#my bipolar has been extra intense lately | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

devolawrites · 10 months

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I originally posted this on Twitter, and tbh I'll probably get the worst cringe in a day and delete the thread and this as well but I need people who have commissioned fics from me or at least know my writing to know what the actual mcfuck has been going on with me lately.

Re: status of my fic comms right now.

It's not that I haven't been honest with people, I have been, but probably not as honest bc I haven't been too honest with myself either? I am working on them. They will be finished. I guarantee that. But... I have very high expectations for myself. Ones that are, most likely, unrealistic. I am genuinely running on fucking empty right now and have been for the better part of six months now. Not that I was much better beforehand but it's been the worst in the past 6 months.

I'm very open and honest about being physically ill with fibromyalgia and endometriosis. Chronic migraines. Asthma. Spinal issues and the like. I also have bipolar disorder, ADHD, OCD, C-PTSD and, while not diagnosed, am likely touched by the tism as well. As such, I take (or I should say am supposed to take) a lot of meds daily. I haven't been able to take them bc I've been getting violently ill immediately after taking them and no one can figure out why! I also work full time and have been attempting to finish my masters.

That, right there, is baseline 'what the fuck mary take some time to yourself' but, lol. lmao, even. Then my life fell apart in March. How so?

In the span of one week: someone I considered a family member passed away. I finally allowed myself to be open to someone about how I felt after two horribly abusive situations only to get the kindest, gentlest thing ever said to me while also being turned down INTENSELY. And then found out not even 10 minutes after said FAMILY-ZONED (not even friend zoned FAMILY ZONED do you know how weird it is to tell someone you have feelings for them only to get told 'oh i see you like a sister i've never had' and just wanna die) that your best friend died.

Via fucking Facebook message.

And then that week also be the one year anniversary of my Nana's death which I'm sure still was malpractice but we'll never know for sure and I'm still bitter about it. Needless to say, I spiraled. Very badly.

I was already stressed from paying for fixing my car and finding myself needing the extra money from comms more and more and piling on more work on myself bc lmao bills and making my back log even worse and now I felt horrifically alone and vulnerable and embarrassed. And, to be sure, I still did put work out. But I also struggled with a lot of comms that I genuinely had been excited to take on only to find myself just... unable to do them. For one reason or another. Writers block? Feeling like it wasn't meeting expectations?

I'd ask other writers for help. For suggestions. For feedback. For other angles to approach shit. And I got fantastic advice. And still, nothing budged. I literally had burnt myself out and was still trying to run on empty. On fucking fumes. And I still am. And, I'll be honest, it also did sorta sting when I'd finally get work posted and then I'd just... idk. Feel like it flopped. Either with the person who comm'd it or with people in general and that's bc of how Twitter's algorithm hates creators but it's hard to not internalize.

And it made wanting to write and wanting to work on things so much harder because it became less and less about wanting to do something I genuinely enjoy and wanting to smush yalls Barbies around and felt like an obligation with no reward. And that's not yalls fault, truly. But I internalize that shit really hard and take it as a 'you're not doing this right, no wonder people would prefer others write shit and not you, you can't keep up the schedule you made for yourself.' Which is why my timeline even changed in March.

I tried to make a more realistic turnaround time, with the same disclaimers. I even mentioned to people that they'd be on a WAITLIST. And I still feel like I'm not working fast enough. Not because of any pressure from those who have paid. But my own brain. And it sucks.

Because it's making me spiral and making it even worse and it's a snake eating its own tail because if I can just get out of this fucking cycle of doubting myself and feeling like it's not gonna be worth it, I can conquer this shit. I owe so many people so much and I just... I feel horrible. I know that I should refund like, most if not all of you at this point. I just haven't had the funds to be able to do that, tbfh. I only just was able to get caught up on bills these past 2-3 checks. And if you want a refund, please, tell me! I'll do it!

But I think once this batch I have currently listed on Trello is completed, I'm closing comms for a good fucking long while. And learning how to actually enjoy my writing again. Because right now, I don't. I don't enjoy sharing my work and getting no boosts. No comments. Kudos are nice, don't get me wrong, and I love every single kudos that I get, when I get them. But it's hard to not let the self doubt and self critique fester. And again, this is not any of yalls fault. It's my own. And I don't know how to fix it, tbh.

So, once these comms are up, it's gonna just. Stop. I'll probably work on my own stuff, but I didn't even do any of the ship week content that I wanted to do (wolchefant, wolcred, wolmeric OR wolstinien) because I didn't want to upset those who I owed work to.

So, that's the state of me as a fic writer right now. It's more theory than practice, at this point, and I'm just... I'm trying, I really am. I have so many drafts in my google docs right now and I hate everything I've written so much that I'm starting from scratch every time.

Which is why the Trello has, for the most part, stood still. I'm not blowing you guys off. I just genuinely have nothing to show. And I'm sorry.

#literally crying writing this bc i hate feeling like a disappointment and a failure #but i am!!! i am letting people down and it sucks!!!

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

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Survey #338

“i can’t decide if you’re wearing me out, or wearing me well”

Are you a fan of techno? I've gotten more into it lately, actually. I've never minded it. Who’s your favorite horror movie villain/monster? Pyramid Head, though he's called Red Pyramid Thing in the movies. Do you have a favorite muscle car? Nah. I'm not big into cars. What would be a total deal-breaker for you, relationship-wise? You so much as lift your hand at me, bye, motherfucker. Would you consider yourself to be accepting of others? Yes, but not as much as I used to be. There are certain opinions I just don't tolerate in people anymore; I feel like by staying associated with people whose views invalidate or in any way harm others (racism, homophobia, transphobia, etc.), you're on the side of evil as well, even if indirectly. However, I genuinely do feel I have a wide range of viewpoints I'm willing to accept in others, even if I don't agree with them. Are you flirtatious? No. I think I'm only capable of flirting with someone I'm already with and very comfortable around. I'd feel way too shy and awkward otherwise. Have you ever just felt "drawn" to someone, but you didn’t know why? "Didn't know why," no. I've felt drawn to people with good reason, like if I was romantically interested in them. Is there anyone you currently want to reach out to? There's a number, honestly. Especially with the aid of therapy, I'm being motivated to strengthen bonds with old friends and/or acquaintances via Facebook. Freddy or Jason? I think Jason is scarier. Freddy tends to come across as cheesy for me. Have stickers or gems on your cell phone? Nah. Ever teased your hair? Bitch I damn well tried in high school because I wanted the ~ l e g i t ~ emo hair, but mine was just too heavy to hold, at least with the hairspray my sister had. Have any friends with benefits? Nah, that's never been my thing. Ever lost of bunch of valuable information? Ummm I don't believe so. I've lost massive RP posts before, but I can't really call those "valuable information." What drinks or food make you hyper? None, really. Most expensive thing you ever bought? With my own money, my snake. She's a champagne morph ball python. What type of toothpaste do you use? Crest. How much time to spend putting on makeup daily? Zero. When listening to a song, what do you listen for (lyrics, bass, beat, ect)? The beat, more than anything else. What is the color of your toothbrush? It's a white electric one. What is your favorite color(s) of eye-makeup? Black. Just black. Are you sexually active? I'm not. Do you have sensitive skin? Very. Are you attracted to several guys atm? I'm actually not attracted to any guys in my personal life atm. How many toilets are in your house? Two. Do you have an older sister? Excluding the one I don't know, I have three older sisters. Favorite song by Owl City? Probably "Hot Air Balloon," but I don't know many at all. What color is your mum’s car? White. Do you truly understand the (LDS) Mormon religion? I don't know what "LDS" means, but as my former best friend developed into a Mormon, I learned some stuff from her in her self-discovery. I don't remember a lot of it, not that I knew all that much in the first place. Where do you keep your kitty litter box? Ugh, Mom's unmovable about it being in my fucking room for some reason. And we have an extra goddamn room no one uses yet. Roman's shit STINKS, like we think something might actually be wrong, but nope, it has to stay in here. e_e It would literally inconvenience nobody if we moved it in the spare room. Are you a lighter complexion than your father? MUCH lighter. He's very tan. Do you like apricots? No. Solid soap bar or liquid body wash? 100% body wash. Bar soap slips so easily, and as someone who lives with another person, I'm not rubbing my body with the same bar my mother uses, no offense to her. Sharing it's just gross. Where do you live (country or state)? Shitty 'ole North Carolina. Do you use plastic, wooden, or wire hangers? I think we have a mix of them, actually. What is your favorite shade of yellow? I only like pastel yellow. Otherwise, it's one of my least favorite colors. Are there any shades of blue that you don’t like? If so, which ones? Ehhh not really. What is something you want to accomplish before you turn 30? God, can I please have a stable career by then. Who has the best decorated house in your town? I don't know. We live in a cul de sac community thing where it's just houses next to houses, so there's a lot to choose from. I don't pay attention to them. What is your favorite part of Halloween? The decorations. Do you feel a connection to the moon? "As above, so below," as the saying goes. What does your heart long for? Peace and contentness with myself. Did you decorate a pumpkin this year? Last year, I didn't. I do want to this year, though, if I can just think of a really good idea. I have to be motivated. What are some fall activities you would do with your kids? I'm not having kids, but I'll follow along, hypothetically. With how much joy Halloween brought me as a kid, I'd want to do SO much as a family with them. Homemade decorations, carving or painting pumpkins together, and hell yeah I'd be taking them trick-or-treating once I felt they were ready and they wanted to. I'd be one of those parents that probably spends too much on whatever costumes they want, haha... Oh, and then besides Halloween, I'd certainly rake leaf piles together for them to jump and play in. This question has brought to mind like ONE thing I could enjoy as a parent, haha. Have you ever seen a fox? I have; besides in a zoo setting, I've seen one or two in the wild run out of sight, and I also found one poor fellow as roadkill that had been disemboweled by I'm assuming vultures. With my whole roadkill photography thing, I literally almost kneeled into a strand of intestines I didn't see at first. :x What color are the squirrels where you live? We only have brown ones. Is there anything about Halloween you find offensive? lol no What do the trees look like where you live? Lots, and lots, and LOTS of pine trees... There are others, but I'm not well-informed on tree species and such. Oh, then of course there are dogwoods (our "state tree"), which are unmistakable because they smell like fucking manure. What is your dream vacation? Maybe the mountains on the western side of NC during the fall... ugh, that would be breathtaking. We actually have an abandoned The Wizard of Oz-themed park around there that allows tours at certain times of the year, and I'd love to visit and photograph there. As well, western NC has the zoo, which would be spectacular to visit with autumn weather and, once again, load up on photos. Did you like field trips when you were a kid? I LOVED field trips. Do you find museums boring or interesting? Very interesting! Would you ever wear a shirt with your country’s flag on it? No. I'm not patriotic enough at all for that. What’s a medicine that makes you sleepy? Historically, larger doses of Klonopin can knock me the fuck out. Do you like bath bombs? Never used one, because I don't do baths. Who are your favorite small YouTubers? I'm going to guesstimate you mean less than 1M subs as "small," because I really don't know what you consider to fit that description. I watch a lot of people with less than 1M, so it's hard to say, but lately it's probably been a let's player John Wolfe. He's really funny. Then there's some tarantula YouTubers, along with the animal educator Emzotic... and really just many others. I think most of the people I watch actually have sub-1M, but more than 500k. Who are your favorite big YouTubers? Markiplier is absolutely, positively #1. I also really enjoy Snake Discovery, GameGrumps, Jeffree Star (don't judge me ok, he's a fuckin hoot), and while I haven't watched them in years, Good Mythical Morning will ALWAYS be deeply, deeeeply embedded in my heart. What was your favorite girl group when you were growing up? Ummm probably the Spice Girls? Have you ever used an outhouse? Ugh, yes, at old childhood sports games. What was the last good cause you donated towards? When I cut off like 8+ inches of hair to accomplish the style I have now, I donated it to Children With Hair Loss. My hair has always been mega-thick and healthy, so why in the world waste it? One of my most cherished items is the certificate I got in return many months later that my donation had been used. Have any of your exes gotten married or had kids since your breakup? I haven't had contact with Juan in many years, don't know what Tyler's up to either, and I haven't spoken to Jason since 2017, so. I'm very doubtful he's married or has kids yet, though, just knowing him and how "I need to be fully prepared for this" he is with big life stuff like that. Does it bother you when people get super emotional? Not at all. I'll do my all to comfort them. Have you ever worked in a restaurant? No. Do you get a lot of thunderstorms where you live? Depends on the time of year. Summertime? Brief but super intense thunderstorms every late afternoon. What was the last drive-thru you went through? Taco Bell w/ Mom. Do you know anyone who claims they can see/feel spirits or other supernatural ‘things?’ No. Do either of your parents have a mental illness? My mom has depression, and Mom is also convinced Dad has either depression masked as anger and/or bipolarity, but following the divorce, I don't see it in him at all. He's never seen a doctor in that field to be diagnosed with any mental illness. What fun things are there to do where you live? Jackshit. Do you know anyone with a really poorly-trained dog? Mother of fucking god, yes. My little sister lives with her best friend, and said friend has a colossal black lab named Hudson that is absolutely uncontrollable because she neglects the shit out of him. Won't listen to you even if it saved his life. He jumps on you, barks endlessly, and if he escapes the house? Good fucking luck getting him inside. She has absolutely no right to own a dog with how shitty of an owner she honestly is. When you were growing up, did your family rent or own your home? They owned it. The idiots who were moving in after us accidentally burnt the place to a fucking crisp, and my parents were SO not happy to lose that house because people were dumb enough to place boxes atop the goddamn stove. Do you do meal-prepping? No. Do you know anyone who got preggo less than a year into their relationship? Multiple people, not that that's my business. What did you dream about last night? I don't remember it clearly, other than I was with Jason and his mother was also present. What's the biggest age difference you've ever had in a relationship? That would have been with Juan, but I don't remember exactly how old he was. I just know I was a freshman and him a senior that got held back a year or so in HS. If you could save one animal from ever becoming extinct, what animal would you pick? Probably bees, given how vital they are. Name the coolest thing about one of your grandparents. My maternal grandmother worked at Disney World. I can't remember what her position was, though. Do you ever eat peanut butter straight from the jar? If I want a healthy snack, sometimes I'll have a scoop. Do you prefer your clothes loose or close fitting? They need to be loose. Favorite thing you’ve ever painted? This big painting of meerkats grooming on burlap I did in high school. Do you always wear a bra? I question the self-love of anyone who can sleep with a bra on. ;__; Do you normally finish one book before starting another? Oh yes, I can't read more than one at a time. Do you prefer reading books, comic books, manga/graphic novels, magazines, or the newspaper? The normal book. Do you know how to play chess? I don't. Are you watching anything? No, but I do have Manson's "Third Day of a Seven Day Binge" on in another tab. What is your blood type? A-. Has anyone ever borrowed something from you and never returned it? Yes. Do you twitch when you're falling asleep? Dude, I more than "twitch." I can just suddenly spaz out and look like I'm seizing for a moment. Another side effect of my nightmare suppressant medication. Are any of your pets “overweight”? No. Has anyone ever bought you a ring? My mom has bought me a few, and Jason gave me one for one of our anniversaries. Where was the last place you took a bath/shower, other than your own house? My sister's place. What first attracted you to the last person you kissed? Just how unique and happy that way she is. And her pretty much undying loyalty. Has someone ever taken a pic of you while you were making out with someone? No, considering I wouldn't go that far with someone unless we were alone. Had a crush on someone you thought shared your sexuality, turns out didn’t? Yes. What’s your favorite color to wear? Black. Does it gross you out if a guy has hair on his chest? I personally don't find an excess of it attractive, but it doesn't "gross me out." If they bathe themselves just like everyone else, why should it? Do you think sexuality is a choice or not? It is absolutely not a choice. If it was, I'd assume most people would choose to be straight, given phobias, hatecrimes, etc... I could write an essay on this. Do you like industrial piercings? Yeah. Do you think stretched ears are disgusting? "Disgusting" is, once again, the wrong word. Gauges don't really gross me out - hell, I want tiny ones -, but they can reach a size that, to me, is not visually appealing. Did you watch animated Barbie movies when you were little? I do remember loving Princess and the Pauper as well as the Rapunzel one; my sister was addicted to them. Oh yeah! Then there was the Swan Lake one that she adored, too. We usually watched movies together. Do you like fruit in your cereal? Big No. Do you like raw vegetables? Ugh, no. Do you listen to A Day to Remember? I do! They're on my list of faves. Do you like funnel cake? I actually don't. Have you ever been with someone while they were getting a tattoo? Yuh.

#survey #surveys #questions #lyrics: ''third day of a seven day binge'' by marilyn manson

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hecallsmehischild · 3 years

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Heads up. #Wrestling with God stuff under the cut.

Background: I do believe that God takes an active role in our lives. I do believe that there is an enemy force, and for lack of better words and more information I say “demons”. I grew up on the road with my parents, who have a small Christian music ministry, and I have had a front row seat to several rounds of what has been termed “spiritual warfare” meaning, an attack from said enemy in some way (on equipment, on mood, on health, on circumstances) and ensuing prayers for protection and to send them off. No, not EVERYTHING is an attack, bad stuff happens all the time and I don’t see any point in trying to cast out the flatness of your tire, however truly bizarre and perfectly timed things are highly suspect. One more thing, I believe that mental illness and a demonic attack are two separate things and should not be confused with each other or addressed in the same way (that’s actually EXTREMELY damaging). However, there is an overlap that I believe goes like this: the mental illness is like extra large cracks running along a wall that protects you, bigger than the normal cracks in other peoples’ walls, and if there is an intelligent enemy then those cracks are very enticing tactical targets.

The situation: Things have been kind of weird for over a week now. At first I was pretty convinced the anxiety was me, but it’s not normal even considering my diagnoses. I’ve never experienced that excessive level of anxiety that wouldn’t stop for days. I know that’s a thing that happens for people, but it’s extremely abnormal for me in particular, which is a red flag. This did not correlate to a Bipolar swing in either direction, and the fear I was experiencing didn’t have a stable root. What I was terrified of would move from topic to topic, as if it had nothing to do with the topic itself and I was just trying to figure out why this was happening and latching onto The Most Likely Reason. At one point, I couldn’t even finish one of my favorite meals., I was picking at it and only ate half because I forced myself. I’d become terrified I was going down the road to an eating disorder.

Sergey and I consulted with the pastor who married us. He is someone who has pastored a tiny church in a bad area for 40 years and didn’t leave it because that was where God told him to be. This is a guy who has seen way more spiritual warfare in way more facets than I care to ever encounter. After talking with him and getting some guidance, Sergey and I prayed together. We prayed for ourselves and for the house. And the next day I was full of joy and strength and I was pushing all my projects forward and feeling like I could celebrate being alive every day. That is also not a state of mind I am capable of inducing, for the record. If it were, that would be how every single day goes.

The anxiety has not returned to the level or intensity that it was in the first three days. But for the last couple of nights, anxiety of slightly lower level (half to three quarters the intensity) came back. Two nights back, it left as soon as Sergey and I prayed. I can describe the feeling no other way except that fear and mental confusion rolled off and receded, and I suddenly realized how cramped my lungs had been and I was gasping for air. And I had mental clarity, where a moment before, I couldn’t think straight. Again, these are things I can’t induce.

Last night it hit again. I was desperately tired, but I couldn’t sleep. Every thought was like a hot stove that I couldn’t get too close to, or rest on, or I’d be burned. I went from thought to thought, trying to find something I could rest on (because my brain literally cannot do “nothing”) and I couldn’t, everything was full of anxiety, and the worst thoughts were about food and eating disorder fears and being institutionalized.

I really don’t know what is going on lately. I have a couple hunches, but the truth is I’m pretty new to dealing with this away from my parents. I’m used to it whenever I go on a tour with Mom, but it crops up in my new home setting now. The last time we really dealt with anything remotely similar is after we asked my abusive friend to leave almost two years ago. Since then... I mean, if this is warfare, it feels like a siege with intermittent attacks on the wall. It hasn’t gone on for months or years, so maybe it’s premature to call it a siege, but I’ve never had one go on like this. It’s just. Very strange. And I don’t know all the ways one is supposed to deal with this.

It is time I learned, though. Mom won’t be around forever, and neither will our Pastor. And I have glaring cracks in the wall that I’m incapable of mending. I may be talking about this from time to time on here. Reminder that the #wrestling with God tag is there for blocking if it bothers you, and I’m overly conscientious about tagging posts with that.

#rlchild #wrestling with God #spiritual warfare stuff

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lavenderwillow-blog · 7 years

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Lately I've been so inspired by so many beautiful strong women living authentically as themselves, through the good AND the bad... and I realized that I really struggle with depicting myself to others the way I feel that I actually am. It's either that or I totally overshare and can't get my mouth hose to stop spraying everywhere. And so I am going to try to practice balance, by telling you all some things I've hidden from my "online" world that maybe explain why I struggle to get real with people that I'm not already close to. Not as an excuse, just as something I'm ready to share. I was diagnosed as bipolar my freshman year of high school. The psychiatrist I saw was terrible and pushed me into medication before trying other, safer options, or even doing any real tests to see if I actually was bipolar, likely to make more profit off me. I got off meds by myself my senior year of high school and went through a few years of trying to figure out who I was, after being so numbed and shackled to what felt essentially like prescription speed plus Novocain for so long. To be fair, I definitely have extreme highs and extreme lows. The "me" most of you know is a softened version of my elevated "manic" side. The people who have seen my "depressive" side and stuck around are few, and I will never be able to express my gratitude for them. When you're bipolar, it's not that you have wild mood swings one moment to the next (although on occasion that may happen to some people). It's that you have two months of boundless energy in you. You can't sleep. You're antsy and fidgety. You want to get in the car and drive as far as you can and not stop regardless of your responsibilities. You decide to shave the side of your head because it's August and too hot in SoCal without remembering you'd like to be a teacher and you should probably consider what the grow out plan would be to look professional again. You spend hours over analyzing every second of every day of every word of every breath of the people around you and yourself. Sometimes, mania is beautiful. Sometimes its climbing actual mountains because you decided that day you needed to. Sometimes it's buying that concert ticket and dancing your heart out all night and making that memory. Sometimes it's impulsively calling the dude you love and saying "why don't you just move 500 miles and live with me?" But mania is also not knowing when to stop. Not knowing how to stop sometimes, even if you know when you should. It's running on 2 hours of sleep a night for months at a time. It's getting A's but losing your mind in the process. It's working so hard you lose vision temporarily from eye strain (true story) and being overly abrasive or intense to those you love. Manic periods feel like you're attached to five thousand balloons going higher and higher until you can't even see the ground anymore and you know you should panic but you're so exhilarated you don't... but depressive periods feel like a hundred pound blanket is enrobing your body. At least for me, depressive bouts mean I don't care about anything I'm supposed to be working on. I don't care to eat healthy. I don't care to leave the house. I don't know what the point of trying even is. I lay on the couch day and night, scrolling endlessly through social media as to avoid my own self-loathing thoughts. I blow off friends, because in my mind, I'm sure that they don't actually want to see me, and that they'd be better off going out without me to drag them down. I make plans trying to snap myself out of my mindset only to panic and cancel at the last minute. These periods of depression sneak up suddenly, usually when the anxiety of the mania has no more energy left to fuel itself. I go into hibernation. Sometimes, for months at a time. The worst part of the cycle of moving from manic to depressive-- when the balloons pop and you fall until you hit the ground. The best part is moving from depressive to manic: it's a euphoria like water that quenches your whole body to have the courage to leave the couch, take a shower, and go TALK to another person! Maybe even eat a salad! Maybe even wear some glitter! (Soon, though, youre flying too high once again.... and the anxiety creeps in... and you keep floating up... and up... and up...) As I've gotten older, moved on from old triggers, and have taken my mental health into consideration in my decisions, I can handle these struggles much easier. I know when I'm manic, so I try to keep myself calm and remind myself to be rational. I use my extra energy for important projects, and spend lots of time being social to get my energy out. When I feel a depression coming on, I try to get as much done as I can before it fully hits, knowing I'll be out of commission for a day or two. This happens once every few months, and I can usually manage to hold it together enough during the week to go to school, etc, before Netflix binging alone and not eating anything other than pizza for the weekend. (It's been interesting having Joe here for these moments so far, because I can't just become a lonesome hermit, which usually makes the depressive moments pass a little quicker, albeit more painfully because I'm worried about making him sad because I'm sad). Sometimes depression is stickier than that, and I have to shake it off by going away for a few days, or forcing myself to eat healthy for a week, or finding a nice guided meditation to listen to, or carrying a crystal in my pocket. If I ever blow up at people, it's during this period of uncomfortable emotional transition. I'm always so sorry later when I realize nothing I got upset at them from was really their fault. I know this is long, and sort of a downer, but thank you for reading this far. I appreciate the chance to be heard, and to make myself vulnerable and practice authenticity. If anyone is still reading, I'd like to share not only my history, but also my present moment with you. I'm struggling right now as I feel a depression coming on, after a wonderfully productive month of mania. I can feel myself slowing down and my heart heavy. Not for any reason other than brain chemistry... and likely the exhaustion from my mania catching up to me too. But I also have a TON of responsibilities with the new semester starting and I don't have any time to spare. If anyone could send some good depression-beating energy my way, I would seriously appreciate it. P.s. I'm writing this from my own perspective, which may not reflect the experiences of others with Bipolar. Also, if you could try to keep any comments on the more-positive side, I'd really appreciate that right now. Feel free to PM me if commenting is too public for you.

#bipolar #manic depressive

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katastrophizing · 7 years

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So, I posted this on Reddit, but I figured I would post here as well!

Bit of a long post, but I want to share some detail about my weight loss/fitness journey...

I'm a 25-year-old female that, through CICO (Calories In, Calories Out), has been able to drop from my highest weight of 200 lbs (January 2016) to a healthy, fit 125 lbs (though in the pic I've posted is when I was probably closer to ~187 lbs). Also, I'm about 5'7", for reference. I actually lost the first 65 lbs in about seven or eight months (I know that's very quick, but I was very determined!) with drastic lifestyle changes. I was very depressed at close to my highest weight. I've been diagnosed with manic depression and generalized anxiety for about nine years now, but it got especially bad around December 2015/January 2016 when I was the heaviest and most physically unhealthy I had ever been. I was barely motivated to get out of bed some days, I had no job, hardly any friends, and I was a serious emotional overeater with major self-esteem and confidence issues. But one morning, by the grace of God maybe, IDK I really can't even explain what happened (maybe it's because the first number on the scale was, for the first time, a 2 and not a 1), after a long crying/self-pity session, something just kinda stirred within me. Like an epiphany of some sort. At that moment, I decided I was going to stop making excuses and acting like a victim to my misery and obesity, that enough was enough. I was sick and tired of being unhealthy, overweight, and miserable. I wanted to gain control of my life. I had tried numerous attempts at weight loss before, but never could stick with any kind of routine or diet for longer than about two weeks. But this time it was gonna be different, I decided. So, I put on a pair of sweatpants and some old running shoes I had lying around and I left my house with my hardly-used Fitbit watch (that I had received as a Christmas gift from my mom about a month earlier), and I just. started. walking... I wasn't sure where I was gonna walk to or for how long, but I wanted to do ANYTHING other than just sit at home and be miserable. So, I put in my earbuds, turned on some upbeat music, and just kept walking. I walked for about two hours around my neighborhood and when I got back to my place, I realized that I had walked five miles! And it felt good... It was just one walk (granted, a really long one), but I decided I was gonna make it a habit. I started going on daily five-mile walks that I had mapped out around my neighborhood, and actually usually twice in a day (one walk in early morning and one in late afternoon), since I was unemployed/not in school and had extra time on my hands. My feet/legs were definitely hurting and sore at first, but gel inserts for my shoes really helped a lot. This long-distance walking was nearly every day for about four or five months, a time period in which I dropped about 40-45 lbs. The first 15 or 20 being in the first month alone. As the weight dropped and I was eating healthier/becoming a lot more active, my overall confidence was increasing, my sleep, "brain fog", and feelings of "meh" (as I call it) were all improving/diminishing, and my energy levels were higher than they had been in a very long time. I was even starting to get some compliments from family and people around me who noticed my weight loss and my overall change in mood/attitude, which felt pretty good honestly.

My CICO was monitored pretty thoroughly through consistent food logging on the app, "My Fitness Pal", and activity monitoring on my Fitbit HR watch. Diet, in summary, was mainly cutting out soda (for good! To this day, I still don't drink soda.) and fast food (though I admit I will now occasionally have fast food as a "cheat meal"), drinking lots of water, and I greatly decreased my intake of refined carbs/sugars. I replaced a lot of these foods that I was used to eating with more protein-rich foods/fruits &veggies/healthy fats & carbs. Less crap, basically. It was very difficult at first because I loved things like Kraft mac and cheese and Dr. Pepper. I also had a horrible habit of overeating in general and eating out of boredom, rather than when feeling truly hungry. However, I was determined to change. As I practiced more self-discipline and started noticing results in how I looked/felt, the cravings lessened and became easier to combat. I realized I could eat healthier, fewer calories and still feel satiated.

And though I know it's not usually advised to go higher than a 1,000 calorie deficit a day without consulting a medical professional first, my daily step count was averaging about 27,000 (which, for my weight then, was a LOT of burned calories) and my overall caloric deficit was usually anywhere between 700 and 1,500 (but I was careful to not ever eat below 1200 calories for the day and generally my consumption was between 1500 and 2000). I was losing a steady 2-3 lbs a week and feeling pretty awesome as I noticed results not only in the mirror, but with how I carried myself and my overall attitude.

I hit a relatively short three-week plateau in May (I think?) which was frustrating at first, but caused me to switch up my fitness routine a bit. I started mixing in some higher-intensity cardio such as jogging (could barely jog a half mile at first, but now I go anywhere between 2-6 miles) and hiking local trails. I also incorporated some at-home strength training using 5 or 8 lb dumbbells three times a week to help with overall body composition and fat loss. By early July, I had lost about 55 lbs , was at what's considered a healthy and no longer overweight BMI, and finally felt confident enough to go out and look for a job again. I landed a decent job after my first interview, something I would have not even thought possible 6 or 7 months earlier.

I hit my first major weight loss goal of 65 lbs, weighing 135 lbs, in late August, I believe? (As you can see, I can't quite remember the exact timeline right now lol). I maintained this weight for about six months, but still felt like I could maybe "cut" and get some more muscle definition. So, just these last six weeks, I've lost ten more pounds and have attained a more ~toned~ look through yoga, running, heavier weights at the gym, and hardly any going out/drinking [Though I know it's not exactly beneficial for weight loss, I still have drunk some alcohol throughout this journey. It used to be mainly very sugary drinks (i.e. whiskey/coke) when I was fat, but I switched to a not as bad vodka/club soda while I was losing weight.] I don't think I want/need to lose any more weight at this point, I might try to add some muscle/weight even, but I can't express enough how much this experience has changed my life in SO many aspects, not even just physical health and appearance [though that's definitely a huge (no pun intended) plus!]. Like I mentioned, I have more confidence overall, more emotional stability, my bipolar/depression and anxiety symptoms have been significantly alleviated, and I feel like a productive member of society again (I'm also attending college again and planning for a new career path). Of course I still have my ups, downs, issues, and insecurities (who doesn't?), but I've definitely come a long way and am pretty proud of that. I feel like a whole new person. And this newfound wellness obviously isn't JUST because the number on the scale has changed, but it's a result of the diet and lifestyle changes I incorporated to lose the weight in the first place.

Though I wouldn't call what I did disordered or dangerous, I realize that what worked for me may not be the healthiest or most realistic options for everyone. I lost a pretty significant amount of weight in a relatively short amount of time. I would definitely advise consulting a doctor or medical professional before trying anything that might be considered too extreme or drastic! The focus should not be on how fast you lose the weight though, but rather making permanent (yet sustainable), healthy lifestyle changes that take you in the right direction. Additional advice I would offer is to remember to not compare your progress to anyone else's or let a "setback" keep you feeling defeated and/or prevent you from moving forward. As long as you keep at it and don't give up, then you're on the right track and results will come! :) Any questions, feel free to ask!

#weight loss #fitness #fitspiration #mental health #fitspo #fitblr #before and after weight loss #weight loss advice #my fitness journey #me #selfie

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planetwalker · 7 years

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Reflections on 6 years of sobriety

Today, May 18th, I officially have not had a drop of alcohol in my system for six years. It has been a long road, and without the support of my family, my friends, and my therapist I would likely be dead or in prison. More that likely, dead. Also, I would like to thank a doctor I knew personally (she shall remain nameless) who risked her professional career by prescribing me medicine to keep me from going into seizures when I quit drinking the first time at twenty (for a year and a half), because of my refusal to go to rehab or do it any other way than in my house, alone. I woke myself up with an alarm every four hours for over ten days to manually check my own blood pressure and administer the medicine that would keep me alive and not convulsing, seizing, or having delirium tremens. It wasn't pretty.

My alcoholism had taken me to a depth of insanity that ended in me finally drinking nearly a 1.5 liter bottle of hard liquor a day, plus beer to wash it down. That's when your tolerance has beaten you so far into the ground that you pretty much just wake up and begin drinking again. There's just not enough time in the day to drink that much otherwise. That is no exaggeration. From about 10am until 5am the next morning, I would drink whiskey in a nearly constant way. There would often only be a half-inch of the largest bottles of liquor they sell left in my freezer by morning. A hair of the dog that bit me, which would get me to the liquor store for a fresh new dog. I think I spent about 25 dollars a day on booze for those 5 last (and worst) years after my initial relapse. That's about 45,000 dollars, more than triple what I have ever made in a year of my working life.

On this sixth anniversary of sobriety though, I'm not really reflecting on my accomplishments in the past, but I'm using it as an opportunity to talk about something far more deadly and much more hard for me to deal with, or speak about. I have to begin at the beginning, but every word of this is difficult to write, I will try my best to speak openly and honestly.

After many years of denial, after being psychologically tested at fourteen years old and severely misdiagnosed and mismedicated, put on lithium, and poisoned to a point of amnesia. After a week in a psychiatric hospital at twenty due to suicidal ideation, and after eleven more years of waiting (including these six sober years), I finally went to a psychiatrist to get a full mental health assessment, at the behest of my family. A multitude of tests, by the most progressive and up to date standards were administered by an expert clinician. I waited to hear the conclusion I pretty much have known my whole life was coming: I have Bipolar II, without a shadow of a doubt, and on the nose.

The good news: I have rote number memorization in the 99th percentile, as well as a smattering of other high-functioning brain abilities that I cannot take any real credit for. I just know how to memorize and remember things in a way that seems insane to most people. I can recite texts I read when I was ten forwards and backwards. I once made a rap out of the alphabet being recited backwards. I remember memorizing decks of randomized playing cards as a kid, just for fun, to see if I could name the last card in the deck. I found out many years later after requesting my transcripts that my IQ had been tested at fourteen as well during those psych exams and largely said the same thing, I was in the 99.975 percentile, something like 151. Unfortunately then, their only concern was me being able to "sit down and listen in school", which I found to be impossible, boring, and frustrating to the point that acting out was my only recourse. I remember refusing to say the pledge of allegiance in the 4th grade after reading a book on my own about the genocide of American Indians, and the horrors of slavery instituted by the very same people who wrote these documents. I was a little shit, too smart for my own good, and I needed to be controlled.

I was expelled from school in the 6th grade for printing out "The Devil's Cookbook" (essentially a bomb making guide, and anarchist literature), from the schools library, hundreds of pages. I went to a "democratic school" run by hippies for the rest of the year where I mostly skateboarded and flirted with girls. I spent 7th grade with my father living in South Africa, and was quickly shuffled out of middle school after arriving back halfway through 8th grade. They couldn't wait to get rid of me. My one saving grace was my music teacher named Ken Johnson, who always let me stay late after school and practice guitar, piano, singing. I don't think I could have finished that year without his support, he turned me on to great music I never would have heard. Mostly, he just got that was talented and interesting, and not just a little shit. That pretty much ended my formal education. I read manuals and textbooks in my spare time and proceeded to get my GED at 15 and tested again to receive a stamped and signed high school diploma (with honors!) from the Rockville Board of Education (the same document all my fellow graduating seniors would get at 18, after wandering the halls for four years of the hellhole I abandoned). I still think skipping high school was the smartest decision I ever made in my life. I have never met anyone who says they learned almost anything in high school except "I still have friends that I know on Facebook", which really says a lot. I was accepted into The Evergreen State College two days before my sixteenth birthday. I had not filled out the small line that asked for age on the application, and apparently nobody noticed. I flew across the country to Olympia, Washington that spring and began my studies in creative writing, ecology, and a self-created major with my friend Sky Cosby: "Liberating the voices of incarcerated youth", which we had a brilliant and very optimistic professor graciously sign off on. We called it "Celldom Heard". We threw a great hip-hop showcase in Red Square that year, as well as producing a DIY chapbook of prisoner literature. My drinking career also really took off at this time, as I was a seventeen year old on a college campus thousands of miles away from home. My gambling too, playing poker anywhere I could, often at seedy clubs and online with a pre-paid debit card, as well as hosting poker tournaments with everyone I knew and could convince to lose their money to me. I could do anything I wanted. I never lied about my age, but simply refused to tell anyone for quite a long time. Age is just a number, right? Says any self-righteous seventeen year old.

My grandiosity surely impressed people; I have been a performer since as long as I can remember (my mother always jokes that I was ready to go entertain people since I left the womb). A magician at five, playing piano and performing music by ten; writing, slamming poetry at the national championships at fifteen, it never stopped. I was in the center of the room, and I thought that meant something, not just that I was an egomaniac, sure to be on the cover of Rolling Stone by the time I was twenty-one. My parents couldn't understand why I could never get up for school, they didn't know till years later that I would put a towel under my door to block the light and stay up all night reading and writing, until about 5:30, where I would sleep for thirty minutes before my father came down the hall to wake me up for the bus. I don't know how I survived. Years pass; trying to drink my hypomania away, trying, jamming alcohol down my throat followed by NyQuil, Ambien, Benedryl, all to try to just get to sleep, that one unattainable goal I could never quite reach. At some point my dreams just disappeared into darkness. As the years progressed further, some of the darker sides of hypomania began to present themselves; impulsive spending, reckless gambling, strings of unhealthy sexual relationships, all of which were doomed to failure from the start. Anger, rage, darkness, depression, and finally, the scariest points of this last year of my life: Mixed-Episodes.

In the past year and a half, I have had to experiment with a regimen of drugs until finally finding the right dosage and medicine to help me live a functional life. And as much as people can be proud of you for conquering alcohol, it's a much harder beast to speak out about your mental illness. I remember once going on a date, and the first thing my date started talking about was her "crazy bipolar ex-boyfriend", he was an "alcoholic too, so I'm so glad you don't drink". What to even say? I'm a fucking mess, girl, you don't want to get anywhere near me, trust me. And what to do? Deny, deflect, and continue to function (sobriety will buy you a lot of time in doing this, as you can use it as an excuse that you've gotten help and are doing fine). Hypomania, actually also keeps you functioning at such a high level. I have been able to operate on about 4-5 hours of sleep for as long as I can remember. I produce music all night in my solitary zen wonderland, read about 3-4 non-fiction books a week, about topics from psychophysiology to economics to super-string theory. Memoirs about drug abuse to politics to mountain climbing. Anything I could get my hands on. People wondered at work out loud often to me "where do you find the time?!". My response was always the same: I am awake and doing things when you are asleep. My hours of extra work were from 10pm-5am. That's seven hours of intense, single-minded focus that hypomania can provide you with, and it is a very very hard thing to want to give up, especially if your depressive spells are severe, but not all that frequent.

This went on for years. I traveled the world, studied all manners of healing and spirituality, motorcycling through the dirty terrain of Cambodia at night, swerving around cattle barely visible until hitting the glint of my low-beams, yards ahead. Being chased by wild dogs on a night I was sure I was going to die and be ripped to pieces. Nothing could stop me. Ever. I was a star exploding at light speed through the galaxy, burning as bright as anything you had ever seen, but sure to collapse upon it's own weight and gravity eventually. I paid this no mind, as I had decided at about twelve that I was sure I would never make it to my 30th birthday alive. I didn't really want to. I wanted to live, hard, fast, intense, non-stop, now. I came pretty close to making that pact a reality. I'm only 31 now, but this year I finally made strides to comprehend and look deeply at who I am and what is happening to me, and what factors are chemical imbalances in my brain, rather that just my insane hyperactivity. I had never even thought to blame anyone but myself. Or thank anyone but myself. My choices were my fault. Everyone else's judgements about me were right, but fuck them, I didn't care, I'll move on to someone else who sees the good parts with the darkness hidden.

The mixed episodes began, and got worse quickly. This is where you have the intensity of the hypomania mixed with the self-hatred of the deepest and darkest depression you have ever felt. Suddenly all that energy I had to conquer the world was turned inwards into a pattern of suicidal ideation, agoraphobia, blowups with close friends, despising my family, hanging up on my father after screaming matches, all of it, more. So much more I can't even write it all down. It was the hardest time of my life, a thousand times harder than my worst days of drinking, without a doubt. At least then I had something to numb out the pain, something to try and quell the manic thoughts and get some sleep. I always used to say "drinking *is* a coping skill, it's just not a healthy one." It's true. Now, instead, I had hypersomnia, sleeping 14 hours a day, unable to get out of bed, whole weeks where I never left my house, fear of everything outside. I was so scared I bought a gun. Then I was scared that I had a gun in my house. Worried I might shoot myself, or worse, mistake some passerby as a burglar and shoot some innocent stranger. Afraid and anxious about the outside world, uncontrollable sobbing for hours at a time, the inability to pull myself out of it for more than 20 minutes before collapsing back into the despair and pain I can't describe as anything short of brutal psychological torture.

The first doctor I saw in New Orleans (who I later found out accepted thousands of dollars from big pharma, of course) told me outright that he didn't care about the tests, he was sure I had Bipolar I, which is much scarier and involves hallucinations, delusional thinking (I am Barack Obama, people are out to get me, etc.), psychosis, and far worse symptoms. He prescribed me tranquilizers that nearly killed me in the following three months. My depression worsened. He suggested I up my dosage. I declined. I am very fortunate and lucky that he was wrong about me having Bipolar I, and that I have the lesser of these two evils, and I never forget that.

That didn't matter though: my agoraphobia worsened to the point that I couldn't get into my car, could barely make it to my porch to check my mail. I didn't go grocery shopping for three months and ate chinese food ever night. Agoraphobia, means literally "fear of the public square", and comes from our (very smart) reptile brains that were afraid of the open savannah. This is because birds of prey could see us from above and pick us off while exposed without a tree to hide beneath. It is a very primal instinct, and hard to counteract. My anxiety attacks got worse and worse, the medication wasn't helping, it was making things worse, but I continued to swallow them down, convinced I was just adjusting. I was not.

My parents finally begged me to come home to Connecticut and see a doctor who was a specialist with Bipolar males of my age, and after months of fighting them off, I reluctantly agreed. And he likely saved my life. He took my off the tranquilizer immediately, and I began to experience emotions again. Not great ones, but at least something. And then I was put on Lamictal, the only Bipolar medication that has been approved for Bipolar II and come on the market since Lithium did in 1948. Lithium is the aforementioned drug that I refused to ever try again, after I was put on it at fourteen, and which cost me a year of my life I can barely recall but for hazy half-memories, lost in a sea of white noise. And to the gracious angels, goddesses, or simply to the smart psychiatrists diagnosing me correctly and providing me with a plan of action including proper medication and therapy, have saved my life.

I cook dinner every night. I went to the grocery store the other day, then the bank, then the post office. I didn't even mind. It felt kind of great. I always ask how people are doing, a habit I've always done. It's amazing how the little things can go such a long way. When I call Cox to complain that my internet has gone out again, I always start with "Hey, my name is Sam Dillon, how are you doing today?". The other night I was met with "No one has asked me that in a week". Try it, it's pretty fun. Sometimes a grocery store clerk will literally break down in tears and tell you about her bad day. That happened not to long ago too. I still go to sleep late still, up reading books, but when I'm ready to fall asleep, I drift off into the odd and vivid dreams I remember having since I was a child, the same ones that disappeared for more than a decade. I am on the path to recovery, not there yet, and as with my alcoholism, I take small steps and don't get ahead of myself.

I was born with a strange chemical imbalance, not much different that someone with diabetes or anemia or Crohn's disease or autism. The large difference is the stigma. When you are an impulsive, grandiose, gambling, alcoholic maniac, nobody gives you much slack that you can't just "get your life together", "fix your problems", or simply "stop acting this way". There is no discussion of treatment (other than AA, a religious doctrine started by holocaust-deniers, sorry AA folks), not much in the way of offering help, a lot of blame and a small amount of empathy. You can only burn so many bridges before people don't want to come near you. And I've burned a lot. Lost of a lot of good friends. Sometimes I'm amazed that most of my family still even talks to me. Some of them barely do. I understand. I empathize. I get it. I know why, even though I know they also just don't understand what I have been struggling with my whole life and simply blame me and say I "always play the victim".

I have not been easy to deal with for many, many years. Even in sobriety I have been a raging asshole to deal with at times. At the height of my hypomanic episodes I have been explosive, unpredictable, and stubborn beyond belief. Impossible to deal with. I have always been this way, in a sense, and for many years, it served me. I skipped high school completely, choosing to get my education through books, following politics and world affairs, listening to everything around me, absorbing knowledge and skills like a sponge, learning from the world and by trial and (a lot of) error. When I made a decision, there was no challenging me or changing my mind. I followed my gut to the ends of the earth and back. Nobody could have stopped me, though many tried.

So on this day I celebrate six years since I touched a drop of alcohol, I guess I would like to begin not by celebrating at all, but by admitting what I was actually trying to drink away, the hypomania, the depression. By admitting that getting to the root of a problem is often just the beginning of seeing a deeper one. That hitting rock bottom only happens when you stop digging, and try to find a way out. That stigmatizing people who are mentally ill is killing millions of people every year. That suicide recently surpassed homicide as the second-leading cause of death in teenagers each year, after car accidents. That our military veterans come home wounded in body and mind and have a suicide rate that is drastically high, with little to no mental health treatment available. Just "be a man and deal with it" leads to guns being put to heads, nooses being wrapped around throats. That we as a society must change the way we treat the mentally ill, simply as people who have an illness no more controllable or treatable alone than Parkinson's. What's the difference? There is no difference but our mind-state, that's the difference. I worked in a Psychiatric hospital for almost 7 years, and I am still amazed at the daily comments from doctors, nurses, staff in general: "Oh, she's just Borderline", "He's just an attention-seeking teenage brat", "He's just classic Bipolar, throw him on Seroquel". "She's just a Benzo-head", "He's just a fucking drunk", "If he even starts acting up, throw him into isolation and we'll put him down with a shot of B52", (this is what we called the injected cocktail of Benedryl 50 with 2mg of Ativan, the B50-2). "He's crazy as a loon". "Don't even try to talk to her". "He's just an old asshole". "Homeless grunt trying to get a free meal". "He's not nice enough, I don't think we should let his kids visit". "She's a classic cutter, let her find a paper clip and do her worst, just ignore her". Daily. During "Report", as they called it. On the floor of the hospital within earshot of other patients. Sometimes directly to a patients face. Adults, Adolescents, Children as young as four years old. I worked directly with them all. And every time I heard "YOU JUST DON'T UNDERSTAND", I remember distinctly thinking: "You're right, I don't understand your exact nature, your exact chemical imbalance or behavioral disorder, but I refuse to not try and help you in whatever way I can. I will show you as best I can that I am WILLING to try to understand, not just that I do", because most of the time, you just don't. But you can try. Empathize. Don't be scared of us. We're your mailmen, postal workers, neighbors, bartenders, waitresses, telemarketers, local business owners, bosses, employees, co-workers, friends, family, loved ones, heroes and heroines.

Which leads me to my last thought. Last night we lost another amazing musician and gentle soul to suicide, Chris Cornell. Add him to the list of amazing artists we have lost to suicide, drugs, and alcohol over the last few years, decades, and the list is too great to comprehend. And the biggest killer of us all is the inability to speak out without being judged, I can speak to that from experience. Saying (or writing) all of this is very hard, when I could be taking myself out to a steak dinner and saying "I used to spend 25 bucks a day on booze, time to treat myself to something nice". I could be getting a relaxing massage. I used to do that. I don't anymore. Now I reflect on what comes next, what the future looks like, what I can do about it personally and globally, and what is beyond my control. I urge other members of my community, and communities around the world to speak up and speak out for themselves and those they love when confronted with the silence that permeates mental illness and awareness of all kinds.

We can't afford another Robin Williams, Chris Cornell, Aaron Swartz, Kurt Cobain, Hemingway, Hunter S. Thompson, Van Gogh, Sylvia Plath, Virginia Woolf, David Foster Wallace, et al. The thousands of unnamed teenagers and unknown mothers and fathers who have to live every day knowing their child is gone. We as the mentally ill need to speak out, and we as a culture need to speak out against the stigma, which increases mortality rates more than any chemical in our brains, of that I am sure. So, help us. Stand up for us. Yes, ask us to get help for ourselves too, and be patient when we need time, or aren't sure, or don't want to talk about it, but keep on pressing. We need the reminder, even when we don't want to hear it. We need the reminder that someone needs us on this earth, and they refuse to let us go without fighting for our lives, and without us fighting for our own.

"Most of us are acutely aware of our own struggles and we are preoccupied with our own problems. We sympathize with ourselves because we see our own difficulties so clearly. But as Ian MacLaren noted wisely, “Let us be kind to one another, for most of us are fighting a hard battle.”

Good luck and godspeed.

May 18th, 2017

Sam Dillon

#suicide #suicide prevention #mental illness #bipolar #bipolar 2 #alcoholism #recovery #chris cornell #robin williams #van gogh #kurt cobain #david foster wallace #hemingway #sylvia plath

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sapphogator · 7 years

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Thoughts and Commentary on Suicide, Drug Use, and Recovery

TW (obvs): violence, drugs, suicide, rape, mental instability, etc.

It’s May 18th, 2017 and I just woke up to hear that Chris Cornell, another legend of rock and grunge, died last night. Being investigated as suicide, all that usual stuff. Yesterday, a friend of mine’s father died of a heroin overdose (most likely due to it being laced with fentanyl (and way to much of it, at that). And it got me thinking about shit.

In a way, I was lucky. Lucky for me, and unfortunate for her, that I decided to beat the living shit out of my tormentor before making the conscious decision to end my life. It prompted 911 to be called, for me to get arrested and subsequently beaten up by cops, then shipped off to the looney bin where I was prescribed medicine for my bipolar disorder and suicide ideation. And weaned off of the various opioids I had been abusing for the good part of....maybe 8 months. And very seriously abusing for probably four of those months. (Thanks!)

I was plotting my demise for the good part of the summer. I got swept up in all that lovey shit with a person who moved too fast, and as my mental health deteriorated from the “is she going to be nice today or is she going to start arguments and drive me crazy?” ragtag mess that was my life, she decided to break up with me but still needed me to “help her” both mentally and often times physically. I was loveless, jobless for a while because of the stress that came with working for a bad boss, and directionless for a good part of the summer. It wasn’t all her fault. It was my fault too for being a fucking idiot and not listening to the loud blaring warning sirens yelling “RUN! GET AWAY FROM THESE PEOPLE!” It was my fault for thinking that that particular life was sustainable. It was my fault for ignoring the warning signs that my mental health was beginning to seriously fail. And it was my fault for failing to realize that if you have to pop various benzos and opioids before hanging out with someone just to handle them, that you maybe shouldn't hang out with them. (I seriously was so doped up for a good part of the summer just so i’d be more agreeable and not trigger her temper)

In early September, I got raped after hanging out with one of the friends she had introduced me to. It was one of those “he’s awful except he’s good to me” scenarios from her, the ex-girlfriend, and since she invited him to a lot of the things we did, I figured, “Eyy, he’s texting me to hang out, might as well.” Ha, nope. He made my drinks extra strong, raped me all night, then denied it up and down afterwards, sending me threatening text messages. I, broken and in intense pain, slinked to her doorstep for help and I honestly think she was more mad that we “slept together” rather than the fact that I was raped. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Okay, Kate. I did the full precautionary measure where I went to Planned Parenthood, got a bunch of STD tests and pamphlets on what to do when you’ve been raped. I was afraid that he was going to hurt her or me since he apparently killed a guy in a fight once (who fucking knows?) so I just kept quiet about it. I still have bad nightmares almost every night from this to this day, despite being in an actual wonderful mood all the time now. The rape weighed especially heavy on me. I was sick of nothing going right and always having to be there for people and support them. Always having to be the butt of the joke. No future. I didn’t want to turn 27 and I had stated multiple times that I wanted to die before my birthday. The days leading up to my 27th were awful and full of lies and my ex still pulling me along but talking to some 19 year old girl who was also talking to me.

Then, the 7th of November. I stayed home from work and was stressed the fuck out because my grandfather was admitted to the hospital for heart problems. I was going to get dressed and visit my family that day but then she came home from work. Suggested Chinese. Decided to look it up on my computer. Oh no, computer is dying, better get the charger from upstairs. Oh, is that her phone buzzing....curiosity took over. Oh wow, her and that 19 year old are talking shit on me about how i’m “retarded”. Snap. Crackle. Pop!

I run downstairs to confront her, she gets pissed that I looked at her phone (haha. Note: she had snooped through mine without my permission before) and tried to leave. Tried. Never made it to the door. I drag her down the stairs and start smashing vases and boxes over her head. Punching, screaming. I call up the 19 year old and tell her what she has caused (just to scare the ever-living shit out of her). I then decide to take my leave, take my final bow, game over. I run in front of a semi truck but by some miracle I still can’t explain....it stops. Angry, i run in front of car after car, barefoot and deranged. Police pick me up. Police berate me. Police take me to the station and proceed to beat me, especially after i try to hang myself in the cell. They finally 302 me because I’m essentially foaming at the mouth and screaming that I want to die. The hospital finds gargantuan amounts of opioids in my system and ask if i’m doing heroin. (haha, nah man, it’s just everything else.) I get shipped off to a mental hospital for the good part of a week. Immediately after my release, I spend the day in a cell block waiting for the judge to say “yeah you’re released on bail. come back in a few months.”

And that was my lucky break. Cause without that catalyst. Without that day of complete and utter chaos, I would be dead instead of talking to you right now. I know for a fact that I would have ended up killing myself by the end of that week. I was taking entire packages of trams at a time. Since the entire package didn’t work that previous night I was going to stuff 4 or 5 packages into me. I know she wishes I did just that, but fuck her to be honest. I have no feelings for her anymore, no good and no bad. I only wish for her to stay the hell out of my life, which I think she will.

I guess, what I’m trying to say with all of this, is that I wish more people got as lucky as I did. Either that their plan of demise caused so much chaos that it alerted people to it or that they somehow found help before the pain became too much. So many people just quietly slip away without anyone knowing until it’s too late. So many people fade away.

One of my favorite musicians, Billie Joe Armstrong from Green Day, fell apart very very publicly. Like me, he didn’t just burn out, he flared out like a fucking atom bomb and people were able to step in and help. But like Chris Cornell, like my friend’s dad, they just silently slipped out the door, not making much of a sound. And then when they were discovered, it was heartbreak and pain for all that is left around them.

I guess this is a thought piece. I’m not sure why I was compelled to tell you this story, but here it is. I was in such a bad place last year, but here I am, still breathing. Slowly, but surely, getting better.

If anyone feels like shit, if anyone feels like they’re going to be ducking out soon, I urge you to stay. You can get help, you are not beyond it. If your family and friends aren't helping, if they aren’t seeing it, find someone who will. There are doctors, nurses, and professionals who would be so happy to help you get back on your feet. They’ll help you mentally and help you find a plan to get you to success. You’re not too far gone. You are never beyond help or hope, friends. <3

This is the suicide prevention hotline for the United States: 1-800-273-8255

Take care of yourselves.

#essays & memoirs #suicide prevention #drug use #recovery #rape tw #mental illness

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rob-davis · 4 years

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fitnesswomenshealth-blog · 6 years

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5 Really Effective Ways to Champion Mental Health Issues

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5 Really Effective Ways to Champion Mental Health Issues

Psychological wellness is 1 subject matter that no a person really seems to want to chat about — but it’s a subject that need to be on everyone’s brain. As lots of as one out of each and every 4 grown ups will be afflicted by mental disease at some issue in their life, according to the WHO. Presently, they area the variety of influenced grown ups at around 450 million.

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wickedangelblog · 6 years

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Dark memories and other things.

12/31

*Note: This blog has a lot of personal things in it about myself and my life. You’re welcome to read it (good luck, it’s a long one) - but i’m not posting it for the reason of anyone reading it... I’m posting it for me. As a part of my own therapy, purging myself of bad memories, starting fresh for 2018. I’m planning to make changes and improvements to my life, and this is where i’m starting. If you do take the time to read this, you’ll know me a lot better than you think you do now, and will understand me better. Anyway......

Happy New Year! I hope 2018 is a good year for everyone. <3

I’m working on some things. I’ve already started on some of them. Trying to lose weight (especially being only 4 months from the wedding).. Trying to get into good routines. Right now, trying to get into a good sleep/wake routine.. Also need to work on a fitness routine, and everything else.

I had a good conversation with my brother last night. We talked about mood disorders, etc.. We agree that my Dad had a lot of bipolar symptoms, but as usual when I mentioned Mom, his denial dial switched on. My Dad had mood issues....but my Mom had mood issues along with delusions. He gets a bit defensive any time it’s brought up and wants to insist that the things she would talk about were real. There is no way he can actually believe it was reality, unless he has delusions himself. Maybe he feels like he’s disrespecting her if he doesn’t convince himself that she wasn’t delusional. I love her, and my understanding delusions aren’t reality is not disrespecting her. Like I told him, what I feel bad about was all the years that I didn’t really understand delusions, I would get mad at her, thinking she was making the stories up for attention. I understand that it was reality to her, she had a different thought process than I.

My Mom had a lot of false beliefs. At different points in time she would say that she’s Jesus’ sister. Different things like that. I believe in intuition and that type of thing, but she took it a bit far. She would think she knew things that she had no way of knowing. Psychic dreams. Voices would come to her and tell her of things or warn her of something. When I was a kid, my pet frog died. A friend was over the day before. She was convinced that my friend killed the frog. Banned her from the house, banned me from being around her, had a lot of things to say....the friend, her family and the entire neighborhood knew about it, it was humiliating. She was convinced she was Joan of Arc in her past life. She would take spells where she was intensely angry at me, like I was the enemy, those started early in my life......it was hard. I would feel really insecure and try to get her to be happy with me, and I remember feeling unloved and rejected. The more she pushed me away, the closer I tried to get to her.....the closer I tried to get to her, the more angry she would get. She made accusations toward several people over the years, some pretty bad ones.

I think the issue with my Mom pushing me away has effected my ability to attach normally to people and even things. I go from extremes of either being unattached or super attached, with very little gray away, it’s one way or the other. It usually take a long while for me to get attached, when I do it’s an extreme attachment. I also have insecurity issues from my childhood. I have times when i’m incredibly insecure, I start feeling the same way I did as a child - it’s a cold, lost feeling. Out of control, almost panicky. Now that i’e been with Mark for so long, I sometimes start to feel that insecure feeling, and feel really clingy with him. And anyone who knows me knows that CLINGY isn’t a word you could usually use to describe me. lol I’m kinda more independent and a little bit of a loner in some way, I like my space a lot of the time. But when I start to feel like that, I want to be near him all the time, touching him, otherwise I feel insecure and cuddle my pillow or something. lol I get extra affectionate and just plain “clingy”.....which I hate. At least it doesn’t happen often.

My Mom’s most consistent delusion had to do with UFOs, space aliens.. My entire life, she would tell me (and anyone who would listen) all about her “alien family”. The same stories repeated, occasionally a new one would pop up. When I was really little, I was fascinated! I loved hearing her stories and she would excitedly tell me. When she was talking about these “space aliens”, she seemed truly happy for a change - I loved seeing her this way. As I got a little older and started to understand the difference between reality and non reality, I would get so mad. Mad, because I was convinced that she was lying to me. She thought I was stupid enough to believe it. I would sometimes argue with her over the things she would tell me, telling her it’s impossible. It wasn’t until into my adulthood that I fully grasped the realization that she wasn’t lying to me, she really believed things things. She had delusions, and it wasn’t her fault. I have guilt about the arguments and the anger. But I didn’t know what to think back then, my entire childhood was confusing with altered reality vs reality.....I was confused and frustrated. It was a source of a lot of my stress growing up. My Mom would go through spells where she would want to argue, and often the alien topic was brought up. It frustrated the crap out of my Dad and turned into major loud arguments. My brother Gary would often argue with her about it late into the night, loudly. Neil would usually take Mom’s side, and they’d all be having this ridiculous hours-long fights that would sometimes linger on for a few days. The tension in the house had me insecure, in a constant state of stress and confusion. It would occupy my mind. I couldn’t concentrate. I couldn’t sleep. Felt sick in general, missed a lot of school. Total chaos at home. There were times that Mom would threaten to kill herself or threaten to pack up and leave. It freaked me out and I would really cling to her, was afraid if I was away from her, she’s do one or the other.

She would draw pictures of the UFOs. Of the aliens. They had names as time went on. I remember she called one Alon (Ay-lon) and the other Libby. They were part of her “alien family”. They would talk to her, come to her in dreams. She would talk about being visited by them. From the time I can remember, she’d tell me that they were coming back for her. ....again, worried me when I was little.

She would talk about the times she was on the space ship, describe it in detail. Getting VERY angry if anyone acted like they didn’t 100% believe her, argumentive and volatile. She talked about disappearing as a child, waking up on a hill, where she felt they dropped her off. I mean, so many detailed stories. My head was all sorts of messed up as a kid with all that confusion.

My Mom had a dream in 1989 ( I was 9 at the time) that she would die in 1990. She had me convinced. I was so scared, i’d cry endlessly.....went into a depression, had serious anxiety. New Years eve ‘90 was the worst. I had so much dread and fear, I was crying like an idiot when midnight came along, begging my Mom not to die....I was 9, so I guess I thought I could talk her out of it? That entire year she would bring it up, and I lived in fear of losing her.

I went through what is considered emotional abuse as a child. I can’t figure out whether I blame her for it or blame the illness. But it’s been something I still deal with today. Maybe she couldn’t help it.

She would say the worst things to me. She wished I hadn’t been born, occasionally she’s say she hated me. I would get in her way, stress her out. She even told me (I was 15) that I killed my Dad. He had lung cancer, when I was 13. It went into remission. It later came back, and it was terminal. She insisted that I caused so much stress that it weakened his will to fight. I believed it. Even now, I struggle with guilt from it, even though I should know it wasn’t so. She would tell me that I wasn’t the daughter she hoped for. She said she wanted a meek daughter, quit and timid basically. I was a bit of a wild child with a strong opinion, loud voice and determination. I always felt inadequate, like there was something wrong with me. These days, I come across as being that timid type of person. I am a bit quiet, and really easy going.....but I am still a determined, independent and opinionated person with a wild side, those who know me well know this. lol

As a child, most things were always my fault according to her. And a lot of the time, I felt like everyone was against me. More times than not, it would be 2 or 3 of my family members pissed off at me, siding with each other. I began to think that my existence was a burden on everyone. I dealt with depression and anxiety issues as a child. I remember the first time I felt suicidal, I was 6. There was a big fight going on (I don’t mean physical, it was always verbal and loud) and I was scared, my Mom and Dad being so upset with each other, and the threat of them divorcing, her leaving.....and this happened right after I had thought to myself, I wish they would get mad at each other and not me all the time. At 6, I thought I got my wish and it was my fault. I spent a lot of years hating myself, wishing I were different, and wishing I were loved. I craved affection, and my Mom wasn’t affectionate. I remember times i’d try, and she’s push me away and get mad at me. She said she didn’t like to be touched. When she was in her last days, I was talk to her, and gently rubbing her arm and she got really mad at me, and told me to stop. Noone in my family were very affectionate. My Dad would occasionally try to be lovey with my Mom, and she’s get mad and tell him to stop. Showing and receiving affection felt SO strange to me when I got into my teens and started dating. Over the years, i’ve became very affectionate, but it wasn’t something I learned during the time most people did.

She would get mad at me for being like my Dad. She made him out to be the enemy. I was a Daddy’s girl when I was little, but she would get mad at him and get mad at me if I didn’t take her side. I didn’t want her mad at me, it was one of the worst feelings in the world to me. So I would often side with her, to keep things as peaceful as I could. I was always be the one trying to make everyone happy so they wouldn’t fight, then I would get frustrated when it didn’t work and go crazy with rage, screaming at everyone (or, call it a tantrum - it was extreme rage and frustration from lack of control, lack of normalcy.). I treated my Dad badly a lot of the time, didn’t respect him nearly as much as I should have and said some harsh things to him. I will always regret that, until my dying day. I wish I could have been closer to him as I got older. Wish he was around in my adulthood. I wonder what he would have thought about the adult me, the non tantrum throwing me. I put him through a lot. But now don’t get me wrong, he wasn’t perfect. He had some sort of a mood disorder, and I could see his moods shifting. There were times that I would see it about to happen and be extra nice act extra happy with him, trying to keep him happy. When he was in a bad mood, everyone knew it. He’d be really quiet until something set him off, then it was explosive. He wasn’t quiet, then. But when I think back to his life, the fighting between he and my Mom, I can kinda get it. He was under a lot of stress. He and I had a few good bonding moments, typically when we were out a store, away from the house.

My Mom didn’t seem to want me and him to be close. Things would be tense when we were getting along. When I was really little, he was so good to me. Spent time with me, played with me. He would do this thing that I liked, and still love to have done...I called it “tickling” my back. Just lightly running your fingers over the skin, not rubbing - you know? Like a really soft tickly touch? He used to do that, until my Mom accused him of being a pervert, which caused a big fight and he stopped be affectionate with me. It was BULL, he wasn’t like that and there was nothing inappropriate about it....she even got mad at my brother for tickling (actual tickling this time) me when I was little, accusing the same. I know this difference between appropriate and inappropriate and that was NOT inappropriate in any way. When I was 2/3 years old, something did happen to me. I have some foggy memories, some details. It was NOT my Dad. I remember certain things, but not for sure who it was...but it was not him. When I tried telling my Mom about it in my teens, she accused him. If she felt to lowly about him, why did she stay with him?

She would body shame me, from the time I was really little. I was just a little chubby when I was about 9. She would tell me i’d better go on a diet, that no man will want me when i’m older, noone would marry me. I was cocky, and snapped back at her that I didn’t care, if a boy didn’t want me, I didn’t want him. Glad I felt that was from an early age, not sure where I got that. Maybe from my Dad, he tried to raise me strong and independent, with as much influence as he was allowed to have, that is.. Through my teens, she’s make remarks. Even after I ended up bulimic and losing over 100 pounds at 16. She would still disapprove of the way I looked. Tell me to wear longer shirts to cover my big butt. Tell me that no man wants a woman without boobs unless he’s gay....and when she said that, she was referring to an actress with bigger boobs than I have (not busty, but im ok with that). When I was really little, I loved to watch the Miss America pageant. I would dream of growing up to be pretty and being miss american, she stifled that dream telling me i’m too ordinary. In my teens, I was often told I should model. I talked to my Mom about it, and again, i’m too plain, too fat, too short and there are too many prettier girls as competition. I wanted to do ballet, she said I was too clumsy. I had attention from a few guys who would call me all the time, and she would tell me that they aren’t interested in me, just my car (had a nice car at the time)...I believed her, and started driving my Dads Mazda, still got attention, but her words just stuck with me. Never left me.

I believe her delusions, at least the “alien family” was a result of some early trauma and loneliness. In my teens, I wanted to understand her better, so I would listen to her talk about them, notice the different expressions she would get on her face, the excitement as she would talk about it all. Her demeanor was different, very different. I would ask her questions, and talk to her about other things that went on in her life. She was the middle child of 7, and she often felt left out. So, that makes a little sense as to why her mind made up her own “family”. And she spoke of some traumatic events in her life, which also makes sense. These things along with a family history of mental health issues..

My brother gets defensive, mad and offended at some of the things I say. He often claims he doesn’t remember some things the way I do. But then, he talks about a lot of the alien stuff as if it’s fact, so our opinions definitely differ. I’m not saying I don’t believe in life on other planets. Anything is possible.....but my Mom was not on a damn space ship and noone will convince me otherwise. If he were to read this blog, he would disagree with it. But, this is MY way of getting years of stressful memories OUT of my head, because i’m ready to start new in 2018.

I’ve kept a lot of things locked inside, my entire life. This year, that ends.

I turned out fairly well, considering my childhood. I could have turned out MUCH worse. FAR from perfect, have a lot of things I am trying to work on. I’m trying to teach myself structure and routine.....so it’s all had some affect on me obviously. I did end up with mental health issues of my own. It’s hereditary, and trauma in my childhood (and even later) contributed to things. I am diagnosed with Bipolar disorder, PTSD from childhood trauma, and general anxiety disorder. Possibly social anxiety or panic disorder, not officially diagnosed.

Because of the constant fighting, shouting and tension in the household when I was growing up (much of which came from me as well, I didn’t know how to deal with the frustration) - I now HATE to argue. I try to avoid topics that commonly end in an argument....do not talk to me about religion or politics... Being yelled at sends me into a rage. Someone yelling around me does one of two things, either make me mad or shatters my nerves and makes me shake like a chihuahua. I am a typically quiet and mellow person, with very little tolerance for negativity. I’ve learned to try to keep people around me happy, and almost lose it when it doesn’t work.

My bipolar doesn’t define me. A few years ago, I told someone about having the disorder, and a couple mutual friends found out....and at least one of them had some really negative things to say about me. I didn’t tell anyone else about it for years, aside from people I became super close with. Even some of them never knew. I feared what people would think of me, what they’d say about me. I didn’t want to be looked at as different, or “crazy”. I DO NOT CARE ANYMORE. People can think anything they’d like, it doesn’t change who I am, only how they perceive me, how they choose to judge me. I’m not the stereotypical “bipolar”. I don’t do and say things, act like a complete ass and then blame in on having bipolar, as a lot of people do. I don’t see it as an excuse for anything, if I mess up, thats my character flaw, not bipolar. I do have the bad one, type I (which I recently found out and am still trying to grasp that) - but I don’t have the psychotic symptoms (even when im not on antipsychotics, never had these symptoms) such as hallucinations and delusions. A little surprising that I don’t, considering my family history. But I have a firm grasp on reality. No voices, I don’t see things that aren’t there. I don’t get promiscuous and sleep around.....I have the hypersexuality/ridiculously high sex drive, but I don’t have the desire to sleep around. I struggled with some alcohol issues in my teens (addiction is unfortunately common with bipolar, as is suicides) - but I got a grip on it after about 3 1/2 years. People think everyone with bipolar makes tons of impulsive decision, gets addicted, gets in trouble, sleeps around, has wild mood swings and treating people in their life like total shit. Where it’s true, that a lot of people with bipolar do some of these things, not all do. It’s not bipolar that defines who they are, everyone has their own individual personality.....and some people just suck, and blame it on their disorder.

How bipolar effects me.. I’m often really scatterbrained, have a hard time staying focused - my mind races. When i’m having a manic episode (opposite of depression), I have a lot of thoughts going through my head. It sometimes feel like a trainwreck of thoughts, and my mind won’t slow down. It causes a lot of difficulty with sleep. A lot of difficulty just concentrating and getting things done. It’s VERY draining. I usually talk a lot more than usual, sometimes talk too fast, changing subjects a little abruptly, or switching back and forth between topics. I tend to blog more in my other blog (its a personal therapy blog, though today i’m making this one pretty personal). I forget things. My sexdrive goes up even more (though this happens with depression too at time, very recently in fact). I’m a bit more impulsive. I tend to want to be more social (usually), sometimes I go out to a club or have a few drinks during mania, not always. Sometimes, the mania elevates my mood a LOT higher than normal. Other times, not as often, it causes agitation, I can get a bit irritable...which is when I tend to close myself off from people and shift my focus on something to occupy my mind. Mania can last a while, weeks or even months. I’m lucky that my manias don’t have psychotic features. Mostly i’m just a scatterbrained mess.

The other side is the depressive episodes. Dark times. They usually last a couple weeks or much longer. I have a harder time thinking of how to describe my depression, describing manic episodes was easier for some reason. I asked Mark how he would describe me when i’m depressed. He said stubborn, because he tries to get me to do things and I wont. ...but it’s not that I just won’t, I can’t. He also said if I could a cave or hole to hide in, I wouldn’t be heard from. That’s a good way to describe it. That’s actually how I feel when i’m in a deep depression. I pull away from everyone and everything, I can’t help it. I lose all interest in most things. I don’t typically get grouchy as some people do, just really sad or really far away mentally/emotionally. There have been times i’ve stayed away from people and didn’t talk for days during these times, that’s been years ago, though. I just can’t function. Things I know I need to do seem so difficult and so draining. I sometimes shut the world off for days at a time. It’s not ALWAYS this extreme though. I’ve been in a depressive episode without as much actual sadness, and have been able to function at least moderately. It varies. Sometimes my anxiety gets really bad during depression, my fears and worries are very much intensified. Unless the depression is bad enough to alter my functioning all together, you may not even know i’m depressed if we talk briefly or if I see you out. Over the years, I learned to mask my emotions (wasn’t supposed to be emotional or cry....was always very emotional, but it was looked upon as a weakness and i’d hear about it) . Usually, I can smile and be friendly, when i’m falling apart inside. I’ve been so depressed I barely feel like I want to live, and i’ve been able to fake a smile and listen to someone else’s problem and support them. I’d rather pull away and be alone that to bring them down. I’m an emotional sponge, meaning when i’m around a person, their emotions can wear off on me. Lower my mood, raise my mood, whatever. I don’t want to do that to anyone else, I try to seem happy, even when i’m not. When i’m depressed, I fall into a dark place. I have a lot of thought of death....not suicide, though i’ve felt that way numerous times during depression... Just general thoughts of death, what it would be like to die, morbid thoughts. I get more of an urge to spend time at places like the cemetery. Though I like cemeteries and abandoned places any time, not only when i’m depressed.

I have rapid cycling, frequent mood changes (but not the stereotypical going from happy to sad or mad - just drifting from episode to episode). I have also been experiencing mixed episodes for a while, at least a year. I can have som symptoms of mania mixed with some depressive symptoms. I absolutely HATE that feeling, those are really hard to deal with. And confusing, trying to figure out if im about to go into a manic episode or a depression.

My Ptsd comes from several traumatic times in my life, beginning in childhood with all the confusion and big arguments (c-ptsd, chronic or ongoing trauma), emotional abuse. But, i’ve had some very traumatic things happen in my teens and adulthood, too. I’m still trying to figure out which of my symptoms are from ptsd, and which are from bipolar or anxiety. Ptsd is confusing to me.

The general anxiety disorder is bad. I always have some anxiety, but when it really gets triggered (someone goes wrong, typically) I obsess over the problem, can’t get it off my mind, and it can go on for days nonstop. Intrusive thoughts, inability to distract myself. And after my heart attack, i’ve developed either social anxiety (?) or panic disorder it seems. I’ve had several panic attacks in public, causing my heart to race, a lot of sweating, red face, dizziness, extreme anxiety and the strong urge to get away from everyone. I haven’t had a bad one since I started a med called Buspar, hoping it’s working.

So yeah, that’s the issues I deal with. Trying to get a grasp on things, slowly working routines into my life (I was raised without routine, without structure, learning these things now, better late than never) - I am thinking that having good routine in my life will help A LOT with dealing with those things. I want 2018 to be different, make the positive changes that i’ve always wanted to do. Having Sierra around has been really good for me, as I have to have a bit of a routine going to provide structure in her life. I know how important THAT is, so it’s one of my top priorities. And she never had that with her bio-mother. We’ve done really well with that since she’s been with us. It’s my own personal routines that need fixed. lol

I didn’t intend to write this much. Had a lot on my mind, had to get it out of my head. If anything i’ve said changes your opinion of me, that’s your personal choice and i’m fine with it. I’ve probably made some typos along the way. lol I’m going to stop writing for now. Ttyl

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milenasanchezmk · 7 years

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Is Constant Ketosis Necessary – Or Even Desirable?

Good morning, folks. With next week’s The Keto Reset Diet release, I’ve got keto on the mind today—unsurprisingly. I’ve had a lot of questions lately on duration. As I’ve mentioned before, a good six weeks of ketosis puts in place all the metabolic machinery for lasting adaptation (those extra mitochondria don’t evaporate if/when you return to traditional Primal eating).

But what about the other end of the issue? How long is too long? I don’t do this often, but today I’m reposting an article from a couple of years ago on this very topic. I’ve added a few thoughts based on my recent experience. See what you think, and be sure to share any lingering questions on the question of keto timing and process. I’ll be happy to answer them in upcoming posts and Dear Mark columns.

Every day I get links to interesting papers. It’s hard not to when thousands of new studies are published every day and thousands of readers deliver the best ones to my inbox. And while I enjoy thumbing through the links simply for curiosity’s sake, they can also seed new ideas that lead to research rabbit holes and full-fledged posts. It’s probably the favorite part of my day: research and synthesis and the gestation of future blogs. The hard part is collecting, collating, and then transcribing the ideas swirling around inside my brain into readable prose and hopefully getting an article out of it that I can share with you.

A while back I briefly mentioned a paper concerning a ketone metabolite known as beta-hydroxybutyrate, or BHB, and its ability to block the activity of a set of inflammatory genes. This particular set of genes, known as the NLRP3 inflammasome, has been linked to Alzheimer’s disease, atherosclerosis, metabolic syndrome, and age-related macular degeneration. In other words, it’s in our best interest to avoid its chronic, pathogenic activation, and it looks like going into ketosis can probably help in that respect.

One thing led to another, and this paper got me thinking: once we “go into ketosis,” how long should we stay? If some is good, is more better? Is there a point where the benefits slow and the downsides accrue?

We absolutely know that ketones, particularly BHB, do lots of cool things for us. There’s the NLRP3 inflammasome inhibition, for one. There’s also the effect it has on brain health and function, particularly in the context of neurodegenerative diseases and other brain conditions.

Brain Aging:

Whether it’s severe hypoglycemia in a live rat or direct glucose deprivation of cortical cells in a petri dish, the addition of BHB protects against neuronal death, preserves energy levels, and lowers reactive oxygen species.

In an animal model of Cockayne syndrome, a condition characterized by premature aging, short stature, and early death (about age 10 in most human children with it), increasing BHB through ketosis postpones brain aging.

Brain Disorders:

Ketogenic diets are classic therapies for epilepsy, with BHB being the most important ketone for preventing seizures. The degree of seizure control tracks almost lockstep with rising BHB levels.

There’s also evidence that patients with bipolar — a disorder sharing certain neurobiological pathways and effective therapies with epilepsy — can also benefit from ketosis. Recent case studies show complete remission of symptoms in two patients as long as they adhered to their diets (which were fairly Primal-friendly, for what it’s worth).

Parkinson’s disease patients who adhered to a ketogenic diet saw improvements in their Unified Parkinson’s Disease Rating Scale scores.

Brain Function:

Type 1 diabetics who experience reduced cognitive function because of low blood sugar see those deficits erased by increasing BHB through dietary medium chain triglycerides (the same fats found in coconut oil).

In memory impaired adults, some with Alzheimer’s, BHB improved cognition. Scores improved in (rough) parallel with rising ketones.

A ketone-elevating agent (purified medium chain triglycerides) improved cognition in patients with mild to moderate Alzheimer’s.

A very low-carb diet improved memory in older adults. Again, ketones tracked with improvements.

Mitochondrial levels of the endogenous antioxidant glutathione increase on a ketogenic diet; this is likely a major reason for many of its beneficial effects.

It’s quite clear why constant ketosis is attractive to people who read about (and experience for themselves) the benefits of BHB and ketosis in general: There don’t appear to be many downsides. Improved brain health? Increased antioxidant capacity? Inhibition of an inflammatory set of genes involved in the worst kinds of degenerative diseases? What’s not to love? Why wouldn’t someone remain indefinitely ketogenic?

Ketosis also activates the NRF2 pathway — a set of genes that regulate the body’s detoxification, antioxidant, and stress response systems — by initially increasing systemic oxidative stress. If that sounds a bit like hormesis, you’d be right. Ketosis, at least in the early stages, exerts some of its beneficial effects via hormetic stress. Various other stressors also activate NRF2, like plant polyphenols from foods like blueberries and green tea, potent spices like turmeric, intense exercise, and intermittent fasting. These all improve our health by triggering our stress resistance pathways and making us grow stronger for it, but they can also be taken to an extreme and become negative stressors.

Consider intermittent fasting and exercise. While the most famous way to increase BHB is to go on a ketogenic diet, it’s not the only way. Both fasting and exercise also do the trick:

A properly-executed fast puts you into full-blown ketosis. In healthy adults, two days of fasting increases brain BHB almost 12-fold (and almost 20-fold after 3 days). Even just an eight hour fast, AKA a good night’s sleep, will put you into ketosis and increase BHB (PDF) if you have strong metabolic health.

Exercise-mediated increases of BHB are a good barometer for the amount of fat a person will lose during a workout program. The more body fat you carry, the greater the elevation in BHB and the more weight you’ll lose.

What do you notice?

These are both transient states that grow problematic when extended indefinitely.

You can’t fast forever. That’s called starvation. And, eventually, dying.

Instead, you fast for 12, 16, 24, or on the very rare occasion 36 hours, and resume your normal diet after the fasting period has ended. You introduce an acute bout of food deprivation to upregulate your fat burning, trigger cellular autophagy, and generate ketone bodies.

You can’t train every waking hour. That’s called working in a forced labor camp, and it too leads to very poor health.

Instead of training 12 hours a day, you sprint, or lift weights, swing a kettlebell really intensely, or any other type of training two or three times a week. Then, you rest and recover and eat, and grow stronger, more fit, and faster in the interim.

Ketosis isn’t fasting. It’s not starvation. You’re still eating, although your appetite may be reduced (which is why many people lose weight from ketogenic diets). You’re still taking in nutrients, even if glucose isn’t among them. And ketosis isn’t anywhere near as acutely stressful as a strong training session. But I think the principle stands: these are all stressors that exert benefits, at least in part, along the hormetic pathway. And when it comes to hormetic stressors, too much of a good thing usually isn’t very good.

What Does This Mean for Indefinite, Long-Term Ketogenic Dieting?

If you’ve got a legitimate health condition that responds well to ketosis, all bets are off. There’s evidence that people can thrive on good ketogenic diets for at least five years without incurring any serious side effects. For controlling epilepsy, there’s nothing better than a strict ketogenic diet maintained long term to quell the overexcited brain. For any of the neurodegenerative diseases, like Alzheimer’s or Parkinson’s, ketogenic diets look very promising and are worth trying. It even looks promising for bipolar disorder. If you’ve got a problem that ketosis helps or fixes, go for it. It’s helping you, and there’s no mistaking that.

My personal hunch (and I’ve said this for as long as I can remember) is that indefinite ketosis is unnecessary and perhaps even undesirable for most healthy people, and that occasional, even regular dips into ketosis (through fasting, very low-carb cycles, intense exercise) are preferable and sufficient. That way, you get the benefits of cyclical infusions of BHB and other ketones without running afoul of any potential unforeseen negative effects.

Plus, cycling your ketosis means you can eat berries and stone fruits when in season, and enjoy those otherworldly-delicious purple sweet potatoes without worrying. Personally, I like food too much to go full-on, indefinite keto. You may not, and that’s okay.

If you’re thriving on a ketogenic diet, and have been for some time, keep it up. No one can take that away from you, and the studies indicate it should be safe. I certainly know people who have lived a keto lifestyle for years without issue.

But if you don’t have to remain in ketosis to resolve or stave off a health condition, if you’re just doing it to do it or for yet-to-be-realized benefits, consider rethinking your stance. And if ketosis doesn’t agree with your health or your personal performance goals, then don’t consider it an obligation.

Because the goal of keto isn’t keto itself. It’s the metabolic reset that confers a potent and enduring flexibility. It’s the recalibration of inflammatory patterns along with other aforementioned benefits. How we customize our keto (or more traditional Primal) approaches should ultimately serve optimal personal health, not technically-minded dogma.

That’s it for today, folks! What about you? If anyone’s been on a long-term ketogenic diet, I’d love to hear how it’s worked for you in the comments below. Thanks for reading!

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fishermariawo · 7 years

Text

Is Constant Ketosis Necessary – Or Even Desirable?

Brain Aging:

Brain Disorders:

Ketogenic diets are classic therapies for epilepsy, with BHB being the most important ketone for preventing seizures. The degree of seizure control tracks almost lockstep with rising BHB levels.

Parkinson’s disease patients who adhered to a ketogenic diet saw improvements in their Unified Parkinson’s Disease Rating Scale scores.

Brain Function:

In memory impaired adults, some with Alzheimer’s, BHB improved cognition. Scores improved in (rough) parallel with rising ketones.

A ketone-elevating agent (purified medium chain triglycerides) improved cognition in patients with mild to moderate Alzheimer’s.

A very low-carb diet improved memory in older adults. Again, ketones tracked with improvements.

Mitochondrial levels of the endogenous antioxidant glutathione increase on a ketogenic diet; this is likely a major reason for many of its beneficial effects.

Consider intermittent fasting and exercise. While the most famous way to increase BHB is to go on a ketogenic diet, it’s not the only way. Both fasting and exercise also do the trick:

What do you notice?

These are both transient states that grow problematic when extended indefinitely.

You can’t fast forever. That’s called starvation. And, eventually, dying.

You can’t train every waking hour. That’s called working in a forced labor camp, and it too leads to very poor health.

What Does This Mean for Indefinite, Long-Term Ketogenic Dieting?

That’s it for today, folks! What about you? If anyone’s been on a long-term ketogenic diet, I’d love to hear how it’s worked for you in the comments below. Thanks for reading!

0 notes

watsonrodriquezie · 7 years

Text

Is Constant Ketosis Necessary – Or Even Desirable?

Brain Aging:

Brain Disorders:

Ketogenic diets are classic therapies for epilepsy, with BHB being the most important ketone for preventing seizures. The degree of seizure control tracks almost lockstep with rising BHB levels.

Parkinson’s disease patients who adhered to a ketogenic diet saw improvements in their Unified Parkinson’s Disease Rating Scale scores.

Brain Function:

In memory impaired adults, some with Alzheimer’s, BHB improved cognition. Scores improved in (rough) parallel with rising ketones.

A ketone-elevating agent (purified medium chain triglycerides) improved cognition in patients with mild to moderate Alzheimer’s.

A very low-carb diet improved memory in older adults. Again, ketones tracked with improvements.

Mitochondrial levels of the endogenous antioxidant glutathione increase on a ketogenic diet; this is likely a major reason for many of its beneficial effects.

Consider intermittent fasting and exercise. While the most famous way to increase BHB is to go on a ketogenic diet, it’s not the only way. Both fasting and exercise also do the trick:

What do you notice?

These are both transient states that grow problematic when extended indefinitely.

You can’t fast forever. That’s called starvation. And, eventually, dying.

You can’t train every waking hour. That’s called working in a forced labor camp, and it too leads to very poor health.

What Does This Mean for Indefinite, Long-Term Ketogenic Dieting?

That’s it for today, folks! What about you? If anyone’s been on a long-term ketogenic diet, I’d love to hear how it’s worked for you in the comments below. Thanks for reading!

0 notes

cristinajourdanqp · 7 years

Text

Is Constant Ketosis Necessary – Or Even Desirable?

Brain Aging:

Brain Disorders:

Ketogenic diets are classic therapies for epilepsy, with BHB being the most important ketone for preventing seizures. The degree of seizure control tracks almost lockstep with rising BHB levels.

Parkinson’s disease patients who adhered to a ketogenic diet saw improvements in their Unified Parkinson’s Disease Rating Scale scores.

Brain Function:

In memory impaired adults, some with Alzheimer’s, BHB improved cognition. Scores improved in (rough) parallel with rising ketones.

A ketone-elevating agent (purified medium chain triglycerides) improved cognition in patients with mild to moderate Alzheimer’s.

A very low-carb diet improved memory in older adults. Again, ketones tracked with improvements.

Mitochondrial levels of the endogenous antioxidant glutathione increase on a ketogenic diet; this is likely a major reason for many of its beneficial effects.

Consider intermittent fasting and exercise. While the most famous way to increase BHB is to go on a ketogenic diet, it’s not the only way. Both fasting and exercise also do the trick:

What do you notice?

These are both transient states that grow problematic when extended indefinitely.

You can’t fast forever. That’s called starvation. And, eventually, dying.

You can’t train every waking hour. That’s called working in a forced labor camp, and it too leads to very poor health.

What Does This Mean for Indefinite, Long-Term Ketogenic Dieting?

That’s it for today, folks! What about you? If anyone’s been on a long-term ketogenic diet, I’d love to hear how it’s worked for you in the comments below. Thanks for reading!

0 notes

cynthiamwashington · 7 years

Text

Is Constant Ketosis Necessary – Or Even Desirable?

Brain Aging:

Brain Disorders:

Ketogenic diets are classic therapies for epilepsy, with BHB being the most important ketone for preventing seizures. The degree of seizure control tracks almost lockstep with rising BHB levels.

Parkinson’s disease patients who adhered to a ketogenic diet saw improvements in their Unified Parkinson’s Disease Rating Scale scores.

Brain Function:

In memory impaired adults, some with Alzheimer’s, BHB improved cognition. Scores improved in (rough) parallel with rising ketones.

A ketone-elevating agent (purified medium chain triglycerides) improved cognition in patients with mild to moderate Alzheimer’s.

A very low-carb diet improved memory in older adults. Again, ketones tracked with improvements.

Mitochondrial levels of the endogenous antioxidant glutathione increase on a ketogenic diet; this is likely a major reason for many of its beneficial effects.

Consider intermittent fasting and exercise. While the most famous way to increase BHB is to go on a ketogenic diet, it’s not the only way. Both fasting and exercise also do the trick:

What do you notice?

These are both transient states that grow problematic when extended indefinitely.

You can’t fast forever. That’s called starvation. And, eventually, dying.

You can’t train every waking hour. That’s called working in a forced labor camp, and it too leads to very poor health.

What Does This Mean for Indefinite, Long-Term Ketogenic Dieting?

That’s it for today, folks! What about you? If anyone’s been on a long-term ketogenic diet, I’d love to hear how it’s worked for you in the comments below. Thanks for reading!

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