I have a bipolar disorder AND manic depression

Redundant, isn’t it? Well, you know my penchant for crime documentaries. I watched a couple the last few days and for documentaries, they reek of fiction. Do they not have fact checkers. “She suffered from bipolar disorder, as well as manic depression.” No fan of the Douchebaggery Simpleton Module here, but seriously. Get your facts accurate. Manic depression IS bipolar disorder. GRRR.

Interesting one was a 20/20 I just finished where this super rich, successful businessman was given anti depressants…Except he was actually in a mixed episode and he killed his two daughters because the darkness in his head told him to. Fucked up, but it’s very real when it comes to wrongly diagnosing a bipolar person with simple depression and feeding them anti depressants alone. It’s a disaster waiting to happen. I’m not gonna go into the “mental illness as an excuse” debate. What got me was the interview with him at the end when they asked him he was still having the dark thoughts now that he was in prison for life and on Lithium. And he said, “I haven’t been depressed a day since I came to prison, best mental health care I’ve ever had. I feel fine now that I am properly medicated.”

Isn’t that a shining example of the mental healthcare system? He had to kill his kids and go to prison, simply to get a proper diagnosis and proper meds and now, in spite of being locked up, having to live with the guilt of his actions…He’s not depressed or wanting to hurt people. Does this not prove that mental illness is real to the naysayers? More interesting was that he felt the people around him enabled him to remain untreated because all they saw was how successful he was at work, how much money he made, his fancy house- they made excuses for his behavior rather than showing alarm. He has a valid point. Yes, we with mental illness are responsible for seeking treatment, but also…Once you reach a certain point of being too far gone you’re paralyzed to help yourself…You need those around you to give enough of a damn to try to help. But no way could someone rich and successful have a mental illness, nope, that’s relegated to trash bag wearing under the bridge dwellers eating out of Dumpsters.

While disparaging the show’s “facts” I did find their statistics realistic. They claim it takes ten years, and four different psychiatrists, on average, before anyone is properly diagnosed with bipolar disorder. And that mimics my reality pretty closely. Again…Anyone still think mental healthcare is so fucking peachy?

Ok, enough tv chatter. Just found it interesting.

I choked myself with meds to sleep last night. Okay, bit dramatic, it was more like .75 mg Xanax and 1 mg of Melatonin but after three days of not sleeping much or well…I felt I was due for a good night’s rest. I rested, even if it took two hours to fall asleep. I had bizarre dreams out the wazoo. Woke up a couple of times. Sat up. Took a sip of water. Thought about having a smoke. Nope. Too laden with sleepy meds. Come morning and I’m peeling cobwebs off my brain yet my anxiety receptors are dancing the fuck lambada.

In three hours, I have to see the shrink. Joy, joy. I remember when I used to look forward to seeing my doctor. Okay, it was nine years ago and she was awesome but still…Being filled with this level of dread and anxiety every month is ass trash. Because it gets interpreted as hypomania which makes the doctor focus on the mixed/manic stuff instead of seeing that the depression is still throttling me even if with a lighter grip around my throat. I think I am just gonna take Spook with me rather than deal with the hassle of dropping her at mom’s then coming back twenty minutes later and her throwing a fit when I say she has to leave. It’s just easier, especially if she behaves as well as she did last time I took her.

Of course, that’s the wild card from hell. After my post last night in which I declared her the almost perfect child…It took only one thing to bring out the screaming demon. I told her she had to sleep in her own bed and thus sparked a ninety minute crying whimper YOU’RE MEAN fit. She literally was in my face yelling at me, like I was sacrificing her to satan by making her sleep in her own bed. All that good behavior and then…Hell.

To her credit, she has some self awareness even at her age. I calmly said, “You just don’t like the word no, I’m not mean to you.”

And she said, “I like the word yes, I want to hear YES!”

Points for honesty.

When she calmed down, I did end up letting her sleep in my bed but it was for me, not her. If I put her in my bed, she usually stays asleep all night. And I needed the rest.

A concern that I have now is, because we’ve both been so tortured with allergies and itchiness this summer, I have her Benadryl a couple of times as the loratadine non drowsy is a little pricy. It knocked her out. Now she thinks she cannot sleep without Benadryl. I don’t want to turn her into that person, the one who won’t even tough it out and try before reaching for the medicine cabinet. I despise taking medicine, any time I can skip it, I do. The other day, it hit me, I’d gone 22 hours without even taking a Xanax. Not because the anxiety wasn’t there, it just wasn’t out of my capability to exist with its presence. I don’t want her getting the notion that the solution to everything comes out of a medicine cabinet though I certainly understand her equating the sleepiness from the Benadryl enabling her to sleep all night in her own bed without “the friends in my head” telling her bad things. Except no matter what I take for sleep, it actually brings out the friends in my dreams. Bah.

I’ve already got the pounding heart and sweating thing from anxiety going on but I am loathe to take Xanax considering I am still trying to wake up from the sleepy meds of last night. I know last time I did a double dose Xanax right before the appointment so by the time I went in, I was a little too sedated to be panic stricken thus seem hypomanic. Try that again. I just want it over with, having it looming overhead is oppressive. It set off every panic receptor I have. It’s only milder when for stuff like going out with friends or having to register my kid for school or even her birthday shindig next week. I just have anxiety as a constant companion. I’m sure it’s my own fault, I invited the anxiety in someway and am too lazy/weak/insert excuse here, to shake it off.

R sent me a text informing me there’s a five dollar bill waiting for me at the shop and I was like, wtf for? I didn’t do anything. But I did burn a song to disc his mom and stepdad wanted for their dance classes so I guess in gratitude, the stepdad left me a five dollar bill for my troubles. Sweet. I can feed my cats for the weekend. I didn’t do it expecting anything though, it was ten minutes out of my day. No biggie but thankies. Meh, R’s mom and stepdad always did like me a lot. It was his mother who told me I needed to run, fast, before her son could destroy my life. I respect parents who love their kids but have no illusions as to what assfucks they can be.

I didn’t shower last night and I have no desire to today, either. I think I may change my cat hair encrusted shirt and just show up in my baggy pants I wore as jammies. He needs to see the real me of current days. The one who finds it torture to shower, worse to wear clothes not slept in, the make up hoarder who’s been bothered to use make up maybe four times in the last month. This is my current reality. Let me stab you with my rays of functionality so you can declare me much better. I swear, as long as you’re not dangling from a noose before their eyes, you’re just fine.

Once this appointment and dish outing is done…I will breathe. Until them I am in this hellish holding pattern, unable to focus on anything and just watching time tick by because until it’s over…I’m a deer frozen in the headlights. And I’ve tried adjusting my attitude, viewing it differently.

Panic receptors don’t give a fuck.





7 Responses to “I have a bipolar disorder AND manic depression”

  1. I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder in January. Before that, I kept just getting antidepressants and I kept telling my doctors they made me worse and NO ONE believed me. It was so frustrating and made me feel crazy.

    • I went through the same thing from 1993 until 2006, four different doctors, all dishing out anti depressants and thinking my manic episodes were a sign they worked even though my counselors insisted I was bipolar. Sometimes, the wrong treatment is worse than no treatment.

      On Thu, Jul 30, 2015 at 11:24 AM, Take a Ride on My Mood Swing wrote:


      • Ditto, 1990something to last year. Bah. Also, humbug.

        I guess if we have bipolar AND manic depression, we’re happysad people with 2 poles. Maybe we ski! Plenty of downhill around after all.

      • And the poles can be sharpened for stabby objects for the not so mice polar side of the disorder. SWEET!

        On Thu, Jul 30, 2015 at 6:37 PM, Take a Ride on My Mood Swing wrote:


      • Look! There are foldable stabby poles available! I think we should practice by stab ing the not so mice.

      • I got a little giddy at the sight of the folding stabby poles. It could fit in my purse!

        On Thu, Jul 30, 2015 at 6:48 PM, Take a Ride on My Mood Swing wrote:


      • Now that’s what I call bipolar. People be a bit more respectful with those pointing at them.

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