This is nuts but I appreciate your support!
Tag: Cyclothymia
Have You Tried [X]?
In your journey to manage your mental health, you are going to receive advice.
Several times.
Okay, a lot.
From many people.
The first few times will be nice and simple and you’ll nod and listen and thank them.
And
then the next few times you’ll stare them down. Maybe inform them that
”… no actually this *is* a chronic illness, there’s *no* cure, and I
don’t *care* what worked for your Aunt Selma.”
It’s about this time that you’ll start wondering what the fuck is wrong with people.
It’s called “the illusion of control”.
The reasoning goes like this.
Person
A is a reasonably healthy individual. When problems crop up, Person A
is in a position to act. Person A believes that bad health comes from bad choices, and that they can stay healthy by
continuing to make the right choices.
This is Person A’s world.
Person A feels in control.
Now, say Person A meets Person B.
Person B is reasonably healthy, just like Person A.
Except Person B has a flavour of bipolar.
For
Person A, the idea that bad things
can happen to good people is antithetical to their experience.
Person A doesn’t *want* to believe that shit luck is real, because it means that it
could happen to them.
Bad health = bad choice. That’s the mantra. And by extension, they can turn bad
health into good health just by doing more of a good thing, or by doing less of a
bad thing.
To Person A, the idea that they are not in control
of their health is terrifyingly new. And so they will pile on the advice
in an attempt to drown out their fear.
Now, this phenomenon
is not even remotely unique to mental health. The illusion of control
pops up frequently. Especially when talking about poverty, criminality,
antisocial behavior, politics, economic choices, terrorism and more. It’s their fault, they could fix it if only they do [X].
So what can Person B do about Person A?
In my experience, you have three choices:
- Decide to put up with their feverish attempt to maintain their illusion
by smiling and nodding and thanking them for their input. - Choose to distance yourself from anyone who doesn’t take the time to educate themselves on the realities of mental health.
- Take a stand and attempt to educate them on the realities of mental health.
If you choose 1, you will get by okay, but may find yourself quite frustrated.
If
you choose 2, you will find it difficult to get on in most societies.
And, while sometimes necessary, I don’t recommend making this your
default behaviour.
If you choose 3, you are in for a fight.
People’s egos take the news that they might be susceptible to shit luck
as a threat. In response, they may go all out to defend their worldview.
There’s no wrong choice here. Look after yourself first. That’s rule #1.
But, if you do choose 3, you *may* just make life a little easier for Person A by
expanding their understanding and teaching them how to empathise. And in turn this *may* make it easier on the next
Person B that they encounter.
Choose wisely.
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Hey, I was wondering if that post about Basic Breakdowns was specifically about cyclothymia or if it was also about bipolar ii? Because that is usually what happens to me as well, and usually im able to stop it or control it in that way too..
Hi Anon, thanks for writing!
Hypomania isn’t all positive all the time.
Hypomania, like depression, is a mixed bag of sensations.
My experiences with hypomania include increased energy levels,
creativity, sensations of increased strength, and a “there’s no WAY I
CAN POSSIBLY FAIL” worldview.
It lets me get stuff done, while feeling amazing. And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t grateful for these experiences.
But sometimes I don’t get the good bits.
I just get the crap bits.
These can include feeling uncomfortably energetic, being irritable at everything, experiencing unrealistic expectations,
and sensations of paranoia.
Like “I am uncomfortable and they KNOW I’m uncomfortable and that makes me MORE UNCOMFORTABLE”.
It’s like experiencing a paranoid panic attack except I feel that I can punch through mountains.
Which I can’t. So I go home and play video games.
I hope this helps!
Basic Breakdown
Sitting in a coffee shop. Trying to do some basic work.
Using my giant headphones
to ignore the basic conversation about how DudeName’s cousin shtupped What’s-A-Face’s little sibling.
I’m just trying to focus on the basics. Get the job done. Drink the cappuccino. Get paid. Go home.
And it all starts to go a bit peculiar.
First it’s the heart rate. My pulse goes up and I feel a bit edgy.
Palms go a bit sweaty.
DudeName drones on.
I can’t help but fixate on the conversation. Have you ever heard an annoying voice talking about a meaningless topic, yet get very engaged?
Stop it. Turn up the music. Type faster.
Then its the certainty that someone is staring at me. I stare at each group in turn, trying to figure out who’s eyeballing me.
Nope. Just focus on the basics.
Drink coffee. Ignore What’s-A-Face. Music. Work.
But now it feels like DudeName’s and What’s-A-Face’s voices are filling my world. I want to cry with the amount of apathy I have for their damn story.
Get the stuff done. Go home.
I just want to go home.
But instead I sit there like a fool.
In my head, if I pack up, pay for the bill and get out of here, then everyone will know. The unsettled hypomania wins.
And everyone will know.
And that’s the worst thing.
Or is it?
Here’s my three-step process for dealing with the Basic Breakdown.
- Imagine that all these other people are on their own islands. They have their own things going on. Any looks in my direction are circumstantial. They’re just glancing at the horizon.
- Stop drinking coffee. Like, right now. Yes I know I paid good money for it, but it feels like caffeine can trigger or extend my hypomanic symptoms. So I give myself permission to not finish the cup/pot/barrel.
- Save my work, pack up and go home. Work to your strengths when you can. And when your strength is failing, stop lifting.
Be kind and look after yourself.
If you can’t work in public, for whatever reason, then don’t.
Give yourself a break.
Pick something you know you can do.
- Watch Netflix on your phone.
- Read some comics.
- Eat pizza with your hands and a paper towel.
And just let it pass.
+++++
What happens if you’re bipolar 2 and you decided not to take any medications?
So first off, the caveats.
I just wanna make it clear that I:
-
am totally not a doctor
-
am not even remotely a
therapist -
gots no certifications that let me
give what I’d label as “qualified” advice -
believe strongly in the quality of life as a decision-making tool
Okay, moving on.
Everyone on this damn planet is responsible for their own
behaviour.
Bipolaroids are no different.
Except that we have added factors to
deal with.
Being bipolar means managing an illness. This illness influences
behaviour. This illness is for life. You can not get rid of it. But you can learn how to manage it.
And like any other illness, how you manage it should
reflect how it impacts on your quality of life.
So, what happens if you decide to not take meds?
It depends on your circumstances.
-
Do you definitely have bipolar,
and it’s not a misdiagnosis? -
How does your bipolarity manifest
itself? -
How fast do your bipolar states
cycle? -
How do these cycles influence your
behaviour? -
How does your bipolar behaviour
impact your quality of life? -
How much support do you have
available? -
How well do you manage without
medication? -
How much time and money you can invest in your mental health?
Non-medication management is a valid choice for many.
There is evidence that people who experience mild symptoms from
bipolar disorder can benefit from a range of options.
These include talking therapies, support groups, meditation, yoga,
eating good, omega 3 fatty acids (specifically with a ratio of DHA to
EPA of 3:1 or better), sleeping well, and exercising regularly.
From my understanding, these factors don’t influence the severity or
length of the symptoms. They just give better control over
reactions to bipolar behaviour. They enable management.
Medication is a valid choice for many.
Managing your responses to your bipolar cycles can be difficult,
as it affects willpower, amongst other things. Done right, medication
can help people manage their bipolar disorder. It gives them
breathing space and control.
Correctly administered medication does this by reducing the
length and magnitude of bipolar cycles.
And ceasing or changing medication can
have it’s own complications.
So choosing to go on medication, or come off it, is daunting.
Overall, there is no rightness or wrongness.
For me, it’s about my quality of life. If the net outcome is “current
quality of life > past quality of life” then it’s a good
decision.
One last thing.
If you are on medication, and decide to come off medication:
-
Only do so with the support of a
certified physician. -
Make sure the process is slow and
receives close monitoring from said physician. Weekly visits are a
must. -
Get the support of people involved in your life. You will
need their feedback to gauge on your progress, or the lack of it.
I hope this helps!
Pain & Art
I had a conversation with a well-meaning acquaintance recently. This
well-meaning person went out of their way to point out that I should be
optimistic. Because as a bipolar person, I had a list of productive
creative pursuits I could follow using my illness “as an advantage”.
And it’s taken a while to get to the point where I can look at that behaviour and say, no.
Not cool.
First up, mental illness is not an advantage.
I can’t switch it on and off. I have no choice over how it presents itself. It’s a condition. I live with it every day.
Yes, there are quite a few people with bipolar in artistic and creative fields.
But there’s a reason for that too.
Art is a release, not a superpower.
The bipolaroids I’ve spoken to who pursue creative works often say they do it because it’s a byproduct. Art is an out.
At
it’s best, art is creative therapy that, for some reason, other people
seem to like. At worst it’s trash that I make to distract myself from
how hellish my illness is making me feel.
In both cases, the works produced are not worth the cost.
Think
about that next time you’re looking at Starry Night, or Blue Poles. Or
anything by Gauguin. Think about the intensity and depth of feeling
gained from the works of Poe, Twain, Plath, Whitman, Hemingway. Think
about the strength of your reaction. Then multiply it by anyone who has
ever experienced these works. Then think about placing all that emotive
energy into one human mind and see how it fractures.
Yes, these people and their works are amazing.
But they are not magical.
They are paint on canvas. Words on a page. Anyone with skill and drive can learn to do same. Thousands have.
And
while neat, these works are not worth the cost these artists payed in
their misery. They could have just as easily been made by someone who
wasn’t wracked with internal torment.
So, do not tell me that I have a sorcerous mind because of my bipolarity.
My brain isn’t blessed by destiny. My work is good because I work at it.
My work is good despite my illness, not because of it.
And I’m not going to sacrifice my wellbeing so that others can be entertained.
I’m gonna look after my damn self and keep making good work when I can.
Now get off my back.
+++++
Management
Okay so I know I talk a lot about managing depression and hypomanic states.
But it’s not as simple as that. And I think it’s my fault that some people get it wrong.
For a start, you can’t “manage” depression.
It’s not a god-damn stock portfolio.
It’s not like I’m investing heavily in “sadness” or “nihilistic statements” instead of “rainbows” and “smiling”.
Instead, I’m talking about the act of managing responses.
Taking time to deliberately examine the drivers behind actions you take. See if they factually help the situation. Getting mindful. Looking at emotions as inputs that inform responses, and not states that demand action.
That’s what “management” means here.
Also if anyone know how to invest in rainbows I’m listening.
+++++
The Chat
Listen, honey. We… we need to talk.
This ain’t about you, or anything you have done.
This is about me.
I am bipolar. I experience emotions in extreme intensities.
These moods do not have a correlation to reality.
They are polarised. Hence… well, hence the name, I guess.
Like, for example, you know that one time when you had a small break down because you broke a glass? You told me you knew the reaction was extreme. You also told me it happens because your grandmother was very protective of her stuff. And anyone who broke her crockery would receive a full-on backhand slap, no matter the company.
That reaction? That freezing up from fear and regret? I can agree with you, it’s extreme.
But it has, like, an anchor. A reason. Your brain learned that smashing glassware meant bad things.
Now, can you imagine having that freeze up reaction if your grandma didn’t even exist?
Yes, I know your grandma was a sweetie really, and she would never hurt anyone otherwise. And no, I mean no disrespect in using her in this example.
Honey, please just listen. This is very personal and hard to talk about.
Can you imagine how hard it would be to freeze up at the sound of broken glass for no reason?
Good.
Now, can you imagine feeling something else at that sound? Like getting really angry at that sound? Like, primeval, flipping tables and breaking bones kind of angry.
Yes, kind of like that one cousin who throws tantrums a lot. Drop of a hat.
Or you know those times when your feeling in the zone? Just getting things done, and anything that gets in your way has to be smushed?
Now imagine having these feelings for no reason. Nothing has happened to you to. And having them for days on end?
I know, honey. It’s hard to imagine without experiencing it.
+++++
The Island
Not only is it a shitty movie featuring a too-good-looking Leonardo Di Caprio, It’s also a feeling of isolation.
Fewer drug dealers, for one.
The feel goes like this.
I am on an island.
It’s just large enough to survive on. Fresh water. Fruits and foods. Shelter from the weather. Places to sleep. Nothing fancy. It’s life.
But there’s nothing here to build anything with. It is existence on the most basic level.
Across the bay, what seems like meters away, is a small group of other islands. These islands have multiple people on them. I can see them laughing and sharing food and stories and generally getting on well.
They have boats and bridges and can pass onto each other’s sandy atolls with ease.
I can see them. They can see me.
The ocean between us is fast and loud and full of creatures too horrible to look at. Monsters that do unspeakable things to those that dare trespass on their territory. They hate light and noise and life. And they huddle around my island waiting for the day I am careless enough to fall in reach of their arthropodic grasp.
My island neighbours wonder why I will not join them on their islands.
I try to show them the sea and the monsters, but they can only see the placid waters on their own shores.
I try to explain the lack of resources – the scarcity of life over here. How it is base living. And how it takes all my energy to get by on a daily basis.
But we can’t quite hear each other. They only know of their own resources. They think everyone has what it takes to brave the dark currents and build bridges and visit their neighbours.
They think that because I do not do these things, that I want to be alone.
This is not true.
I want the light and life I can see happening on the tables islands across the cafe ocean. I just can’t get there with what I have.
I need someone to bring me the materials.
I need help.
I think I’m cyclothymic, I get regular and drastic mood swings ranging from extremely energetic to blank and uncaring to sad and wanting to lay down and cry to extreme anger. My bf thinks I’m fine. Do you think I’m cyclothymic or am I being paranoid?
A better question might be: how are your feels
impact your experiences?
Are they affecting your quality of life? And
what are your options for dealing with them?
It took me a long
time to get my diagnosis. I was experiencing hypomanic and depressive
episodes throughout high school and beyond. I didn’t do anything about it
because I thought it was normal. I thought I was being
sensitive – that I just sucked at playing it cool.
As it
turns out, I’m very good at playing it cool. It’s why I was able to
muddle on for so long before I crashed out in a big way.
But
here’s a glowing little secret for you, Anon.
No one can tell you what
your feelings are. Same as no one can tell you that you’re hungry, or
how you experience colours.
On that note, I can tell you about my experience with Bipolar Disorder II.
My feels don’t always correlate with the real world. Yes, the
feels are real, they just don’t line up with external events in terms of
cause or range.
The
“emotional-typical”
experience goes like this: something happens -> brain feels a thing. With my condition, it’s frequently in reverse: my brain feels a
thing -> brain goes looking for a cause.
You can probably guess that I wasted a lot of energy trying to
find causes for these inspirational/critical feels. And yeah, I
hacked up a few projects and relationships as a result.
I
can also tell you about extreme emotional ranges. Joy and rage and sadness and
inspiration that are magnitudes above the standard.
Your emo-typical person might experience these feels a few times in
their life – romance, heartbreak, births, marriages, deaths.
They are less likely to experience these feels because they just happened to glanced out a window and saw a
rainbow and now nothing will ever be as beautiful. Nor are they likely to start doubting their life choices because they stubbed
their toe and life is pain because they suck as a human being.
Anon, you need information before
you can take action.
Think of it like any other medical situation. If your
arm started feeling weird, you first action shouldn’t be to reset a bone. You get a scan.
This is the same. Find out what’s
happening first, then map out your options.
Again, I can only
base suggestions on my own experiences.
- I scheduled a visit with a GP.
- The GP gave me a referral to a psychologist for depression.
- This
psychologist identified my symptoms as possibly relating to a
condition outside depression. They referred me to a psychiatrist with a
background in bipolar disorder. - This psychiatrist diagnosed my bipolarity, then helped me map out
the facts. What I had experienced, what the impacts had been. - We then
worked on preferred outcomes, and the options available to get there.
Baby steps, week by week.
Anon,
I encourage you to do this sooner rather than later. The sooner you have the information,
the sooner you can map out changes that will help get
your life where you want it.
What
I do NOT recommend is just blanking your feels and muddling on. It
might feel like strength, but it’s not. That’s ignorance. And Anon, you don’t do ignorant. You want facts.
So get the information that will help you look after yourself, and those around
you.
Please feel free to get in touch if there’s anything you want to clarify, and please let me know how it goes!