Not faking it

I originally wrote this as a comment to Britni’s post: Imposter Syndrome. Britni writes about knowing “something is wrong” but how the search for answers sometimes leads to doubting yourself.

I have a very good idea what Britni is talking about. Only thing is that I was actually diagnosed, after years of misdiagnoses, with bipolar disorder in my 20s. The battle of finding the right balance of meds was a rough one, but we finally got it ‘sorta right’ and my life was improving. I moved to Asia after turning 30, where a brain specialist in a state hospital found exactly the right balance of meds from the word go! The next 3.5 years were the most amazing years of my life up to that point! I began hoping that all the lifestyle changes I’d made since my diagnosis had paid off – and that maybe I was cured.

Then I went to the States to take up a job offer – that turned out to be a scam – where I was promised (amongst other things) that my medication would be taken care of. It wasn’t, and for 7 months I silently slipped back ‘into the wild’. My ‘benefactor’ was thoroughly convinced that he was a specialist in all things, and proclaimed that my prescription was nothing more than a placebo… and I wanted to believe it.

A psychiatric nurse who knew him came to visit (social call) once. She had her suspicions about the whole setup. She took me aside and offered one word of advice: Run!

I didn’t want to hear it though. I was thoroughly enthralled by my “friend”. Months later her advice rang in my head when I found out that I was to be taken to Mexico for a ‘visa run’. I fled back home to SA with the help of a couple of friends I made in that time. (Friends to whom I am eternally grateful, and whom I miss dearly.)

Back in SA, a new psychiatrist doubted my earlier diagnosis and suggested we wait to see what happened. I wanted to believe him, and to pin my symptoms on my American experience. But we were both mistaken.

Long story short: I had a major episode and was put back on medication. I’m not who I was in Taiwan – but life is better for the most part.

Mental illness is a weird thing. Half of the struggle is wanting to know that you’re not making it up – and half is trying to convince yourself that you did. It superimposes a layer of doubt on your life: Am I not just over exaggerating normal experiences? Am I simply a weakling hiding behind a label?

The truth (as far as I’m concerned) is that we’re not making things up. Our experiences are real and our realities are valid. (If that edges me towards radical constructivism, so be it *chuckles*)

If either my or Britni’s stories strike a chord with you, or with the experiences of someone you know, keep the faith! You are not alone – even when it feels like it. (And boy, can it ever feel like it!) Stick to it, stay true to yourself, and be truthful about yourself. Somewhere, someone has the instincts, knowledge and wherewithal to help figure it out.

So keep on keep’n on – we’ll make it yet!

Can I get a Woop-Woop?

Thanking God for the clever people who figured out Citalopram.

Feeling GOOD y'all!!

Serving notice to the IttyBitty Committee

I've decided to take some of the money I've saved for tuition, and pay for a visit to the psychiatrist. Starting my bipolar meds again.

I don't know how far my savings will stretch to cover my meds, required medical aid, tuition and rent for 2013... but a functional life is worth more than money in the bank.

The shitty IttyBitty Committee

So I've been off my meds since leaving Taiwan. And at first, everything went pretty well: I was starting a new adventure in America, where all sorts of wonderful things were bound to happen! My new "Boss" had all the details of my mental health program, and had agreed to ensure continuity in my treatment.

That was not the only commitment he bailed on, but it turns out it's the one that's caused the most damage.

Fast forward to the present, and I've all but fully recovered from the sh!t-storm that was my "break in the States". All recovered, that is, except for the crap in my head.
Ambient sound transforms into noise that drowns out everything, even light. When excited, I talk louder than necessary. Sometimes my words crash somewhere between my voice box and my tongue, resulting in incomprehensible smacks and vowels. At times I lose coherence completely. I get incredibly angry at the silliest things. I zone out at random. I hate being around people, because I hate how out of place they make me feel. I don't belong here. I struggle to "play nice". I struggle to care, or I get over-emotional. I hate the way people look at me, like I'm a festering wound, like I'm what's wrong. I want to hide from their judgment. I prefer the safety of solitude, but then the silence gets too loud and I just want to jam junk in my ears. Stab out the part of my brain that processes audio.

I want out.

the other side of mania

right, so here goes... i've often blogged about being bipolar - but i tend to stick to the manic side of things. even the posts that touch on the depressive aspects are written with a touch of mania. i suppose i don't want to spread the dankness too much.

well, today i might just break tradition. at least, i'm hoping my self-editing won't stop me from sharing a glimpse into the fog that hangs as a pall on the other side of mania.

yesterday was a black monday.
it didn't start off as that, mind you. in fact, i had an unusually productive, even satisfying morning. but it all turned to sh!t very rapidly. to be clear, i don't want to go into a lament about the triggers and such - but i think i need to show you another place some of us beepers sometimes go:

imagine, if you will, walking down your street at your favorite time of day. looking around, you realize that something's different. not quite right. you can't quite put your finger on it though... then you become aware of a cold hand gripping your heart of hearts. not squeezing it, mind you, but holding it down. holding it tight. suffocating your will to be. you're not loosing the will to live - you're not losing anything. you've lost the need to exist. it is already gone...

looking up, you realize that you are in a cardboard cutout of what you thought was reality. the trees, the mountains, the buildings - even the grass around you - isn't really there.

you realize you're no longer moving. your legs give way and you sit down. you think that you should want to cry - but even that is no longer real. color drains from everything around you. the cardboard cutouts waver, then crumble before your eyes. like an elaborate puzzle, everything falls apart. gravity. even your mind starts to succumb to it. the pull is all you feel. on your heart, your limbs, even your thoughts are getting too heavy to bear.

as you hunch over, giving up all resistance, you realize the ground beneath you has vanished. but you're not falling. you're collapsing into yourself. at least, it looks like you. you can't really tell. imploding is the word, i think. words... as a foreign blanket of icy despair starts to crush what little of you remains - you call out. i call out to God - but my words are meaningless. everything i know, or thought i knew, is meaningless. empty. there is just the relentless pull of internal gravity.

but just before you disappear - it stops. like a hammer hesitating to give the final blow - there is nothing, but you're not out of the woods either. woods? there's nothing around you but a steely, grey fog. this could be limbo. fear, frustration, powerlessness, unbearable sadness. despair. you understand, without knowledge, what despair is. that is the lesson. that is real.

when you open your eyes your back outside. the cardboard reality has been replaced by bricks and mortar. trees, grass, even a stray dog...

you get up to go home...
your name is Despair.

*wave*

right okay hello, hi.
so it's 2010
and I forgot that my last post (29 Dec) was also on the eve of the second anniversary of my life without alcohol.

honestly, it's all a bit "woopdedoo" to me, right now.

ugh... this is miserable.

will post something nice next time.

reset

it's not a particularly well kept secret that November was a terribly trying month here at the café. my new job upped my stress-levels a touch; Peter joining his parents in opening a new noodle shop has eaten into our precious free time; old man Winter's SAD-influence on my internal processes were left unchecked and, the proverbial straw: an intensely personal trial very nearly pushed me off the roof of a building.

it all boiled to a climax about two weeks ago. after trying to cope with my illusions unceremoniously shattering around me, i reached bursting point. the cacophony in my head and heart had me bouncing off the walls... and i snapped. Peter rushed home just in time to stop me from going overboard. both our wounds were opened again and we've since started the process of healing.

my physiology finally got a chance to catch up this week: in that faint-and-shake kind of way i've managed to avoid for so long. this morning's epileptic fit in the shower, however, was by far the best thing that could've happened to me. you see, this time there was a measure of lucidity to it. what i mean by that is, this time i can remember seeing something. almost like a flickering stream of a thousand polaroids flying past me. i remember seeing my sister, pink flowers, and Peter. i remember a sense of peace. i also remember hearing Peter's voice fading in from somewhere. he was calling my name - and when i started to come around, his face materialized in a flickering,white haze - which later became the bathroom ceiling.

he got me to our bed where i lay still confused and panting, trying to pull myself towards myself. i knew that Fear was going to grip me any second and was trying to prepare myself for the onslaught. what followed, though, was quite different than usual. in the past, i would be flooded with feelings of terrible fear, horror, loneliness and regrets of all shapes and sizes... but today only one Visitor had come to present itself to me. only one, ice-cold and crystal clear fear: not the fear of not waking up, but the fear of dying and leaving Peter without him knowing how much i love him.

it was at once a crippling curse and a liberating blessing. i managed to see the blessing and chose to take that as my cue. i got up, got dressed and went to lie next to him on the couch. my "reset button" was pushed and i found myself in a place where Love again took centre stage. i've been asking for help to let go of the past - and i'm choosing to see today's events as just that.

maktub.

huh? say what?

and before you know it, it's friday. what happened to my week? (besides Aunt Debra's beeped-up annual visit... i suspect she'll be around for a wee while.)

well, work. i'm still getting into the swing of things - and the frequent tests have me at my wits end, frankly. it's quite a skip from kindergarten to "real school", i tell you. not to mention the report cards! i'm pretty sure my biological operating system was engineered to crash whenever presented with one of those. i quite literally get the shits. naturally the itty bitty committee has a field day with this...

Aaarrgghhh! AND today is pumpkin carving day, which means tomorrow is the halloween party - and i've never carved a pumpkin before, and i don't have a costume!

honestly, if i had hair, it'd be in clumps in my white-knuckled fists right now.

*breathe*

okay, i'm spazzing out here. time for a snack... gaaack! look at the time! only half an hour left and i still have 6 report cards to agonize over!!

oi vey.

here's a song for ya - have a better day, okay?

a fanvid of Sam Sparro's Black & Gold:

spring at the start of fall

it is september now and back home people are celebrating the return of spring. days are getting longer, nights are getting warmer and all around nature is getting ready to burst with joy. it is a time of renewal, hope and celebration. it is a time to celebrate life - and to fall in love.

i am lucky. for although i'm oceans away from home - i am with the one i love.

in Taiwan it is ghost month: a time when the gates of the underworld are believed to open and the dead are allowed to roam the land of the living. spirits without descendants to care for them are prayed to during this time, so that they may also enjoy the warmth of life among the living. those lucky enough to have descendants get to feast on tables laden with food and drink that are offered to them. for others, this is a month of remembering the departed and cherishing those who are still around.

again, i am lucky. for in remembering my departed friends and family - i am reminded to love fully without restraint. i am reminded that life is unpredictable and short - and that love should be cherished and enjoyed openly and fearlessly.

fearlessly... that is my achilles' heel. my terrible burden. for you see - i am still plagued by fear... the fear of my inadequacy.

this might be a revelation to some, for many believe me to be fearless. in fact, i often make a point of facing my fears head on, to overcome them and to help others do the same. i have often said that this does not make me immune to fear - but that i'm fighting a winning battle. and for the most of it - i am.

for the most of part.

tonight, while standing in the rain waiting for the garbage truck, i felt very much like a spirit with no descendants. the switch from the fullness of SA life (with my friends and family) to the total isolation of city life in Taiwan (Peter works - i'm still looking for a job), was suddenly too much for me.

i'm not going to go into the negative flip-flops my mind was doing - suffice to say i was feeling pretty forlorn...

then the garbage truck arrived - and a complete stranger huddled me under his umbrella. he walked with me from the garbage truck to the recycling truck and back to our building - even though he only had a small bag to deposit at the first truck. i thanked him profusely as he smiled and disappeared into the crowd.

the rain eased up and i decided to go for my walk around the museum's park again. a cool breeze was blowing and i was beginning to feel a lot better. before long, i realized that i was praying as i walked - and for about half in hour i had an intimate discussion with my Lord, who was walking right next to me! i was in Jesus's company and it felt completely natural, safe and friendly. it was a miracle, just like the stranger with his umbrella. i've often felt close to Christ - but tonight was the first time i literally felt him walking right next to me! walking next to me, telling me not to be afraid. telling me that, even though i might not believe it, i truly am a perfect creation and more than adequate for the journey i'm taking. telling me to believe in Love and reminding me that i am never alone.

none of us are ever alone.

what started as a dark night of the soul - turned into the promise of a new dawn.

spring is coming - even here, on the brink of fall.

wherever you are tonight, and whatever you are going through - may you also experience the promise of a new dawn.

wether you believe as i do or not - this spring is eternal (and Love believes in you).

now go hug someone.

loony season

update:

• still processing the disappearance of a friend.
• decided that the snake-dream was about my fear of letting my kids go.
• doctor decided to change my medication - feeling a bit like a lab-rat for not understanding the reasons.
• am still sane because I am loved.
• enjoyed the kindergarten's graduation ceremony.
• prepared emotionally for my last day at school on Monday.
• shocked by the news of one colleague assaulting another.

what? yes - you heard me:

the (by now not-so-)new teacher (whom I've expressed concern about before) drove to Ben's house - and assaulted him...

this is the guy who's inheriting my class on Monday!

no wonder I dream of snakes hunting my kids...

rapid cycling gets you

Ben, my colleague from Seattle, turned 37 on Sunday - so a bunch of us got together at Coast Café last night for dinner and celebrations. he really is a very cool guy - and i am very thankful for having him around! he's been a friend to me since my first day here. come to think of it, he's the closest thing i have to a "best" friend on the island :0)

anyway, dinner was a relaxed affair with the usual sharing of dishes, stories and language tips that make buxiban socializing fun. and then it happened - a very pronounced episode of dysphoric mania reached it's crescendo.

looking back, i can see that this episode has been building for a few days - but it was only when my Taiwanese colleagues started asking me if i'm alright that i realized what was going on... NOBODY gets THAT excited about a cup of coffee! i'm not sure i spotted all the symptoms that got them worried, but i realized i was:

- laughing randomly at myself
- jumping from one idea to another (not necessarily obviously related)
- giddy with excitement when my first (and only)refill (black coffee, no sugar) finally arrived and
- spouting totally random sentences at equally random intervals.

thankfully i recognized the situation and excused myself. i drove home carefully, as i was beginning to twitch - which can be dangerous on a scooter.

walking into my apartment i could feel the switch in my brain flip. i got in bed just in time to sob into my pillows. major high followed by major low.

symptom checklist:

• period of heightened irritability followed by an excessively good mood;
  
• pressured speech; rapid talking
• decreased need for sleep and insomnia;
• flight of ideas and the subjective experience that thoughts are racing;
• easily distracted / attention-deficit;
• increase in psychomotor agitation;
  
• unrestrained buying sprees (Ben got quite a gift bag *lol*);
  
• feelings of hopelessness (especially with regards to my relationship);
• unprovoked yet overwhelming sense of sadness and
  
• thoughts of suicide (recognized as symptomatic and treated that way)
  

bipolar disorder is definitely not for sissies - and rapid cycling turns life into an extreme sport! hopefully the risperdal keeps things under control. there are only three weeks left of this semester - and we're preparing for oral tests! not exactly the best time to go nuts ;0)

and so i begin

WE CAN all start afresh! However far we have ascended, there is something higher; and however far we have fallen, it is always possible to make a fresh start.

Eph 4:20

flickering

oh were i a dying man
who had no need of your forevers
but was at peace with merely
being liked

then would i drink the
love of light and
ne'er be afraid of all
of beauty's eventual end

but lo! i am a living man
who needs but hear a whisper...

spot my pozzy

a little mania goes a long way ;0)
led-style!above, the view of my balcony from the parking lot
below, the view of my building from our local 7-11
mine is the blueish glow, top-right ;0)
i probably shouldn't have shelled out the heaps of dosh for the blinkyness - but it sure is pretty!

SA slang info from Wikipedia:
pozzy - house or home; place where one lives or hangs out.

today is better

just a quick "mornin' y'all" to smile and wave from the other side of last night's post.

the risperdal and a good night's sleep - plus the resolution to hit the road out of town after school today - has me feeling a whole lot better about myself and life in general :0)

also, thanks to Rod for the comments - both of them. no comment is a bad comment.
and thanks to Immi for all the tips and tricks on her blog! i live better every day.

now sucks

here's the deal: i've lost my mojo.

it's thursday night and i've just returned home from school. my last class took forever and it feels like i'm not getting anywhere with my students. the teenagers are getting the better of me... i've run out of ideas on how to get them talking. it's a "conversation class" - which means we're supposed to converse for 90 minutes. (okay, two sessions of 40 minutes with a ten minute break in the middle.) It's a miracle if i get one of them to say more than three sentences. i've tried sports, rock, hip hop, online gaming, pets, family, fashion, parties, school, poetry, visual arts, movies - everything. harry potter worked for a while, but we've gone through all the books now...

i know they think swearing is funny - but i'm not comfortable with the idea of exchanging insults and cusses with 14 year olds.

fuck i feel useless. i just want to sleep. i honestly don't feel like doing anything.

yup, i know - these are all little red flags saying auntie debra is visiting. time to take the risperdal again.

*sigh*

the sound and the fury

ever stood on the roof of an apartment building to look at the lights?

it's been quite a day in the south of Taiwan. people from near and far dressed up to parade through the streets of Donggang (TungKang) and pay their respects at every single temple en route. i went to take some pictures at a temple near my home and was amazed at the unfamiliarity of it all.

later, trying to capture some fireworks from the roof - the encroaching shadow i've been trying to shake all week, finally caught up with me.

my cycles are slow, but consistent. even on the other side of the planet - Fall flips the switch in my head. I can feel my 'Cold Mind' setting in.

i notice that i am paying more attention to the darkness - and yearning for silence...

i could really do with a cigarette right now.