June 29, 2009

Following along on the Asperger's syndrome theme

As I go about my daily business of being me, and mum, and cleaning up stuff, little pieces of what I've read about Asperger's syndrome drift into my head. Some thoughts, scattered along the road here

- the lack of desire to follow 'their' rules, as in society, or higher-ups, or bosses. No, I like to follow MY rules. I like to do it my way. But to follow them strictly. And conforming with others rules to the point of behaving properly ie. with ethics

- lack of knowledge of how much I should talk or write emails. Why, in fact, perhaps I hounded a guy with a 1,000 + emails in a year. A real lack of moderation, or thought, hence leading to the thought of she is bizarre on his part. Yes, bizarre in the sense that I don't know when to stop the flow of information. I love it, and it keeps pouring out of me. A lack of social grace in knowing when to stop the flow.

- lack of sleeping well for years. I'd never sleep in like a teenager did. Never. Always up at the crack of dawn. Never needed sleep-in's to noon like some teenagers did.

- A lack of enjoying a novel. I would read some novels but never felt a huge interest in reading them.

- an ability to feel things intensely. Feel real fear for instance. A real fear of falling off a high place to the point of paralyzing me to the ground. My palms get sweaty and I can feel the fear as a living thing inside me. I dream about falling as well, and hate it.

- after talking with a child-hood friend who is my best friend in the world still, a feeling of yes, I'm right on the money with Asperger's syndrome. How I've amazed her over the years with my capacity for knowing bits of information. How I completely amazed her in Europe with my walking, talking travel book monologue. I knew so much about each place we visited as she said. It was as though I was speaking the travel guide verbatim. How I'll remember details of our trip that she's long forgotten. How her mother said to her once, "Debbie is a very smart young lady". Somehow she knew this, and told Pam. How Pam has seen me in public situations and noticed my monologues towards others, and their obvious discomfort at my chattering on. The use of pedantic language "sounding very formal" in my talking even at a young age. Sounding like I knew a lot, (which I did, according to her).

- a feeling at times of being a walking, talking dictionary/encyclopedia of knowledge and yet feeling out of place talking about it. Knowing, at times, that what I've been saying hasn't been welcomed but not being able to know exactly why, nor what to do about it.

- an ability to easily read and program machines in my house. Have been known to do the same at others houses as well (laughs). Heck isn't the manual the thing to read to know how to work it? Why not read the manual first? I do. And then press the buttons, and presto, the clock is set, and it works! One of my pet peeves is to see the display on VCR's flashing. Why not set the clock after all? Not that hard, IMHO. See what I mean? I feel this affinity for wanting things to work the way they should work. "Rules based"

- A terrible urge to spout out information to anyone, on my Facebook or on Twitter, hoping someone will reply to it. Loving this feeling of power I get when I get a "thank you for that information Deb" reply. Just a warm feeling of "Yes, somebody noticed it, and has benefited from it". A sort of mental pat on the back that I can't be that bad, and a carrying on of finding out more information.

I could go on, and on, but won't. I'll end this entry here.

Knowledge comes, but wisdom lingers.
~ Alfred Lord Tennyson

June 28, 2009

I may well have Asperger's syndrome

So, a large piece of the puzzle as to why I act that way that I do act may have been answered by my psychiatrist. She's suggested that I look up on Asperger's syndrome. I'd heard the name of it but never read anything about it before yesterday. It's an autism spectrum disorder.

What strikes me right off the bat is the social impact on peers. How one with AS (Asperger's Syndrome) lacks the social graces, and knowledge of how to properly, and effectively communicate with others. Often characterized by a marked lack of friends (that is so me), and a feeling of 'being shunned due to oddness of behaviour' but not knowing why.

A marked feeling of knowing things and yet not being able to effectively communicate them. Written word appears to be a much better way of communication, apparently in AS people. I'd agree with that. I find it much easier to write than I do to talk.

BTW I'm getting a lot of talking points from this page Sociological and cultural aspects of Asperger's syndrome

This paragraph, in particular
Children with AS often display advanced abilities for their age in language, reading, mathematics, spatial skills, and/or music—sometimes into the "gifted" range—but this may be counterbalanced by considerable delays in other developmental areas. This combination of traits can lead to problems with teachers and other authority figures. A child with AS might be regarded by teachers as a "problem child" or a "poor performer." The child’s extremely low tolerance for what they perceive to be ordinary and mediocre tasks, such as typical homework assignments, can easily become frustrating; a teacher may well consider the child arrogant, spiteful, and insubordinate.

I was an advanced reader, seen as bright by my teachers, but definitely not applying that to my studies. I tested as very smart on my aptitude tests but didn't do well in marks. I was barely scraping by in my marks. 50 to 60% was my avg. I believe. I can recall teachers writing "poor performer" on my report card.

If you were to ask any of my friends in high school they'd say I was different. Not a cookie cutter of a girl who fit in easily with the crowd. And yes I can remember celebrating that I *WAS* different, odd, marched to my own drummer.

This line:

Two traits sometimes found in AS individuals are mind-blindness (the inability to predict the beliefs and intentions of others)

Yes, I'd have a hard time predicting the belief of anyone reading this blog. I don't know how to do that. I can't predict your reaction or intention of reading this. I could guess the intention is to learn, perhaps, what Asperger's is. I'd guess that, but not know it, inside myself. Whereas if you asked me a fact of something like weather, I'd be able to tell you that fact, easily. It's facts, figures, snippets of information within my brain that I feel I have the best control over.

This line:

People with AS report a feeling of being unwillingly detached from the world around them. They may have difficulty finding a life partner or getting married due to poor social skills.

Yes, I often have a feeling of other-worldiness about me when I've been focusing on learning something, and come back to earth. My mother said to me that often she'd see me with my 'head in the clouds' so to speak. I'd touch down to earth from time to time, and she'd see me there, focusing on her. Often though, I wasn't there mentally. I wasn't aware of what was going on.

This line:
The intense focus and tendency to work things out logically often grants people with AS a high level of ability in their field of interest. When these special interests coincide with a materially or socially useful task, the person with AS can lead a profitable career and a fulfilled life. The child obsessed with a specific area may succeed in employment related to that area.

I've been called gifted by some in my knowledge. "How in the world did you know that?" or "How in the world did you remember that fact Debbie?" Yes, if somehow I could find a use for the useless, but smart thoughts swirling in my head, I'd have a job, I'm sure.

Another quote, from a page I can't find but recall, was something about how AS people seem to gravitate towards each other. This leads to breeding, perhaps of AS children. An astounding 24.8% of AS people are children of engineer's in one study. My father? An engineer. I can quickly name off about 5 things I see in him that should/could be considered "Asperger's syndrome" type habits/mannerisms, btw.

Not that any of this makes any difference at all to my life. It's not treatable, and some say why treat a simply different way of looking at the world. It's not a disability, but a different ability to see our world. An object focused view instead of a social focused view of the world.

Great essay on it here. "Is Asperger's Syndrome necessarily a disability?"

Where he writes this:

Whereas the disability view might be clearly appropriate for classic autism, the article suggests that from a particular perspective, the close relative of autism, called Asperger Syndrome, can be viewed simply as a different cognitive style. This important idea can be traced to Uta Frith’s book (Frith, 1989), and has been recently discussed in relation to ‘central coherence’ theory (Happe, 1999), but deserves a fuller discussion because of the implications of this shift of emphasis.

Yes, why should a simple cognitive style difference be labeled as "a disability". It is simply different, after all.

Anyhow, enough written for this entry. Will sign off and write more tomorrow, perhaps.

June 25, 2009

Thoughts on Michael Jackson and "being odd"

I am outraged at the cruel way some people say "good that sicko Jacko is dead". He was a human being. A person. With kids who loved their daddy. With brothers and sisters who loved their brother. With parents. Yes, perhaps he was different in his choice of art, and other oddities of life. But we, as society, cannot pass judgment, and call him "sick, twisted, weird, disgusting, freak". There is a saying in Latin de mortuis nil nisi bonum dicendum est. It is variously translated as "No one can speak ill of the dead," "Of the dead, speak no evil," or, more literally, "Let nothing be said of the dead but what is good."

Another saying I think of is "Judge not lest you be judged by the same measure." We have no right to call him these things. It troubles me greatly that a pop figure, who arguably was one of the most influential artists in the 20th century, could be treated so horribly in words.

For what it's worth, I'm sad for his death. He was a talent. He will be missed. Whatever speculation may exist about his illness(es), mental states, mood(s) or whatever he gave us entertainment.

RIP Michael

EDIT: I see a lot of the pack mentality in a lot of posts. "Oh others are bashing him, let's join in too, and give a good kick or two in words". Sort of the same thing that leads a bunch of yobos to bash a man senseless, or dead, just because he looked funny.

Look within yourself, I ask. Do you know he was sick? Or did you simply read a media report that said he was? Did you see him abuse a child? Or did you simply read a report that he had? Ever play the game of Chinese whisper? Where you start off in a circle with each person whispering the same message around, with the last one saying it? How distorted the actual message is when said out loud by the last person? That's what I believe has happened 1,000 fold in this guys case. We don't know him, through the media. We don't know this person. We don't have a right to judge him, just like we don't have a right to judge a schizophrenia patient who is going through a spell of distorted thinking.

June 24, 2009

5 Things to be thankful for and more about me

Today I sat and ate dinner out on our deck. It's a small deck, with a table and 2 benches and a deck box that the kids can sit on to eat dinner. We've got a small suburban back lawn with a garden or two or three. Could use a good weeding honestly but can't be stuffed to do it. I should be more energetic and getting weeding I know. But lethargy sets in. A lethargy that I don't like, but live with.

Anyhow the 5 things I thought of while sitting on the deck were these.

1) a good dinner that I enjoyed eating
2) a nice deck to sit on to enjoy my good meal
3) seeing my 2 girls playing in the back yard. Free to be kids and loud and noisy if they want to be. Having fun with each other.
4) Having a beautiful warm day with sunshine - not too terribly hot, but just "nice"
5) feeling loved and cared for by my children and my husband

It's the small things in the present that I realize I must grasp onto in order to stay happy when a sad spell hits. A reminder that life isn't bleak and without hope. That's only the illness speaking to me. "A thought is not a fact" is something I read on the blog Beyond Blue yesterday. Yes that is a truth worth recalling. Because I tell myself I'm a fucked up idiot who's far too emotional doesn't mean I am. The thought is not the fact that the illness sometimes makes me believe.

I did some mindful meditation today on the bed. Just 5 minutes or so (didn't watch the clock). Just enough to focus on my breathing for a while. A feeling of calmness overtaking my body. It does help.

Stay happy and smile, to anyone reading this. It is worth remembering "be happy". We can be happy in the moment if we try to work at it. It's the small stones of "happiness" that will make a patio of happiness.

June 22, 2009

My girls

Originally uploaded by ToriaURU
These are my incredibly beautiful, gorgeous daughters whom I love to Mars and back. Or, as Vic would say, "to the end of the universe Mummy!"

Who am I?

"Who am I" is a thought that I've had recently. How do you, the reader, know who I am. Through my writing I hope I explain myself well enough. My mind is a bit fuzzy still from the anti psychotic. So, will have to write more a bit later on this. Consider it a paused post.

Okay, unpause the post. Back to it with a clearer mind. After reading Identity on The Secret life of a Manic Depressive blog I feel up to finishing this post.

How come sometimes I feel just like saying "Hi I'm Deb, I'm manic depressive, and so yeah, I'm crazy, move along, you'll be better off for it". Isn't there so much more of me? But why then do some people not stick around? Is it due to my illness I'd guess? Because yes I do know that I'm ill. Not right in the mind. I'm bright, incredibly so, at times, but 'weird', as well. Why do I use the word 'weird' you ask? Well, like we (my childhood friends and I) decided "Eleanor Rigby" was the song that best suited me. We would sit in my friend Ann's living room and listen endlessly to The Beatle's albums on the turntable. They, along with me, agreed that Eleanor Rigby just seemed the right bit of "odd, bizarre, silly" that matches Deb. Yeah, I've embraced from high school that I was always different. Prided myself on it many a time, as well. Never really minded that I was a round peg in a large square hole of high school life. Never fit into any cliquey bunch, nor did I last long in any particular group. Not good enough for band - hell I got laughed at for putting my lips the wrong way on a French horn. Did some gymnastics, but that didn't last for long. Always the flighty little bird, never settling down for a long, hard, good try at something.

I see in my mental map as I look back a marked trouble of ADHD. At age 9 in grade 4, the teacher suggested to my mother I be given pills 'to help settle her down'. My mum said phooey on that! I had speech therapy for stuttering for about 5 years as well. Through most of high school, I believe. There are definite gaps of memory btw. Some items of remembered horror or enlightenment stand out, but it's a very patch-work quilt of memory.

On Facebook now, when I get high-school friends saying hello, I often have no memory of them, at all. The names are vaguely familiar but to pull up a memory of when I interacted with them is impossible. Kind of bittersweet in a way.

Who am I? I'm Deb, mother of two gorgeous girls that make every single day a joy to live. I'm wife to a lovely man who's a great dad. I'm me, a 48 year old woman who loves food and whom weighs far too much. But the weight doesn't bother me a whole lot. I'd rather be happy within the vast skin of this body God gave me than be sad that I'm not the size of Celine Dion.

I try to live happily within the confines of being manic depressive. I was diagnosed after a few dramatic episodes where I completely felt 'different'. I shall explain those if you care to ask, but would rather they aren't out in public view. Suffice it to say, it was enough information for the family doctor to refer me to a psychiatrist, whom I've been seeing since. They didn't just slap on the label of manic depressive without a long oral story by me of feelings, thoughts, events and actions/reactions to those events.

Hope this goes to explain "me" for the benefit of my readers. Did I do an okay job of it? I'll continue the thread of 'what's me' tomorrow.

June 20, 2009

Found a list I made for the psychiatrist

Here's a list of stuff that I wrote down
Just a mind purge, with selected quotes from different blog posts. I wanted to present to her a cluster of my thoughts. Allowing her to see my mental health through words. It's hard distilling this down to a small amount of words.

"Borderline personality disorder and mood disorders often appear concurrently. Some features of borderline personality disorder may overlap with those of mood disorders, complicating the differential diagnostic assessment."
Mackinnon DF, Pies R. Department of Psychiatry and Behavioral Sciences, The Johns Hopkins University School of Medicine.

Studies examined here suggest a number of points of phenomenological and biological overlap between the affective lability criterion of borderline personality disorder and the extremely rapid cycling bipolar disorders.

To me, I can't truly think of deep depression. I don't see that in my mental map as I look back.I do see, however, emotional lability in my mental map. Lability meaning apt or likely to change. Dysphoria, defined as being "An emotional state marked by anxiety, depression, and restlessness." Oh yes, that is me. An anxiety that I won't be remembered, for some reason. A terrible need to reach out and talk to somebody, anybody!
A driving compulsive want for communication of any type.
A feeling of being bored, at times, when talking about the same thing, day after day.
A distinct desire to leap onto something new, and exciting.
A feeling of wanting to fix things, if I can.
I want to hear problems, solve them (or try to), and feel rage, and anger, and feeling of unhappiness when I can't fix something.
This terrible feeling of not being "normal".
Being broken, in a sense.
Trying to appear sane, but feeling really rather broken.
Scared of being rejected, and yet acting in ways that people do reject me. And then I can't fix them. Hence leading to a depression of sorts. But not a deep, dark, lasting, on-and-on-and-on one. Just a dip into feeling sorry for myself and then popping up to the level and thinking "life isn't so bad, let's try this again".
I can feel a quick flash of anger, intense, and then it's gone, with my feeling sorry that it happened.
Or intense sympathy for someone, but having to be taught to feel empathy for what that person feels about me.
Lamotrigne - It is working to a point to protect against the lows. But it isn't protecting against the highs.
The euphoria of believing I can do things I can't.
The tears of feeling sad, at times.
The inability of me to make proper, informed decisions and Actions that are measured, and thought out ahead of time.
Instead, I think => I act.
I act impulsively.
I react impulsively.
I react sometimes as suddenly as an elastic band snapping back against your finger.
I get reactions like "Whoa! Where did this come from Deb?"
Sometimes I snap like that at my kids. How does that make them feel? How does that make myself feel? Badly, in a word. Thankfully my husband is patient, to a point. But many times he's been ready to walk out.
And yet, still people just walk away from me.
Alienate me because I don't act "right".
I have a mental disease. Not a condition that I should be "able" to deal with, with some exercise.
I never need an alarm clock, ever. I'm always awake, fast. This leads to irritation as you might imagine.
I'm tired during the day.
Trying to keep my mind from racing.
For alienating friends who care, but who are hurt by my stupid, thoughtless reactions to perceived hurts that don't exist.
It's like I need a stimulus to make me laugh and feel good, or I feel lonely. Doing day-to-day stuff aka crap just gets me in the dumps.
Music helps, but then I get Tim saying it's too loud, or he doesn't like it, and turns it off. :(

It's like I need a main-stream of interesting conversation aimed at me, and then I feel alive and functioning and happy.
Without input I flounder about, get depressed and just don't feel good. I feel lonely.
My kids help a fair bit, but at times, I'd just rather not have their level of 'conversation'. "Mummy I'm hungry. I want a cheese and mayo sandwich. I want white bread. Cut it like this Mummy (crosswise, NOT sideways for squares).
I can recall losing my temper when they wouldn't sleep and going into the kitchen and wham wham wham wham on the cutting board with our big knife. It scared me as I was doing it. I couldn't stop. It totally scared Tim too. Another time, I slapped him, my dear husband across the face.
My speculation - why people in a mania state don't seek help. It's because we feel good! We feel like we're accomplishing things. Seems all is going well. It's only when a crack develops that we start to wonder if things ARE as great as they seem. For me, it was a series of events. Yelling at people who didn't deserve it. And then the really painful one. On Christmas Eve, falling asleep before filling the girls stockings. And then hearing them say "Mummy Santa forgot to come, our stockings are empty". Oh God that hurt to hear them say that. How dare I ruin their Christmas? They said, when I paused for a minute, "oh well he must have been really busy this year, and other kids need toys too, don't they?" But I knew that didn't let me off the hook. That's the day when I said to self "you are sick dear, and need help". Yes, I did. I'm glad I got it.
A great description of mania is this.
Think of a gas pedal of a car pressed to the floor. Hear that engine race? Think of that as the brain.
Now, keep that up for oh 2 to 3 months. That's the wear and tear, and the terror, and the lack of sleep that leads to really poor decision making.That's what leads to 3 hrs of sleep, then back up and let's keep going! Mind is in gear, and lets go, fast, rudderless basically, but we're going! That's mania, in a nutshell.
Something the psych. and I talked about was e-mail.
How I feel more important somehow if I get a personal email. She was asking if I thought others felt that way. Not as likely I said. Then we got into the idea if they don't send one, does that somehow mean they don't care? Of course not! If they don't write, does that mean they don't like you? No, of course not! Why the hell do I get into these negative frames of mind where the answers above are Yes.
Sometimes I just want to hide my head in the sand.But I mean just sometimes I want to forget I have moody days. I just want to feel on a even keel, all the time. Not have days when I feel like calling myself a stupid, mixed up fuck head, like I did the other day. A lot of little things made a big thing, and made me feel, as I said to a friend "a pathetic fuck up of a friend". He replied that no, he didn't see that, and that I'm not insane, rather just a thinking feeling person who is intense. Sometimes friends are God's little gifts (tm?) to us. A reminder that no matter how down we get on ourselves someone else admires us.

".. Depression shatters that capacity. When the mind's flexibility and ability to adapt are undermined by mental illness, alcohol or drug abuse, or other psychiatric disorders, its defenses are put at jeopardy. Much as a compromised immune system is vulnerable to opportunistic infection, so too a diseased brain is made assailable by the eventualities of life. The quickness and flexibility of a well mind, a belief or hope that things will eventually sort themselves out - these are the resources lost to a person when the brain is ill. We know that the brain's inability to think fluently, reason clearly, or perceive the future with hope creates a defining constellation of depression. We also know that depression is at the heart of most suicides."
I truly realize with this failed 5 year friendship how ephemeral internet friends are. You can care so much, so deeply, share so many things, and yet, after one serious blow out in 2 years, it's gone. All that caring, feeling means absolutely nothing.

Quick thoughts
- moodiness
- overspending
- very high elated moods
- sometimes crushing low
- sometimes feeling manic and depressed at the same time.

"Now, why is it that most of us can talk openly about the illnesses of our bodies, but when it comes to our brain and illnesses of the mind we clam up and because we clam up, people with emotional disorders feel ashamed, stigmatized, and don’t seek the help that can make the difference."
Kirk Douglas, who's son Michael Douglas directed "One Flew over the Cuckoo's Nest"

A nice quote

The great mystery is in the known, not the unknown - Oscar Wilde

Just saw that one and liked it.

What about another sense we don't yet have a name for?

This is something I thought about regarding senses. What if we haven't classified all the senses we have? I notice that I've got a sensitivity to peoples feelings beyond that of normal people. For instance I looked at a friends picture and asked him a quest that literally blew him away about how I knew to ask him that. I just sensed as I looked at the photo and thought/felt it.

I've been recently reminded of Rodin. How standing there in his garden staring at the "Thinker" sculpture and thinking "why, why did he design that with the elbow on the opposite knee to what we'd normally see?" How that sculptor must have seen objects in such a way that clearly allowed him to copy them within a sculpture. Or perhaps Mozart, in how he saw the music in his head. He clearly had an entirely different way than most of us in seeing/hearing/feeling/sensing the music and its notes/sounds.

I've heard a friend say that he sees numbers really easily in his head. He can do complex multiplication in his head, for crumb's sake. I sure can't do simple subtraction :P The ones place is gone from memory while I work out the tens place. Forget the 100's place. :P

Recently been reminded that some just don't agree with me, at all. Oh well, such is life, must carry on without them. C'est la vie, and the way the cookie crumbles. Pip, pip, chin up, must carry along, as they say in England (or did way back LOL)

I have a good, happy strong life here. I am not a failure. These are the thoughts I want in my head as I lay down to go to sleep. I am strong and brave, even if sick mentally.

June 15, 2009

An analogy that I've thought of

I'm sometimes struggling with the view that I'm not accepted by some people in this world. I'm okay with it some days but others, not so much. This analogy comes to mind. I'm having a hard time of getting rid of this feeling of failure where my illness is concerned. That I shouldn't feel that I've failed. I get angry at telling myself I'm a failure as a friend. I'M NOT A FAILURE!

The analogy I'm referring to goes something like this. If I had a damaging defect in my heart, you'd not expect it to beat the same way as a completely normal heart. IE. one that hadn't been diagnosed as "damaged in some way" by a cardiologist. You, an observer, would be able to easily sympathize with hearing that I had shortness of breath, or numbness and tingling of my extremities due to bad blood flow. It's an easily understand disease. If my medication wasn't right, you'd sympathize and not say "oh arrhythmia of your heart is YOUR fault, you foolish person!". I'd not be seen as somehow causing my own trouble and making a big deal of nothing. Now apply all of that to the brain. Where a psychiatrist has said that yes she believes my brain is damaged. Why in hells name when I'm not on the right medications am I blamed for poor behaviour? It's not like I WANT to act hyper, manic, insane, swearing and otherwise bizarre behaviour. It "JUST" happens like arrhythmia does to a diseased heart.

That to me, is the greatest stumbling block. Holding in that anger that I basically feel, that I've been unfairly blamed when I was ill, and not in proper control of my feelings, thoughts and actions. See, a "normal" person, IE. one not diagnosed by a professional as being mentally ill, can control well their actions and thoughts. So, we, the mentally ill, are expected to do the same, regardless of our illness. That, in a nutshell is what is so hard about mental illness and suffering with it. People just don't get that we aren't well. We may not have a visible deformity, but there is one there, inside our brain.

Compare this sentence from Nov 2008 in an email
yeah, that'll give you an idea of my mood. White America.. mmm lots of anger, check. Lots of fucks, check. A feeling of deep frustration, check. Wanting to vent it outwards, check.

To this sentence
The reverting of the mind to that which has already occupied it is my aim. And one of the definitions of the word.

If I didn't tell you who'd written those two sentences, you'd never in your life think it was the same person would you? Does that show the level of impairment a lack of medicine can cause? I dunno, does it? I'm curious as to what you, the reader, think.

I read this paragraph from Wikipedia and just shake my head.

There are widespread problems with social stigma, stereotypes and prejudice against individuals with a diagnosis of bipolar disorder.[2] People with bipolar disorder exhibiting psychotic symptoms can sometimes be misdiagnosed as suffering from schizophrenia, another serious mental illness.[3]

It is not a choice of mine to act hyper, manic and be offensive in my language. It is a disease.

June 10, 2009

keywords used to find this blog

Here are some of the keywords used by people to find this site

- bipolar stereotypes
- bipolar blogspot
- The Weather Network ( LOL! )
- describe mania
- bipolar madness
- bipolar II
- how does mania feel
- bipolar disease "blogspot"
- bipolar friendship
- manic pms
- how families with someone with bipolar 2 hypomania grieve
- difference between borderline and madness

Interesting to see how people discovered my blog, and I hope some of what I write is helpful to a few of you. The view inside my head, and thoughts, and feelings, is meant to be just that. A single voice from me sharing my view on the madness of bipolar.

I'll never be normal. Yeah normal isn't so great. But it means not having to watch your moods. "Am I reacting okay to this situation?" is something I'm always having to ask myself. If I was normal, and without bipolar, I'd not have to be asking that of myself. Oh well, I'll have to cope with it. Some days, when I feel well loved and cared for it's okay with me that I'm somewhat sick in the head. And yet other days with a lot of little things piled on, like today, it's hard to cope. Lots of tears today, for whatever reason. Not sure if it's due to a bad nights sleep or what.

I had a scary dream last night. Dreamt that for some reason Vic, my little one, was playing near a dangerous place where she could fall. I have a great fear of heights and cannot stand to be near an drop-off of any type. Woke myself up 2 or 3 times at least due to that dream. Maybe that was enough to make me a bit tired, and therefore a bit vulnerable to emotions. Not sure, obviously.

Ok, find a cheery, uplifting quote for yourself now she tells herself.

Dare to be yourself.
Andre Gide, French critic, essayist, & novelist (1869 - 1951)

June 6, 2009

Feeling weight and other issues

A friends post got me to thinking why I'm okay with my body. Yes I hear comments from my husband, and from my Dad. Tim's pretty okay with it, although he knows he can stab and wound me with words. But heck, I can't be perfect, like you know. :P

Weight is so loaded with feelings. If we weight too much then we're somehow defective, I'd guess, from portrayals? Why is that? Because I weigh more than my husband does that mean I'm "less" of a person? Um, no, wrong.

To me, food is always an emotional thing. I'm sad, I eat. I'm on the go, I don't eat, and forget to make good food. Then fill up on starch and easy to eat foods. That's not good. I need to remember, and plan for, those busy days. Have easy to eat healthy food at the ready for quick meals.

I hope to teach my children that food is simply for eating. Not a reward, nor a punishment. Not a manipulation tool. But simply that we need it, and to choose a good food that's healthy is the wisest choice. Yes to the bits of junk food but not an everyday thing.

Vic tells me I'm fat. Nothing like a daughter telling her mummy huh? But you know what she's said right after that? "I love you just the same Mummy you're the best Mummy in the world". Yeah, well I hope so.

That is what marriage really means: helping one another to reach the full status of being persons, responsible and autonomous beings who do not run away from life. Paul Tournier

June 4, 2009

A poem about kindness

I saw this poem on another blog and have copied it in here. Lovely one.

by Naomi Shihab Nye

Before you know what kindness really is
you must lose things,
feel the future dissolve in a moment
like salt in a weakened broth.
What you held in your hand,
what you counted and carefully saved,
all this must go so you know
how desolate the landscape can be
between the regions of kindness.
How you ride and ride
thinking the bus will never stop,
the passengers eating maize and chicken
will stare out the window forever.
Before you learn the tender gravity of kindness,
you must travel where the Indian in a white poncho
lies dead by the side of the road.
You must see how this could be you,
how he too was someone
who journeyed through the night with plans
and the simple breath that kept him alive.
Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside,
you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing.
You must wake up with sorrow.
You must speak to it till your voice
catches the thread of all sorrows
and you see the size of the cloth.
Then it is only kindness that makes sense and more,
only kindness that ties your shoes
and sends you out into the day to mail letters and purchase bread,
only kindness that raises its head
from the crowd of the world to say
It is I you have been looking for,
and then goes with you everywhere
like a shadow or a friend.