In 1987 I was diagnosed Manic Depressive which was later changed to Bipolar Disorder. In 1991 it was changed to Schyzo-affective Bipolar Disorder. My current diagnoses are that ^ and OCD, PTSD, and possible IED and ADD. You are certainly familiar with all save IED which is Intermittent Explosive Disorder. ADD is, of course, Attention Deficit Disorder without the hyperactivity... I could not be hyper if I tried!!!
There a few schools of thought on ANY Mental Illness. Mostly, even now, they can be summed up by saying, "What is your problem? Just push through it." or the ever-ready, "Yeah, I have that. I got over it though. You should too."
I get it. I get that the first thing worked and you are strong enough to get through/over/under it. One of my mottoes in life was, "Get over it, get around it, get under it. Whatever you do, just get ON with it!" it didn't help nor did it work.
I love the people who find out I have mental illness and immediately distance themselves. Or the pastor that said, "There is no such thing as bipolaritis." I walked out. You think I *like* having the brain I have??
Most people never have a clue. If I see you at church, you might THINK you know me, but you don't. We might be best buddies but unless you SEE me in cycle you do not have a clue. Being me is NOT fun... for anyone.
I get told how nice I am and How much of people person I am. No, I have people skills because it is rude to blurt out, "Please. Just shut up so I am not forced to choke you with your tongue." People just do not understand when that comes out!
I am HORRIBLE about taking my meds. The meds I NEVER miss are my mental health meds. I have been on and off of them soooo many times. It took raising my children unmedicated for me to SEE what that whether *I* thought I needed them or not, I did.
After Moma died, I got the help I so desperately needed. I was at appointments in Muskogee almost every day for quite a while. They wanted to admit me to "get (me) started," which a euphemism for, "Hey, how about we admit you, take away the money you live on, medicate you until you are stoned and do not care and take control of your life." No, thank you!
I usually know the meds are no longer working but this time I had no idea. Nobody ended up in the hospital, I had not lost my mind on anyone so I thought all was well. It took some pretty serious issues before I finally realized I was in major trouble.
Once I realized what was going on I sought help. We are working on finding the right combination of meds now and I am back in therapy. Having someone to talk to is amazing. Especially since I have seen him off and on since I was knee high to a grasshopper.
Being in my brain right is terrifying. I am literally staying away from people I do not like or do not know so that I do not have issues.
When I am cycling like this, I become evil. No other word for it. I go from "Hi, how are you?" to "I hope your obituary is written." in the blink of an eye. I am not a nice person folks. I am really not a nice person. The folks who know me best know that there comes a point when all bets are off and it is time to get the h-e-double-toothpicks out of Dodge. Right now, Dodge is a very bad place to be.
I have planned the perfect murder. Several times. Using different methods. Yes, that is where my brain goes. The really scary part is that normally, meaning when I have this under control, I settle for using my words or staying in my head. Outside I am all, "Hi! So good to see you!!!" Inside, I am like, "Hmmmm, ripping out their throat is probably a bad idea."
I wish I could control it. The doctor who added the Schyzo-effective diagnosis actually asked me at least 20 times how many people I had killed while reassuring me it was okay.
Every psych I see is astounded that I have not yet killed someone or committed suicide. I can only thank the good Lord for that. He has given me a very strong sense of what I can and cannot do. But because I have not killed anyone, simply means that I have been stopped. Four times. The first was in 9th grade in high school before I left for Alabama. No one was told and I am still not sure why. Four teeth were surgically removed from her throat.
The second time was a guy who popped me on the butt one tooo many times. Seventy plus stitches was his reward. No one stopped me that time. I only hit him once. Not my fault the Foosball table was there.
Number 3 was a kid at Westside in Selma right after I enrolled. My math teacher stepped out for a minute and a guy called me honky whore or something along those lines and shoved a table at me. I hurdled the table and grabbed him by the front of shirt and shoved him out a window... on the second floor. When I looked out the window I saw that an administrator at the school that I did not like was walking under him. I *really* wanted to drop him.
Mr Morrow came back in and told me that I did not really want to to do that. My response? "That is where you are wrong Mr Morrow. I really want to do this and since Mr Dallas is down there it would be a "twofer." Needless to say, Mr Morrow talked me out of it. I once woke astraddle my boyfriend with a 10" chefs knife at his throat and remember wishing I had slept 30 seconds longer. Sometimes I still do.
I normally believe that causing injury to another person should be reserved for war and protection but when I am like I am now, death is the preferred option.
Mental ILLNESS, folks. It is called an illness because it IS an illness... just like diabetes or high blood pressure. Some people can be helped easier than others. It just so happens that when I am not receiving the correct medication cocktail, I become a horrid person.
I am mad when I screaming and crying but God help the poor soul that causes me to dry my eyes and lower my voice.
All of this is about the fact that we do not CHOOSE to be ill. It is not something we enjoy. It is not contagious, we cannot just snap out of it, get over it, move on or otherwise choose a better path. When we are n that path, it is because it is the only path we see... even when we see the train coming!
Please, be kind. To everyone.
The Rest of the Story...
3 months ago