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Welcome to Bipolar Support. Org

The purpose of this web site is to provide information about bipolar disorder and to offer support, not only to those affected, but their family, loved ones and friends. This web site is operated by just these kinds of people. We are not licensed psychiatrists, psychologists or mental health counselors, but a community of people who want to share experiences and hope. All posts and comments in this website are personal opinions and should not be substituted for therapy or other professional mental health counseling. Browse through our Directory to the left to find more details about us, bipolar disorder and resources we offer, such as recommended books, links to find help near you, as well as supportive forums and chat rooms. There's even a place to keep a private journal and a free mood chart in our downloads section. We welcome you to join our community and hope you find it informative and comforting.

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  Serious Advice Needed from A Very Desperate BPI
0 Lester 7   04/23/2014 at 00:20 
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9 Freyja 190   04/22/2014 at 23:40 
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  Effexor anyone?
4 redgirl 102   04/22/2014 at 00:29 
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 In The News....
  Study finds link between inspiration and bipolar
5 lawrence82 81   04/21/2014 at 22:49 
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  New to the forum, and newly diagnosed (possible triggers).
6 cutting-moons 176   04/21/2014 at 15:14 
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Bipolar Disorder News

·A new intervention to improve well-being in people with psychiatric disorders
·The physiological processes underlying hereditary trauma
·Earliest roots of psychiatric disorders are likely exposure to environmental stressors during pregnancy
·Inspiration linked to bipolar disorder risk
·First stem cell model for bipolar disorder could lead to new treatments
·Mood-stabilizing drug could reduce risk of head and neck cancer
·A step closer to improving safety, effectiveness of lithium therapy
·Searching for the foundations of manic-depressive disorder
·Researchers discover two new genetic regions for bipolar disorder
·Challenges faced during and after pregnancy for women with bipolar disorder

read more...

 Shake's Bio
     
Personal bipolar disorder Stories
Posted by Mocha on Tuesday, June 08 @ 07:08:57 CDT


Winston Churchill once said that if you want your history written right you’d better write it yourself.  So here I am, writing the closest thing to a memoir I will probably ever produce, mostly because I can’t even be sure if certain events in my life really happened, or happened the way I think they did, or if certain things transpired that I wasn’t even aware of.  So, here is the best I can do.


I was born to a poor family in 1979.  My mother was only seventeen, and my father, who grew up in Mexico, was only twenty.  My mother has battled depression all her life, and my Dad has almost always been a hardcore alcoholic.  I was within a hair’s breadth of being aborted, but my mother changed my mind at the last minute.

 We barely scraped by and were even homeless at one point, until my father got a well-paying job when I was about eight years old.  At this time I was already in the GATE (Gifted and talented education) program, and I was a model student until about the age of twelve.  For reasons I can’t remember or perhaps never knew, I became very alienated and depressed a good deal of the time. I started getting an inferiority  complex due to my upper-middle classmates. It was here that I was prescribed Prozac, which mitigated the depression but seemed to have strange, even violent side effects.  I became very rebellious, talking back to teachers, instigating fights.  I would write Satanic symbols on my arms, I once wrote the word “Death” on my folder in my own blood.  I did not have a girlfriend until the end of my junior year.  The relationship only lasted a few months, I broke up with her
because I felt I needed my space. She was talking about marriage and kids; it was too much too soon.  I was turned 180 degrees from this when my parents divorced.  I tried to get her back to no avail, and it hurt.  At one point it got so bad that I threw up in the lunchroom.


Not long after I graduated I drifted into alcohol and drug abuse. At first it was just beer and then it went to whiskey, weed, cocaine, meth, acid, pretty much everything short of heroin and PCP.  My friends and I were like those guys In Trainspotting, we partied as much as we could, and hated white middle-class normalcy.


In July of 1999 my uncle offered me a job at an Internet software company.  I worked there for a year, probably the best year of my life.  I was on salary and still had enough time to party on the weekends.  I even met and fell in love with an amazing Indian girl,  But she was about to enter an arranged marriage so the relationship was basically doomed from the start.


 It was about this time that things really began to unravel. I started drinking more and more, often alone,  I would work for a few weeks and then quit, I wrecked a couple of cars and got into fights, and eventually, I found myself homeless.  The only way out I could see was joining the military.  I enlisted in the Air Force, mostly because my dad was
in the Air Force (until he got into a drunken fight with some MPs and was discharged) But I simply could not make the transition. I had become accustomed to do whatever I wanted whenever I wanted.  So I told them that I used to take Prozac, was given a  Separation, and returned to my hometown, homeless again.  This part of my life is still hazy to me, I know that I drank and drugged a lot and had trouble keeping a job. I had my first manic episode while I was in Job Corps.  This was in 2002 and I was Diagnosed with Bipolar I for the first time.


    
Then I reverted to form, went on a two week drunk in Reno, sleeping in an  abandoned car.  I eventually moved in with my mother, started going to AA meetings and fought depression and the increasing number of mixed episodes I was having. In 2004 I got a job as a janitor at a hospital, and it was at this time that I had the most hellacious manic episode I had ever experienced.  I would go into detail about it but to do so would take up far too much space, Suffice to say it was a very, very intense time in my life and several times I barely escaped with my life.  I was hospitalized twice.


The second time my mother now says that I ran into oncoming traffic but I have no memory of this.

 
I then went back to school, living with my Dad, and for a full year the BP was in remission, until my Dad and I got into yet another fight.  In this one he gave me a bloody nose, and as the blood ran down my face into my mouth I would spit it right back at him.  I ran away, homeless again.  I lived in a group home for a few weeks, then a rehab center for about a month, and after that in a homeless shelter.  Needing a place to live, I moved in with my mom in North Carolina, and that pretty much takes us up to the present.


Yet again, I am starting over, but this time I know myself better, know my limitations, my values, my vocation.  I have a plan:  I’m going to save money for the next two years, while concurrently learning Spanish, and move to San Diego, where I have family who might be able to get me a good job.  Regardless, I will continue writing my novels, poems, and essays with an eye toward publication.  I do not have much in the way of material things to show for these past thirty years, my fortune is on the inside, along with the scars that have finally healed.



(Read More... | 11 comments | Score: 4.71)
 BLESSED with BIPOLAR
     
Personal bipolar disorder Stories
Posted by Gruvhip on Tuesday, October 06 @ 21:37:34 CDT


YaZhynka writes: (Excerpt from my recently published book, BLESSED WITH BIPOLAR. www.bipolarman.org)

      I cracked up - for the first time - on June 4, 1988, three weeks short of completing my Masters degree in Psychology. Some would say I had a nervous breakdown. The psych ward doctors said it was major depression. I say that I saw just how evil my sin is in the eyes of God and it scared the hell out of me.

      I cracked up, broke down, and de-pressed. I cobbled together some mad reality and blew a fuse. I despaired, decompensated, detached, and derailed. I lost my mind, never to be the same again. Thanks be to God! Praise to You, Lord Jesus Christ!

      One year later, during my second tour of duty as a psych ward in-patient, i completed my Masters degree in Psychology, taking my final class on three hour passes from the hospital. I woke up in the psych ward, went to class at Duquesne University in Pittsburgh, and returned to the hospital for the rest of the day - and night. Now that's bipolar! Psych grad-student by day. Psych ward patient by night. Two weeks prior to completing my degree, I kicked, thrashed, wrestled, clawed, and bit - literally - to keep from being restrained. I ended up strapped to a bed with a thorazine needle in my arm.

      On February 2, 1980, I signed a letter of intent to attend Georgia Tech on a football scholarship. Six months later I left Atlanta, never to return.

      I did not know it until years later, but I was steeped in depression from the time I checked in at Field dormitory for Georgia Tech's training camp until the day I boarded a red-eye flight back home. I was sad, scared, guilt-ridden, and disconcerted, all while trying to compete at a level of football bigger, faster, stronger, and more complex than any I had ever played.

      The anguish over the decision to leave Georgia Tech did not get resolved for twenty years. It hurt. I had busted my butt since I was twelve years-old to earn that scholarship. but without treatment, without some understanding of the disorder that I did not then know I had, leaving, drinking, and/or cracking up were my only options. Toughing it out would have resulted in all three.

     Did I make the best choice by leaving Georgia Tech? Maybe not. A full-blown crack-up in 1980 might have speeded my recovery. It was going to happen sooner or later. Leaving Georgia Tech may have simply delayed my inevitable and necessary crack-up by eight years to the aforementioned 1988 hospitalization.

     So why did I leave? Why did I throw away the profound opportunity of a full football scholarship? Why did I give up on my boyhood dream just as it was being realized?

     Fear. No, not fear of college football or Georgia Tech or the streets of Atlanta. I was afraid, in 1980, to go face-to-face with myself - alone. I was afraid to deal then with the sin God moved me to confront in a psych ward eight years later.

      In December 1999, I was granted a full-tuition, merit-based scholarship to attend St. Thomas University School of Law in Miami, Florida. On March 23, 2001 I was immediately expelled without a hearing, without due process, and without notice of any charges against me. It happened within hours of the Dean of the law school learning that I have bipolar disorder.

      St. Thomas University claimed to have received allegations that I had made threats against the school. I had not and never did.

       Further, when I later represented myself in my federal lawsuit against St. Thomas, there was no one to come forward to say that they had heard me make the alleged threats against the school. In fact, the woman whom I expected to be the school's star witness against me filed an affidavit staing that I had never made any threats and that she never alleged that I had made any threats. I lost anyway. I was a resident of Pennsylvania suing a Florida law school in a Florida Court.

       I have looked at the above events, cried, cussed, and called it all a nightmare. A tale of wasted potential and opportunities blown to pieces. It is now a tale of God working in all things for the good of those who love Him (Romans 8:28); a tale of amazing blessing in the extremes. Blessings - all of it! The dizzy joy, the mad energy, the intensity in everything and the depression, despair, anger, failure, and lost opportunities. All of it - Blessing.



(Read More... | 4943 bytes more | 4 comments | Score: 5)
 Bipolar Adults at Increased Risk for Cardiovascular Disease
     
Dissorders Associated With Bipolar
Posted by Gruvhip on Friday, September 11 @ 12:49:52 CDT


TORONTO, ONTARIO, MEDIA ADVISORY--(Marketwire - Sept. 10, 2009) - A new study suggests that adults with bipolar I disorder are at increased risk of developing heart disease and hypertension than those without the disorder.

Led by Dr. Benjamin Goldstein, Psychiatrist and Academic Lead in the youth division of Sunnybrook's department of psychiatry, a team of researchers examined data from the 2001-2002 National Epidemiologic Survey on Alcohol and Related Conditions, conducted in the United States. The results of the study were published August 11 online in the journal of Bipolar Disorders. After adjusting for age, race and gender, the team found that adults with bipolar I disorder had a 4.95 times higher prevalence of cardiovascular disease than those without the disorder. The bipolar I disorder patients were also more likely to have hypertension than those without the disorder.

"We know that adults with bipolar disorder have a markedly reduced life expectancy which is due primarily to a high prevalence of premature cardiovascular disease," says Dr. Goldstein, who is also an Assistant Professor of psychiatry at the University of Toronto. "Our study took a closer look at the association between cardiovascular diseases and bipolar I disorder. We believe our findings have important implications for the way we assess and monitor youth with bipolar disorder."

Sunnybrook researchers examined data collected on 1441 patients with bipolar I disorder, 6831 patients with major depressive disorder (MDD), and 34,851 controls without either disorder. The team discovered that cardiovascular patients with bipolar I disorder were approximately 14 years younger than cardiovascular disease patient without the disorder and six years younger than those with MDD. Hypertension patients with bipolar I disorder were approximately 13 years younger than hypertension patients without the disorder and six-and-a-half years younger than hypertension patients with MDD. Results remained significant after further adjusting for education, income, marital status, obesity, anxiety, smoking and substance use.

"Our findings underscore the need for a more integrated care intervention model - one in which the psychiatric and medical health of a patient are considered simultaneously," says Dr. Goldstein. "We should be monitoring youth with bi-polar disorders for cardiovascular disease so we can intervene before cardiovascular disease develops and treat conditions before they lead to more serious consequences. This may serve to increase life expectancy and improve quality of life for people with bipolar disorders."

The findings of the study will inspire Dr. Goldstein's ongoing work in youth psychiatry at Sunnybrook as he examines ways to prevent youth with bipolar disorder from developing the cardiac issues that so often lead to their decreased life expectancy.



(Read More... | Score: 5)
 Samplings From The Bipolar Party Platter
     
Posted by gruvhip on Wednesday, July 22 @ 16:24:19 CDT


Fighting against bipolar disorder is like playing a terminal game of Whack-a-Mole. You smash one symptom and another takes its place just to the side. Even that result is only if your hammer (meds) has any effect whatsoever. There are more ways to treat this than with medicine but that is the traditionally accepted route to go as the fight begins. It’s the path most choose or are even aware of.

I offer a different path and the scenery is better as you travel it. But for now, let’s just see what some of the symptoms and life situations look like on Planet Bipolar.

- Mood swings. Key symptom of course, from which the name is derived. Basically, you’re up, down and all over the place emotionally. The extreme highs of mania are offset by the crushing lows of depression. One moment you are the undefeatable champion of your realm. The next, you are so filled with despair that suicide is not far from happening. It begins to sound like just the ticket for what ails you. The mania can return almost instantly. Back and forth, back and forth you go.

It’s anybody’s guess as to when you wake up each day whether you’ll be on the mountain or down in the valley. It hardly matters. It will probably change throughout the day too. This illness goes through cycles that hold to no one rule. You can be stuck on one side for a great length of time. You may evenly experience both through cycles measured in years, months, days, hours or minutes.

It’s a nightmare the unafflicted can never truly understand. You literally lose your identity or drastically change it at a frequent rate. You are a different person at different times. You lose track of who you even are. Worse, whoever you think you are it usually doesn’t feel like a good person. You begin to not know yourself. Friends and family begin to not recognize you either. You are no longer who you were before this disease kicked in full force and nobody really cares for the new guy/girl you have become.

Through the course of my illness my cycles morphed many times. The doctors have a classification and title for each variation of how fast you bounce back and forth or if you get stuck on one side for any length of time. To me it didn’t matter. The type of pills I got didn’t even matter as over time, I was prescribed dozens and dozens of any pill that might apply. Didn’t really seem to matter what type of bipolar I was. We just kept trying new pills as we steadily verified, the doctor and I, that nothing seemed to be working.

- Failed relationships. This applies to any and all in your life. When you’re deep in the bipolar game very few companions can hang on for long. This is a very, very hard illness to deal with as a witnessing partner. The emotional popcorn machine that is the friend or loved one you once knew is too complex and too far gone for you to do anything with.

This applies to the boss, your significant other, close friends, coworkers, everybody. Nobody knows what to do for you and neither can they tolerate you after awhile. My attitude and quirks got me fired a few times. I lost friends who no longer knew what to make of me or I bothered them too much to keep the friendship healthy. I flat out scared many coworkers as my moods tended to lean more towards violent behavior. And my two marriages evaporated in front of the blast furnace of bipolar.

I needed those jobs. I cared for and depended on those friends. And I lamented the losing of both my wives like I’d lost limbs. The pain of divorce proved for me to be a type of despair I doubt I’ll ever do justice with words. But looking back, I totally understand why each relationship broke. I blame no one. Not even myself. That is important. Don’t blame yourself for these things should they happen if you’re bipolar. You are no longer the right you.

- Hate “The Normals”. It becomes too painful to be you and despair is so ever present that you begin to hate the normal people. They seemingly have no troubles and are capable of enjoying the simple things in life that are no longer accessible to you. Each next step, next thought, next decision no matter how small, next breath sometimes, is agony for you or too difficult to comprehend how to even begin to make happen. You want desperately to be able to go about your day with the ease and delight all around you seem capable of.

You remember how you once were able and it feels like a dream or a memory of a movie you watched someone else perform in. You mourn the loss of simply being happy and calm. This then fine tunes your perception of all the things you no longer have. Everywhere you look you see people laughing with friends; sharing tender moments with a significant other; shopping stress free; being ok in a crowd or a theater; any and all of the human interactions.

These things are as off limits to you as if you were in a prison looking through a fence. You can’t do it. You have been cut free from society and life and you can’t see how to change that. This hurts beyond belief.

I was or felt everything you’ve read above. No longer. Life is good to great most days. Even when it’s bad I roll with it much better than before. I just had to figure some things out. Come find me and I’ll share those things with you.

Author's Bio
Bipolar Disorder and Depression are becoming worldwide epidemics. Ken Jensen, author of the book "It Takes Guts To Be Me: How An Ex-Marine Beat Bipolar Disorder" is an ex-Marine Gulf War vet who fought and beat both, as well as numerous addictions. The book can be found on his website www.ItTakesGutsToBeMe.com and there is a link to his blog where he shares much more.

His life has been full of intense experiences, both in and out of the Marines. He has been a patient detained in a lockdown ward, arrested multiple times, and involved in brawls with both civilians and the police. He has even been clinically dead, twice.

He has also worked within the mental health care system where he was forced to physically restrain people just like him. He watched dozens rotate endlessly, in and out of the psychiatric-care network, never getting better. Some actually died due to physical health illnesses associated with their mental troubles and some died from suicide. He feared becoming one of these people.

Doctors gave him over one hundred prescriptions across a six-year span to help him get well but ultimately, failed to do so. His mind continuously got worse and his physical health soon followed. Because of this stunning lack of progress and an ever-growing fear of a horrible death, he was forced to find help outside traditional sources. He developed his own all-natural system just to survive. It worked fantastically well. Now he shares it with you.


(Read More... | Score: 4.37)
 ''Scared'' by Hal
     
Basic Information
Posted by Mocha on Monday, August 04 @ 01:40:36 CDT


One of the things that's visible here is the way people support one another. It drew me here and made me want to participate, and I did. But after a few weeks, I got scared. I had been participating, but now I couldn't figure out what to say. I don't know how many posts I started and never sent. I wanted to respond, but couldn't; wanted to write about my own feelings and couldn't put the words together, except maybe very briefly and noncommitally.

Part of it, I think was that I came to realize the depth of suffering and the very hard lives of many people here. Especially the age 15-21 thread: I wanted to say these were OK years for me, but I was ashamed because they were so difficult for many others. And the thread was scary to me too, too. I don't know if you scared me (how?) or if I was scared of something in myself (what?). Maybe it was some kind of trigger. It just made me very uneasy. I felt out of place and I backed off. Didn't read the whole thread.

But I kept on reading, every day. I felt detached but compelled. I think I knew I would come back but didn't know how. Then I saw stricco's funny e-mail responses and I knew I could come back through humor. And maybe I could write this, and send it.

A problem of mine is not trusting and I never talk about how much I need to be able to do so. Its not trust in general, like, Will he keep his word? That can be an issue, but its not a problem unless it doesn't happen. Its this: trusting that someone cares for me, and keeps caring. I can hardly believe that its really possible. I don't think I understand or can feel caring, my own or that of others, very well. So through my life I've always tried to impress people with what I do, what I accomplish, thinking then they won't notice what I really am. And I've been mostly successful at work and elsewhere. But it was never enough; I always needed more affirmation; I couldn't look back; I couldn't trust that it was real, that there was really a caring or loving connection between me and those others. It all mostly seemed, and probably was, superficial.

I've told you about my mania a few months ago, which rather suddenly turned into depression in early April. The pdoc and I are having a lot more trouble finding the right med cocktail than ever before. A difference in my life now is that I'm retired and don't have as much opportunity to do that described in the previous paragraph.

So I've been mostly depressed with some better days, including a few days this week. But today the bottom dropped out again, and I was more miserable than ever, all the more so because I had been feeling better. So I cried and cried and cried.

My wife S and I have been married 36 years. She's been through all this bp crap with me. She's not the most patient person in the world, and she can be very critical, but she's never criticized me for my bp symptoms, even though they have been extremely difficult for her to cope with at times, as you all know. Especially the manic symptoms, which I usually didn't recognize because they rarely got in the way of the (outside) achievements and accomplishments I was aiming for. Oh, I don't like thinking of the way I behaved!!! because I was so blind to it then. I would run to the pdoc when I felt depressed. The rest of the time I would say I felt fine. If I looked manic, he didn't say. But what can you see in 10 minutes every month or three? I liked him I was getting what I wanted what's not to like? Oh BTW I didn't have any tdoc. Just the meds. And my wife. And, the past few years, a spiritual director.

During this time of depression I've thought a lot about all that S has put up with, and all she's done for me apart from the chaos of my bp, how I've been self-absorbed and career-oriented, how I haven't helped out that much, how much, for example, she’s made our home what it is and I’ve been lazy even on the traditional male fix-up projects so that she’s often done them. What a drag I must be. I do so little. I certainly do need her, but what does she need me for?

So I was saying something like that today through my tears, and I said I loved her, and she said me too, like she always does, and I said how can you love me when you do so much and I do so little, and she said she loves me not for what I do or don’t do but for who I am, and I think maybe for the first time, because she’s said it before, I believed it. I trusted her. I can do it, at least once. She cares for who I am, an “I  that I swear to God I want to find and enjoy being. My true self….

My true self, the one God created, not the false self I run around showing to everybody, including myself. The one that always just is. Be here now. A phrase I’ve been contemplating for many years. Hard to do (duh!). Doesn’t answer to the how-to question like most everything else in the world, the world in which I succeeded but which didn’t care for me. Or maybe, more likely, I didn’t care for it, I was just in the game for the recognition…. God, I hate to face up to this self. It seems fundamentally dishonest. But it’s how I got along. And it certainly wasn’t dishonorable, as the world goes. Maybe even it’s the rule.

My dad was messed up and he couldn’t give me the attention and love I needed from him as a child. When I was 16, we moved to another state and I had to remake my life. A big part of it was rejection of my father (I was ashamed of him) and subsituting the elders in a male-dominated, authoritarian church whom I could easily please by making myself into the model boy/young man. The big deal was to go on a church mission where I promptly showed bp behavior, though nobody, least of all me, recognized it as such. Hey, this was 1961-63! Midway some probably obnoxious manic behavior was interpreted by the mission president and others as a challenge to the line of authority and I got called on it. I was devastated: the way I had bought into the system, this was the absolute last thing I wanted to do. Everything depended on knowing my place, but also (privately) on working my way up, excelling and gaining recognition, and that was what I had known about consciously (if secretly). After I was confronted, I went into a depression but recovered soon enough and finished my mission. But then I knew I had a problem with authority and was able, in my mid-20s, to finally work it out in my mind and break with that particular church.

Writing this has brought me a thought. Maybe this is what scared me about your age 15-21 lives, messed up as many of them were. I was horrified, but I don’t think I’m a selfless person whose concern was mainly for you. My life was messed up too, but I covered it up with this conventionally “good  behavior. It got me a long ways, well into my 20s, anyhow. I was lost for awhile, but had some support, and always did well in school. I thought I would fit in on the opposite side of the desk at a university, but when I got there it was m/d x 5 years over the stress of classroom teaching. I had thought it would be the profession made for me. Graduate school had been so lovely. I resigned from the university. One reason I could is because I had S to carry me through. No more serious depressions for a while, but mania or at least hypomania, looking back. I don’t know how she did it. Loyalty runs in her family.

So I can see somewhat of a connection there to my being scared here a couple of weeks ago. Now I have been able to write this. I feel better, and better being here. Maybe this isn’t even the first time you’ve heard this sort of story. I’m writing it for my own sake, but posting it because I want to trust… to actually experience your caring and return it to you.

One of the things that''s visible here is the way people support one another. It drew me here and made me want to participate, and I did. But after a few weeks, I got scared. I had been participating, but now I couldn''t figure out what to say. I don''t know how many posts I started and never sent. I wanted to respond, but couldn''t; wanted to write about my own feelings and couldn''t put the words together, except maybe very briefly and noncommitally.

Part of it, I think was that I came to realize the depth of suffering and the very hard lives of many people here. Especially the age 15-21 thread: I wanted to say these were OK years for me, but I was ashamed because they were so difficult for many others. And the thread was scary to me too, too. I don''t know if you scared me (how?) or if I was scared of something in myself (what?). Maybe it was some kind of trigger. It just made me very uneasy. I felt out of place and I backed off. Didn’t read the whole thread.

But I kept on reading, every day. I felt detached but compelled. I think I knew I would come back but didn’t know how. Then I saw stricco’s funny e-mail responses and I knew I could come back through humor. And maybe I could write this, and send it.

I’ve told you about my mania a few months ago, which rather suddenly turned into depression in early April. The pdoc and I are having a lot more trouble finding the right med cocktail than ever before. A difference in my life now is that I’m retired and don’t have as much opportunity to do that described in the previous paragraph.

So I’ve been mostly depressed with some better days, including a few days this week. But today the bottom dropped out again, and I was more miserable than ever, all the more so because I had been feeling better. So I cried and cried and cried.

Oh, I don’t like thinking of the way I behaved!!! because I was so blind to it then. I would run to the pdoc when I felt depressed. The rest of the time I would say I felt fine. If I looked manic, he didn’t say. But what can you see in 10 minutes every month or three? I liked him… I was getting what I wanted… what’s not to like? Oh BTW I didn’t have any tdoc. Just the meds. And my wife. And, the past few years, a spiritual director.

So I was saying something like that today through my tears, and I said I loved her, and she said me too, like she always does, and I said how can you love me when you do so much and I do so little, and she said she loves me not for what I do or don’t do but for who I am, and I think maybe for the first time, because she’s said it before, I believed it. I trusted her. I can do it, at least once. She cares for who I am, an “I  that I swear to God I want to find and enjoy being. My true self….

Writing this has brought me a thought. Maybe this is what scared me about your age 15-21 lives, messed up as many of them were. I was horrified, but I don’t think I’m a selfless person whose concern was mainly for you. My life was messed up too, but I covered it up with this conventionally “good  behavior. It got me a long ways, well into my 20s, anyhow. I was lost for awhile, but had some support, and always did well in school. I thought I would fit in on the opposite side of the desk at a university, but when I got there it was m/d x 5 years over the stress of classroom teaching. I had thought it would be the profession made for me. Graduate school had been so lovely. I resigned from the university. One reason I could is because I had S to carry me through. No more serious depressions for a while, but mania or at least hypomania, looking back. I don’t know how she did it. Loyalty runs in her family.

So I can see somewhat of a connection there to my being scared here a couple of weeks ago. Now I have been able to write this. I feel better, and better being here. Maybe this isn’t even the first time you’ve heard this sort of story. I’m writing it for my own sake, but posting it because I want to trust… to actually experience your caring and return it to you.

Written Jul 08, 2006



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