Rapid Cycling...

TRIGGER WARNING: SUICIDAL IDEATION 

So it's now 2:43 AM--almost the witching hour, I went on a 22-mile

Simon Cowell Abc.news photo
credit. 

bike ride, took all my meds and I'm STILL AWAKE! I've gone from writing the next great Amerian novel to staring pretty hard at my Lithium bottle and thinking about taking them. I've gone from laughing at Simon Cowell (if I, as a lesbian, had a crush on any man, it would absolutely be Simon. He's adorable, brutally honest and I adore his accent--but that's another blog post!) to crying.

My cartoon for this kind of mood is Tazmanian Devil from Loony
Tunes. He's hyper and goes out of control in a massive tornado. I love that image because that's what if feels like in my brain--a massive out of control tornado, because it's all mixed up.

My productivity has been way, way high, but in forty minutes, I'm crying while watching Simon Cowell because that's all I have the energy to do. (Simon Cowell does not make me cry, he makes me laugh, but my brain just feels like crying. Remember, he's my man crush 💙💚).

Frankly, I feel rapid cycling is waaaaay worse than either being manic or being depressed because it's not consistent. It's kind of funny because this is the one type of Bipolar Disorder that doesn't get as much press attention. I think because it's hard to figure out. Sometimes I don't even know what mood I am--I'm a hot mess. That feeling is also called a mixed mood, for anyone who wants a techinical term.

What rapid cycling looks like:
laughing one minute, crying the next. 

How am I dealing with this whole mood mess? Each time I think of a suicidal thought, I look at my wrist tattoo (for right now) and then think of one thing I'm grateful for. In the past hour, it's been Raman, Dawn dish soap (to de-tick Moppet and me), my friends, and Simon Cowell. When I go up, I think of one thing I want to accomplish during this high. In the past hour it's been ALL THE THINGS, but I narrowed it down to look at a bus schedule to NYC since I have a free bus pass and I'm meeting a friend to just aimlessly wander. That took a lot of effort because focusing is not easy.

Rapid cycling is brutal, but it's just something else that comes along with the illness. On the plus side, I've been watching a lot of American and Britan's Got Talent and American Idol (Thank God for youtube because I cannot, at this moment, afford cable!).

My salvation 

Medication Struggles--Are they making me more crazy?

TRIGGER WARNING: SUICIDAL IDEATION 

Medication. It is beyond vital for managing my Bipolar 1 Disorder. I'd be mad or dead without it, trust me there. And yet...

I was on Lithium for 10 years and I was doing really great on it--was only hospitalized once. I had ups and downs, nothing a little help from my friend Ativan couldn't cure. My psychiatrist retired--and let me tell you, losing your psychiatrist is like losing a very dear friend--who gives you meds, always returns your calls, and keeps you fucking saner than you'd be without them. He was great, he listened,  he'd text to check in if I had fallen off the face of the earth, he did medication changes VERY VERY slowly, and always followed up within a few days to make sure all was well. When I was hospitalized, he got me a follow-up appointment with him that week. And I was ALWAYS cleared for work.

I had an interim psychiatrist and that didn't work out for me. She was way too expensive and didn't take my insurance.

I went off my psych meds, as stated in an earlier post, and got into a program to help me out. My Lithium got upped to almost double the dosage in a day and I turned toxic. NEVER good--I'm here though so all turned out well.

Now I'm on an interesting cocktail, Depakote, Seroquel, and Lamictal. I'm taking the Depakote 2X's

per day, 500 mg each time, Seroquel 50 mgs at night with 75 mgs of Lamictal. Here's the problem, I feel like I'm going crazier on those meds. My thoughts are racing MAD FAST 90% of the day, and my rapid cycling has gotten way worse. I was having a great day, did some bike riding, went to church, got ticks off me and Moppet, talking to some friends. And suddenly, BAM! I'm sitting here typing and wondering why I'm even still here. It's brutal. And I cannot get a psychiatrist appointment until June 4th. That's pretty damn far away. My options are very limited right now, and it seems like the number of meds I got from the hospital might not carry me all the way through. So I might be royally fucked. (They know this, btw, but the therapist said there's nothing they can do about it).

See, it's hard when you are going through medication changes. They're expensive as all hell, 2/3rds of them can kill you, and the side effects are brutal. Depakote, for instance, literally says on that little hand out that it can cause and/or increase suicidal thinking. What the hell is the point of that? If I already want to kill myself, why do you want to prescribe me something that could make me want to kill myself quicker? That boggles my mind. And the psych who prescribed it goes to me, literally, "if your suicide plan hasn't changed in 2 years, you should be fine." Really? Because I think if I've kept this same suicide plan in mind for 2 years, one day I might pull it out and see if it works.

I just don't understand. Part of me wonders what would happen if I just said fuck it and stopped taking it all. The other half of me thinks that a REALLY BAD idea because I could lose any scrap of sanity I still have--and I don't think it's much. My sanity is in short supply as it is, and I don't really have much more to lose. 😜😜

My drive to do anything is also non-existent right now. I have a crap ton of stuff to do, and all I can do is just stare at a wall. Once again, I'm smiling to bite the lie and say everything is okay when it's not. But then again, how many more people, or have many of the same people, can you keep turning to when you're losing your mind? And, more to the point, how many people are going to listen when you start bitching about the meds? No one.

I'm going to keep taking the meds, you know, gonna preserve that sanity, as best I can. And see what happens. A bit of a leap of faith!

The Aftermath of Mania

I've read a lot about experiences, and I've seen a lot of blog posts about recovery from a Bipolar episode. But I've rarely seen them talk about the nitty-gritty of what it's like trying to get yourself "us back to normal...get us back to good...Gonna get back what we had and maybe more" from Next to Normal the musical. So here's what it's like. TRIGGER WARNING: SUICIDAL IDEATION AND MANIC FALLOUT BELOW. 

Coming down off a manic high is akin to ending a war and taking stock of your casualties. There are three categories of casualties after one of my manic episodes: financial, relationships, self. 

Real screenshot of my bank account currently.

Let's start with the financial. My budgeting has never been on point, but after this latest episode, I learned that TD bank has an overdraft limit of -$800. I reached it and surpassed it with a maintenance fee. I don't know what they are mantianing--I literally have less than zero dollars to my name. Now, not all of that has been manic spending. 

A lot of that has been co-pays, outpatient therapy, gas, EZ-Pass, hospitalization, overdraft fees, etc. But some of it--coloring books, crayons, markers, glitter, glue, notebooks (ALL THE NOTEBOOKS), upgraded Netflix, Amazon Prime, Brainpop and Brainpop Jr, Acarde game money, pretzels...those were manic purchases.

No one has cleared me for work yet, so I am on disability but that's been a headache (another post for another time) so I haven't gotten paid in a month. That doesn't help either. This does not include rent (not sure where that's coming from), and wouldn't include food (my fridge was empty, but thanks to amazing friends who have become family, I have groceries and can actually feed myself and Moppet). See why I said in my earlier post mania can be bad?

Second: Relationships. I do a lot of crazy shit when I'm manic, I say a lot of crazy shit. I melt down like a psycho. It's a raging storm--kind of like if Elsa was a demon as opposed to a princess and her ice was hellfire. I've burned a lot of bridges, cried a lot when I've realized it. This time I had to go and apologize to so many people for my actions--I created peace offerings, and earnest apologies fell from my lips over and over again. These true friends, and friends who have become family, and my actual family, welcomed me back with open arms. But the guilt, well that remains. It's always hard for me to swallow, how I can hurt the people I love the most, but I do. Over and over again. Mania sucks. 

Third: Self. It's interesting. When you get out of a general hospital, the consensus is you're

That's me, and Moppet (Dog)

cured. Or at least diagnosed and in the process of getting fixed. There are get well cards, and balloons and stuffed animals. There is empathy. That is not the case for getting out of the psych ward--people, my friends included, automatically think okay well you're okay now. Right? It's past--we're over the crazy? No one has, of course, said these things, but it's always implied. 

Just because I was discharged does not mean I'm okay. I will relapse and relapse a lot. Even as I sit here typing, I'm doubting my self-worth, I'm having rapid thoughts. I feel guilt over my actions when I was manic, I'm grieving my lost engagement. I'm a fucking mess. But I can't tell anyone--at least it doesn't feel that way--because they've all been through the crazy with me. The stopping point was the psych ward. That's where I was supposed to be fixed. And I wasn't. 

See, the hardest part is admitting to myself that I have a long way to go before I can put this entire episode behind me. I have done too much, it has gone on too long. I have been unable to work, so I feel like garbage, I have been unable to live alone so I feel worthless. My mind is my biggest enemy right now, and no matter what the therapists and psychiatrists say, it's not getting easier. It's a big, fucking uphill climb that never seems to end. And every step I take, I feel like I fall down even further. 

So when people say: "you're okay? You're doing better?" I smile and bite on the lie because I don't know how to tell people I'm not. It's a slow process, I don't feel like it. I've wounded myself badly. I'm trying to remember this is all just "for right now." And that's hard. That's why, I think, healing the self is far harder than the financial and the relationships. Because to quote the musical Pippin (can you tell I love theatre) to run from yourself "is mighty far to run." 

Observations in a Psych Ward...

TRIGGER WARNING-Mention of Hospitalization and Suicide Ideation 

I was recently in a psych ward (I don't want to name it, that wouldn't be cool) because I literally lost my mind. I went through a rough break-up, I went completely Manic out of my mind, I started Rapid Cycling (going through Bipolar Moods really fast) and decided I was going to kill myself. (This was not my first hospitalization, but my first one at this place). I first want to say, they were amazing. The staff, nurses and doctors were incredible, and they saved my life.

In the midst of my crazy, where I lessoned planned an ENTIRE unit of science for my 5th grade in two hours, I called my Step-Mom and my Dad--and they were both like "you need to get help. Go to the hospital." So I did. Here are some observations: 

DO NOT depend on a Lyft Driver to take you to the hospital when you are manic. I was dropped at the wrong ER and had to walk around and cry and break down until I found the correct emergency room.

Security took my things. I had no access to my clothing, my cell phone, my wallet or anything. I begged to keep my book and my little card I thought to write down all the important people's phone numbers. They let me.

I was quiet in the ER, the nurses stopped bothering me, let me wander and so I lost my 1:1 (the little nurse buddy you're assigned when you say you want to kill yourself). This is really good, but really, really bad. I literally could have left and no one would have noticed other than the fact I would have been ass naked except for a hospital gown.

When I finally got to the psych ward: 

There are NO CLOCKS readily available. If you're like me, I'm a teacher, a stage manager, I live my entire life on a schedule so the lack of knowing the proper time caused my anxiety to go through the roof. They do that, specifically for people like me who only focus on time. But the fact I rarely knew what hour it was, was really, really really hard. I'm a Laban Student (you never stop learning) and I was living in Spell Drive--a world without time). It was cool for the first minute, but then I wanted out.

Toothbrushes are considered contraband. They literally kept throwing out my toothbrush every single day because it was in my room. And they had to give me a new one every single day because they threw mine out.

Mini-sharpened golf pencils, however, were okay. I love to write, so after I requested a journal, I had amassed a collection of 5 mini pencils which they readily sharpened. Now, I think they're more dangerous than a toothbrush, but that's just me.

There is one phone--I will repeat one phone--for like 40 people to share. You get five minutes per call and there is a nurse monitoring your phone calls. I only ever used the phone at the end of the night 5 minutes before they turned them off. People were annoyed and when you got a message on a Post-It that you got a phone call you couldn't call back because someone was ALWAYS on the phone.

Arts and Crafts--you could either color a felt picture with Crayola markers OR paint a birdhouse. I opted for the picture. My stepmom hung it up on my empty apartment wall so that I have something positive to look at.

My Arts and Crafts Project

Your sleep directly impacts your ability to leave. These psych meds made me tired as hell, and when the doctors screw with the dosages, I felt like a zombie. However, if I was in bed all day, the nurse with the clipboard writes it down and I'd be stuck--I wouldn't be participating.

Group Therapty talks A LOT about mindfulness without giving really concrete examples. Participating in groups is IMPORTANT to your release, even if you don't see the value of them.

The food is better than I thought it would be, but with a lack of caffeine, I needed to get three hot chocolate packets just to get a jolt.

After 24 hours, I was allowed to have my own clothes with a few exceptions.

Strings are not allowed. My father ruined my favorite sweats trying to remove the string before bringing them to me.

NEVER get your period during a stay in the psych ward. I had no idea how to use the pads they gave me, I ripped three of them, and I couldn't use Tampons because they contain a string.

I saw my psychiatrist every other day, for five minutes, sometimes when she was walking to another meeting.

My psychiatrist was hot so that made talking to her a little easier, but also made me more self-conscious when she woke me up to discuss my progress.

My nurse was my lifesaver and NEVER confused me with other patients as my psychiatrist often did.

My nurses always made me smile

I had to keep checking medication updates, the doctors got my dosages and times wrong the first night.

They took my blood a million times a day and woke me up to do so.

The fire alarm sounds like two metal pipes being beaten together.

The shower has two settings--Antartica and Hell, and two forces--None and Niagra Falls.

The selection of books is VERY limited, and to get one is akin to buying a gun in New Jersey or New York.

No INTERNET! 😱😱😱

My true friends called every day (even if I couldn't call back), or facebook messaged (even if I couldn't see it while I was there), or emailed me (even though I couldn't see it). They also passed on messages to other friends or family who they knew have a better chance at speaking with me.

My friends who have become family picked up the phone at 9:30 PM from an unknown number and talked to me as I cried for literally no reason. They also talked me off a few manic ledges before I even got to the hospital. And gave me a good mantra to live by.

My family was ready to pick me up, even driving from South Jersey a million times in one week, and got me a cake when I got home.

General Observations: 
Psych wards are great places to help you get your head on straight, to adjust medication, and to keep you safe. I wish there was less stigma about these places. Both hospitals I stayed at had amazing staff, great doctors and I felt so much better leaving them. They are not like One Flew Over the Cookoo's Nest or like Hollywood often portrays them.

If you feel like you are in danger of hurting yourself or others, please call: The National Suicide Hotline: Call 1-800-273-8255 or go to the ER. 

Psych hospitals are there to save you. Don't be afraid to go. There's nothing wrong with admitting you need help "for right now." Things will get better, and you will be helped. You're stronger than you think you are, and getting help only solidifies that. 

What the heck is Bipolar 1, ADHD and a Sensory Processing Disorder?!-Sensory Processing Disorder

Sensory Processing Disorder. This a very new diagnosis for me, I literally just got it "officially" in the hospital a few weeks ago, so I honestly had to go on google and look it up. Apparently, it's having trouble with receiving and responding to sensory input. Like through my 5 senses. I have been classified as "Sensory Seeker."

Again, this is a thing where I am in constant motion and don't realize it (pretty accurate about me). My body is always looking for stimulation.  I have a stim where I like to chew on things (that's part of it, I get input from chewing--so I have chewlery--Ark Therapeutic-is the best chewlery website I've found. I LOVE their products).

I have trouble sleeping (accurate), I like crunchy things (accurate), I love to run and spin (accurate), I crave visual stimulation (accurate, I'm always attached to my phone, laptop, Kindle-named Harold, he'll be mentioned--or other devices). I constantly fidget (accurate, it drives people CRAZY), and I have a hard time monitoring my voice volume (accurate. One of my best friends today said: "Kel you're loud. I heard you in the bathroom." Whoops!)

Apparently, my new therapist wants to work on treating this disorder because she thinks that it will help treat my OTHER disorders too. I'll let you know how that goes!

What the heck is Bipolar 1, ADHD and a Sensory Processing Disorder?!-ADHD

ADHD--Attention Deficit/ Hyper Activity Disorder.  That is a lot of words, and A LOT to unpack. I like think of myself as Sonic the Hedgehog for this one--constantly in motion, always moving, breaking apart when hitting an obstacle and losing all the stuff he's collected along the way.  People like to throw it around a lot-she's so ADHD, but it's not all fun and games.

See, for me, mania and ADHD are linked pretty closely. For me, ADHD presents itself as being in constant motion. I literally cannot sit still, and if I'm not HYPER-FOCUSED, I have a very hard time paying attention. I am terrible in meetings, for this reason. I cannot focus unless something catches my interest.

I am as DISORGANIZED as they come. And I mean a complete and total WRECK. I cannot, for the life of me, organize ANYTHING. I lose EVERYTHING. I put papers down, they go into what my students call the "black hole" because they never reappear. I do not know how to color code or set things up, or even clean properly (as my Step-Mom can attest to). No matter how hard I try, it NEVER works. I get write-ups by my principal for having a completely disorganized classroom, and no matter what I do, it never works.

I have a very low frustration threshold, and that leads to a lot of meltdowns. I get far too overwhelmed with things (tasks, organization, things that are too confusing or challenging) and I will have a meltdown like crazy. I will cry, and hit things, and throw things. I will yell and scream and fall to the floor. I will hyperventilate because my brain can literally NOT process or handle whatever it is I'm supposed to do.

I am also really IMPULSIVE and say things I really shouldn't say. I cannot help it, things just come out of my mouth. Or actions just happen. "Oh look! There's a hill, I'm going to roll down it." It makes no sense, I know this, but at the time it seems like a really good idea. Except, like with mania, there are consequences. Going to the casino and playing a $100 slot machine sounds like a good idea at the time, but really isn't.

What the heck is Bipolar 1, ADHD, and a Sensory Processing Disorder?-Depression

Depression--my Eeyore days. This one, I think, is a lot easier for people to understand, because it gets a lot more press than mania. This is a good thing because people need to be aware that mental health is real, these disorders are real, and stigma is a bad thing. (That's a soapbox for another post).

Depression is not a synonym for sad! I'll repeat that. No matter what your teacher or thesaurus says, depression is NOT a synonym for sad. It is waaay more than sad. Imagine there is a dark hole, with no light, no sound, no touch, no feelings except for hopelessness, sadness, and despair. And instead of reaching the bottom, you keep falling, and falling, and falling. There is no bottom--at least not as far as you can see.

POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNINGS BELOW-MENTION OF SUICIDE: 

I have intrusive thoughts like not wanting to be alive anymore, my thoughts can ramp up to suicidal ideation, go to suicidal plans, to a suicide attempt, and to a success (since I'm writing this, I have yet to have a suicide success--you only get one of those).

I literally have no energy to get up in the morning. Showering, brushing my teeth, feeding me and Moppet (my dog) is literally the most difficult thing in the world to do. Then I have to drive to work (because money really doesn't grow on trees), and teaching children while I'm depressed is NOT FUN OR EASY! I have no feelings about the content, so I have to bite on the lie and pretend I really care about the world around me. I don't. I honestly just want to die. 

And I see no way up out of the bleak, dark hole. It's endless--at least that's my perception in the moment.

What the heck is Bipolar 1, ADHD, and a Sensory Processing Disorder?! -Mania

This will be one of a few "technical posts" about what each of my disorders are, as far as I understand them, because even with living with them, they can still be a bit fuzzy. As Diana says in one of my favorite musicals, Next to Normal, psychiatry "isn't a very exact science, is it?" They do their best though.

So, let's start with Bipolar 1. It is NOT like they portray in the movies. People like us are not serial killers, murderers, psychos. I just wanted to get that out of the way first. It's a mood disorder characterized by extreme highs and lows (mania for highs and depression for lows). Another way to look at it is the way my dear friend, after she and her spouse saw the movie Christopher Robin,  summed it up: "Kel are you Eeyore or Tigger today?" I loved it so much that that's how I characterize my moods. Because this is so complicated, I'm breaking it into two posts: the Manic and the Depressed.

This is the post on Mania (My Tigger Days):

The manic highs can feel amazing--I have ALL THIS ENERGY, I don't need a lot of sleep, I can create things like crazy, I can start a million projects, I have ALL THE IDEAS and they are ALL BRILLIANT! I am social and witty and people tend to like me a lot more as Tigger than they do as regular old Kelley--at least that's my perception.

But, the mania has REALLY BAD sides too. I can go for up to a week with very little to no sleep (not good for your body). I get really nasty, I have a lower frustration threshold than normal, I talk all the time, nothing ever gets done because my thoughts race far too fast, and they get mixed up. I spend all my money and go broke--literally. I can sometimes hallucinate and see or hear things. (I once thought a dance floor was trying to eat me, no joke).  I also hyper-focus on one thing and cannot read, watch, talk about or learn about anything else.
And when the mania is over,  and I finally come crashing down from my high mood, I have a cluster fuck of a mess to clean up with finances, people, and myself.

Welcome to Comically, Tragically, Bipolar Me!

Hey there! Thanks for stopping by to take a look at my blog. My name is Kelley Blessing and I'm a 32-year-old female living with Bipolar Disorder 1, ADHD and a Sensory Processing Disorder.

Before you delve in deeply, here's what this blog IS NOT. It is not:
-A place to get medical advice
-A place to find great self-help tips (I'm trying to survive)
-A place to consult doctors or nurses
-A place to get counseling or therapy
-A place to find serious articles and scholarly writing like in the DSM V.

Here's what this blog IS:
-A place to look into my life as a 32-year-old teacher, writer, and theatre person living with Bipolar 1, ADHD and a Sensory Processing Disorder
-A place where the seriousness of the illnesses are met, where it can be, with comedy and the absurd
-A place to see fragments of my life that I find funny as it pertains to my diagnoses
-A place to find what tips and survival methods work for me
-A place to read the "raw" and emotional stuff that many people are afraid to put out into the world
-A place to read of my failures and triumphs and my struggle with being in and loving how things are "for right now."

Here is what I Will DO:
-I will post TRIGGER WARNINGS on every entry that could be a trigger for some people
-I will post the important phone numbers on those pages as well.

Thanks for reading and welcome to the inner workings of my mind. 😜