Anybody else find that they can no longer be exposed to things that really move them? When I listen to music that really moves me, I feel very connected to it and the closest thing I can compare it to is like an intensely spiritual kind of sex with someone you are deeply in love with. When I connect with music like that my mood skyrockets so high so fast that I am usually brought to tears from the overwhelm in emotion and I will remain hypomanic for a few days (I have "ultra ultra rapid cycling", as I have been diagnosed. Sounds not legit but apparently it is lol. I can cycle as quickly as hour by hour between hypomanic, depressed and stable), and then of course CRASH into a terrible depression for a week or so.
This also happens when around friends or family that I love very deeply or any other intensely beautiful and meaningful experiences.
This is a terrible reality for me with this disease and I'm curious if anyone else experiences this too.. I am otherwise very stable, on excellent meds working with a doctor that deserves the nobel piece prize and have stellar coping skills, but nothing seems to control this particular experience.
I don’t know about y’all but my (also bipolar) friend and I can always tell when someone else is. By their mannerisms and obvious signs of mania of course. I’m wondering if anyone else “diagnoses” strangers/celebrities?
I've taken Seroquel for about 3 years now and over 2 of those years I gained 50lbs. Being on 300mg IR made my appetite surge like you wouldn't believe- I'd say you have to experience it before you truly understand. These days I'm on a lower dose of 100mg extended release and my appetite control is, on the whole, much better. I've joined a gym and have a personal trainer to help kick start this weight loss. I'm so determined to lose some weight this time around.
So my question to you all- have any of you found a way to get around the munchies when you take your meds? At the moment I'm doing pretty well eating fruit and nuts, with the occasional bit of toast perhaps, but the weight won't budge because of this eating at night. I wondered- how have you gotten around this? Thanks guys x
Yesterday I posted about how I was feeling really stable but everyone commented that they thought I was hypo. I think I might be starting to believe them because wow! I followed peoples' suggestion and tried my best to sleep last night but I only managed about 2.5-3 hours . Now it's 6 AM and my mind is in like a NASCAR race going around in circles really fast and I have this compulsion to talk and talk. Even though I feel REALLY good right now, it kind of sucks. I'm starving but I can't bring myself to eat anything. I'm yawning at least, not that that's an indicator of anything really. I wish I could have slept more but I really couldn't. I was constantly waking up over and over again with these obsessive thoughts.
THIS IS SO ANNOYING. Why can't I just be normal stable for more than a couple freaking weeks?
"Hearing thru the grape vine that I made you uncomfortable is not cool. I thought we had better communication than that, especially rereading texts. But hey, embarrassing me by telling other people I got a lil too wild for ya is about as smart and mature as me calling you out for it. Thanks for being awesome up til this point, sorry I didn't tip for shit. Adios."
I don't even drink so never going back to the bar isn't a big deal. I've known this guy for 8 years. I did overly flirt recently and promptly apologized. Not only did he say it was fine but seemed to me to encourage more!!!!
And now I feel dirty and defensive but man, what bull shit to be told that he told someone else that I made him uncomfortable.
Whatever. I feel silly for this to be keeping me from sleeping but my hypersexuality is ... Grrr... And this time I really don't feel like this is on me. But lord knows I'm already judged enough by the friend he told - that's what reeeally pisses me off. And my sister is the one that told me, not even judgey friend. I look like a loose cannon when I'm definitely not. I would do more damage sticking up for myself... Fucking shit.
After I read a few posts, I realize that this is kind of me.
My mother has bipolar, we always thought I was just depressed, but these really remind myself of you know, me.
So how do I know I have it? I take Sertraline and Vyvanse. I’ve been good the past couple of months, feeling really up and all, but I know that bipolar can affect you for days, weeks, or even months. Posting this before I dive into the sidebar.
After being diagnosed bipolar in my kid 20s i have spent the last 20 years for the most part feeling no different than anyone else and convinced i was misdiagnosed due to poor lifestyle choices and fine, about 5 years ago I started engaging in high risk sexual encounters that at the time I felt were a sign of my confidence and strong self esteem,,,,more times than I want to admit I risked everything and did things i still find hard to accept, Not sure exactly when that changed but for the last year I've been the complete opposite,no desire, focused on family work etc and feeling content for first time in my life, my question is,,,,,,how do I come to terms with the last and how do I learn to discover my true self and stop feeling like a stranger in my own body?
Today was our last day of school. Yesterday and today my 5th graders (I teach 5th and 6th) were off the walls insane. Running, pushing each other, saying mean things, making weird noises, making fun of each other, yelling, talking, going directly against what I said. Today add splashing water everywhere and throwing marbles (we did one of those activities where you get Styrofoam cups, foil, tape, and straws and you have to build a boat that holds the most marbles) and my room wad a DISASTER. Some of the kids in one of my classes came in at the end of the day to say bye and a bunch yelled "we won't miss you." We had yearbook signing with all of 5th grade and only one kid asked me to sign their yearbook out of my 40ish. I have another 40ish 6th graders, some of which got me to sign theirs at the end of the day.
But the behavior was so awful, they didn't want me signing their yearbooks, they even said they won't miss me... I'm legitimately sad and tbh thinking of overdosing on something. At least there's a rational reason.
I don't feel loved and I can't see anything changing that anytime soon.
I always get mad at myself when I'm sick. I came down with a sore throat etc Wednesday night. Yesterday I was nice to myself cause I was sick enough that I was considering a trip to urgent care.
I have serious court documents due. I have my own schedule, and have missed sooo much work because I want to go have fun and/or have responsibilities I procrastinated on and use a work day to catch up.
So, I was already way behind.
Now I'm sick. I could've done SOMETHING today. My floss disappeared and that sent me over the edge. I told myself how stupid it is to lose it over floss but man, I was pissed...
And that's when I collapsed back on the couch and haven't moved much since. I'm bipolar before anything else, it feels like. Before anything else in my life, the bipolar dominates it all. Of course I'm hitting depression, feeling like everything good I've done over the last few months is falling apart.
So much else I don't care to ramble about.
I just wish I could handle a common cold like a normal person. I miss dayS(!) of work, every time. I get SO emotional, every time.
I am watching the documentary called Andy and Jim or whatever, and it makes me feel safer than I did earlier. Any suggestions guys? Commiserate with me? Tell me being a slothy slug these past few days doesn't define me as a person. Any time my kinder inner voice tries to motivate me, this booming voice yells "shut up shut up shut up. Just shut the fuck up. Leave me the fuck alone." Ugh.
I bet if I could find my floss everything would switch around. Swear to Christ.
I want to start out by saying I’m 21 years old, so these experiences are the first I’m having with my newfound illness.
It started in January, when we all got the flu. My mother, brother, girlfriend and I, all bedridden with Type A. I have a habit of going off my pills when I get sick so I stopped taking my Adderall and Prozac, prescribed for ADD and Depression respectively.
For two days I was sick in bed, weak and sore like the rest. And then suddenly something sparked in me. It started with cleaning the floors, and by the time I finished I had rearranged all the furniture in the living room. After that I was organizing everything in the house, putting all of my stuff in certain collected spots in the living room to spread good vibes. I legitimately thought I was having an adverse reaction to the flu until a friend of mine said, “You know you’re having a manic episode, right?”
Instantly my whole world melted away as it was simultaneously magnified around me.
After figuring this out, I started to think about the times as a child I had said, “I think I have bipolar disorder,” only to be told it wasn’t possible because my meds would make me crazy (I really was a bit off mentally, I just never shared that and worked through it on my own). I started to think about how abused by the system of pharmaceuticals I was, how I was put on Ritalin at eight because a teacher couldn’t handle my hyperactivity, how this and that and everything in-between and how I was wrongfully medicated for well over a decade. I felt hurt, I felt betrayed, I felt like I was actually alive for the first time in my life and I didn’t want it to end.
My mother tried to get me into the hospital, claiming it was necessary because “X killed himself doing exactly what you are doing,” and I would end up like him. I was livid, told her I was my own person, not X, that I wouldn’t be going to the hospital, and decided I would be living on a friend’s farm and detoxing from my other meds before coming back home to try something new. I didn’t trust anyone at that point.
So I did it. I ran away with all my things and my dog, and I stayed on my friends farm for about 20 days in February.
Things were going great- I was away from all the people telling me what to do, I was making my own decisions regarding my mental health, I was walking the countryside at my leisure and I spent my days talking to friends back home and writing about my journey. I shared all of it on Facebook, which made the inevitable downfall even more frustrating, as it was posted for all to see.
The psychotic break hit hard. It started with grandiosity, wherein I believed I was Azrael the angel of death. I had this delusion that all children were molested by their fathers and poisoned by their mothers, that we were medicated to keep us in line. But through music and arts (movies, tv shows), messages were being sent to awaken us, starting with me. I thought I was the voice of a generation, the metaphorical angel of Death sent to bring for the rebirth and life of a new world.
It feels good to finally type it out, but this delusion caused behavior that was entirely not me that ruined my friendship with the friend who lived on the farm. Not only this, but I backed into a gas pump as a gas station, and instead of staying I left and said I “welcomed” the manager making a police report (as I thought the police would already know my name).
When the cops started following me, I began to pull over. When I saw they did not immediately do the same, something in me believed they were giving me an escort back home to my little brother. I led them on a 30 mile high-speed chase before being pulled over at gun point. I maintained my delusions throughout this, throughout the hospital and even the vast majority of outpatient.
It took about six different pills and an abilify shot to bring me back down from the mania.
So now I’m left with the depressive reality that nothing is changing. There is no new world, whether or not I’m the leader, we are still forever stuck in this rat race.
I lost my friend, I’m never getting her back, she doesn’t seem to understand any of what’s going on and doesn’t care to understand.
I’m still dealing with the legal issues and am facing felony charges for what I did. All signs point to dropped charges but I’m still afraid of it being dropped to a misdemeanor.
Before this I drew, I painted, played guitar and was picking up drums. Now I can’t seem to focus on anything for more than 5 minutes. I’m out of a job, don’t have any money, and nothing interests me anyway.
I’m so depressed. I’m so stressed. I wish I had just gone to the hospital. What in the world do I do?