I Dare You Darlin’

Posted on 2011/10/30 by Always

This post was inspired by, and is dedicated to, my very dear friend Ruby. She has been facing some severe difficulties recently, as described in her post I Am Disabled. But she isn’t the only Canvas blogger having a very rough time lately. Lulu, James Claims, and Manic Monday have all hit their own major bumps and dips in life lately, which you can read in their own words, on their own blogs (respectively, As the Pendulum Swings, James Claims, and Manic Monday).

But in any case, the title of the post comes from a quote, a song lyric Ruby posted on her Facebook page: ”And I’m not the girl that I intend to be, But I dare you, darlin’, just you wait and see.” ~ Sara Bareilles

I love this quote so much, because I don’t happen to be “the girl that I intend to be,” either. The life I lead now is one that I appreciate and enjoy, but it isn’t all I aspire to do. I do the best I can in life with what and where I am now. So in that sense, I am every bit that girl.

But I want so much more for myself. Like Belle in Beauty and the Beast, I want adventure in the great wide somewhere. I want to live in Rome for a month or five years. I want to see the Pyramids in Egypt and the ruins in Athens and Carnival in Rio, to start. And I want to detail on paper ever moment of it all. Do I want a family? Maybe. But it isn’t something I want to plan my life around. And traveling by camel is difficult with an infant, I imagine.

This post is turning almost silly, I think I should have stopped writing two paragraphs ago. Because another great quote is, ”To dream of the person you would like to be is to waste the person you are.” ~ Anonymous

The quotes are not exact analogues. And there is little to “waste” when you are in the very intense stages of a mixed manic-depressive experience (back to Ruby, where I started). Yes, getting through it shows your strength, but you are hardly in a place to stop and appreciate that fact at the time.

So take both quotes, place in a brown paper bag with some seasoning, and shake vigorously. Now tell me in the comments what you came up with.

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Be Your Own Advocate

Posted on 2011/09/22 by Always

The title of this post doesn’t refer to joining groups whose purpose is to reduce the stigma of a mental health diagnosis, although that’s certainly a wonderful thing to do. I’m also not referring to shouting about your mental health diagnoses from the rooftops, although God knows I all but will (I think if I literally did it, they would lock me up and I would further ingrain the stereotypes associated with manic-depression). I’m talking about educating yourself, really learning about all things related to whatever your particular malady happens to be, psychiatric or even physical.

I know that we blog about mental health here, but I had to add the part about the physical so that I could use my anecdote, which I will now relate to all of you.

I had a friend with a physical issue that had been – well painful doesn’t even begin to describe it, and disabling to him for years, who was all up in arms and worried about me when I was put Neurontin (gabapentin) as a mood stabilizer. I guess he had been on it before, and was shocked and upset because he discovered after the fact that abrupt withdrawal can cause the development of a seizure disorder.

As much as I really appreciated his concern for me, this was something that I already knew, no research required. Gabapentin is classed as an anti-convulsant, or anti-epileptic medication. Any drug that is used to help control seizures will bring with it an increased likelihood of seizures, even a permanent seizure disorder, if discontinued improperly. You have to taper off very slowly. Having been on both Depakote (valproic acid, divalproex sodium) and Lamictal (lamotrigine) early on in treatment – both anti-convulsants – I knew the risk (benzos are also notorious for this).

I got into a discussion with him about being knowledgeable about the drugs you are prescribed before you pop the first pill, and not depending on your doctor, although to be absolutely fair, it sounded to me like his doctor just put him on a really high dose and gave him no warning whatsoever of the dangers of improper discontinuation.

Thing is, I know I have a bit of a different perspective on this one straight out of the gate. When you have manic-depression, you are usually on a combination of meds, not just one, so it logically follows (at least it did for me) that you need to educate yourself about every individual drug. That way you know which medication is doing what, when side effects and interactions come in and how, and if there are any particular risks to you specifically (drugs which are notorious for weight gain if you have diabetes in your family).

I could rant and rave about this one for several thousand words, but here are my basic rules and suggestions (which shouldn’t scare even a newly diagnosed individual).

Buy a copy of the PDR Guide to Prescription Medications. This book will be invaluable to you when you are prescribed something new, as it is thorough and reputable, and I think quite easy to read and understand. It’s way better than just doing a Google search on your medication (although I will address that below).

Buy a medical dictionary. If you truly want to be safe and educated, you will run into some terms you don’t understand – I don’t care how much schooling you had or how intelligent you are. Get a good medical dictionary for when you come across something unfamiliar when you are researching.

As to using Google, well, it’s a mixed blessing. There are some really excellent sites out there (off the top of my head, I like PubMed and Medscape and NIMH), and then there are the ones written and/or sponsored by the drug companies, the sites that have questionable or inaccurate information, and those that have been started by radical vigilantes as a way to share horror stories about every psych med in the world and scare you out of ever pursuing conventional treatment.

The bottom line is this: There is never any excuse for ignorance when your health, and quite often your life, is at stake. You need to research the hell out of anything you’re going to be putting in your body before you put the first microgram of it in. You need to become knowledgeable and advocate for yourself with your doctors. Good doctors will try their very best to do right by you, but they are not gods, nor are they encyclopedias. No one has a bigger investment in your health and safety than you. Make sure to get the best return you can on it.

And thank you to the gentlemen who got me thinking about this one. I love little more in this world than finding a way to use my experiences in a manner that is (hopefully) beneficial to others.

Who’s Feeling Homicidal? I Am, I Am!

Posted on 2011/09/05 by Always

Last month, ManicMuses wrote about irritability and how she deals with it in her first post, Irritability – My Special Compass Point. I have to say that I applaud her for having a plan in place for when this flag is thrown, and I am also incredibly envious, because I rarely visit irritability-land, I go straight from being calm to being filled with murderous rage.

Case in point. My aunt is in town this week. I love my aunt very much, but she lives on her own and has a difficult time sharing space with others (even a decently large space), and is very set in her patterns and behaviors. Okay, that’s bound to happen when you live alone. You aren’t constantly taking other people’s preferences or rhythms into account, and the only one you have to be considerate of is yourself.

She was married when she was much younger, and lived with a different man – with whom she became quite serious, I believe they even discussed marriage – years ago. But she has spent most of her life as an adult keeping her space as strictly her own. And of course there’s nothing wrong with that. That’s exactly the way it should be, actually. She works hard and pays a mortgage and every damned piece of bric-a-brac in her house should be arranged to within a millimeter of where she wants it. Likewise, she should be able to behave however she wants, be loud, leave dishes out, whatever. In her house.

But when she is staying in someone else’s, or when we share a hotel suite during visits to family, she needs to realize that other people need to be factored into the scenario and their lifestyles accounted for.

Up until now, this may just seem like me ranting and venting and blowing off steam. I won’t deny that I’m cranky – to understate the situation vastly. Here’s why these words have a place in a blog on mental health.

This aunt is my mother’s sister. That matters because I know my mom discusses my struggles with her family more extensively than my dad does, which is fine with me. I am an open book about this crap, and the more informed people are, the better. Not only that, but my aunt very recently had extensive, long-term involvement with a man who carried a bipolar diagnosis. Apparently neither of these factors taught her anything about actually being around someone who is bipolar (and apparently nothing ever taught her that everything in life does not get to be done exactly as she determines it should).

I realized several weeks ago that my moods were in a more highly reactive place. I was still functioning and keeping it together, and I still am now, but I have to be more aware of triggers and emotional lability. It’s been some time since I had a full-blown mood episode, and I would very much like to keep it that way.

Tonight, two seconds of direct interaction with my aunt and I was thinking, Irritability, what the hell is that? She doesn’t make me irritable, she triggers me so that I become a full-blown, raging bitch in the blink of an eye. I run for the nearest exit, because I don’t particularly enjoy taking my mood symptoms out on other people. It’s unkind and it’s counterproductive. It won’t teach her any lessons about the best way to deal with me when I get this way, and she does try to be understanding and sympathetic. And as for counterproductivity, when my moods amp up, the best thing for me to do is go somewhere calm and quiet and trigger-free to bring myself back down. I know I am not unique in this method of symptom management, but I also know that I am hyper-aware of my symptomatology presentation.

And yet I lack the logical progression with many – most – things. I don’t go from calm, to sensitive, to irritable, to annoyed, to angry. I go from cruising along at normal (for me) life level to wanting to strangle someone or smash something in ten seconds flat.

Why is that, do you suppose? For those of you who have dealt with PTSD, and of the bloggers here this may only be Ruby, do you think that could play a role? Am I really missing symptoms and signs that are blatant in situations I know to be pretty high-stress?

Answers, thoughts, and suggestions from my fellow bloggers (on this site and on their own), from readers, from anyone at all would be very much appreciated, because I don’t particularly care for this aspect of myself.

I Am Not Entirely Who I Appear To Be

Posted on 2011/09/01 by Always

I am also not ready to tell you the gory details of my whole story, not directly nor explicitly, but something is pressing me to do this. And I can leave it up to all of you to read or not read and judge or not judge and form your own opinions.

I haven’t lied to all of you. I haven’t pretended to be someone I am not. I have, however, refrained from directing everyone to a crucial piece of my past and my history. I’ve had my reasons.

And if you have any kind of know how (even very limited) with WordPress, you’ve probably already run across this. I know one of you has, and you’re helping me to make this choice right now.

I am still every bit the woman I wrote of in my personal page, Always. I have perfected the ability to stand fixedly against and stare down any assailant, external or internal. And my foundation has no cracks, and my degree of self-control is unmatched.

But I wasn’t that woman completely, at least for a brief episode of time. Most every moment of most every day of my life now, I can look back on it as a blip. As something that happened to me, not something that defines me.

However I would be lying outright to everyone, myself included, if I denied that I have moments still where it causes me to wobble some. I don’t crack or lose control, but I do have to breathe a little more deeply.

“Who do we become without knowing where we started from?” ~ Dixie Chicks

I know. I know without a doubt that the woman I am now is the woman I was two or six or fifteen or thirty-plus years ago. I just want for all of you to have all of the relevant facts.

So ta-da, the blog I kept on WordPress before: Shock And Awe

(I will have Ruby fix all my glitches, my current technological situation is not ideal. I honestly think it bothers me more than anyone else.)

Stigma? What Stigma?

Posted on 2011/08/24 by Always

Yes, everyone. It’s me. Again. Ruby had to jet off to paradise and I promised her I’d pick up the slack while she was away. Lucky you.

The title of this post may seem a bit odd, or at least it will after you read on and realize that I am not being facetious or sarcastic with it.

I guess I must have been sprinkled with fairy dust early on in life, because I have never been stigmatized or marginalized or treated unfairly because of my mental health issues – at least not by someone with whom I lacked an intimate connection. No, you didn’t misread that last part, I essentially said the only people who have ever treated me badly because I carry diagnoses are people who know me very well, people with whom I am – or in some cases was – very close to.

People I disclose to whom I know through work (and if you missed it, I covered what I do in my post To Out Thyself Or Not To Out Thyself - Ruby, go home and fix, dammit!), through casual socializing, even the baristas at my beloved Starbucks – well I have received a variety of reactions, but none have been overtly negative. People are surprised (usually shocked) to learn that I’m manic-depressive. People treat me with a newfound sense of interest and respect – and no, not a distant, let’s-not-trigger-the-crazy-lady type of “interest and respect.” People ask me questions, they often disclose to me that they know someone with the same diagnosis, or carry it themselves, people are immediately ten times more comfortable with me, because I told them something so “intimate” and “personal” like it was no big deal. For me it doesn’t happen to be, and I think that comes across, I come across as very sincere and inviting.

Don’t mistake me, manic-depression has been a very big deal in my life. It has stolen huge chunks of it from me. Which is why I won’t allow for it to anymore. I won’t give it that power, I won’t give it the ability to rule my choices and my conscious mind the way it used to.

I’m not saying that mental health issues can be “willed away,” or that stigma doesn’t run rampant – in all walks of life. But I think the reason I elicit the reaction which I do is twofold.

First, I really don’t care what people think when they find out I have struggles with mental health in my repertoire. If they can’t deal with it, the issue lies within them, not me. And this is a truth and belief I hold very deeply within myself. I don’t play like something doesn’t upset me when it does. I don’t do the super-insecure reaction of boasting and getting in others’ face because I feel like if I can convince enough people around me that I’m “okay,” I’ll feel like I am inside myself. That isn’t how it works, it works the other way around.

The second reason I believe people react to my disclosure the way they do is precisely because there is so much “stigma,” real and perceived, surrounding mental health, manic-depression being an especially hot topic. People think they know all sorts of things about it, but do you want to know the two major things they think they know? That it can’t be hidden and that it must be hidden. As in, someone cannot be as highly functioning and severely ill as I am, surely something would have given me away! Or that if that is possible, it’s only possible because I stuff it down inside and never talk about it. I must go out of my way to hide it, or only tell a few people. Certainly I would never casually mention it while waiting for my Venti Skinny Cinnamon Dolce Latte.

Only I would. And I have. And I do. And it completely catches people off of their guard – in a good way. They put an individual – a familiar, seemingly “normal” (whatever that means to them), intelligent, articulate, well-adjusted individual – with a label, with a term that they have heard about in the news, or which has been whispered amongst their friends, family, and acquaintances in hushed voices. As though it were something to be ashamed of.

I had one person who had known me in a casual capacity for a long time, and who held a degree in psychology no less tell me, “I never would have suspected it in you.” And I could have been offended or angry that she thought it was that easy to pick someone with manic-depression out of a crowd, but I wasn’t. It actually made me happy, in many ways.

This is may be something I wrote about in the post I linked to above, I’m not going to re-read it right now. But a huge part of breaking down the walls in our lives and overcoming stigma is standing up and giving people an opportunity to connect a person with a life condition. To give them the opportunity to see the individual instead of the diagnosis. To realize that we all have challenges in our lives, and being – gulp – “mentally ill” (ugh, blah, I used that term, I now need to go sanitize and reprogram my brain!) is very much like many other struggles that were once shameful but now don’t warrant so much as an eye bat (divorce, having a child out of wedlock, hell, we can even throw Hansen’s disease on the list – more commonly known as leprosy – I know, right?), unless someone is extremely narrow-minded and myopic in their views. And people like that will exist as long as there are people. We can’t live our lives bowing to ignorance.

Wow, long post! But on a final (related) note, please, please don’t take any of what I write to be judgmental of you if you choose to live your life differently. We all need to find what works for us, this just happens to be it for me, and I want so much to show everyone reading this that it is possible. I didn’t walk through Hell to get where I am to no point or purpose. I survived those fires so that I could have the opportunity to be a living example for just one person, that they might see that you can carry diagnoses – very severe, life-altering diagnoses – and not have to try to cover them up, and live your life fully and openly, and be you, no skeletons to hide (at least not as far as your mental health!).