Grenade

I love my family. My friends are a constant source of amusement and joy. My work and colleagues are fulfilling and distracting in equal measure. Life is good.

But like a certain character in a certain movie book (and now a movie), I feel like I’m a grenade. Like my only purpose is to go off, to hurl shrapnel and pain into the ones I love. And I know this is possible because I’ve done it before.

This is not an ideal way to live. Waking every day being unsure what I’ll say, how I’ll act, what events lie in wait that could pull my pin.

But there is a way forward. Yes, the feelings of inevitability and the need for vigilance are valid, real. But so is the fact that almost everything – everything – is recoverable. There may be hard work, hard words, hard times, but nothing insurmountable.

Because people are resilient. Not just me – I’m tough, and I know I’m tough – but the people around me. The people I care about, they know what I am – know about the shrapnel and the chemical forces behind it all – and they choose to stay of their own free will.

Because to them I am worth it. Plus, they’re tough too.

And if – no, when – when I go off, they are smart enough to keep their distance. And also kind enough to help pick up the pieces.

Change of pace

So this blog is about the tings I feel, summed up into a word or phrase. The aim? Name that feel, and by naming it give it form and look at it with fresh eyes. But I think I can do more.

Reverse the Bipolarities has more followers than I thought it would ever get. It feels good. I’ve read your stories. And I’d like to give something back.

What would you say if I changed the format a bit? Like maybe list how I dealt with it, or didn’t deal with it, or whatever insight I can get that is worth sharing?

That way the blog can live up to its name – reversing the negatives of bipolar. Maybe give back some of the support you’ve already shown.

Would you like that?

Editor-at-large

The job or an editor is disturbingly complex. Part proofreader, part lawyer, part marketing expert – but still an artist in their own right.

An editor keeps the story on track, points out the bits that don’t make sense, and asks intelligent questions that makes your content better -and makes you a better writer – even though you secretly hate the extra work.

An editor makes you more productive and able-minded by filtering out the crap and reshaping the weird into stuff that you can handle.

My editor has gone on holiday. And I’m making mistakes.

Soundtrack

My family tells me they can tell when I’m going hypo because I start listening to songs, albums or playlists on repeat.

Heady beats, driving bass, ecstatic drops – whatever. I don’t know anything about music. I don’t even know I’m doing it. I just know what I like at the time. I know it makes me feel.

It’s weird to think that something so personal as taste in music changes depending on mood-state, as predicated by a mental illness. Being bipolar literally changes what you like – it doesn’t enhance you, it changes you.

Now I’m wondering if there’s actually a specific set of tunes that triggers hypomania, or if hypomania itself has a playlist.

Is music therapy a thing?

What about you? Do you have a soundtrack?

19 Steps

  1. Endure a number of episodes unnoticed
  2. Act out and destroy things/people
  3. Retreat
  4. Avoid everything
  5. Get confronted by family and friends
  6. Get hospitalised
  7. Self assess
  8. Decide you need to see a GP
  9. See a GP, get referred to psychologist
  10. See a psychologist, get referred to psychiatrist
  11. Argue with the psychiatrist, because they’re shit at their job
  12. Get a better psychiatrist who gets you
  13. Do the sessions/take the meds
  14. Eat/sleep/exercise/meditate
  15. Manage your self better, and learn the signs
  16. Build a safety net of family and friends
  17. Get continually better
  18. When an episode is coming, let people know
  19. Repeat

+++++

[shirt]

The Screw-you Genie

I have this voice inside my head. No, okay, not a voice, not in the “hearing voices” kind of way. A personality? No, that’s MPD. It’s more like a splinter of personality?

Anyway, I like to think of it as a genie that lives in a lamp in my head. It’s quiet most of the time, but when I’m in a position where I am expected to comply – with anything – the expectation rubs the lamp and the genie comes out and starts jumping and yelling and throwing things.

“YOU WANT THIS GUY TO DO A THING I DON’T THINK SO BUDDY YOU AIN’T THE BOSS OF MY PAL FUCK YOUR EXPECTATIONS WE DO WHAT WE WANT WE AIN’T SIGNING SHIT”

I call it the “screw-you” genie, because the only wish it grants is the capacity to flip people the bird without giving a shit.

And, you know, I’ll sign the damn paper or whatever, because it needs doing, and I just tell the genie to shut up and get back in its box/lamp/whatever.

But when I’m too weak to control it – when I’m dead-tired or angsty or I’ve been drinking or I’m heading towards depression – it gets loose. And just like the trickster djinns of old, it starts causing trouble by granting wishes I didn’t even know I had. And all the noise usually makes in my cranium suddenly comes spilling out of my mouth.

And I’m finally beginning to realise that this stupid genie has been responsible for oh-so-many incidents where I’ve lost friends and gained nothing but regrets in return – where I’ve suddenly flipped out and said things or done things that are out of character.

At least, I’d like to think they are. Stupid genie. Stop granting wishes I don’t even want.

Meat Suit Mechanics

If something is wrong with my car, I take it to a mechanic. They have the tools and the knowledge to find out what’s happening, take steps to minimise the damage, get the car running and give me advice on how to avoid the issue in the future..

I once had a mechanic who was brilliant. He could get any car to start, which suited me just fine because I owned a bomb – a real accident-waiting-to-happen kind of car. Anytime there was an odd noise or a failure, this dude would get it started.

Eventually I graduated to a more modern mode of transportation. It had A/C. It had power steering and a radio that worked. It even had a little computer that checked how the engine was running, and made adjustments to things on the fly to keep it going. Sweet!

But the mechanic was lost. This was unknown territory. There were parts he couldn’t see that did things he could only guess at because of the results they produced. And when things went wrong with these invisible parts, he was at a loss. There was nothing for him to look at, no holes to plug, sumps to drain or gaps to weld. All he could do was shake his head.

This is why it’s damned important to have a doc you can trust. One who knows about the hidden computer that drives your meat-suit. One that looks at the results as holistically as possible and doesn’t make snap decisions, or try to plug the wholes with meds. Because when your meat-suit mechanic is dealing with bipolar, it’s not the meat-suit that has the issue – it’s the wet-ware behind it. And that needs a whole different suite of tools.

Third Thoughts

You know the phrase “having second thoughts”? Well, turns out these changes of mind aren’t enough for people like us. We need to have a whole new way of thinking just to get on in the world.

We need to follow a special process – one that lets us break down our world in to manageable chunks, ruminate on them, and then examine these ruminations.

  • First Thoughts = this is your immediate response to input, stimulus or a change in cognition. Reactive and raw, automatic and unapologetically judgmental.
  • Second Thoughts = this is what you think about the input, and your response. This is where most people live. Cognizant of their own awareness, but unaware of their ability to shape it. Still just reacting to the world.
  • Third Thoughts = this is what you think about what you’re thinking. Is this response okay in context? Am I comfortable with this situation. It is the most helpful thing you can ever think, and unfortunately it is rare.

Part of cognitive behavioural therapy (CBT), mindfulness and a range of bipolar management strategies is the recognition of an episode before it begins.

For me, this involves taking a moment to examine not just what I’m thinking, but also why I’m thinking it and how that thought then impacts on everything else.

I stare into space a lot. But I’m working on it.

And if other people could just manage to try it once in a while, I have no doubt we’d be living in a nicer world.