Brain freeze for sale: only 50 cents: Includes one bomb pop and a bipolar dilemma

Crazy pill count:
AM 300 Lamictal, 250 Nuvigil
PM 300 Lamictal, 600 Seroquel

I have been stuck on this entry for days – flustered, baffled, perplexed, bewildered and inarticulate – with a condition greatly resembling brain freeze.


There are two concepts, two words that directly affect our daily lives. Thinking of the two and how they relate to one another makes my brain scream with confusion and ache with brain freeze. Maybe together we can make sense of it.

The two words that are coming to mind both start with ex, and there is a very fine line between the two.

Excuse.

Explanation.

While manic or depressed we do “things” that are so ugly they hurt others and ourselves. Some even horrific.

We can not use our illness to make excuses for poor choices, but at the same time, our illness is the reason we made those choices in the first place.

When bipolar and admits an episode, we are not us, not ourselves; we are a person with a mental illness. But the person who has the mental illness is still us – so where does this leave us?

Ouch, brain freeze.


Where do we draw that fine line? Do we get to pick and choose which behaviors “weren’t our fault?” Are we under the mercy of others to decide? I think we can agree the answer to both is a firm no.

Let’s turn to dictionary.com

Excuse:
to offer an apology for; seek to remove the blame of

Explanation:
something that explains; a statement made to clarify something and make it understandable; exposition

Hmmm…sounds like they could skip through a field of daises together, doesn’t it? These definitions further deepen my confusion. When I read those definitions I feel like excuse can not exist without explanation, but explanation stands alone.

Ouch, brain freeze.


Can I ask a behavior to be excused without explaining why? But, explanation, on the other hand, does not involve an excuse; it is not an apology; it is not begging for the blame to be removed; it is simply attempting to explain. An explanation is a logical cause and effect situation. The problem with this is that feelings are not always logical.

Cause and effect does not require an apology. Sure you can feel sorry about the outcome of the effect, which surely you will, but explanation will let us know why it happened.

I don’t have my homework because I accidently lined my hamster cage with it and it got peed on. In this example I am asking the blame to be removed from me and onto the hamster. An excuse.

I spent $2000 on physic services today because I was manic. In this example I am not asking to be excused, I am simply telling how it is. An explanation.

The difference is that explaining a behavior is not necessarily asking for forgiveness. It is stating facts. I’m sorry the sky is blue doesn’t make much sense. Neither does I’m sorry I have long hair. You might argue that the sky being blue doesn’t harm anyone nor does having long hair, but spending $2000 while manic can be detrimental in many ways, for more people than just yourself, and some my feel does warrant an apology. But does it? Does an explanation require an apology?

Ouch, brain freeze.


I’m so sorry the sky is blue. I’m sorry if the sky being blue has upset you, but it is blue, and will always remain so. I’m sorry while depressed I missed your birthday party. I’m sorry if it hurt your feelings by not attending your party, but I am bipolar, and was battling a depression so dark I couldn’t get out of bed. I am bipolar and will always remain so, battling both depression and mania.

Hurt feelings may require an apology, but being bipolar does not require an apology.

Over the past 12 years I have asked others to forgive my bipolar actions. My manic or depressed actions. My sometimes, according too many, unforgivable actions. I have asked others to excuse my behavior on account of explanation. Was this necessary? Is an excuse mandatory? Is explanation ever enough?

For some it isn’t. “What’s your excuse?!” they may shout at you. But you may not have one to offer. You may only be able to give an explanation. Is this fair? Is it fair to demand an apology? In this situation, for these people who need an excuse, is explanation a valid excuse?

Ouch, brain freeze.


It’s true we will feel great remorse and regret about hurting anyone during a mania or depression, I certainly do, and may need to apologize to a lot of people, a lot, a lot, a lot of people, but being bipolar does not require an apology.

I have found it takes a special and often rare individual to understand that what I did was not done by me, but by my illness. By me, yes, but by me suffering from an illness. These people excuse without explanation because they know my behavior is not an excuse but a result of an undesirable situation with undesirable brain chemistry. Double whammy.

Perhaps an excuse is something you could have done differently and an explanation is why you didn’t do it differently.

Ouch, brain freeze.


The extraordinary individuals who I am talking about understand this. And for them it is enough.

But what about us? Is it enough for us? We battle with the same issue as those we have relationships with. Do we need to make excuses for ourselves to get through the day, or are we able to accept our illness and the explanations that come along with it?

That is our life work. Accepting our explanations. Not excusing them, but accepting them.

What do you think? Did reading this give you brain freeze?


Until next time…

The Punctuation of the Day

Crazy pill count:
AM 300 Lamictal, 250 Nuvigil
PM 300 Lamictal, 500 Seroquel

On a bad day I wake up and think,
“Another day. How am I going to get out of bed? How am I going to brush my teeth? How am I going to make it?”

Everything feels like a question mark.

On a bad day I wake up and think,
“Another day! Here we go! I am going to blank and blank and then blank and then blank again!”

Life is an explanation point.

On a good day I wake up and think,
“Another day.”

There is no intense emotional reaction to the beginning of the day. No explanation points or question marks - not even a comma. It is just the beginning of the day.

Things that should be simple...are.
Things that should be effortless...are.

I can walk through the day. I can skip if I choose to; I can dance if I choose to; I can cartwheel down the sidewalk if I choose to; I can lolly-gag if I choose to; but I'm not stuck running seven minute miles or stumbling over my own feet. On a good day, I can make choices and have the correct amount of energy to do what I choose. These are the days when I wake up, smile at the morning and say, "Another day."

Obviously, as you know if you have been reading along, the dishwasher is the tell all indicator of my mental state and so...

On a good day this:


Becomes this:


Dishwasher - dishes = a good day

Until next time...

I'd like to buy a vowel

Crazy pill count:
AM 300 Lamictal, 250 Nuvigil
PM 300 Lamictal, 400 Seroquel, 5 Zyprexa


Want to play wheel of fortune?

I am thinking of a noun with 23 letters, 8 vowels, and 9 syllables.

The Greek translation is neuro+psyche+pharmacon+logos:
nerve-soul/mind-drug-study

Does that clear it up for you?
I’m talking about neuropsychopharmacology.

Without further ado…a round of applause please…introducing…
Neuropsychopharmcology - the one responsible for the creation of our crazy pills!

Neuropsychopharmcology asks the how and the why of brain functions, therefore directly impacting mental illnesses by creating both answers and more questions. The more questions there are the more answers we get.


Neuropsychopharmcology deals with the evaluation of how natural and synthetic compounds affect the brain, the mind, and subsequently human behavior. Neuropsychopharcology makes crazy pills, and then makes more crazy pills, and more crazy pills, each generation getting better.

Where would we be without crazy pills?
Exastentional crisis, or simple fact?

Both.
We would be crazy.

But with neuropschopharmocology we have a hell of a chance. Bipolar? Bring it on because neuropschopharmcology is proof that scientific miracles exist!

Standing ovation…


The crowd goes wild!

Until next time...

You may develop none, some, or ALL of the following

Crazy pill count:
AM 300 Lamictal, 250 Nuvigil
PM 300 Lamictal, 300 Seroquel, 5 Zyprexa

Side effects…I don’t enjoy having them but I sure love reading about them.

I don’t read the menacing list before I start taking the medication because I have a very developed imagination, but as soon as I get a grip on my side effects I like to pull out the leaflet and entertain myself. Sometimes I’ll read and discover - what?! - mother trucker - I have all of these!

That’s when I feel special. That’s when I know I am a side effect overachiever. Got to be proud of somethin’…

Some of the side effects of Seroquel are beyond undesirable such as decreased blood pressure (ortostatic hypotension), high blood sugar (hyperglycemia), high cholesterol and triglyceride levels (hypercholesterolemia), low white blood cell count, seizures, cataracts, abnormal thyroid tests, increase in liver enzymes, neroleptic malignant syndrome (this one can kill ya’), difficulty swallowing, tardive dyskinesia, and one that has it’s grubby little paws on me – increase in prolactin levels (hyperprolactinema). Although these side effects can be serious and dangerous, don’t worry, they are not common.

Let’s talk about the “common possible side effects.”

You have the run of the mill upset stomach, increased appetite, weight gain, constipation, dry mouth, fatigue, abdominal pain, etc… But you also have disturbance in speech and language. I’m not sure exactly what this entails but possibly might have something to do with my frequent inability, in certain situations, to come up with a descriptive word other than “fuck.”

There is one side effect of Seroquel that is so bizarre it’s awesome…stuffy nose. I don’t want to make light of the situation if you suffer from this side effect and find it debilitating. But really? Stuffy nose?

There is a reason why it is so awesome. I also often take Geodon and a possible side effect of Geodon is runny nose. I am not making this up.

So what happens when you take both? Do they alternate? Do they cancel each other out? Luckily I don’t suffer from stuffy or runny nose. Maybe thanks to taking both Seroquil and Geodon.


Geodon has some pretty nasty side effects. If you can imagine it, it exists. Check it out if you are interested, but first grab a tub of popcorn because it’s entertaining:

Luckily I don’t suffer from many of them. Some, yes. But not many. The side effect that is most bothersome that I experience is tremor. This tremor bothers the ba-ge-zees out of me. Some days it’s worse than others. It usually acts out the most if I am trying to eat soup at a restaurant. Not my dining room, of course, that would be too convenient, but a restaurant. And preferably while I am dining with someone like the president.

Most side effects, unfairly, are exacerbated by the situations that are most undesirable to have them. But that is the nature of being bipolar, I suppose. If you need to feel consoled, whip out The Joy of Being Bipolar: Everyday moods that destroy your day and flip to Chapter 39 (yes, this is a painfully long book) Can I handle another side effect? Damn straight.

The good news is that often certain side effects lessen with time. The bad news is sometimes out of the blue you develop a new one. I recently just developed and then undeveloped increased sweating. That’s a sweet one, but not as sweet as when I had hair loss. I have Lamictal to thank for that one. Gratefully, that one no longer burdens me.

What we have to remember is that sweating or constantly blowing our nose is absolutely the lesser of two evils. Carrying around a travel size Kleenex or handkerchief, if you are old school, is better than being out of your mind crazy.

That being said, if you are suffering from a side effect that is making your life miserable, tell your doctor. There are a plethora of different crazy pills; try a different one. Heck, try them all. Unfortunately finding the best crazy pill means trying. A lot of trying. Sure it can be exhausting - okay is exhausting - and often painful, but it’s necessary, and worth it, by the way.

I am going to say what I haven’t said in a long time…be open minded about your crazy pills. Be willing to experiment and listen to your doctor. Working together you can find your best friend. Oh, I mean your best crazy pill. Or wait, isn’t it the same thing?

Until next time…

Hush a bye baby

Crazy pill count:
AM 300 Lamictal, 250 Nuvigil
PM 300 Lamictal, 3/25 Symbyax, 5 Zyprexa


I have mentioned what a great pretender I am while depressed. I’m sure you have learned to be as well. Pretending is our survival. It is how we keep friends and other relationships in our lives. If we announce every time we feel depressed or angry or black to those we love, we would probably break their backs.

But do we have the right to decide that for them? When someone wants to be there for you, and support you, is it wrong to pretend?

I have grown up living with this illness on my own, and therefore have learned how to keep it to myself; how to keep it a secret. Often when someone finds out I am bipolar it pulls the magic carpet right out from underneath them. “What? But you are always so happy.”

It’s somewhat true. I am “happy” for them. Who wants a party pooper at their party? Who wants to hold someone’s hand while they are crying, feeling hopeless and alone – every - single - day?

Does this acting help them? Does this acting help us? Does this acting protect our relationship; or does this acting make it impossible to allow our relationship to progress forward?

I have found if they discover I am pretending they feel betrayed. They want us to feel comfortable enough with them to not pretend. They demand honesty. They think they want this. But if their wishing well wish is granted, often, they only feel helpless. There is nothing they can do to change the chemicals in our brain. They think they should be able to “cheer us up.” When they fail at this, we become their frustrated burden.

There are times I think I would rather brave the storm, alone in the ocean, with no life vest or paddle boat, than be a burden. But is this true? How can we ever guarantee we will be a burden?

I have gotten so use to doing it in secret, on my own, I don’t know how to react when someone wants to offer a hug. I want to protect them, I want to protect our relationship which I suppose really translates to, I want to protect myself.

Which is more lonely…dealing with it alone, or losing a friendship because how high maintenance we have become when not holding back? I feel lonely sobbing into my arms, wishing not to exist, but I also feel lonely pretending to be happy at a party of genuinely happy people. I can’t decide which is worse.

Do we allow others to be there for us? Do we risk being, “too much to handle?” Do we therefore risk our hearts?

For those of you who love someone who is bipolar, I have no good advice or answers. But be there for us only because you want to, not because this new information has obligated you to our well being. That kind of load will certainly break you.

Listen without judgment, and by golly don’t try to “fix” us. We can’t be “fixed” and it’s not your job to try to crazy glue us back together. At this task you will only fail. Instead of trying to glue us, just listen. That is support. Creating a space where we can feel what we feel is the greatest gift you could give.

For us crazies, we may not be use to allowing others to see the dark side of our moon. But we need to allow others to be there with a flashlight. Instead of pretending, perhaps we should honor ourselves by honoring our feelings. Sharing our crazy, unpredictable, intense moods may run the risk of breaking another’s back, but pretending will eventually, surely, break ours.

Hush hushing our feelings with fake smiles and laughter is putting a burden on our own shoulders. How much weight can we possibly hold? What is the breaking point? When is hush hushing our feelings positive? Is it ever?

Do you pretend during a depression? Do you feel like it’s necessary or have you learned to allow yourself to lean on others?

Until next time…

Dear Diary

Crazy pill count:
AM 300 Lamictal, 60 Geodon, 250 Nuvigil
PM 300 Lamictal, 300 Seroquil, 10 Zyprexa

On days like today Dr. Crazy’s personalized ring is the most beautiful music imaginable. Symphonies? No. Orchestras? No. Bach, Chopin, Mozart…all amateurs. Verizon’s “pattern…” that’s the good stuff.

When I started this blog I decided it would not be a diary or journal, but rather information from an insider. Today, however, I will be discussing my personal experience. I want to share it with you, although I feel hesitant and exposed, because if you are lucky enough to be bipolar, it might help you feel a little more “normal.” Or if you are lucky enough to know or love someone who is bipolar, it might help you wait out the storm. I think this kind of information may help. If it does, it is worth feeling hesitant and exposed.


Today I woke up sad. Depressed. I woke up annoyed. Angry. All, for no reason. My dear husband who is patient and loving drove me crazy simply by breathing. Does he really have to breathe like that? Does he have to breathe at all? Seriously. Does he have to because it’s getting on my last nerve.

But the day progressed and I started to feel better. I was at the hub’s third triathlon and liked cheering for each participant. I love cheering. At a sporting event I don’t cheer for a particular team, I cheer for offense, so this is perfect for me. “Good job! Awesome! Way to go! You’re doing great! Wahoooo! You can do it! Finish strong! Great finish!” It felt good when one of them would smile and light up. It felt beyond good to see the look on the hub’s face as he ran across the finish line.

But not long after the race I became restless. I had to pretend to be happy and interested in my conversations with each person I conversed with. I smiled. My fake plastered smile. Deep down I hated them. My high school boyfriend, full of angst, wanted to tattoo “hate” on his back. Right now it seemed like a damn fine idea. But for now I pretend.

I am good at pretending.

We finally left and I slept in the car because I couldn’t bear to be awake. I couldn’t stand the feeling of being awake. But my pillow wasn’t just right and my legs were restless. This pissed me off. I began to hate existing. Again. Do I really have to be awake? Do I really have to be asleep? Do I really have to exist – because it’s maddening. Outright maddening. My face gets hot. Seriously? I have to exist? You’re kidding me. I pretend to be pleasant. I don’t want the hubs to know I’m miserable because I don’t want to ruin his good mood. So I pretend.

I am good at pretending.

I develop a horrible headache. I lay on the couch – head throbbing, disgusted by life. I go under the bathroom sink to get a painkiller more powerful than the Tylenol I took that wasn’t working. I open the cabinet and discover the unspeakable. My jar of wax has leaked all over the bottom of the cabinet and the bottles. Every last dang f-ing bottle. I am so angry I say, “fuck! ” roughly fifty times and throw all of the bottles against the shower wall. This doesn’t make me feel any better. In fact, I feel worse because now I have to pick them up. Have I ever been more angry? I can’t think of a time when I have.

After battling with cleaning the wax, and throwing a few bottles I picked up again, and then once more for good measure, I go into the kitchen for a glass of water. I open the cabinet and three Tupperware containers drop to the ground. Only three, but it was enough. Enough to drop me onto the kitchen floor and cry. Hysterically. Sobbing first in child’s pose, then on my side with my cheek against the dirty tile, then on my back with my arms and legs flailing. I hate life. I hate those damn Tupperware containers. And I hate life. The hubs hears me and comes into the kitchen. He attempts to peel me off the ground, but on second thought, after eight years of experience, knows to instead, pick up the Tupperware and let me be. Hysterical. On the ground. Did I mention I hate life? My anger is so beyond ager it has become rage.

After twenty long minutes of deep sobbing, I stand up. I walk over to the counter and drop a pen between the cabinet and refrigerator. This is, now, the most horrible thing that could ever happen to me. It is so horrible, in fact, I fall to the ground, again, and cry. Hysterically. Again. This time I only cry for five minutes. Then, exhausted by emotion, I finally feel calm.

Calm turns to sadness. I feel sad. I feel sorry for myself for having to exist. I would cry but have run out of tears. Instead my insides just ache. The hubs comes to check on me. I pretend to be “back to normal,” to “be fine.” I don’t want to exhaust him with dealing with any more of my emotions. So I pretend.

I am good at pretending.

Then I hear it…Verizon’s “pattern.” Dr. Crazy comes to the rescue! 300 Lamictal, 300 Seroquel, 10 Zyprexa and come see me tomorrow at 2:30.

My anger has passed. I am sad, but I know it too will pass…

Until next time…

My cats hate the vacuum

Crazy pill count:
AM 300 Lamictal, 60 Geodon, 250 Nuvigil
PM 300 Lamictal, 60 Geodon, 150 Seroquil

I have wanted to post an entry for quite some time now. I haven’t for two main reasons.

#1…My computer and my husband’s computer have both been broken. (irritating)
#2…I have been so hopped up on Geodon I turned into a piece of carpeting. Flat and motionless, collecting dust, waiting to be vacuumed. (very irritating)

Geodon – oh, how do I feel about thee? Now that I am back to 60mg AM and 60mg PM, and my cognitive functions have returned, I can ask myself that question. I was taking 120mg AM and 120mg PM to calm a destructive mania, trying to avoid both Zyprexa and the hospital.

If you have been following along you know Zyprexa is a wonder drug that makes me gain weight simply by looking at it. I caution you at looking at it as well. After losing 30 pounds, I am hesitant to go back on it for any reason. I often think I would rather take one million milligrams of Geodon, and be in a stupor, than gain the 9 pounds I just gained in a mere few weeks, temporarily being on Zyprexa to ward off said mania.

You may be wondering, a piece of carpeting? Yes. Piece of carpeting. I would think something, and then immediately forget what I was just thinking. Immediately – every stinkin’ thought.

I would have an idea for an entry, for example, and then a moment, and still days later, have no clue what my idea was. In fact I still don’t remember.

I would have a conversation and be unable to follow. I would forget what the other conversationalist said at thirty second intervals for the entirety of the conversation. That is if you call me staring, eyebrows furled, mutely, a conversation.

I would read something and have no idea what I just read. No idea. Was it a cookbook? A dictionary? A book of poetry? A farmers' almanac? Hmmm…I’m the one who just read it, but your guess is still just as good as mine.

I would walk into a room and immediately forget what I was there for. This is something that happens to me occasionally, and I’m sure you as well. But all day long, every time I walked into a room? Now that's just obnoxious. Can we all agree on that?

It is downright frustrating being this stupid.

Dr. Crazy agrees which is why we lowered my Geodon and introduced a new crazy pill, Seroquil. I will try anything to avoid Zyprexa. If you asked me yesterday I would have said so far so good. But ask me today I will say so far so depressed.

If there is a side effect of one of your crazy pills that is extremely undesirable, it is important to try others. But if it is not working it is also important to consider going back to the medication with the undesirable side effects.

For me, I have to ask myself, which is better – fat and happy, or skinny and crazy? Most days I would say fat and happy without hesitation, but when I step on the scale and hate myself, skinny and crazy doesn’t sound too bad. That is until I find myself at the tattoo shop at 1:00 AM, or still in bed at 4:00 PM.

So what does this mean? It means it’s time to call Dr. Crazy and be open minded and compliant. He is the one who went to medical school; I’m just the one who needs to be vacuumed.

That’s the thing about crazy pills. When flat and dusty, the right medication can vacuum you right up, leaving you fresh and fluffy with those awesome vacuum tracks. Who doesn’t love a rug with vacuum tracks? I would like to meet a person who doesn’t like vacuum tracks.

What about you? Do you struggle with a particular side effect? Is there a crazy pill that you try to avoid? Do you like vacuum tracks?


Until next time...

The Good, The Bad, The Ugly

Crazy pill count:
AM 300 Lamictal, 120 Geodon, 250 Nuvigil, 5 Zyprexa
PM 300 Lamictal, 120 Geodon, 5 Zyprexa



Or is it...?

Until next time...