Bipolar 2 From Inside and Out

Archive for the ‘Mental Health’ Category

Tips From the Times

The New York Times recently published an article offering advice on being good to your brain. They introduced it thusly: “These tips can help you take care of — and improve — your mental and cognitive health … throughout 2026.” The authors were Christina Caron, who covers mental health for the Times and Dana G. Smith, who writes about aging and brain health.

I took a look at the tips and I have some opinions about their advice, especially as it relates to mental health.

Here’s what they said.

Go for a Walk

We already know that exercise is good for your mental health, and walking is one of the least stressful forms of exercise. Finding the motivation to walk is certainly easier than finding the motivation to run or jog. The problem is that someone who can’t find the motivation to get out of bed is basically incapable of following this advice. It’s one of those things that are easier said than done. If you can manage it, more power to you, but if you’re like me, it may simply be beyond you. So, good advice, but damnably hard to follow for many of us who live with SMI.

Tackle Your Junk Drawer

The Times calls this “soft-decluttering.” Caron and Smith explain it like this: “This type of mini-overhaul may be enough to give many of us what we seek when we think about organizing: a mental load lightened, a satisfying before-and-after.” This sounds right on to me. I know that when my husband and I try to clean and declutter, we have different approaches. If we’re doing the study, I will ask, “What should I do?” He’ll say “Clean the study” in a voice that implies I’m clueless. What I need is a specific, time-limited portion of the task that I can wrap my head around. Clear off my desk, for example, or separate the trash from the recyclables. I need bits and pieces to start with, so I can feel little hits of accomplishment along the way.

Be Kinder to Yourself

Another good idea, but the Times‘s advice isn’t really concrete. They say, “nurture yourself — what does the suffering part of you most need right now? Understanding? To be forgiven?” What I find more useful is thought-stopping. Each of us has an inner critic that tells us lies: You’re no good. You’ll never amount to anything. You’re unlovable. Et endless cetera. When you recognize one of these criticisms, tell it to stop—out loud, even. Replace it with something more compassionate: I am a good friend. I do lots of things well, and so on. Or make fun of your inner critic by giving it a silly name: Oh, that’s just Negative Nancy talking.

Talk to a Friend

I know this is something we should do, but often don’t. If you have a sympathetic friend, talking to them can lighten your mood. But many of us can’t do that—the same “I’m unlovable” message prevents us. Instead of reaching out, we wait for someone to reach in to us. So, really, this is advice for someone who has a friend or relative with mental or emotional difficulties. Reach out. We may not be able to.

Head to the Woods

See “Go for a Walk,” above. There’s a Japanese activity called “forest bathing” (shinrin yoku) which means immersing yourself in nature. Really pay attention to the world around you and use all your senses. Think of it as mindful hiking.

Take Time Away From Your Phone

This is a two-headed beast. Yes, take time away from your phone if all you do is doomscroll to catch the news. Don’t avoid your phone if Facebook or another site is where you get in touch with your friends. For many people, it’s easier to talk online instead of on the phone.

Wear Earplugs

This was a piece of advice for older people that was said to prevent dementia. I suppose it could help with mental health, too—for example, if you have to go to Chuck E. Cheese.

Get Some Quality Sleep

Here’s another no-brainer that is easier to say than to do. Rumination and overthinking can keep you up at night imagining everything that could go wrong or remembering everything stupid you ever said or did. “Sleep hygiene” is a good thing. This means having your room the right temperature and your bed comfortable and so on. Stay away from electronic devices for at least a half hour before you try to go to sleep. Avoid alcohol; it won’t really help you get good, restful sleep.

Try Cognitive Shuffling

This is actually an effecctive technique for getting to sleep, better than counting sheep. Choose a word—any word. Say you pick “orange.” Take the O and think up as many words as you can that start with O: oil, opposite, overhead, ox, etc. When you run out of O words, move on to the R: radio, rugby, regular, riot, and so on. Continue with each letter. It focuses your mind on a task other than overthinking.

The “tips and tricks” in the New York Times are pretty rudimentary, and some of them are more helpful for the problems older people have. Improving your mental health requires a lot more than following these tips, of course. Take your meds. See your therapist. All the usual, dull things we’re advised to do but sometimes need a reminder for. Or invent tips and tricks of your own—and feel free to share them in the comments section.

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Mental Health

A Quick Turnaround—What’s Next?

On Wednesday, it was gone. On Thursday, it was back. Who knows what will happen tomorrow?

Many of us were stunned (if not exactly surprised) when it was announced that federal funding for mental health and addiction services was going to be cut dramatically. After all, other public health agencies have seen their budgets slashed and their grants revoked. It seemed to be only a matter of time until mental health resources were hit. And so it was.

Late this past Tuesday (as in 10:30 p.m.), the Trump administration said it would be cutting approximately $2 billion from programs that deal with mental health services and addiction prevention, treatment, and recovery services. The news went out from the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration (SAMHSA), the federal agency that oversees these programs, late in the day. The faxed letter about the cuts got to the press from agency employees who remained anonymous.

The New York Times reported that the cuts “would be effective immediately,” explaining only that the services no longer aligned with the agency’s priorities. The letter described those priorities as being to support “innovative programs and interventions that address the rising rates of mental illness and substance abuse conditions, overdose, and suicide.” Among the programs affected would be drug courts, screening and referral services, and other important initiatives serving youth and pregnant and postpartum women. It was a little confusing, as the SAMHSA agency was designed to do that.

NAMI had an immediate response. CEO Daniel H. Gillison said, “These abrupt and unjustified cuts will immediately disrupt suicide prevention efforts, family and peer recovery support, overdose prevention and treatment, and mental health awareness and education programming, along with so many more essential services, putting an unknown number of lives at stake.” He added, “These aren’t just numbers on paper. These are decisions that have real and harmful consequences for millions of people and communities around the country.” A dozen or more NAMI programs instantly lost funding. Among the programs affected would be “numerous education programs, including one that offers mental health training to school staff in grades kindergarten through 12.”

These funding cuts were apparently made without consulting Congress, who are working on an appropriations package, scheduled for the end of the month, that also addresses mental health and addiction services. Members of Congress lobbied strongly against the cuts.

Then, less than 24 hours later, the cuts were canceled, and funding was restored. No explanation was given; the cuts were simply made to disappear. They had been particularly unsettling after President Trump reauthorized the SUPPORT Act in December. It had funded programs for addiction and mental health, including some of the programs that were cut this week.

At the end of January, Congress is supposed to consider a major funding package that includes money for SAMHSA. What it will include appears still to be up in the air.

I guess we’ll see. And be ready to protest, just in case.

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Mental Health

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Diagnosing Yourself

It’s hard enough for a mental health professional to properly diagnose someone. For someone with no training in psychology or psychiatry, it’s virtually impossible. Nonetheless, every day, there are people who decide that they are bipolar, or have autism, or ADHD, AuDHD, or some other diagnosis.

Many of them decide this based on the pop psychology that permeates our society. Some base their “diagnosis” on tests or surveys they take online. Perhaps others simply feel that the differences they see in themselves equal neurodivergence. It’s trendy, in other words.

Elizabeth M. Ellis, Ph.D., an ADHD specialist, wrote an article that was published in July 2025 in Medium, titled “No, You Don’t Have ADHD, and Here Are 5 Reasons Why.” I’ll summarize, in case you don’t have access to Medium.

Her five reasons are:

  1. ADHD is a neurodevelopmental Disorder. You do not “get” ADHD past the age of 12.
  2. You don’t have ADHD because part of the diagnosis is the fact that the symptoms of ADHD are evident in childhood.
  3. Functional Impairment. You do not have ADHD because you were/are not functionally impaired.
  4. ADHD has a chronic course with most cases persisting into adulthood, negatively affecting a person’s ability to use their strengths and abilities to live successfully. You have had a successful life. You do not have ADHD.
  5. Responding positively to stimulants does not mean that you have ADHD.

Basically, an adult who says they have ADHD is not familiar with what ADHD really is—the criteria for a diagnosis by a professional, when the condition appears, the impairments of ADHD that occur, and why taking ADHD medications that seem to make you more productive with less effort doesn’t mean you have such a disorder.

Why do people claim a diagnosis that they don’t actually have?

First, they may have a lack of understanding of what the condition is. They may think, for example, that ADHD makes a person extra-productive because they don’t get a “normal” amount of sleep. They like the idea that they are a genius who has turned the diagnosis to their advantage. Or they think that they have OCD because they are obsessively neat. They don’t know about the obsessive thoughts that are a hallmark of OCD, the reason for rituals other than cleaning, and the harm they fear will happen if they do not perform these rituals.

Similarly, they may believe they have bipolar disorder because their moods change quickly, sometimes more than once a day. But even ultra-rapid-cycling bipolar disorder doesn’t really work that way. What the person is feeling may be normal reactions to the world around them. They’re happy in the morning because they received a compliment on their work. They feel sad in the afternoon when a friend cancels a dinner date. But bipolar disorder, in general, means that moods change over days, weeks, months, or even years, often without a visible cause. The DSM lists the symptoms that go with bipolar disorder (and other disorders), how often they occur, how long they last, and how many of those symptoms add up to a diagnosis of bipolar disorder.

Most online quizzes that purport to diagnose whether you have any of these psychological or psychiatric disorders present questions that are superficial and shallow. They lack important elements. Even the depression screener that doctors’ offices now use ask how often a person feels a symptom and how long it lasts, and have a better chance of suggesting a possible diagnosis, and allow the doctor to interpret the results and advise the patient on what to do about it. Online quizzes can’t and don’t.

As far as I can tell, online quizzes regarding psychological issues are no more useful than those that ask what Star Trek character you most resemble or whom you should date. They may be interesting, but they are valueless. That’s why we have professionals and leave actual diagnosis to them.

And, for people who simply decide on a condition they think they have, they’re not merely inaccurate; they spread false ideas of what it means to have a psychological disorder. Their misunderstanding makes life more difficult for those who actually have the conditions.

Nor are online quizzes the only culprits. There are also TV shows that have neurodivergent characters. I suppose I should be grateful that neurodiversity is mentioned at all, but the portrayals are often caricatures. Autistic people are seen, but only as nonverbal children who act out a lot or as savant doctors. People with Dissociative Identity Disorder (multiple personalities) are either sadistic killers or played for laughs. And I have yet to see a good portrayal of a person with bipolar. It would be awfully boring to have a show about a person who can’t get out of bed for weeks, then spends money or drives recklessly.

So, you’re not the person who can diagnose yourself. A psychiatric or psychological practitioner needs to do it. You might, of course, go to a psychiatrist and say, “Dr., I’m having these symptoms. Do you know what could be causing them, and can you help me deal with them?”

That’s the way to get diagnosed.

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A Bipolar Breakup

A recent issue of BP magazine had an article on surviving a breakup as a person with bipolar disorder. It noted that “a split can trigger manic or depressive episodes.” It also noted that “there’s typically a period of destabilizing upheaval as the newly single adjust to life on their own, perhaps in different surroundings.”

I can vouch for the mood episodes and destabilizing upheaval. My senior year in college, I experienced a breakup that was not just destabilizing but devastating. At the time, I was not diagnosed, but it’s now clear that I was in the grip of a major depressive episode, between not having any idea what would happen to me after college and the train wreck that was the relationship.

The article also described how to maintain stability, avoid dangerous rebounds, and prioritize self-care when a relationship ends. They advised readers to avoid rebound relationships, not stop their medication, see or seek a mental health professional, avoid isolation by using their social support network, take their time, and allow themselves to heal.

This is no doubt good advice, but it’s easier said than done. I wasn’t able to put all of it into practice. I had no mental health professional (and wasn’t ready to look for one), and was unmedicated, unless you count the benzo I was given for my TMJ problem and the wine our neighbors poured for me.

As for rebound relationships, I met the man I would eventually marry the weekend before I left where I was living to return to my home state. But it’s hard to call it a rebound relationship, as for over a year, we saw each other only twice, but simply corresponded. So I guess you could say I took my time.

However, one year wasn’t all I needed to heal. Neither the flashbacks and nightmares nor the crying were finished in that time. I had to repair my relationship with my parents. I had to realize that I needed psychiatric help and begin that journey. I had to rebuild my social support system and find the wherewithal to interact with them.

When you consider everything, it took more than a decade. By the time my “rebound” guy and I got married, I was still not healed. He had to cope with my distress as I tried to shake off the memories. He tried to understand my longstanding depression (but really couldn’t until he experienced a depression of his own). The people in my support system soon realized that I would back out of plans, often at the last minute, and that if I did show up, I could be preoccupied and uncommunicative.

The good news is that I finally did heal. My husband and I now have a strong relationship unclouded by the specter of that failed one.

So, what would I advise someone to do in the aftermath of a bipolar breakup?

First of all, take the time you need to heal, and don’t worry if it doesn’t happen quickly. The death of a relationship engenders grief. And as with the death of a person you cared about, grief takes as long as it takes. There is no official timeline or cut-off point. I’m not saying you should dwell on a past relationship, but that there are many facets to such a breakup, and you may have to heal from one after another. You can’t rush it, so don’t try. Unresolved memories and grief can pop up again when you least expect them.

Next, while you’re taking your time to heal, also take the time to do the work. Find a therapist or psychiatrist and go to your appointments faithfully. If they give advice (they may not), take it. If they give you homework, do it. If they say something that resonates with you, think deeply about it. See where it fits into your life and your situation. If it doesn’t seem to do so, discuss it further in a later session.

Finally, don’t overlook “glimmers.” These fleeting reminders of the things that remain good in your world are worth treasuring. What they are will be personal to you. The sight of a blue jay flying past your window or hummingbirds fighting over a feeder. The smell of cinnamon rolls baking. The sound of a song you love being played over the sound system of a restaurant you visit. The cuddly warmth of a blanket or a hug. The taste of your favorite kind of chocolate. Use all your senses to identify the presence of things that bring you, if not joy, at least a smile.

Give it time. You will get over that relationship.

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Does Being Paranoid Make Sense?

Everyone has heard the joke: It’s not paranoia if they really are out to get you.

It used to be that it was a joke. But now, with the increasing growth of the “surveillance society,” it’s more and more possible that you have something to be paranoid about.

First, let’s clarify: Paranoid Personality Disorder (PPD) is a diagnosis in itself. On its own, paranoia can be a symptom of other mental conditions. Or it can be a fairly normal reaction to modern life.

PPD means that you have a persistent, long-standing belief that adds up to a pattern of distrust and suspicion of others. It’s more common in men than women, and may have a genetic component. It limits a person’s social life because they feel distrust that is out of proportion to reality. It can also make the person feel that they are in danger, and then make them look for evidence that their suspicions are true. They fear other people’s hidden motives or believe that they will be exploited or harmed. Other symptoms include social isolation, an inability to work with others, detachment, or hostility.

Although paranoid people are often mocked as being part of the “tin-foil hat squad,” PPD is nothing to be laughed at. A person’s life can be severely impacted. Because of their disorder, they are likely to be detached and hostile. That doesn’t make for good work or social relations. However, the person with PPD may not realize that their feelings are abnormal.

While there’s no real cure for PPD, the symptoms can be lessened by treatments like cognitive behavioral therapy, family therapy, reality testing, or meds that reduce stress and anxiety. Atypical antipsychotics, antidepressants, and mood stabilizers can also be prescribed. Various vitamins, minerals, and acupuncture have been tried, but were found to be largely ineffective.

Paranoia can be a symptom of other mental illnesses, too. Several conditions that can include paranoia symptoms are schizophrenia, schizoaffective disorder, delusional disorder (persecutory type), and extreme cases of depression, anxiety, or bipolar disorder. Paranoia can even affect someone who’s simply under severe stress.

But now, the distrust may not be out of proportion with the reality. Cameras are everywhere. People on the street take pictures of any interesting building or tree and don’t care who’s in the background. The police monitor how fast you drive; record your license plate if you cross a bridge; and subpoena surveillance tapes from hotels, casinos, parking lots, and ATMs. Anything you put out on the internet is there forever, discoverable and shareable. Big box stores have even been known to note when a person buys a pregnancy test kit and start sending them coupons for diapers and such. And airports! They’re increasingly full of facial recognition devices and revealing body scanners. You don’t have to be a criminal to have your image, movements, spending habits, and other activities collected in one way or another.

Scientific American suggests “being watched can provoke psychological discomfort and physical fight-or-flight responses such as sweating.” They also report that “researchers have found that being watched also affects cognitive functions such as memory and attention….The research so far suggests that bringing more surveillance into workplaces—usually an attempt to boost productivity—could be counterproductive. It also suggests that testing in online environments where students are watched through webcams by human proctors or AI could lead to lower performance.” 

What can the average person do when confronted by a friend or family member with PPD or paranoia caused by another condition? Dealing with the content of the delusions doesn’t usually help. You can’t simply talk someone out of something they deeply believe, however mistaken they are.

Instead, focus on what they’re feeling rather than what they fear. Comfort your friend or family member, but be general: not “The CIA doesn’t care what you think,” but “You’re safe. I’m here. Everything’s fine.” Then suggest an activity to distract the person from their thoughts: “Let’s go for ice cream,” or “Didn’t you want to see that new rom-com movie?” Let them know that you’ll be there when they need you. Then, prove it to them by showing up when they feel distressed.

Just as you would for someone with any other mental illness.

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Lifelong Meds?

I was in my 20s when I started taking Prozac. Now I’m nearing 70 and still taking SSRIs, though the names have changed over the years.

When I was first diagnosed with depression (which was before I was diagnosed with bipolar 2 and anxiety), I understood it to be a lifelong condition. When my diagnosis changed, I still thought of it as a lifelong disorder requiring lifelong treatment. So far, that has proved to be true. I have been on antidepressants ever since and fully expect to stay on them forever, or at least until a cure is at last found.

Recently, however, the New York Times published an article that examined whether the received wisdom was still true. Did someone, once prescribed antidepressants, whether for depression, OCD, PTSD, or another mental illness, have to continue taking them for the rest of their life? The article noted that the FDA’s approval of the drugs was based on trials that lasted only a few months. Other “in-depth” studies lasted two years or fewer. The Times also noted, “Current clinical guidelines do not specify the optimal amount of time they should be taken for.”

Many people stop taking antidepressants on their own, based on side effects and a dislike of them, the fact that the drugs seem to stop working (either fairly quickly or over the long term), or simply because they dislike taking pills. According to the Times, however, “The answer depends on your symptoms, diagnosis, response to the medication, side effects, and other factors—all things to discuss with a medical professional.” In other words, cold turkey isn’t the way to go. With psychotropic drugs such as benzos, it’s positively dangerous, and quitting antidepressants brings the risk of falling back into the depression you and your doctor were trying to alleviate. Tapering off the drug with the help of your prescribing physician is recommended.

And about those side effects—some disappear over time as the body gets used to the medication, but others, particularly annoying ones like weight gain, sexual dysfunction, and possibly increased heart symptoms, linger. A doctor can prescribe a different drug in hopes that the side effects will not be so severe, but they may only be similar or worse. Patients generally don’t like tinkering with their medication and having to wait weeks until the effects appear and the side effects disappear. It’s a tedious and discouraging prospect.

What do the clinical guidelines say? Experts say that antidepressants, once they work, should be taken for four to nine months. Any quicker than that, relapse may occur. To maintain the positive effects, they should be taken for two to four years. Taking them for longer periods is sometimes advised, depending on how long the depression lasted and whether the patient has had several depressive episodes. Long-term use depends on whether the illness has continued for a long time and whether the depression is very severe, causing hospital stays and a loss of the ability to perform daily functions.

All in all, says Dr. Paul Nestadt, the medical director of the Center for Suicide Prevention at the Johns Hopkins Bloomberg School of Public Health, “I’m still of the opinion that, in people who have real depression, the benefits outweigh the risk.”

So, continuing to take antidepressants is really up to me and my doctor. At this point in my life, I see my doctor quarterly for a med check. We sometimes tinker with the dosages, based on my symptoms at the time, but for the most part, we stick with what has been working. As the saying goes, “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” And since it ain’t broke, I’m content to keep taking my antidepressant (and other medications) for the foreseeable future.

Note: This post is not medical advice and should not be taken as such. Discuss medical questions with your physician, especially before stopping a medication.

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What’s the Future of Ketamine Treatment?

You’ve likely heard about the use of ketamine and other psychedelic drugs in the treatment of SMI. Many people have found it helpful for alleviating—though not curing—treatment-resistant depression and PTSD. Ketamine, long used as a surgical anesthetic, is given for mental health purposes via IV or injection as an off-label use or as an FDA-approved nasal spray, under the supervision of a doctor.

It’s that supervision of a doctor that’s proving to be a problem, now in Texas and perhaps in other states soon.

On December 3rd of this year, MindSite News Daily published a story about ketamine being under fire in Texas.

The state of Texas has permitted clinics to administer ketamine if they’re under the supervision of a licensed physician, such as an anesthesiologist—though not always one onsite. The off-site doctor sometimes has nurse practitioners, paramedics, or physicians’ assistants perform the actual procedure at the clinic. It’s a form of telemedicine. But a change in the rules, influenced by the Texas Medical Board and the Texas Society of Anesthesiologists, might mean that Texas clinics will have to have a doctor physically present.

It’s true that ketamine has been known to produce trance-like hallucinations or, in some cases, even heart failure. And it may interact with other medications like benzos that a patient may be taking. In non-medical circles, ketamine is known as a “party drug” referred to as “Special K.” And, naturally, no physician is usually present at these parties.

But when used correctly under the supervision of a professional, ketamine may result in a trance-like state that can even alleviate suicidal thoughts. Until now, Texas has been a leader in using psychedelics such as ketamine and exploring psilocybin or ibogaine to treat PTSD or MDD in particular. The number of veterans living in Texas makes this procedure especially needed.

I experienced ketamine recently, as an anesthetic after I broke my ankle in two places. The doctors seemed a little wary about giving it to me, given all my other meds. But they discussed it with me and I decided that it was better than being put all the way out.

Ketamine is definitely a psychedelic. When the drug hit, I began seeing everything as a series of see-through squares, like the kind of glass they use for bathroom windows, except they stretched and moved. It reminded me of the movie Minecraft, where everything is made of blocks. My husband watched as the doctor manipulated my foot in unpleasant ways. What I felt wasn’t pain—more of a stretching sensation that made me groan a bit. (My husband said that I cried out, but it didn’t seem like that to me.) That was probably when they hit me with another dose. Gradually, I came down, and the squares resolved themselves into emergency room curtains and assorted medical gear and people. Then I was trundled off to the operating room for more traditional anesthesia so they could put in some pins and plates.

All in all, it altered my perceptions for a short time, but at no time did I feel euphoric. It did its job in regard to pain, but had no lingering psychological effects that I could see. But then, the doses I received were calibrated for a specific purpose, which had nothing to do with my mental difficulties.

Would I have tried ketamine treatment for the medication-resistant depression I once had? I might have—at least if I had experienced its pain-relieving qualities. Having grown up in the 1960s, I was wary of psychedelics and their reported effects and dangers. Then again, I was ready to try ECT until another medication, added to what I was already taking, finally proved effective.

Then again, the off-label use is not likely to be approved by insurance, and I don’t have the kind of money a course of treatment would require. The nasal spray is a relatively new method of administration and is generally covered by insurance. So it’s highly unlikely that I would ever have agreed to ketamine treatment for my SMI, at least until a broken ankle introduced me to it.

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Staying Home

This is our house, and it’s pretty great. When I first saw it, I thought it looked like it had just grown up out of the earth. The main bedroom is large, and there are two smaller bedrooms that have become studies, one each for my husband and me. A great room. A deck. Over and under double ovens. Over and under space-saving washer and dryer. All electric. Over an acre of land, mostly woods, with lots of flowers in the front yard. Quiet cul-de-sac. A modern, new hospital practically within walking distance. A mall and other stores nearby. Close to my husband’s work, my doctor and PT, restaurants, and assorted other amenities.

I almost never leave my wonderful house.

Oh, I go out to doctor’s and PT appointments. My husband can occasionally get me to go out to have a meal. And I get out for other reasons from time to time.

But not often.

We have only one working car, and Dan needs it for work. He works in a big grocery/home goods store and does what shopping I can’t do online. I work from home, doing ghostwriting and editing, and take care of our financial matters online, too. I keep track of all our appointments and subscriptions. Anything that can be done on the phone or computer, I do. I’m not completely useless.

However, I stay home most of the time, living in pajamas or sweats. I know there are people with agoraphobia, movement disabilities, depression, and other conditions that keep them from going outside.

That’s not me. There’s no mental or physical reason I can’t leave the house, though there are limitations on how long I can stand and how far I can walk. These are (I hope) temporary. I do have an anxiety disorder, which may contribute to staying home, but back in the day, I used to travel domestically and abroad, sometimes with my mother or husband, or by myself.

There are excuses I use for not going out. Too much walking. Bad weather—heat, rain, snow, or cold. Fear of falling. My husband’s hours at work. Not having a car I can use when he’s at work. Errands that require only one person to do, such as getting the car’s oil changed.

Back in the day, Dan had a cat that was so chill he could ride in a car without causing a ruckus. When I didn’t want to run errands with him, Dan would scoop up the cat and say, “C’mon, Matches. You’re coming with me.” And off they’d go. I wasn’t properly treated for bipolar back then and had many profound depressive episodes. I knew this maneuver was directed at me, but I didn’t care.

If I do have to go out, we try to make it an occasion—having a meal out before or after PT, for example, if we have the money. I’ve been to a couple of special movies shown on the big screen, with dinner before or after. Visiting a friend in the nursing home and bringing her a gift or treat. But if I don’t have to go out, I simply don’t. And if I do go out, it had better be within five miles of our house.

So, the choices for why I stay home: I still have depressive spells that immobilize me; I still have anxiety that makes braving the world outside seem treacherous; I’m content to let Dan do everything that needs to be done elsewhere; or I simply prefer not to leave the cozy place where I have everything I need.

I would like to travel again, though. But that won’t happen until my purely physical problems are resolved. Until then, I’ll do the best I can inside four walls of safety.

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Love, Hate, and Mania

Mania, or in my case hypomania, is easy to love. It creates a buzz that carries you along, although you’re not always sure where to. Ordinary things become extraordinary, and extraordinary things become magical. I love mania. It can be fizzy, like champagne.

I hate mania, too. When it leaves, it leaves a hole behind. It leaves depression that’s like a nasty hangover. And many times, it can leave consequences. Sometimes dangerous. Sometimes shameful. Always unexpected.

I’m in the grip of hypomania right now. I recently got through a series of medical difficulties. Now, I’m back home, and not dependent on nurses and aides to bring me meals and wipe my ass. It’s glorious. And I’m celebrating by enjoying a burst of benevolence. It’s holiday time, and I’m back to my computer with a debit card and a desire to shop. That gives me an excuse, if not a reason.

I’m buying gifts for Dan and a few friends. I’ve bought so many for Dan that, now that the packages have started arriving, even I am a bit embarrassed. Fortunately, he has a birthday in April, and I can save some of the gifts for that.

In the past, Dan had the advantage. He could follow me around and watch what I oohed and aahed over, then sneak back and get it for me. But I am buying exclusively online now because I rarely go out. Dan doesn’t know how to buy online. I’ve offered to show him, but all the financial stuff goes to me, so I’d know where he bought stuff and how much he spent on it. This leaves only the store where he works to buy gifts. And he says he doesn’t know what to get me anymore, as I spend most of the day in pajamas and don’t wear earrings at home, so clothes and jewelry are pretty much out.

Anyway, I’m definitely manicky. I can tell. And I’m definitely spending more than I should. Fortunately, I just got paid for a freelance job I did, more than I usually get, so I haven’t gotten us into financial trouble, though it was a close thing. The check came just in time.

So. I’ve loved buying presents. I hate that I almost overdrew the bank account. I’m happy that I was saved by a check. I hate that the shower of presents may embarrass Dan, who won’t be able to reciprocate in a like manner.

Manic and hypomanic episodes are like that. A buzz and then self-doubt. A thrill and then regret.

I used to wish that I had mania too, instead of just depression. My theory was that if I were manic, I would get more accomplished. But I once knew a woman who had bipolar 1, rather than 2, so her manic episodes were more extreme. And her plans crashed and burned around her. She would start a project, tear it up, and redo it, even more than once. Her sense of humor was extreme and not really funny. (Once she mimed swallowing a whole bottle of pills.)

After that, I no longer wanted to be manic. But, as it happens, when my depression stabilized, my hypomania had more room to express itself. I haven’t indulged in the more dangerous behaviors, like drinking and driving. But this month, I can’t deny that I have hypomania.

I’m getting better at telling when it’s going to happen. Once I’m in the episode, I know. I feel the buzz. I notice the bank account dwindling.

Dan notices when I’m getting manicky, too. I can usually tell him that I feel it coming on and check it out with him. But this time, secrecy was part and parcel (literally) of it. Once it was getting beyond my control, I told him. Not about almost overdrawing our account, though. Once there was money back in the bank account, it didn’t seem necessary.

I’m not quite over this episode. I’m cooled down enough to rein in the buying. Just a couple more small presents for friends. I swear. It’s progress, anyway.

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Mental Health

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Time Out

It’s been a while since you’ve heard from me, and I wanted to explain. I’ve been in and out of the hospital.

No, not the mental hospital. All this was purely physical. Well, it had certain effects on my mental health, but the reasons for my multiple stays were due to my body, not my brain or emotions.

It all started back in April, when I had my left knee replaced. This was a long-anticipated thing, necessitated by the fact that my knee was “bone on bone” (the doctor’s words) and the fact that the steroid shots were no longer working.

I will admit to having possibly unwarranted fears that I would wake up from anesthesia with mental deficits. I was assured that this had never happened. (I assume they meant while having a knee replacement, not ever. It has to have happened ever.) So I sucked it up and went under the knife, as the saying goes.

The operation went well. The aftermath, not so much. Time in the hospital, learning how to use a transfer board and walker. So far, so good. But when I went home, it turned out that I wasn’t healed sufficiently to be on my own. I fell. And kept falling. After one fall resulted in a pretty bloody shin, I was advised to go back to the hospital to make sure the artificial knee was still in its proper place. I then went to a post-acute care facility (nursing home), where it turned out I had an infection on my still-not-entirely-closed scar. I stayed and got PT.

Back home. No more falling (thanks, PT). But three days later, my leg swelled up from my toes to above my knee. I called the nurse hotline, and they advised me to go back to the hospital, where they determined that the fluid was not building up in my heart, as feared. Back to the rehab. I practiced walking and got to the point where I could (sort of) climb stairs.

Back home. Then I fell in my study and broke both sides of my ankle. Back to the hospital (fentanyl in the ambulance, ketamine anesthesia while they set it, and general anesthesia while they put in metal pins and plates). Back to the rehab, leg swathed in bandages and not allowed to put weight on it. (Ever tried standing while putting no weight on one foot? Don’t.) PT became interesting. The only way I could use a walker was with a knee sling, which is, at the least, awkward.

Finally, I got a boot and was able to put some weight on the foot. PT went better from then on, and after a while, they took the boot off and allowed me to put full weight on the foot. Eventually, I came home.

While I was at the rehab, I didn’t take my laptop. In addition to the fact that I was on pain meds and muscle relaxants for a lot of the time, I worried that my electronics would be stolen. So, no writing.

Now I’m at home, having outpatient PT, and I walked 250 steps with the walker yesterday.

But this blog is about my bipolar disorder. So, here’s what happened to my moods.

I tried hard and managed to stay mostly positive, like those TV commercials where people hold a little smiley face card in front of their faces. I faked this by slapping on a perky affect and making my voice rise in pitch when I say, “Yes, I’d love to go to PT.” “Yes, a shower sounds great.” “Can I try 15 minutes on the stationary bike today?” or “Next, I’d like to learn how to stand and pivot. Is that something I’d be able to do now?”

I did this especially for the PT folks, who took my willingness to try as a sign of progress. But there were times when I realized how impaired I actually was, and I felt depression. My husband has been very supportive, but he’s also pressuring me to get to where I can climb stairs again and walk up and down the wheelchair ramp we had installed. I can’t walk the ramp or the stairs with my walker, so doing that would mean I’d have to use a cane, which I do have but haven’t used in months. I need to have better balance and more stamina before I can even try that.

But I can write. So I am.

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Mental Health

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