The past couple of days have been me reading, educating myself, about this genetic deformity in my brain. It is a relief in some sense that it has medical reasoning behind it and I am not making it up or alone in the matter...but at the same time it is absolutely devastating to read things and see examples of these horrific truths. These truths are things I never dreamed of.
Bipolar never is cured with or without meds, only regulated WTF? Never knew that. Some of my behavior is psychotic? WTF? That that was just part of who I am...psychotic??! As I read down a legit check list of symptoms and the categories that come along with them...I start checking the things i experience and suddenly down the page i see nothing but black check marks?! Am I really this bad, this far gone, this CRAZY?!
Okay, so I read for two days finished a book, started another....then I decided to write my letter for my pdoc, an assignment he gave my first session. He wanted me to list my symptoms, how they make me feel, and examples. Yes, please doctor send me into a whirlwind of emotions....anyway i start to go back to that checklist write them on paper...and think back on my life recent and long ago...and well damn I have a story for all of them...how do I write this on paper? All of it??! How do i even express some of this shit? Will he even read this all the way through? So it began...
Dr.X,
You asked that I write my symptoms and how they make me feel. I took this assignment seriously. I have read articles, blogs, and books about my disorder. I compared my symptoms to what I read, and I came up with a list. Of course, some of my experiences with these symptoms do differ from the ones i have read in the book. I talked a lot of this over with my husband to be sure I listed every possible ailment I experience.
Since I was young I have always been criticized for not being "normal". I was teased and bullied, not only by classmates, but friends and close family. MY anxiety, fears, paranoia, emotional swings, loud outbursts of yelling, crazy laughter for no reason, and struggle to concentrate, were all contributors to this relentless teasing, scolding, and comprehension in my young life.
As I have gotten older these symptoms increased, as well as multiplied into more complex and different symptoms than before. The symptoms that have developed more slowly and later in my life are as follows: all of the above listed plus...extreme sexuality (masturbation and premature sexual commitment in new relationships, including cheating or cheating thoughts etc.), inability to finish projects for school (including reading), hypochondria, overwhelming feelings, "strange" thoughts and ideas, delusions, night terrors that result in waking hallucinations that can last anywhere from 10 seconds to 10 minutes, self mutilation, physically abusive behavior towards family, friends, and my spouse, wreck less driving (induced by rage, sadness, or excitement), suicidal thoughts, ideas, and planned attempts, outrageous spending (maxing credit cards), rash decision making, racing thoughts, clouded thoughts including confusion, sleepless nights or excessive sleeping, pessimism, hopelessness, sadness, crying outbursts, screaming fits, lack of interest, lethargy, urges to annoy people- to a compulsion (singing, calling repeatedly even at odd hours, making obnoxious noises and animal sounds, pinching, poking, etc) to the point where i literally am in pain if i dont do these things, lack of interest in anything ( now to the point where i have almost no interests or hobbies)..........
I then stop...look at my husband and fall into tears. I am suddenly stricken again with the reality of all this. I cry loudly and without want for consoling. "I am so angry! Why do I have to do this?! Everyday, its the same...I have to consider my bipolar in every aspect of my life, in ever decision that i make! I have to take my meds everyday, follow up with doctors, make plans around doctors and med refills. I have to everyday be reminded that I am defective because everyday this medication shoves the reality of it all down my throat!! Its never ending, despite all my efforts it will never go away. The meds I am on now, are taking their time and may not be working at all, the side effects drive me crazy! If this is true than more waiting will be in place, more time to sit unemployed with no income, no life, and for what?! What is the point?! Why is this happening to me or to anyone? It isn't Fair!! My life will never be anything more than a guessing game, and a constant eggshell race to the end. I am terrified to work, and don't even know who would take me with the limitations and hesitations I have, the temper I have or the poor work ethic I recently have acquired. Why should I bother, I have already messed up this life, no I take it back Bipolar messed my life up, not seeing signs sooner, not telling the truth the first go around....I have ruined every potential I have. I doubt I will be accepted for disability, why would I be!? What is the point of moving forward, so I stabilize, so what? I still have the inevitability that I will swing one way or another at some point, and who knows what that will come with. My dreams have been flushed down the toilet, along with my will to carry on. I am afraid of being old!? When I am old I will be homeless, I haven't put years into work force, there for no retirement, no savings, no SSI. Just another reason to end it before it gets even worse. I look down this bleak empty road I face..and ask myself why even bother, WHY?! I am so sick of this everyday, everyday, everyday...I am nothing, but a useless body that needs support at every angle of life. I at times feel like I am just a vessel filled with evil, and no soul. I dont even know if I want to be "fixed" and stabilized...when that happens I become a drone...in denial of everything I know to be true at this moment right now...I don't want to forget this anger... I want to remember how angry insurance, doctors, nay sayers, and the government makes me....because the moment I am reprogrammed with medication and therapy I will become their ideation of normal! I want to remember, yet I would rather not exist at all." My husband tells me, if you kill yourself you will just be another statistic...and I said "maybe that will be the one statistic to open their eyes!" truth is it wont be nothing ever will. I said maybe thats what everyone else needs, a sense of this eye opening truth i feel inside of me about the world about the healthcare system, about it all...maybe then people would stand up together for what is right and what is true! Things might get done. Maybe this is ridiculous to think, but it is so real in my head and so true...how can 30 minutes a month tell the doctor who i am, or an hour a month for the therapist? How will this tell them what I feel everyday, what I go through, how can they possibly see how in depth this is for me? When I go to the doctor, I am so anxious I cant even share things like I can here or at home with my husband, I cant even cry. I am overwhelmed with stress and anxiety of the appointment my mind goes blank..Anyway, long story short...What is the point of going on, if there is only more of this to look forward to?
1 comment:
The point of going on...sometimes, well a lot of time, I am hard pressed to come up with an answer when I ask myself the very same question. Nobody really understands (except for my blog buddies), doctors don't get it and most likely never will, and each day is generally made up me willing myself to do what that part of my brain knows I need to do and not doing what every other ounce of my being is screaming to do, and of course performing damage control when this doesn't work out so well and I snap. It's a day-long "battle" if you will, and damn it all to hell, it can get so very freaking tiring. All persons outside of my mother have lied or deceived me. There isn't anyone I can trust. There was one person I trusted with all of my heart and soul, and after several years I discovered even this was not "real". I've eliminated most traces of a social life for the same reason: people lie. All of them, and most are devious little creatures masquerading as your friend as long as it benefits them. I am really not a fan of people. Nor am I a fan of the crazies than roam free in my head. That's not exactly a joy to work with.
So why go on... in the end, my reason always boils down to one thing: I am too damn stubborn. I will not surrender to this brain thing, I will not let it "beat" me, and I will never give up. I am pretty jaded and more than a little misanthropic, yet I retain a sense of childlike hope in the face of everything shitty. Stubbornness combined with hope for an improvement in things is what keeps me going and searching for improvement in my life.
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