My journey in my Bipolar vehicle has taken a decidedly hopeful turn for the better. I am thrilled and almost surprised that I managed to find a way out of the almost nightmarish life I was living with Bipolar Disorder.
So let's journey forth to see what has happened in this past year since I first launched this blog.
I launched this blog when I was still in the throws of constant severe mood swings. I have never been manic, but the deep relentless depressions have more than made up for what ever I have missed on the manic side. My particular brand of Bipolar is heavily weighted on the depressed side with only mild seasonal hypomania (during the summer) when I am not medicated. Prozac however, can make me hypomanic year round !
So that is the "bipolar" part of me. But just like you, I am not just a one dimensional person. I have many facets to who I am. An important facet is how my brain is wired a bit differently from my neurotypical peers. "What?" you might ask "are neurotypical peers?" Neurotypical is the word used by the autistic community to describe those who are not autistic. I was diagnosed as a young child after a thorough medical evaluation trying to determine why I was behaving so differently from my peers. The conclusion was succinct "genius with borderline autism".
So in addition to being bipolar I am also on the autistic spectrum. This complicates things immensely, but in some ways, makes it easier. One of the real advantages for me of being "on the spectrum" is my ability to remember anything I have read or seen. If my eyes see it, my brain remembers it. In addition to a prodigious memory (not savant, just really good memory) the autism has wired my brain to be able to hyperfocus. Hyperfocus is the lovely ability to utterly block out any and everything for long lengths of time while working on a project. I can hyperfocus for hours, sitting perfectly still reading volumes of material. This has been especially helpful to me as I have researched treatment options for the bipolar. (There are no good treatment options for an adult with autism ~ I am wayyyy too old for "early intervention" ~ lol)
But it isn't all good news with the autism for me. I also have the characteristically extreme sensory sensitivities that seem to be experienced to some degree by everyone on the autistic spectrum. I have hyperacute hearing AND I cannot bear noise. Even normal noise is too much for me. I must have silence to work. No talking, no TV, no music, no running water, no extraneous noise, nothing. I can only work in utter silence. I cannot bear to have anything touch my hands. I wear no rings, can't stand getting my hands wet, I pet my animals with gloves on, open boxes wearing gloves. I wear gloves to do everything. I am also highly sensitive to light, temperature, the texture of food, and smells. I cannot bear visually busy areas. There are places I will not go both IRL and online just because they are too visually busy for me. If I am subjected to too many of these sensory things at the same time, I will go into sensory overload.
You don't even want to know what sensory overload is like. It feels like your brain is literally short circuiting. I can almost see and feel the sparks (like fireworks) going off inside my head. The crash is brutal and can take days, weeks or even months to fully recover from. But if you were to meet me, you would never know. I look (and act) utterly normal. I am very responsive and can easily carry on a conversation.
My sensory sensitivities can trigger my bipolar, and the bipolar depression can make my sensory sensitivities even worse. So it is a vicious cycle with each condition aggravating the other.
But even depression has it's upside. In the milder depressions it slows my brain down to be able to thoughtfully consider ideas for treatment options. There is a depth to the thinking that just isn't possible without that small dose of depression. So it is anybody's guess whether the bipolar/autism is an advantage or disadvantage. On any given day it can be one or the other or both.
After my most recent severe crash and subsequent treatment for 22 months with psychotropic medications (medications used to treat psychiatric conditions), I was determined to find a better way for myself. I decided to harness the abilities autism had given me to tackle the problem of the bipolar mood swings.
So dear reader my next post will begin to explore how an autistic/bipolar woman (of a certain age) managed to find a way to live that works for her.
Sunday, December 25, 2011
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Bipolar Sports Utility Vehicle (SUV)
Bipolar Disorder puts its sufferers at a unique disadvantage/advantage compared to their neurologically normal peers. At the end of the day those with Bipolar Disorder live their lives out of synch with their peers. While our peers are hustling to get that next promotion, we can not drag ourselves out of bed to shower. While our peers are sleeping soundly, we are manically shopping on eBay or cleaning the already clean house. When arriving at Disneyland to enjoy the "happiest place on earth", our sense of doom and gloom cannot be eased by all the parades and songfests combined. Not even Mickey Mouse can make us feel better.
Imagine if you will, a highway with all manner of vehicles being driven along its thoroughfares. Whilst on the highway the accepted speed in America is carefully maintained by the drivers between 55-75 miles per hour (give or take 5 miles per hour). The flow of traffic proceeds basically without incident because everyone is able to maintain this speed range (and usually without much thought on the part of the drivers).
Now imagine you are in a car that cannot stay within the parameters that your peers on the highway are so effortlessly maintaining (ie: traveling at 55-75 miles per hour), but instead your vehicle without warning begins to decelerate on its own. You are still pushing the accelerator but the car is dropping in speed - 60,55,50,45,40,35,30,25 - until you are limping along at 25 miles per hour. With no exit in sight you are panicking ! The other drivers on the road are honking, screaming, and gesturing at you in all manner of disrespectful and demeaning ways. What to do !!
When you finally find an exit, and roll into a car mechanics place of business, your sense of relief is overpowering. Until the mechanic tells you there is nothing he/she can do for your car. Apparently the problem you are having is a permanent feature of this car, and all he/she can do is give you a temporary fix to get you to your next destination. This fix may or may not work for your car, it may work for only part of the trip, and it may cause other malfunctions in your vehicle. So here you are on a 500 mile journey with your friends and family to enjoy everyones favorite vacation spot, only now the vehicle you are traveling in has a permanent problem.
Initially everyone jumps in with sympathy and help, albeit with grumbling from the kids and mild exasperation from parents trying to maintain their traveling schedule. So back onto the highway everyone goes with excitement at reaching the vacation destination.
At first everything seems to be fine. Whatever the mechanic did it is working, the car is responding well, and you are keeping up without incident. The passengers in your car, breathe a sigh of relief and go back to their hand held games, text messaging, and watching the latest movies. All is well and everyone is anticipating what fun being on vacation at their favorite spot is going to be.
Then the unthinkable happens. Without warning the SUV begins to speed up. Slowly at first, imperceptibly, but definitely going faster. You begin to ease off the accelerator, but the speedometer is still increasing -70,75,80,85,90- You remember the mechanic mentioning that your car might experience other malfunctions from the fix he applied, and now your worst fear is realized as you apply the brakes to no effect ! Careening down the highway (and alerting the other family members and friends you are traveling with of your predicament) you head for the nearest shoulder where you are forced to turn the car off to get it to stop before you cause a major accident.
Those you are traveling with are relieved no one is hurt, and are understandably concerned about you. While you call a towing service (thank goodness you have AAA coverage for such things) everyone regroups to decide the best strategy for all concerned. It is decided you will stay with the car (since you cannot junk it and buy a new one due to the recent passage of a universal law that says all cars must be driven until their estimated life time is fulfilled), you are stuck with "car duty". Everyone else wants to continue with their much anticipated vacation plans, so those who were riding with you (your family) divide up into other vehicles to continue the trip. You wait under the darkening evening sky for your ride to the next car dealership to get the needed repair work done.
Now you are alone with your vehicle to muddle through the explanations offered by a host of mechanics at the dealership to which you were taken. No one here has ever seen this problem before, (well except that one time, several years ago) and quite frankly don't know what to do for you. The first thing they do is change what the former mechanic said was wrong with your vehicle, and give it a thorough examination before deciding on a new diagnosis. Although the new diagnosis has a different name, the facts remain the same. Your vehicle has a permanent problem with its accelerator causing it to decelerate or hypercelerate without cause and most often without warning. ("Damn that new law" you say to yourself). The best we can do is give you this device to apply to the accelerator when it is decelerating and hope it works. As far as the hyperacceleration, well that is a particularly difficult problem. We have checked your brakes, replaced the brake fluid, and made sure your emergency brake is working, your only other option is to do what you did and pull over to manually stop the car by turning it off. "Good luck" they say, and hand you a bill for $2012.53.
So now you return to your travel plans in what looks like a perfectly normal SUV. Only you know it isn't normal, and that without warning it can betray your best laid plans to take care of your responsibilities and duties in life. Your feeling of the unfairness of life is overwhelming. " Why oh why did I have to get this vehicle!! Of all the SUV's on the lot and I got the lemon!"
For some of us with Bipolar Disorder we know how this story continues and eventually ends. Friends and family sympathize with our dilemma and agree that it isn't fair. But life does go on for them, and since they know we cannot be counted on to deliver on promises we make (through no fault on our part, mind you) they start making plans "around" us, or sometimes, without us. The next car trip, (in the above analogy) they plan without my vehicle being included and since no one has room in their vehicles for me and my family, we are just not invited.
Imagine if you will, a highway with all manner of vehicles being driven along its thoroughfares. Whilst on the highway the accepted speed in America is carefully maintained by the drivers between 55-75 miles per hour (give or take 5 miles per hour). The flow of traffic proceeds basically without incident because everyone is able to maintain this speed range (and usually without much thought on the part of the drivers).
Now imagine you are in a car that cannot stay within the parameters that your peers on the highway are so effortlessly maintaining (ie: traveling at 55-75 miles per hour), but instead your vehicle without warning begins to decelerate on its own. You are still pushing the accelerator but the car is dropping in speed - 60,55,50,45,40,35,30,25 - until you are limping along at 25 miles per hour. With no exit in sight you are panicking ! The other drivers on the road are honking, screaming, and gesturing at you in all manner of disrespectful and demeaning ways. What to do !!
When you finally find an exit, and roll into a car mechanics place of business, your sense of relief is overpowering. Until the mechanic tells you there is nothing he/she can do for your car. Apparently the problem you are having is a permanent feature of this car, and all he/she can do is give you a temporary fix to get you to your next destination. This fix may or may not work for your car, it may work for only part of the trip, and it may cause other malfunctions in your vehicle. So here you are on a 500 mile journey with your friends and family to enjoy everyones favorite vacation spot, only now the vehicle you are traveling in has a permanent problem.
Initially everyone jumps in with sympathy and help, albeit with grumbling from the kids and mild exasperation from parents trying to maintain their traveling schedule. So back onto the highway everyone goes with excitement at reaching the vacation destination.
At first everything seems to be fine. Whatever the mechanic did it is working, the car is responding well, and you are keeping up without incident. The passengers in your car, breathe a sigh of relief and go back to their hand held games, text messaging, and watching the latest movies. All is well and everyone is anticipating what fun being on vacation at their favorite spot is going to be.
Then the unthinkable happens. Without warning the SUV begins to speed up. Slowly at first, imperceptibly, but definitely going faster. You begin to ease off the accelerator, but the speedometer is still increasing -70,75,80,85,90- You remember the mechanic mentioning that your car might experience other malfunctions from the fix he applied, and now your worst fear is realized as you apply the brakes to no effect ! Careening down the highway (and alerting the other family members and friends you are traveling with of your predicament) you head for the nearest shoulder where you are forced to turn the car off to get it to stop before you cause a major accident.
Those you are traveling with are relieved no one is hurt, and are understandably concerned about you. While you call a towing service (thank goodness you have AAA coverage for such things) everyone regroups to decide the best strategy for all concerned. It is decided you will stay with the car (since you cannot junk it and buy a new one due to the recent passage of a universal law that says all cars must be driven until their estimated life time is fulfilled), you are stuck with "car duty". Everyone else wants to continue with their much anticipated vacation plans, so those who were riding with you (your family) divide up into other vehicles to continue the trip. You wait under the darkening evening sky for your ride to the next car dealership to get the needed repair work done.
Now you are alone with your vehicle to muddle through the explanations offered by a host of mechanics at the dealership to which you were taken. No one here has ever seen this problem before, (well except that one time, several years ago) and quite frankly don't know what to do for you. The first thing they do is change what the former mechanic said was wrong with your vehicle, and give it a thorough examination before deciding on a new diagnosis. Although the new diagnosis has a different name, the facts remain the same. Your vehicle has a permanent problem with its accelerator causing it to decelerate or hypercelerate without cause and most often without warning. ("Damn that new law" you say to yourself). The best we can do is give you this device to apply to the accelerator when it is decelerating and hope it works. As far as the hyperacceleration, well that is a particularly difficult problem. We have checked your brakes, replaced the brake fluid, and made sure your emergency brake is working, your only other option is to do what you did and pull over to manually stop the car by turning it off. "Good luck" they say, and hand you a bill for $2012.53.
So now you return to your travel plans in what looks like a perfectly normal SUV. Only you know it isn't normal, and that without warning it can betray your best laid plans to take care of your responsibilities and duties in life. Your feeling of the unfairness of life is overwhelming. " Why oh why did I have to get this vehicle!! Of all the SUV's on the lot and I got the lemon!"
For some of us with Bipolar Disorder we know how this story continues and eventually ends. Friends and family sympathize with our dilemma and agree that it isn't fair. But life does go on for them, and since they know we cannot be counted on to deliver on promises we make (through no fault on our part, mind you) they start making plans "around" us, or sometimes, without us. The next car trip, (in the above analogy) they plan without my vehicle being included and since no one has room in their vehicles for me and my family, we are just not invited.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Launching blog
Launching this blog dedicated to my research, thoughts and musings on how mental illness is treated in America. In 1993 I went to a psychiatrist for the first time in my life. I was 37 years old, married to a college professor and had three adorable, healthy little kids. I lived in an upperclass neighborhood, drove a mini-van and had just spent the past three years so severely depressed that I rarely left the house. The psychiatrist diagnosed me with severe depression (duh) and told me that Prozac (only on the market for 5 years at that time) was the answer to my problems, AND it had no side effects. Even in my severely depressed state I laughed. "Oh yes it does" I said, "you just don't know what they are yet". It takes just about 10 years from the time a new drug is released to the general public for the side effects to accumulate, be documented, be researched, and be published. The psychiatrist ruefully agreed with me, "we don't know what the side effects are yet". But I was desperate, my kids were desperate, and my poor husband had long since reached his limit trudging to a demanding career in the highly competitive field of college professor, while his wife sat in a chair all day, barely keeping the kids clean, fed and safe.
So began my sojourn into being treated for a mental illness in America. The USA with the best health care in the world. America with the most cutting edge advances in everything from brain surgery, to heart surgery, to cancer treatment. Surely the United States of America would be well equipped to take care of it's mentally ill.
I took the lowest dose I could possibly take. The 20mg tablets of Prozac I took every other day, or cut them in half, so that my dose was just 10mg. Initially it was a miracle drug for me. Within 3 days I was stunned by how my mind cleared of the relentless molasses I was swimming through everyday. I had energy, motivation, and the ability to get my life back on track to become successful. I was thrilled !
Ten years later the Prozac "pooped out" (as the psychiatrists like to say), and while I was entering menopause I began to spiral into the kind of severe depression that I thought was long behind me. I had been getting the scripts for the Prozac from my family physician, but now it was time to see a psychiatrist again. Only this time I got a diagnostic upgrade: Bipolar Disorder. Apparently the Prozac had caused just enough hypomania to qualify me for that lovely upgrade. I was just thrilled, needless to say. Kind of like thinking you have a nasty cold, only to find out you have lung cancer. And so began 22 months of constant medication changes, which oddly still contained Prozac in the mix, just at higher doses. During that time I also took Lamictal (anti convulsant) Zyprexa (anti psychotic) Lithium (mineral) Effexor (anti depressant) and Abilify (anti psychotic).
At one point my psychiatrist insisted I agree to ECT (electro convulsive treatment). I said "No" to that lovely idea. Having electricity shot through my brain with a $20,000 medical bill left for me to pay (without insurance) didn't seem like a good plan for relieving my depression. Like a never ending craps game, the meds were rolled like dice to see if a winning combination would bank off the sides of the table. Needless to say the dice are loaded in favor of the house (who made a bundle off me), but I never did come up a winner.
So this blog is my attempt to make sense of those 22 months in which American psychiatric ingenuity gambled with my brain while enriching its coffers, all in the name of achieving good mental health.
I stopped playing craps with my brain in 2006, April 14, 2006, to be exact (yes I have my medical records, so I know the exact dates and treatment I received), and after two years of crushing depression and detox, my head cleared, the depression lifted, and I began to research in earnest on alternative ways to treat and/or live with depression, and what exactly those psychotropic drugs do the brain and body of those who take them.
This blog is the result of my continuing effort to be informed on this subject. Both to prevent myself from being so easily persuaded to gamble with my brain and body, and to present the unvarnished truth about psychiatric treatment in America.
I did find alternatives that work for me. But alas the years I spent responding to the inner tides of emotions, moods, and corresponding thoughts, have not had a happy outcome. The phrase "a day late, and a dollar short" comes to mind.
So dear reader I hope you can find something useful here, and on occasion something humorous. So let us begin ~ Depression Monologues ~
So began my sojourn into being treated for a mental illness in America. The USA with the best health care in the world. America with the most cutting edge advances in everything from brain surgery, to heart surgery, to cancer treatment. Surely the United States of America would be well equipped to take care of it's mentally ill.
I took the lowest dose I could possibly take. The 20mg tablets of Prozac I took every other day, or cut them in half, so that my dose was just 10mg. Initially it was a miracle drug for me. Within 3 days I was stunned by how my mind cleared of the relentless molasses I was swimming through everyday. I had energy, motivation, and the ability to get my life back on track to become successful. I was thrilled !
Ten years later the Prozac "pooped out" (as the psychiatrists like to say), and while I was entering menopause I began to spiral into the kind of severe depression that I thought was long behind me. I had been getting the scripts for the Prozac from my family physician, but now it was time to see a psychiatrist again. Only this time I got a diagnostic upgrade: Bipolar Disorder. Apparently the Prozac had caused just enough hypomania to qualify me for that lovely upgrade. I was just thrilled, needless to say. Kind of like thinking you have a nasty cold, only to find out you have lung cancer. And so began 22 months of constant medication changes, which oddly still contained Prozac in the mix, just at higher doses. During that time I also took Lamictal (anti convulsant) Zyprexa (anti psychotic) Lithium (mineral) Effexor (anti depressant) and Abilify (anti psychotic).
At one point my psychiatrist insisted I agree to ECT (electro convulsive treatment). I said "No" to that lovely idea. Having electricity shot through my brain with a $20,000 medical bill left for me to pay (without insurance) didn't seem like a good plan for relieving my depression. Like a never ending craps game, the meds were rolled like dice to see if a winning combination would bank off the sides of the table. Needless to say the dice are loaded in favor of the house (who made a bundle off me), but I never did come up a winner.
So this blog is my attempt to make sense of those 22 months in which American psychiatric ingenuity gambled with my brain while enriching its coffers, all in the name of achieving good mental health.
I stopped playing craps with my brain in 2006, April 14, 2006, to be exact (yes I have my medical records, so I know the exact dates and treatment I received), and after two years of crushing depression and detox, my head cleared, the depression lifted, and I began to research in earnest on alternative ways to treat and/or live with depression, and what exactly those psychotropic drugs do the brain and body of those who take them.
This blog is the result of my continuing effort to be informed on this subject. Both to prevent myself from being so easily persuaded to gamble with my brain and body, and to present the unvarnished truth about psychiatric treatment in America.
I did find alternatives that work for me. But alas the years I spent responding to the inner tides of emotions, moods, and corresponding thoughts, have not had a happy outcome. The phrase "a day late, and a dollar short" comes to mind.
So dear reader I hope you can find something useful here, and on occasion something humorous. So let us begin ~ Depression Monologues ~
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