Tag: Cyclothymia

Sparing some change

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There are times when I want to be different. When I’m dissatisfied with my life, with who I am and what I do.

It could be work, friends, or an attitude towards something. Whatever. The point is the while I feel dissatisfied with it, I may also feel like I’m unable to change. Like my depression keeps me stuck in place like tar. Depressing, sucky tar. 

But there’s one thing I’m not able to see, right there and then. I want to change.

That already makes me different from before. As soon as I realise that, as soon as if makes it’s way into my conscious mind, I am able to act.

Because then I realise the truth oft situation – I can’t control everything that happens, but I do controls my reactions. And I’m the only thing stopping me from making my situation better I just have to choose to act. 

The Waiting Game

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Bipolarity has its ups and downs, sure. But for me, the most grueling part of choosing to manage my own behaviour is the uncertainty.

Like right now, I’m kind of anxious. And I don’t know if it’s because:

  • I didn’t sleep well
  • I haven’t had my coffee
  • I’m about to enter a depressive spiral that will shrink my world to a single room and make it hard to interact with humanity at large
  • I FORGOT TO PUT THE BINS OUT

…Yeah, it was the bins.

Not A Real Doctor

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A friend is suffering through a bad bout of depression. And something hits me – I’ve never really experienced it from this side before and I’m a really shit therapist.

I’m trying to remain present, and fix what I can, but:

  • Every cool or interesting thing I show them gets shot down
  • Offers of food/drinks get criticised
  • Every conversation turns to how shit their life is

And you know what? I got resentful.

Like, how dare they demean me like that? Why can’t they see how excellent they are? And can’t they see how their baggage is bringing me down too?

NO. STOP IT.

I haven’t been able to see the water I’m swimming in. Individually, people can be nice and kind and generous and wonderful. Collectively, we’re as thick as wooden planks. Society says to focus on the me, making me better – and so I focus on it to the exclusion of other people’s plights.

Well, I call bullshit. I can see from my time with this person that it’s really, stupidly hard to help people with depression, simply by the given nature of the disease.

They can’t accept help, can’t ask for it, can’t get out of bed in the morning. I have written about all this before, and I thought I understood it thoroughly. But now I have a massive appreciation for everyone who has ever lent me an ear when I’m venting, or traveled with me to the doctors because I’m too unstable to drive.

And I can see now that there’s so much more room for me to improve. Management isn’t about having a destination – I will never be “cured” – it’s about building myself up day by day to be better. I know this – but it applies to everyone else as well. And I think I lost sight of that somewhere along the way.

So thank you, traveling partner. Thank you for showing me that I don’t have all the answers, that I could stand to be more sympathetic and understanding. And for understanding why I slipped up.

I’m not a doctor, not even at all.

+++++

[shirt]

Spinning Top

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You remember those toys you see in old photos or drawings of Ye Olde Time Toyye Shoppe? A round wooden top, with bright painted bands that blur together when the top is spun?

Done right, it looks like the toy is an amazing new super-colour – all light and shiny with a smooth surface that holds the eye.

Hypomania can be like that. My different facets, all the parts of me blur and blend together to make some new, shiny, impenetrable character. My thoughts and focus move so fast its impossible to keep them straight- so I don’t.

Instead, I run with it. I try to make a smooth visage out of what is really a fast-moving cascade of ideas – hoping that I can stay on top of it for as long as possible. I get work done – i Make a lot of lists, and try to as many things off as I can before I start to wobble.

But inevitably, I lose momentum. The friction of the real world breaks the spin and the spectrum becomes separate. And just like that, the smooth veneer get exposed for what it really is – a rough coat of paint that does the job most days.

NDA

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A non-disclosure agreement is a binding contract. It makes sure that one party can not disclose any information they uncover about another party – be it products, services, marketing details … what their boss wears during the end of year party (yeesh) … or whatever.

It stops people from knowing things that they don’t need to know.

Now, my ego has this violent urge to be noticed. I want recognition, respect, attention. When I’m down I feel that just maybe if I was smarter/healthier/more attractive then maybe the empty feeling inside would fade.

When this happens, I can feel part of me inside scrambling round trying to find reasons why people might like me. Is it my eyes? what I was wearing? Or that funny thing I said the other day?

But I have recently learned a secret. At least, it was a secret from me.

Nobody knows why other people like them, and that’s fine.

It’s like there’s this NDA we all signed at birth. We all agreed that we can keep what we like to ourselves, including what we like about people.

And this is actually 100% okay! Think about it – if you knew what everyone liked about you, how would that change you? Would you try and build on your strengths for more attention? Or strengthen the bits that were unnoticed?

No. You would tie yourself up in knots trying to understand and accommodate every point of view – and in the end there’s only one point of view that matters. It’s yours.

So please, don’t waste your time trying to breach the NDA. Focus on what you have – on what you like. People may come to appreciate you more – but in the end, it’s your own appreciation that matters. Because your access to that is 100% legal.

Pregaming

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Sometimes when I go out, I have a quick drink or two before I head off. Like maybe I’m going to a bar, but I don’t want to be all uptight when I get there, so I have a couple shots with my mates before I head out.

Done right, it saves me some time, (and possibly money) and I still  get to enjoy the night without embarrassment.

Likewise, whenever I’m going into a stressful situation, I like to make sure I’m ready. Not by drinking – tequila doesn’t help – but by going through a checklist.

My Pre-Game Ritual

  • I exercise a bit. 30 minutes a day, every two days.
  • I sleep 7.5 hours – no alarm, I just want to wake when rested.
  • I eat good things – steering clear of crap food and focusing on fresh and clean makes my mind clear.
  • Avoiding booze/caffeine – it means I’m operating without anything clouding my head.

If I do these things, then I know I’m in the best possible shape to deal with whatever stressful thing may be happening.

I’m ready for the big game.

Party vs Hangover

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Honesty time: I have done many things in my short life. Learned lots, and also made many mistakes. But the one I make over and over is this – I party too hard and die the next day.

As a bipolar ii/cyclothymic (depending on the doctor you ask) I cycle relatively fast. Not all-seasons-in-one-day kinda fast. But fast enough that it’s like getting drunk and sobering up waaaay too quickly.

You know what I mean, right? The booze is flowing and you’re full of ideas! Making friends! Taking shots! Solving all the world’s problems with your new friends! Hey friends! Lets all GO TO INDIA AND START A BUSINESS THAT HELPS PEOPLE END POVERTY FOREVER

Maybe some of these ideas stick. Maybe they even work out. And Maybe the friends remain friends – it happens! And these are good things.

But then I go too fast and too hard and nothing is good enough or happening fast enough. No one can keep up and I’m just a burning mass through everyone’s crap complaints about being “too tired” or that I’m “being weird” or “not fun” or “aggressive”.

And then, the next day, it all comes crashing down. I realise I am moral trash, the human equivalent of a used moist towelette. And I can’t complain – it’s my own fault. Everything, every single thing in my life, is crap, and it’s crap because of me. Nothing is good, and I just want to die in my bed with nobody noticing my passing.

Now, I don’t know if this will work, but I have an idea. In the party/hangover scenario, the pain the next day is dependent largely on my own dumb-assery the previous evening.Drink too much, dance too hard, and my body suffers.If I take it easy on the partying, I suffer less, right?

So if I’m able to reign in my hypomanic displays, maybe I will feel not-as-shit in the depressive stage?

Maybe there’s a chemical deficit? Like my brain uses up all my feel-good chemicals when hypo, leaving me with nothing but the bad stuff the next day?

+++++

[shirt]

The gift of presence

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YES it’s a bad pun. But there’s a truth here. As we draw away from the gift-giving season, there’s one thing I know I am glad to receive – attention.

Let’s face it, people are very busy. They may feel like there is a lot of pressure on them to get things done – especially at the end of the year.

So for me, giving my attention to my family and friends – to the people dearest to me – is one way I can show my consideration. That I care.

Just the simple act of sitting down and connecting, it can mean more to me than a pile of presents. No video game, no premium coffee, no new book can replace the value I find by focusing wholeheartedly on one person (although it’s a close run thing).

And here’s the thing – people really value this attention. Especially because it comes from me. Not because I’m some kind of magic listener – I don’t solve their problems, I just nod – but because they know it can be difficult.

People generally struggle with intimacy at the best of times, so to have someone who is known for being, uh, lets just say “temperamental” really give them the attention they deserve and need, well… it’s powerful stuff.

Give it a try sometime, and see what happens. Maybe nothing, in which case you lose nothing. But maybe…

The Watcher

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When I say “I can’t believe I said that,” who the heck is the “I” in that sentence?

If I’m down, and I think “I can’t stand myself,” just who is this individual that can not do the standing?

It’s the Watcher. That part of your consciousness that silently observes. And it’s great.

Because there’s no judgement with the observer. No hate, no loathing – just acceptance.

I think I’d like to get to know this guy more. I think he’s got something going, and “I” want a part of it.