Bipolar on My Shoulder

I’m laying in bed writing this post with my cell phone as I listen to songs that she wrote and sang before she was killed. I’m referring to my beautiful friend Dennise. I met her back in 1997 when she sent me a cassette tape of two songs that she had written. The songs were sung by her, but she made sure that I understood that she’s a songwriter and not a singer. I met her in person shortly afterwards. We developed a very unique friendship. I was 26 at the time living on South Beach Florida and had yet to know what love was. She was seperated from her husband who lived in Nevada, and she was now staying with her mother in Florida. Our friendship blossomed very quickly as we spent nearly all of our time together. Eventually she even told me that she loved me. And I loved her also. We were never sexually involved. Nor did we even share a simple kiss. We only spent time together holding hands wherever we were, and that feeling alone was so incredible and intense that I don’t have the words to explain it. She was an absolute beautiful woman on the inside and out. She was also very proper in how she spoke. I recall her telling me that as she grew up in Jamaica, the other girls would pick on her for being too proper and having a light complexion.

One particular day she told me that I gave her the strength to confront her husband and tell him that she wanted a divorce. She said that because she met me, she now knows what real love is, and what she’s been missing out on all of these years. I told her that she shouldn’t say that to her husband because no man wants to feel that another man has taken his woman. And truthfully that wasn’t the case because she had seperated from him before I ever met her.

Sadly, that was our last conversation. The next day, they were together in her husbands private plane, which he piloted, as it crashed and both of them died instantly. I’ve always wondered what she decided to say to him, and if he crashed the plane intentionally. The guilt in my heart is enormous as I know I contributed to her death even if indirectly.

So now I lay here in my bed remanescing about 1997 as I listen to her songs over and over again. Her voice is as beautiful and pure as she was when she was alive. I love you Dennise, I miss you so much. I’m sorry.

When I’m extremely exhausted I sometimes see things move from the corner of my eyes. My peripheral vision I guess it would be called. It’s like a little one foot high figure that zips across the floor (lol I know that sounds rediculous). Alot of times I just blame that on sleep deprivation and my mind playing tricks on me.  I mean I’m known to have insomnia pretty bad, In fact I have it right now. But it’s not always due to exhaustion, Even way back as a child I used to see things move. To this day I still don’t like dolls. I used to see their eyes move and watch me. Wow, I just got the chills remembering that. Before I continue, and before you think I’m coo coo for cocoa puffs, I would like to mention that I’m very aware that these types of things can be caused by drug use by the parents.

The Attack of the Pliers

One memory, from way back, has always stuck in my mind because I clearly recall every detail. I was about 4 years old. I was sitting in the back seat (yep, no seatbelt laws or child seats back in the 70′s). My mother was up front in the passenger seat. I saw a pair of pliers on the floor, and I recall them glowing bright white. They began to move around on the floor, and eventually they started climbing up the back door to get onto the seat next to me. I of course was screaming hysterically, so my mother pulled me up into the front seat so I could sit on her lap. I then saw these pliers go back to the floor and try to make their way to me again. My mother didn’t see anything. surprised? that’s all I remember from that story, but later on in life I did bring that up to my mother and she recalled the exact story as well. She said that I saw a lot of things that weren’t there, and that she took me to be checked out when I was a child. Now this next part will make you laugh because it made me laugh when she told me. It does however, prove how far we have come since the 70′s though. She said that one diagnoses was that chocolate was causing these hallucinations. Yep, chocolate… Obviously they were wrong, but chocolate? Im pretty sure that America was the leader in medical science back then. In any case, I wasn’t allowed to eat chocolate for quite some time.

As a teenager, I dont recall any hallucinations, I have always seen that little 1 foot figure through my periphial though, but I don’t really consider that a hallucination. Probably because I never have seen it dead on, it has always been through the corner of my eye, and when I look, its gone. So I kind of consider that to be just exhaustion. In fact, after awhile, I began using that as my alarm that let me know it was time to go to sleep. As soon as I saw it, I would just think to myself, ok, I must be exhausted, time to get some sleep. Later on though, I had some seriously dangerous hallucinations most definately caused by my Bipolar Disorder. And shortly afterwards I was diagnosed with bipolar 1 with psychosis.

Is it a Sign that Bipolar is Lurking Around the Corner?

So anyway, I have started seeing things again, and really frequently too. Not the hallucinations, but just alot of things moving in my peripherial vision. It’s alot different than before because it’s happenning so frequently. 5 to 10 times a day whereas before it would be just every once in awhile. It’s also not the little figure zipping by, I’ve been seeing a large figure stairing at me maybe 10 feet away. This must sound so bizarre, I can only imagine how retarded I must seem. But it’s not as bad as it sounds. I mean, I’m not scared or anything, a few times I do get the chills, but mostly I know it’s just my mind playing tricks, and therefore I barely give it any thought. I’m just hoping it’s not an indicator that another major bipolar episode is lurking around the corner. I’m really not ready for that. I generally just live with some type of daily mild symptoms. I’m used to them and it’s not so bad. But lately I’ve noticed an increase in symptoms. Now add to it, these odd occurances and I’m just getting worried. I’ve spent a good deal of time eliminating everything stressful in my life, and I try very hard to block things out quickly before they become triggers. Hopefully it’s nothing, it’s just making me feel that deja-vu feeling and reminding me of the suffering from the last major episode. I really am not ready for another one.

Well I’m finally back writing again. I haven’t written since July because I was going through a little mini war with myself. I feel I did pretty good staying above water though. The cause? I had problems with my X girlfriend. I didnt want that to be a trigger so once I started feeling the (bipolar) symptoms start to rise up, I just tried to do everything I could to not let them get the best of me this time around. I tried to keep so busy working and not lose focus. It worked. I didn’t get any bipolar symptoms this time. However, I did get my old friend insomnia back. But I’ll take that over other symptoms any day.

When I was younger, I used to say “I’m back like Return of the Jedi”, but I think “Back Like Bipolar” is a more appropriate term for me now days.

Just when you start feeling a sense of normalcy, Bipolar creeps back into your life to say “where the F are you going”? So yeah, Im back like bipolar!

I’m getting tired of being tired… Exhausted of being sad… Annoyed of the tears that randomly flow down my face regardless of what is on my mind. I’ve had enough of being sad; and that just exhausts me further.

I’ve been home all day – and I can’t stand my apartment. Being here seems to make it worse. It’s like once I walk through my front door, I feel the emptiness in my heart and the stillness in the air. I feel like I just entered into a different world. It’s gloomy here and time seems to be on pause. I hate being home, this apartment, I hate this cell.

And as much as I hate being home, I work from home. How ironic. People think that’s a plus, and maybe it would be had I not had this burden of bipolar to bare. There are times where I enjoy working from home, but then there are many more times when I think it contributes to my depression. I don’t know how to explain it, but alot of times I feel like I’m trapped in a hell. There’s an overwhelming sadness and I just sit with the tv off doing nothing but tearing for hours at a time, getting no work done, ignoring phone calls, and forgetting to eat until 4 or 5 am when I finally walk into the kitchen but I’m too emotionally drained to cook a real meal, so I eat a few oreo cookies or a bowl of cereal instead. Afterwards I turn the tv on and lay down hoping that I’ll fall asleep soon.

What a life.

Yesterday my X came over to my house. I was in a pretty good mood, making jokes, etc. She was laughing and enjoying my company and even at one point she was laughing so hard, she told me to stop before she pees herself (which I actually thought was pretty funny). I was just being silly and to me it livened up the mood.

All of a sudden, she stops laughing and starts staring at me as if there was a bug crawling on my face. She asked if I’m on medication again or if I’m having a manic episode. She said I’m acting weird and overly excited, and she gives me this sad look as if something’s wrong with me. She was just laughing right along with me two minutes ago, so wouldn’t that mean something’s wrong with her too then?

I’ve noticed way too often, that when someone knows you’re bipolar, they seem to think EVERYTHING you do is BECAUSE you’re Bipolar. I just happened to have been in a good, positive, happy mood, making jokes and bringing a smile to her face. It has nothing to do with mania. Believe it or not, I actually do have a personality hidden in my head somewhere.  Bipolar can’t take credit for everything.

I am so glad that I started this blog. I’ve been online all evening browsing the web reading other peoples blogs, visiting bipolar related sites, and learning more about this disorder. Mostly, I just feel so relieved to be able to interact with others that share the same struggle. Somehow it feels like a weight has been lifted. I’m able to open up and feel a little bit of freedom. I can seek out others with similar troubles and read about their struggle and how they are coping with bipolar in their lives. I can take some of their advice and apply to my own situation. I may also be able to help some of them as well because I’ve been through a lot, and I’ve learned certain things that help me get through. I like being able to talk to people about things that have been locked up inside of me for years. Maybe blogging is a form of therapy for me. I am beginning to think so. I mean I could never really talk to my family in details about what I’m going through because I would likely scare them, and cause them to worry more than they already do. They know I’m bipolar, but there is no way they could ever imagine the things and feelings that are going on inside my world. And I wouldn’t want them to. I don’t want my family worrying about me or feeling pain in their hearts because they know I’m going through such things. I don’t want to be the cause, or a burden to anyone.

Everything seems to be moving slower than normal. Surrounding sounds and noises seem to be much lower than they usually are. I feel like I’m starving -my stomach hurts like I haven’t eaten in weeks. I feel irrational, weak, and my heart hurts in a way as if my Mother, Sister, & Son were all killed in the same day. I can’t stop crying. I feel nauseous. My head is numb. I don’t want to do anything. I feel like I’m on pause. I want to be secluded away from everyone. I feel very empty, lonely. I see a nice unpopulated area with lots of trees, I pull my truck over, get out, and walk over to it. I feel good to be away from everyone and everything. It feels more peaceful here. I have weird thoughts, a lot of arguing within myself. Arguing with myself. Both voices are me, but one sounds further away and kind of up and to the rear. Too much talking in my head. I wonder if I’m going crazy, is this the beginning stages of insanity?

I sit here alone for three hours. My thoughts begin to race. I can’t understand myself anymore. I try to listen or pinpoint at least one thought but can not. They are all up there, speeding along and mixed up, and I can’t even get a grip on one of them. So many racing thoughts. I feel like I’m trying to catch them, but can’t. Just one thought is all I want, but I can’t focus enough. I try so much it hurts to try. I want to yell out loud. I don’t want anyone near me. Stay away. My head feels like it itches. I scratch it hard, and hold my head with my hands. I want to cut into my head with my fingernails, but am still sane enough to know not too. So I just stay there crying, and not knowing or understanding why. I hate it.

I’m so exhausted, mentally exhausted. My head is so numb, even more so than before, but the pain seems to die down a little. I’m starting to get dizzy. My motor skills are slowing down. I wave my hand in front of my face and I see a trail. It feels like I’m high. I giggle. I almost like the feeling. It is better than the pain. I look around, but slowly, and everything leaves a trail. The noise dies out and I hear it as it fades out into a mute. I feel like I can hear the air… The quietness… The stillness. I’m not crying anymore, but tears continually fall down my face. I feel better now, but still empty… still alone. There’s no sound at all except for the sound of my own voices in my head, so loud against the silence of the outside world. I ask myself if I’m really here. Is this really happening? I question my own question… Did I just ask if I’m here? What is reality? I laugh. I laugh with a face full of tears. I don’t understand anymore. I give up trying. I feel a funny feeling on my head, like a blanket covering my skull. Then I see a person walking on a sidewalk. This sidewalk wasn’t here before. Where did it come from? Is this another hallucination? This new “situation” is mixing in with my reality. I see both simultaneously overlapping each other but both are kind of blurry. I get mixed up, forget which came first. The person walks through the trees and keeps walking past me. Things get more confusing. Did that just happen? I’m here in the woods, alone with no one, no sidewalk, no bench, no other people, right? Or am I on a bench along the sidewalk watching as a real person walked by me? If so, that would mean the nice ‘out of the way’ place that I drove to, with all of the trees was actually the hallucination? Was my whole day a hallucination? Which is which? When did it start? How long has it lasted? How come I can’t tell which one is reality? I’m becoming frantic and nervous. I don’t want to move because I’m scared. Can someone help me? Please.

That is what it’s like living with Bipolar Disorder.