Blogs
Kate White, our anxiety blogger here at HealthyPlace asked the question: what does a mental illness feel like? Well, that's a big question. I've been writing for years to answer it. In today's bipolar video though, I expose one facet of crazy that really ruins my day.
So maybe you want to know: What is anxiety like? The $64,000 question. Shrinks, doctors, therapists, they all ask it:
How do you feel?
Recipe for Anxiety
Take a build-up of tension
Pile high with worry, and plenty of stress
Add a dash of low self-esteem and/or depression
A handful of racing, fearful thoughts - niggling, diving, driving the mind to a peak
One night in 2007, I started a new antipsychotic. It was to be taken at dinner time. I did as told and took it at the universal dinner time of 6 pm.
By 7 pm, I had mostly lost touch with reality. I was suddenly so tired that my eyes wouldn’t open but I was far too anxious, scared and twitchy to go to sleep. I felt incredibly ill. I was frantic, terrified and panicked. I was thrashing in a sharp, steel cage between sleep and wake with no way out. I cannot express to you the horror of that night.
Bipolar medication side effects suck.
What's it like to live with depersonalization in dissociative identity disorder ? Articulating the answer is challenging for me. Partly because I don't know what it's like to live without DID; partly because describing it requires a base-line level of awareness that dissociation by nature impedes. And partly because the question is so large, sort of like asking what it's like to be female. Breaking dissociation down into the five primary ways it manifests makes illuminating the experience of living with dissociative identity disorder easier. Depersonalization - the feeling that you're separate from your body - is the first.
Fall is upon us. The shorter days and less light affects my son's mood. Have you noticed any changes in your child's mood? Or yourself?
We're all different. There is something fundamentally true about this statement. Red hair, black hair, blue eyes, brown eyes, cat lover, dog lover - see, all different and most of us are mature enough to think that's OK.
But with bipolar, our symptoms vary wildly and for reason, people don't think that's OK.
My head is a marvelous place, I just wish I wasn't in it all the time. I'm practicing patient impatience; kicking rocks off a cliff whilst I wait for the spinning to stop.
Waiting, waiting, waiting - wanting something different. Different how? That's key. Wondering, am I really that stressed?
Bob’s biological father and I are not together, so my husband and I occasionally find ourselves “Bob-less” when he is spending time with dear ol’ Dad. No thanks to a legal loophole, Bob is away from our home nearly every weekend during the summer break.
These Bob-free times are bittersweet for me. I miss him terribly when he’s gone. Because he has bipolar disorder and ADHD, I worry about whether he’s getting enough sleep, or drinking enough water, or being given his medications properly. I worry about what sort of ridiculously dangerous activities he might be taking part in, and how he’s getting along with his father. I wonder if he’s missing us, and while I hope he is, I hope not too much.
Among those with Dissociative Identity Disorder, there's some debate about whether it should be called a disorder at all. Some even view DID as evidence of mental health. When you consider that its development is regarded as an example of adaptive functioning by many of both those who live with it and those who treat it, it's easy to understand why some might dispute the mental illness label. Mental illness by definition implies maladaptive functioning - it interferes with and disrupts daily living. But Dissociative Identity Disorder is often described as life-saving. Which is it?
There are a few things that most people tend to avoid like the plague: anything with a runny nose or a cough, sticky chairs, and getting into arguments with your partner. The former has terribly banal consequences (catching cold and getting a sticky seat), but the latter is often wildly unpredictable which is probably why we tend to avoid it. Who knows exactly how a supposedly innocent conversation turns into a full-blown screaming match? Who can predict exactly how we or our partners will react after hearing criticism?
I read this book many years ago, just as I was entering the turmoil of remembering, questioning and doubting myself all the way (as I'd been covertly taught over a lifetime). I happened to mention to my two sisters one day, "This is so strange but I've been diagnosed with PTSD." Both my sisters surprised me by responding, "Me too."
THEN I happened upon an old book manuscript that my now deceased father had written (not published), wherein the protagonist was obviously based upon himself and he rapes his "fiancee," who had my unusual name. Yes, truly.
Then I made myself look at the peculiar memory I always had where he violently threatened me but somehow I had never been able to recall what came before or after the episode. I had to admit that was a bit strange.
The pressures and powers to forget sexual abuse are great, both in family and society. In fact, I've come to the sad conclusion that the vast majority of survivors never really deal with their childhood wounds (a neglect for which there are always repercussions).
To critique an encouragement of people trusting their intuition in such matters is really getting the prescription dangerously wrong.
Thanks!