken any sort of drug for depression in my life, ever, so this whole medication for bipolar thing is very scary!  What if my mood stabilizes into the version of me that I like the least?  What if we get my depression straightened out only to discover that I continue to be lazy and unmotivated?  Am I ever going to find someone who will be willing to look beyond the fact that I'm crazy?  Okay, okay, I know, not crazy, that is an unfair generalization to make about people with bipolar disorder, but that's how so many people view it (including me in the past) that it's a scary thing to consider having to tell someone I'm really interested in.

In the shut-yer-whiny-trap, I talked to my friend's husband, who suffered from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder and had hallucinations for three months before he finally told his wife, because he thought he might be going crazy.  We're talking honest to goodness, people standing at the foot of his bed or walking towards him and disappearing, hallucinations.  I honestly don't know what I would do if that happened to me.  Probably unhinge completely, truth be known.  But for now, another "great" adventure is unfolding before me, and maybe this time I actually will be able to discover myself.

However, (and as one of my favorite comedians says, "Nothing good comes after 'however.'") this weekend I pushed it to the limit.  And, now I know why I have put these limits on myself. 

I was Sunday School Superintendent before the Loony Bin.  I, obviously, had to give that up afterward.  I spent the first five months of the year attending the adult classes and having no responsibility.  I enjoyed that quite a bit, but I missed the kids.  I missed teaching.  Before motherhood, I was a 2nd grade teacher, and I just loved it.  I'm glad I quit to stay home and raise my own kids, but I love interacting with other children and teaching them.  So, Sunday School filled that need/desire in my life.  Then, this summer, I told the current superintendent that I would be glad to help plan VBS, and take a turn teaching Sunday School this summer.  That worked out great.  I really enjoyed it.  I then helped plan the fall classes and have been able to teach with one of my best friends.  Even more fun than the summer! 

Then, this Sunday, the superintendent was going to be gone, and asked me if I thought I could handle being in charge.  I thought, "Sure.  Why not?  We already know what we are going to do, and even though we will have all the classes together, it surely isn't a big deal."  BUZZZZZZZ.  Unfortunately, one of the games we were going to play was a much bigger deal than I expected.  My mindcould NOT figure out how to make it work.  (It was kind of like a cross between Pictionary and Telephone.)  My parents tried to help me, and we came up with a plan.  Then, last night I worked until midnight cutting paper, trying to come up with ideas for drawing, etc. 

My daughter and I got to church in plenty of time for me to explain to the assistants what we would be doing and how they could help.  I started the class by conducting a review of the past lessons.  That went pretty well.  Then, I passed off the class to another teacher who summarized her lessons as well.  So far so good.  Next, came "THE GAME."  It became a MUCH bigger deal than I even expected.  Kids not listening.  Adults becoming confused, even though I thought I had explained it to them.  Wow.  The part that my parents and I had figured out, totally went haywire.  Completely failed.  Mayhem ensued.  My brain was going nuts!  We had ten minutes left of class and absolute chaos. 

Finally, the adults helped and we got it all figured out.  The game ended as it was supposed to.  (Thank you, Lord Jesus!)  The kids thought it was fantastic, and one boy even understood why we played it in the first place.  HALLELUJAH!!!!  Anyone who doesn't believe God exists, wasn't in this class to see the miracle take place. 

That kind of thing could have happened to anyone, and I realize that.  The way I could tell I had taken it too far was at church, following Sunday School.  I play the drums for our service.  It is truly one of the highlights of my week.  I feel uplifted and that lasts well into the middle of the week.  Today, I just wasn't feeling it.  I played just fine.  My heart and body just weren't into it.    A couple of songs lifted me up, but then, I felt my insides just droop.  I started singing along (which I don't normally do.  I am not miked, so it really doesn't matter whether I do or not) and that helped a little.  I tried to focus, but I just couldn't.  I was completely exhausted.  Inside and out.

Karen and I were driving home, and she, of course, asked about eating out, and suggested McDonald's drive-thru.  I told her I was hungrier than that and would prefer a place that served breakfast.  She's not a big fan of breakfasts (gets that from her dad), so she was out of ideas.  I just didn't feel like trying to come up with a place, so I told her we'd just drive through McDonald's andI didn't get anything.  Just too tired.  (Don't worry.  I ate when I got home.  I know that eating is only second to sleeping as far as triggers go.)

I'm not down or anything now.  And, I was never down today.  Just tired.  Very tired.  I am really looking forward to tomorrow when I get my day off.  And, actually, I don't have any real responsibilities this week, so I am looking forward to that as well.

I think it is time to go and order a pizza.  Delivered.

Or does it? It is highly likely that Blair already knew that a relatively high proportion of MPs suffer with mental health difficulties and he was simply accepting of the fact. According to research, published on the Stand to Reason website, One in Five MPs experience mental ill health and are forced to hide their problems.....http://www.standtoreason.org.uk/goals

The report published on 16 July 2008 by Stand to Reason in conjunction with the All Party Parliamentary Group on Mental Health, with support from the Royal College of Psychiatrists, Mind and Rethink has shown that one in five MPs surveyed has experience of a mental health problem but fears disclosing this because of the stigma and discrimination associated with mental health issues.

An anonymous questionnaire completed by 94 MPs, 100 Lords and 151 parliamentary staff has revealed that:

- 19% of MPs had personal experience of a mental health problem (17% of Peers, 45% of staff)
- 94% had family or friends who have experienced a mental health problem
- 86% of MPs said their job was stressful
- 1 in 3 said work-based stigma and the expectation of a hostile reaction from the media and public prevented them from being open about mental health issues.

The report shows that despite significant numbers of people working in Parliament experiencing mental distress, over half of MPs did not think they had sufficient understanding of the Disability Discrimination Act to make reasonable adjustments for a staff member with mental health problems and only 17% had received any mental health awareness training.

President of the Royal College of Psychiatrists Dinesh Bhugra said: “Sadly, stigma is still widely prevalent. Mental illness comes in many forms across the age span, and is everyone’s business. Mental health and physical health cannot be parted. We applaud this effort to start talking more openly about mental illness. MPs occupy a privileged position in the public eye, and greater openness has the potential to lead to a better public understanding of mental health issues.”

I am strangely comforted by the high number of MPs who have or are suffering from mental health problems as it gives me hope that they may be prepared to challenge the legislation and case law governing custody issues where a parent suffers from a mental health problems as presumably, some of these MPs are parents themselves. If the legislation was handed over to them to change, where would they draw the line in terms of assessing someone's ability to parent? If changes to legislation were handed over to those within Parliament and the legislature who had direct experience of mental health, I wonder how they would chose to re-draft or re-frame some of the legislation governing mental health issues. If their own parenting was being scrutinised with the threat of their own children being taken away from them due to their mental health problems, would they seek to re-draft the legislation?

My guess is that they probably would. My next piece of research is going to be to try and find out some more about who these MPs are and whether or not they have children. I wonder how many of these MPs may have been diagnosed with Bipolar rather than depression. I think I shall attempt to find out the same with the Judiciary. However, I know that people with mental health problems are not permitted to be magistrates, so I now need to determine whether Judges can be Judges if they have mental health problems. If MPs have to step down having been sectioned, I wonder if the Judiciary have to too? If there are MPs and Judges who have retained custody of their children and yet suffer with a mental health problem, it begs the question of the test that is being applied to determine who is a "fit" parent and who isn't. I'm sure there must be some method in their madness.....I just need to establish what it is....

For the relevant articles, see the links below:

http://www.independent.co.uk/news/uk/politics/one-in-five-mps-suffers-from-stressrelated-mental-illness-868708.html

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/uk_politics/7508128.stm

The diabetes is going okay with the insulin. I had to actually drop it a little in the evening as I had a few 'low sugar' episodes, which are quite unsettling - particularly the one when I woke up in the middle of the night in a panic.

I have fewer HIV-related pills and capsules to take now (5 in the morning, 4 at night). At night I also take my insanity stabilizers which have been working well, too. There was one night of what I thought was hypomania but I managed to stay indoors and out of trouble.

Someone who hadn't seen me in a few months told me today he thought I had gained weight, indicating that I seemed to be showing a bit of a pot belly. The sad fact is, however, that I am so underweight my tummy only seems big compared to everywhere else. I'm trying to keep my sense of humour about it, comparing my physique with a praying mantas, especially when my woven pack-sack slumps down my back. I don't actually know if my weight is down or up or if, as it was at the last doctor's visit, I have simply stopped losing.

As the cooler weather creeps in I'm wishing I could store more food to insulate my bones. In addition to the occasional meal replacement drink I'm trying to bulk up with avocados and cashews. Other suggestions would be most welcome!

I did get a little manic buzz, joking, punning, quick and enthusiastic again. It was a little frightening to just pop back into my old self almost overnight, disorienting, like someone getting tossed through river rapids and rocks who suddenly finds herself washed up, and not only that, but that the river has turned mysteriously calm behind her, and she can't quite figure out what all the bruises and breathlessness came from.

I pray this isn't a fluke, that this drug will keep working. I'm thinking it's similar to the nortriptyline by how I feel, right down to the little twitch in my right eyelid. So similar, in fact, that I managed to already make my way to the medical library for a big specialist book on psychopharmacology and discover that nortriptyline does have some downstream dopaminergic activity. I guess that probably is why it works like Zyban on the smoking too. And that idea that a mood stabilizer alone is enough for bipolar is bullshit - I'm proof.

I almost even wanted to forgive the shrink. I certainly can't have been easy to deal with, and he's been doing it for a year.

I'm not fine yet, that's for sure, even though the improvement was so fast and so sudden that I almost felt forgiven by God. It doesn't fix my sleep like nortriptyline, and I'm rather jittery. But I'm me. My thoughts are back, the rage has calmed, and I don't just want to crawl into a ball and die. And little things which I only noticed afterwards. I spent the evening looking at volunteering in Ethiopia at an AIDS orphanage for when my contract is up. This doesn't seem like much, but it is the first time in a long, long time that I looked toward the future, thought of something - anything - that I might want to someday do.

Today a bad thing happened, which set me back quite a bit. I made a mistake at work and a patient did suffer some damage from it. I probably shouldn't write about it in this kind of public forum, for all kinds of reasons, not the least of which is legal. It was a dumb, procedural mistake/orders mix-up, something rather similar to this but without the happy, not-my-fault ending. One of those things that a safety systems investigation would shit over; I was in a new-to-me department and I've never in my life seen such a lack of a consistent system for orders. And there are some dumb-ass nurses who today came to pest me about ten times because I'd written an order for omeprazole 20 mg once a day, when for some reason they wanted it 10 mg twice a day ("once a day dosing," ya idiot, if you don't study pharmacology, don't you at least watch the commercials? It actually has some interesting pharmacokinetics, by the way, if you're into that). Yet a massive mistake like this, which was obviously NOT correct and they say nothing.

It wasn't only my fault - the mistake actually was written a few days ago, but I certainly continued it. And saw it - it wasn't like I didn't see the previous order.

I felt so horrible. It is a fragile patient anyway. I don't think any long term harm will come of it. I hope not. The guilt, however, is killing me. The other doc involved in the original order seemed to be able to walk out of there worry-free. But I was so upset I wanted to cry - of course, I'm still too depressed to really cry. I also, a bit, wanted to hang myself. So I guess I'm not better yet.

The other thing I wanted to say is thank you again to everyone who took the time to respond, to comment, to reassure me that I wasn't as crazy as I thought during all this time.

And then I thought of how unequipped I am to be a doctor, how I want out of this responsibility with all my heart, how, while I might be an academic freak genius, I'm not meant to carry this burden. I don't want this kind of responsibility, and authority over other people, telling them what to do, doesn't suit me at all. The doc who initiated the mistake is great at bossing people around nicely. I just can't do it. Even if I think it's best for them, when people challenge me, which happens often because I utterly lack the self-assurance and cockiness of so many docs, I'm no good at answering, because I just ultimately believe they should do whatever they want. I offer an opinion and that's it, take it or leave it. But that's not really what practicing medicine is about. And that's something they never tell you in medical school.