| LinkExchange Member | Free Home Pages at GeoCities |
HOLLY'S STORY
There I was again. In my bathrobe. It had been for days. I didn't care if I got out and didn't care if anyone came in. The dishes, laundry, catbox,groceries and housework were all ignored. My hair uncombed and my teeth not brushed. WHO cared? This is the depression. I knew it and yet could do nothing about it. I began cancelling work. I knew my mind and body were moving too slow. I told everyone I was sick. Wasn't that the truth?? I took to bed. It was my comfort zone. My husband became worried and my
children were ignored by me. What is wrong with mom,they wondered? I cried so much and did nothing. I was not the vivacious lady they knew and loved. I began the migrane headaches again. No doctor could take those away. Only pain pills, which made me take to my bed even more. This was my life for 1 year.
I finally decided to see a psychiatrist. He perscribed prozac while being put on a couple of years of psycological treatment as well. One and a half hour of reflection on my life and he thought he knew all the answers. The prozac took forever to work. Raise the dose, lower the dose, raise the dose again. Meanwhile, I was faithful in speakiing with my therapist.I was now on the highest dose possible. 80 mg of prozac.
When I came out of the depression, I became too happy. They all thought it was because of past issues dealt with at this point. But I know myself...and things weren't right. No one is THAT happy. I still had my days because of my past,but not as bad.They re-evaluated me, as though I was an experimental lab rat. The final diagnosis was Manic-Depression. Bipolar is what they call
it now. So we don't sound like someone in "One Who Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest."
I had all the signs of mania now... Not sleeping, not eating,
irritability, high moods, drug use (legal or not), promiscuity, overspending, thoughts racing in my head, rapid speech, increased energy, difficulty concentrating and inflated self-esteem. I also have the creative side of the illness...which is the only good thing I can say about it. Without that I think I would be shattered.
He put me on a mood stabilizing drug.It is called Depakote. I started on a low dose. Not enough. Raise the dose. Not enough. Raise the dose. Meanwhile,everytime he raised the dose, I needed a blood test. Well, here I was on this Depakote and Prozac and they never worked. It was frustrating because they took me off Prozac and waited to start anything new, as it takes that medicine awhile to leave the body.
Weren't they supposed to know it all? Wasn't there a huge magic pill that would cure me and make me normal ALL the time? Why was this happening to me? Why was it happening now? A chemical imbalance in my brain they all said. It was triggered by many things. NOT CURABLE. It would have been easier to have been diagnosed with cancer, then maybe I'd have a fighting chance of
being o.k.
I have been through many tests and trials of medications. Lithium, effexor, elavil, pamelar. Sleeping pills so I get my rest...Ambien, Risperdal and trazadone. Right now I am on a combination of the newer pill nuerontin, mixed with depakote and risperdal to help me get my zzzz's, which I don't want anyway. I still don't feel I'm between those 2 poles. He assures me,
we will find whats right for me. He says I am a diffucult case and that makes me feel no better going down this yellow brick road.
Update:October 24, 1998...The doctor changed my medications AGAIN. the last mixture wasn't working.(What's new?)So now they are trying to balance me with depakote, zyprexa and trazadone. Klonopin for when I feel that surge inside, Either to sleep or either to take the edge off. These seem to be working better, but not quite right yet either...They say to give it some time.I guess their sense of time is different than mine...
Update:November 18, 1998...I am still on the same medications only they raised the trazadone one step and the zyprexa one step. This has really helped me become more on a normal level now.Highs aren't so high, and my lows aren't so low. Life is actually pretty boring...didn't know I was going to miss those highs as much as I do, but it is a small sacrifice to be normal.I guess all I needed was more time like they said. They were right.
Update:December 3, 1998...They took me off the zyprexa, because I was going downhill again. The bottom. So I am back on Nuerontin as that was almost working before the zeprexa.THE WAIT....AGAIN...When will I ever be not waiting??? It sure feels like never. Negative attitude? You Bet...
As a grown man I shed the tears of a child who has not known the pains
Written By:
HERE IS A POEM BY A TRANSGENDERED LADY
of his past. As with the child that is within now see's the light of the
torture and miss treatment. He lets out those tears he has withheld in for
so many years. With each tear that falls he somehow feels the pain of his
being molested and the torture of his abuse that he has taken from a man he
nolonger respects. With each passing time he hopes to get stronger but he
knows with every strengh there is that weakness which brings him down to
the thought of being in the ground. The grown man knows that they both need
help for which each tear shed had shown him, but through the eyes of the
child who had not shed a tear for so long, now sees the destruction for the
rest of his life!
Spazette
Aka: Roni Sue
Drop me a line....
Hi robbi!
My name is Jim, diagnosed MD at 15, i'm 38 now. I have a long story but not really up to writing all about it right now. I have been trying to clean up the wreckage of some manic episodes which
occcured after the death of my wife ( cancer ) back in 1990.
I had a really bad night with an automobile, and alcohol, one officer involved in the chase suffered a broken hand which was the
extend of any physical injuries.
I've just lost my job, again, the company is moving away.
It's very tough for me to get a job with my problems, i've been on
probation for six years.
My manic episodes are very severe when they occur, haven't had one in
about 3 years now. I don't drink anymore, did alot of AA meetings and
all that, although ultimately i finally just lost the desire on my own,
i'm very happy about that too.
I've had alot of time on my hands the past 3 or 4 days, i'm in fear of
losing everything i have. I need to take this time though, i know, and
recharge the batteries, somehow get up the will and make myself get out
there and find the next job. I'm a computer programmer, pretty good at
it too, but, i don't know, it's tough out there.
i'm prepared to lose my house and everything, but not my life, i'm not
going to kill myself, i don't know what the hell i am going to do, but
i'm not doing that.
I have 2 beautiful kids, can't say i've been a very good dad for them
cuz i'm often times stuck inside myself, not really there for them.
I have family around here that helps. I love your web page, even the blasphemy :) I started out when i was 15 just about demamding that Jesus get his ass
down here and get this shit over with, that was my very first psychotic
experience, it landed me in a state mental hospital for one year, it became my second home in the years to follow. It sucked big time, the thorazine, that is the worst stuff.
Well i'm just trying to take a day at a time here, haven't done much
since losin the job, lot of suicidal wishes going on with me, but i
can't do that, it's just not an option, sometimes you just feel so bad, not just for yourself either.
it's such a sick, ugly world...anyone who can't see that has there head
up there ass.
well since you put so much into the web site i don't mind sharing all
this, maybe it'll help somehow, bye, take care
Jim
Jim is able to show the shit we walk through daily, yet somehow manage to keep on keepin' on. I admire his heroism.
robbie@siscom.net Especially if you're a "mental health provider with a little courage (A/K/A "BALLS").
Here's the kind of letter that I really enjoy receiving...
http://www.netcom.com/~jimwelsh/welcome.html
Here is a poem by Martha...
I peddle
Atrophy,
Decay of stillborn son,
Curling of arthritic toes,
And
NOT LIKE YOU;
I steep in
Suffering,
Battered babe,
Mute as ash,
And
NOT LIKE YOU;
I writhe in
Jealousy,
Damn your tireless sanity,
Consummate dearth,
I'm
NOT LIKE YOU.
Here's a true story from "Susan." When I was 17, I moved in with my High School swim coach. Sex was great, being the talk of the small town was actually fun. I didn't drink and since I was with an older man, I missed the drug scene (some benefit). At 20 I had outgrown him.
I moved outside NYC and nannied for million dollar children. It was a good job for a girl with no college training. I discovered that taking dexitrim kept me thin and helped give me the energy to keep up with the kids and allowed me enough extra to Lifeguard at night.
I think in retrospect it was the stimulants in dexitrim that triggered my first manic episode because as best as I can recall I got really weird- the people I nannied for took me to the police station, where I did "Break-dancing" on the station floor! (it was "in" then) Then they took me to a mental hospital. The staff tried to bring me down with what I now know as MAJOR tranquilizers: Haldol, Stelaizine, Milarill and more I don't remember. I was higher than a kite!
From there I was brought back home (Maine). After several more hospital stays and a few rebellious spurts. I figured out how to pretend to be well so as not to go back to any more hospitals, the only thing I learned in them is everyone was worse off than I was. So I told the Doctor's I'd take my medicine like a good girl and got a job.
I became a "Baby photographer", I traveled all over Eastern US, different department stores every week. I lived in motels and my car and was a sort of vagabond. I think now that that job allowed my mania to exist in me, untreated. I got extensive physical exsercize - daily, had sex with multiple strangers, town after town after town. The constant change of environment and hectic schedule allowed me to avoid the depths of depression or the peaks of mania.
I decided I'd traveled enough by 1987 and got a new job and then got married. Had a bouncing baby girl in 1989 and (again in retrospect) suffered my first serious depression. It lasted not quite a year.
Every time trouble came I'd pack us up and move. I now think this was part of Mania. I divorced my husband in 1993 and for the 2econd time, sought treatment. I was put on Paxil and was medicated into mania. Then my GP sent me to a Pdoc who prescribed Lithium again. I stayed with it for about 6 months and met the man I am now married to. He and I decided that the diagnosis of Bipolar I was just a "get rich" thing for the doctors and that there really wasn't anything wrong with me.
I had been O.K. for about 4 years when all of a sudden boom, here it is again - rearing it's unpleasant head snapping me back (actually a slow climb) into mania this April- Yup, back on lithium we'll see how I do this time. The external parts of my life are good so if I can just follow directions perhaps I can have a long bout with wellness. Wish me luck as I do you.
Here's a great true story from a lady.She is an Inspiration FOR ALL OF US!
I had what I now know was a manic episode in 1977 when I was 17. I
was locked up in a mental health unit, while my shrink refused to
'label' AND TREAT me for manic-depression. Instead I was given
anti-psychotics and lost my senior year of high school. I was being
asked to apply to Princeton's school of engineering--after so long in
the whacky-ward, my parents were thrilled I could manage to take an
English lit. class or two part-time at the local 3rd rate Catholic
women's college. I did get better for a while though.
I decided to pretend nothing had ever happened to me. And I guess the
bipolar disorder 'remitted' somewhat, because I was able to graduate
from college after only 4 years with a degree in mathematics.
After graduating from college, I got married to the man who dated me
all through school. I suspect now that he is an undiagnosed bipolar,
or possibly uni-polar. He doesn't believe in this 'psycho-babble stuff'
and won't get help for himself.
I had to get help in 1992, when I was 31--I was undergoing a trial
separation from my then husband. I tried to talk to him about getting
back together and he stone-walled me. I went beserk. I went manic.
I remember the manic episode, sort of. It did involve psychosis. I
"woke up" in four-point restraints and ankles I guess about 24 hours
later. I had horrible bruises on my wrists and ankles from fighting
the restraints for hours. The lithium they were giving me was working.
I believe they finally diagnosed me properly--as bipolar, and treated
me as such. I was out of the hospital in only 10 days, instead of 6
months!!!! It was a MIRACLE!!! To give my husband credit, he made
sure that I was carted off to one of the best treatment facilities in
the area.
From 1992 to 1996--my husband and I did try to get back together. I spent
alot of time figuring out whether all the problems in the marriage were
mine due to my bipolar disorder. All the while, I managed to hold down
a full time job, take care of our young daughter, take care of the house,
take care of him... Finally, when he started going out with 'friends' that
he never bothered to introduce me to, I decided to leave. I finally
figured out that I was in an emotionally abusive marriage on top of
dealing with a 'mental illness' of my own.
After about 6 months in my own place, enjoying my own company and having
fun with my girlfriends...I decided to answer a singles ad on the internet.
I met a WONDERFUL man. We have a tremendous relationship. He is loving
and emotionally supportive. I wonder sometimes if the stress of my
bad marriage added just enough to a rather mild case of bipolar disorder
to keep me constantly off-balance and depressed. My new love often
jokes with me about what it must have been like when I lost my marbles.
He understands and promises if I ever lose it again, that he'll get me
to the hospital and pet my head and sing to me until my mind returns.
There is enormous comfort in this for me. Sometimes I wonder if I'm
giving to him even 1/3 of what he gives to me.
I know I'm lucky. I did my time though. I take my medications. I
found a psychiatrist I can work with. I monitor my own mood and
thoughts CONSTANTLY. I spent alot of time dealing with an emotionally
abusive husband. I learned the hard way about "setting boundaries"
and learning to depend on myself, because there was no one else to
count on. I try to have a healthy attitude about a 'mental illness'
that sometimes seems like a blessing. I've spent time on too much
lithium and was allowed to back off it, and find I like my world with
all the emotional depth and color that bipolar disorder affords me.
I've read a few of the other stories, and all I can say is to keep
trying and not give up hope. Find a doctor and counsellor you can
work with. Try all the different medications that are now available
(I went to a lithium and tegratol combination that works really well.)
And when you feel like you just can't go on--remember that is
depression and a better day is coming.
Kudos to you Robbi for such a wonderful site. Kudos to you for being a
man who has worked on his 'mental illness.' Oh how I wish my ex-husband
had been man enough to admit to his own problems. I think there are
alot of men out there--living in the bottle, having violent rages who
are not getting the kind of help they need.
Here is a poem from Tom who has his own site
"Disability Place"
THE DESERT
Stony, barren, without comfort or joy
After nameless strife, and desire for an end
My mind clearer, I went to join my family
Illness was a casting out by family
Family, I want back in
The desert is a never-ending source of solitude
My story--
I made a path through the illness without awareness of its name
My comfort was a pen, with paper for expression
The years seemed long, but were not too enduring
Many times I wondered if things were supposed to be the way they were
An answer to my question was not to come
The path reached a clearing
I was given its name, a name of fear
Past times equaled present
There was no longer any progression of existence
The clearing was a welcome pause
Yet pause it only was
The family I had wanted to get to know
Family, I found, was just another word
Like the one to describe my pain
The family of my desire
Is only called society
Wellness came with a name attached
This name presented two meanings
The first was a title
And the second meant exile
My path with its clearing became a taking off point
Into the desert, the desert of cast outs
The desert of limbo and semi-presence
All in one
If you hold me back at the gates
I will yell until you let me back in
You have dealt with me out of fear
The fear of willing unknowing
Now you will find that I am not an object of fear
That I am human, with a soul and intelligence
Cast away your fear
And let me out of the desert of exile
Let me into a place of care
And abusive neglect
My soul screams from the injustice of the desert
If I can forgive my family's mistreatment of me
Surely they can accept who I am
Don't make me wander in the desert
It hurts you, but maims me
PREVIOUS PAGE
HOME PAGE
robbie@siscom.net
This page hosted by
Get your own Free Home Page