It's been a while since I have posted. There is a reason for that. Went to the psychiatrist, as promised. And I feel cheated. Pushed. Ramrodded. Manipulated. And stupid.
Stupid for not standing up for myself.
Stupid for allowing myself to be manipulated.
Stupid for trusting a government agency to know what was best for me in spite of all my research, all my study.
When I walked in the psychiatrist smiled, asked my symptoms - most of which I suddenly found I couldn't remember - and asked when I had been diagnosed. I told him the truth - that I hadn't actually been and thought that was his job. He smiled a nice, condescending smile and immediately began to talk about what medication I should be on. I insisted on two things - I had to be able to think, and I didn't want anything that would affect my memory.
I wound up walking out with prescriptions for Lamictal and Haldol, the latter prescribed to "cure" the insomnia that the former would cause. Rather an ominous sign.
Dropped the prescriptions off at the pharmacy and went to review the meds before actually taking anything. What I read horrified me. The Lamictal didn't look too bad - it was an anticonvulsant, the side effects seemed mild, it seemed to target depression more than mania but was used as a maintenance drug and studies showed that most people tolerated it well. The Haldol was another story. It was an older anti psychotic, and the side effects were - well, for me they would have been intolerable. As I read, I discovered that it was seldom prescribed any more. I called the pharmacy and told them to hold filling that prescription. After talking to the pharmacist - who seemed to be offended that I would question the psychiatrist - I settled on the addition of an OTC sleep remedy, melatonin. Melatonin, she assured me, would be quite safe and would not interact with the Lamictal.
I wasn't comfortable with the medication, but had promised that I would give it a fair shot to see what happened. So, that night, with trepidation I took a quarter of a 150 mg tablet of Lamictal and a melatonin pill. How bad could that little dose get?
I was about to find out.
Sunday, October 14, 2012
Thursday, September 20, 2012
Being Me
Okay. I'm not going to be able to be fixed. But in order to be fixed, something has to be broken. I just don't feel like I am broken, even though I keep hearing that I am. I hear that I have an illness. A disease. A genetic abnormality. A disorder.
But I don't think those words fit. Disease means something that has invaded and causes problems. A cold is a disease that is considered an illness. It makes you miserable until it is over and done with. Syphilis is a disease. Cancer is a disease. They maim and kill. A genetic abnormality isn't a disease... it is something that you are born with, something that is in your makeup. And a disorder indicates something out of whack somewhere.
But this is different.
Who wouldn't want something that makes you feel good? Something that increases energy and creativity and productivity? Something that makes people like to be around you, that makes you happy? Something that gives you the courage to do things that other people can't, or won't?
So in that respect, this is a gift.
William Blake.
Wordsworth.
Schumann.
Georgia O'Keefe.
Gaugin.
Herman Hesse.
Hemingway.
Michelangelo.
Mark Twain.
Hans Christian Anderson.
Graham Greene.
Theodore Roethke.
Walt Whitman.
And a multitude of others.
All have - or had - this same gift.
I am in good company.
Don't try to fix me. I am not broken. I am different, unique, one of a kind. And I demand to be respected for my differences. I demand not to be treated as if I am diseased. I demand the right to privacy, the right to think and speak as I wish, the right to chart my own course in life. I demand the right to live and to exercise my free will.
I demand the right to have my life back.
But I don't think those words fit. Disease means something that has invaded and causes problems. A cold is a disease that is considered an illness. It makes you miserable until it is over and done with. Syphilis is a disease. Cancer is a disease. They maim and kill. A genetic abnormality isn't a disease... it is something that you are born with, something that is in your makeup. And a disorder indicates something out of whack somewhere.
But this is different.
Who wouldn't want something that makes you feel good? Something that increases energy and creativity and productivity? Something that makes people like to be around you, that makes you happy? Something that gives you the courage to do things that other people can't, or won't?
So in that respect, this is a gift.
William Blake.
Wordsworth.
Schumann.
Georgia O'Keefe.
Gaugin.
Herman Hesse.
Hemingway.
Michelangelo.
Mark Twain.
Hans Christian Anderson.
Graham Greene.
Theodore Roethke.
Walt Whitman.
And a multitude of others.
All have - or had - this same gift.
I am in good company.
Don't try to fix me. I am not broken. I am different, unique, one of a kind. And I demand to be respected for my differences. I demand not to be treated as if I am diseased. I demand the right to privacy, the right to think and speak as I wish, the right to chart my own course in life. I demand the right to live and to exercise my free will.
I demand the right to have my life back.
Sunday, September 16, 2012
Starting the Journey
The first visit with a therapist was interesting. My husband went in first to set background information, and 40 minutes later I was invited in. I was surprised that his visit took so long. He must have had a lot to say.
I knew a little bit about what to expect. Since I first found out what was going on I had searched for everything I could read about it. Much of the information was very basic - symptoms, treatments, etc. Some of it included personal experiences. Those ran the gamut - some were very well written and yielded valuable insight. Some were not, and made me wonder if I ever sounded like those people. I suppose it is possible that I, too, may have been incoherent during a manic episode.
The therapist was very young, wore black leggings and a tunic top and had wild, curly red hair and a rather distracted air about her. She looked young enough to have been one of my students. I was glad that I had done the research before seeing the therapist as I was able to come in with some idea of what the questions were going to be. Still, something seems to have backfired as she became more agitated and excited during the interview, and that, in turn, made me nervous and I am sure I said some things that were not true or that I did not mean. I tried to be as honest as possible, but I am not sure that this is going to be the therapist for me. I would prefer someone who is calm and professional. This girl had a habit of playing with her glasses and leaning far enough forward in her chair to invade my space, an action I have always felt was quite rude although it has never really bothered me as I realize that some people will try to do that to create an atmosphere of closeness. In this case I suspected that she was looking to see if I would move away or otherwise be uncomfortable.
I have an appointment with a psychiatrist next and hope that things will go a little more smoothly.
In the meantime, I am still reading and researching, trying to understand exactly what is going on in my head, exactly what the technical terms mean when they are bandied about, and determined to have a handle on what is going to happen.
I am looking at alternatives to medication, and have begun keeping a journal to be sure to monitor and understand my own behavior and my own triggers for manic episodes.
Quite honestly, I like the manic episodes as long as they are controlled and don't go so high that I get in trouble. I like the energy, the clarity of thought, and the accomplishments. I also prefer not to sleep for eight or nine hours and have been herded off to bed at 9 p.m. every evening since I have been labeled with this problem. I have trouble getting all my work done with so many hours spent stuck in bed, and I wake up dragging instead of bouncing with energy. I dont like the feeling.
A good friend told me to wait before answering anything, and to think my responses and actions through instead of going on impulse and emotion. I think that is very good advice and will work on that. Keeping a journal to help me recognize when I have a mood swing will also help me to control those. I believe that is called cognitive-behavior therapy, and I will push for at least a trial with that instead of going to medication immediately.
I knew a little bit about what to expect. Since I first found out what was going on I had searched for everything I could read about it. Much of the information was very basic - symptoms, treatments, etc. Some of it included personal experiences. Those ran the gamut - some were very well written and yielded valuable insight. Some were not, and made me wonder if I ever sounded like those people. I suppose it is possible that I, too, may have been incoherent during a manic episode.
The therapist was very young, wore black leggings and a tunic top and had wild, curly red hair and a rather distracted air about her. She looked young enough to have been one of my students. I was glad that I had done the research before seeing the therapist as I was able to come in with some idea of what the questions were going to be. Still, something seems to have backfired as she became more agitated and excited during the interview, and that, in turn, made me nervous and I am sure I said some things that were not true or that I did not mean. I tried to be as honest as possible, but I am not sure that this is going to be the therapist for me. I would prefer someone who is calm and professional. This girl had a habit of playing with her glasses and leaning far enough forward in her chair to invade my space, an action I have always felt was quite rude although it has never really bothered me as I realize that some people will try to do that to create an atmosphere of closeness. In this case I suspected that she was looking to see if I would move away or otherwise be uncomfortable.
I have an appointment with a psychiatrist next and hope that things will go a little more smoothly.
In the meantime, I am still reading and researching, trying to understand exactly what is going on in my head, exactly what the technical terms mean when they are bandied about, and determined to have a handle on what is going to happen.
I am looking at alternatives to medication, and have begun keeping a journal to be sure to monitor and understand my own behavior and my own triggers for manic episodes.
Quite honestly, I like the manic episodes as long as they are controlled and don't go so high that I get in trouble. I like the energy, the clarity of thought, and the accomplishments. I also prefer not to sleep for eight or nine hours and have been herded off to bed at 9 p.m. every evening since I have been labeled with this problem. I have trouble getting all my work done with so many hours spent stuck in bed, and I wake up dragging instead of bouncing with energy. I dont like the feeling.
A good friend told me to wait before answering anything, and to think my responses and actions through instead of going on impulse and emotion. I think that is very good advice and will work on that. Keeping a journal to help me recognize when I have a mood swing will also help me to control those. I believe that is called cognitive-behavior therapy, and I will push for at least a trial with that instead of going to medication immediately.
Thursday, August 30, 2012
The Earthquake
Sometimes life hands you a lemon. And sometimes life is just a series of earthquakes, some small, some large, and then you finally get that last one that just shakes your entire world, your life, and even your very sense of self.
I just had that last earthquake... the one that shakes my very sense of self. And I need to talk about it, need to figure out how to solve the problem.
They tell me there is no cure. They tell me that I just have to learn to live with it. I am 61 years old. I have always been very comfortable with just who I am - a little different from everyone else, a little volatile at times, but a good person with good ideas. I'm successful in my field - I hold a doctorate. I have been married for more than half my life, although not to the same person. I have kids who love me, admire me and look up to me as a role model. I've always thought of myself as strong. I've always thought of myself as different, but normal. Unique. That was a good word. Unique.
And now I find out that I am someone totally different from who I thought I was.
My world has been shaken.
I have found that I am bi-polar... and now I need to evaluate my entire life to understand the past, the present, to plan for the future, and to know who I am and more importantly, HOW I am who I am.
So this blog will chronicle that journey.
Feel free to join me as I find my answers, make my decisions, and carry on with my life.
I just had that last earthquake... the one that shakes my very sense of self. And I need to talk about it, need to figure out how to solve the problem.
They tell me there is no cure. They tell me that I just have to learn to live with it. I am 61 years old. I have always been very comfortable with just who I am - a little different from everyone else, a little volatile at times, but a good person with good ideas. I'm successful in my field - I hold a doctorate. I have been married for more than half my life, although not to the same person. I have kids who love me, admire me and look up to me as a role model. I've always thought of myself as strong. I've always thought of myself as different, but normal. Unique. That was a good word. Unique.
And now I find out that I am someone totally different from who I thought I was.
My world has been shaken.
I have found that I am bi-polar... and now I need to evaluate my entire life to understand the past, the present, to plan for the future, and to know who I am and more importantly, HOW I am who I am.
So this blog will chronicle that journey.
Feel free to join me as I find my answers, make my decisions, and carry on with my life.
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