Bipolar is Not a Conviction, but Sometimes it Sure as Hell Feels Like it

Or How being on Twitter may have ruined my relationship.  Forever.

This was my Twitter stream on Friday.

The girls were at their dad’s this weekend, and because of a manic episode that exploded all over Twitter, I was sitting at home alone instead of at Brian’s house with him this weekend, reading blog posts drinking coffee. I was catching up on some posts I hadn’t read in a while, when I came across a sentence written by Pamela at 2 Much Testosterone.

Mental illness is a life long conviction.

Maybe it’s just me, and my recent County Jail Tour of 2012, but “conviction” sounds so, well, final.

There are those out there who see mental illness as a death sentence. Not just those who have been diagnosed with a mental illness, but also their family, their ‘friends’, their loved ones.  Mental illness is as hard for us (the mentally ill) to understand and live with as it is for those who love and live with us.  Maybe harder.

I was diagnosed with bipolar II, rapid cycling, mixed episodes in May 2007.  (basically I’m the Lindsay Lohan of bipolar disorder) For a while, I used it as an excuse for bad behavior, poor choices, bad decisions.  I refused to take any kind of responsibility for my life because I was bipolar I couldn’t help it.

Mental illness isn’t a conviction.  Conviction implies guilt of wrong doing, which implies choice.  There is no guilt or wrong doing in having a mental illness. It implies I’ve done something wrong, and now I will pay for it the rest of my life with this mental illness.

Except that mental illness isn’t a choice, and isn’t a result of bad choices or bad behavior. Mental Illness, bipolar specifically, is a disorder.

Disorder: to disturb the order of, to disturb the regular or normal function of.

To disturb the regular or normal function of.  Our brains, the chemicals, the neurons, are disordered. They don’t function properly.  Our illness in not our fault.

What we do about it, how we chose to live with it, that is.

I have been told by several of my doctors along my path of treatment, that I am a hyper aware bipolar.  I am fairly aware of my mood swings, and know when to get help.  I am also aware of triggers.  I am usually really proactive in my treatment.  But there’s that part of my diagnosis, that rapid cycling part, that says every once in a while things get away from me and I swing really far off the goofy crap-o-meter too fast for me to be aware and take steps to prevent it, control it, or minimize the fall out from it.

That happened this week.

I had back to back court dates on the 9th and 14th. While I was pretty sure I knew what to expect, court dates are still very stressful.  I had asked Brian for some things that I didn’t think were a very big deal, but I put a lot of expectations on them.  I apparently didn’t convey my wants to him clearly and the day didn’t go they way I had wanted or envisioned. That disappointment was huge to me, even though to him, or probably anyone else, it would have been minor.  Meredith has had two a day cheer practices this past week, and one a day cheer practices the week before, so that meant getting up early (and getting her up earlier than her summer routine) and driving her to cheer practice every morning, cutting into my daily routine,which throws me off too.  The girls are going to back to school, so there was the whole school supplies, schedules, decorate lockers, meet the teachers, get physicals, run around that also cut into my routine. There was also the bills.  The catching up on rent that I couldn’t pay while I was in jail, the usual water, electricity, the court fines, the limited income that just isn’t stretching as far as it should. And to add insult to injury, I had expectations of Brian this week that just weren’t getting met, or at least I didn’t think they were, and I was feeling shut out of his life.

A whole lot of stress, a whole lot of upheaval of my routine, a whole lot of demands being made of me, and a whole lot of expectations being made by me that I felt were going largely ignored.  Sounds like a whole hell of a lot of triggers to me.  And oh my god were they.  Every day it grew, every demand, every expectation, every need, every want, every outstretched hand needing, wanting, demanding, expecting something.  Innocent things said or done took on a look of guilt, and proof.  Everything said to me by anyone, or by me to anyone was wrong, oh so very wrong.  I felt like I was yelling into a vacuum when I asked for what I needed from everyone.  I was disappointing everyone around me, I wasn’t doing enough, I wasn’t being enough, I was asking too much. I felt shut out, pushed away, I felt so god damned all alone when I needed someone the most.  I wasn’t being heard, and I was spiraling. Both into a mass depression, and clear out of control on a manic rocket that I could no longer control.

I tried, oh dear god I fucking tried to control it all, and keep it all normal on the surface.  I fought hard to ignore all the dangerous comforts I could have reached for to quiet the war raging in my head.  I ignored the alcohol hidden deep behind everything under my kitchen sink.  I ignored the pain pills the doctor gave me for the tendons in my hand.  I ignored and walked away from every other coping mechanism I had ever turned to before.  I fought so very hard.

And it wasn’t hard enough.

I saw something on line, something that I’m sure was innocent, but added to other things from the past two weeks, didn’t look innocent to me.  And I went to Twitter to vent and rage and say all the things I was feeling, and thinking, and doubting.  I didn’t really believe half of what I tweeted, but god I was so mad, and so scared, and hurt, and frustrated from asking, begging, yelling, for what I needed from everyone around me and not being heard.  The manic/depression that I was fighting so hard to keep from everyone around me got away from me.

And they found out.

And it hurt them. And they don’t understand.  And they’re pissed.  Mainly Brian. Even though he wasn’t the source of all this anger and hurt and frustration, he ended up being the target. I said some awful things, no matter that I was only putting voice to my own hurt and frustration, it hurt him.  And I can’t go to him and say I didn’t mean it, it was my disorder.  It sounds like a cop out.  It sounds like I’m refusing to take responsibility for my own actions.  “I just needed a place to vent”  “I just needed to blow off steam”  “I just wanted to be heard”

It hurt him.

And I may have lost him.

Because lets face it, I’ve put him through a lot this year. And this was just one more thing on an already too long list of things this stupid fucking disorder has put him through and I’ve expected him to live with.

No, I can not wholly blame my bipolar disorder for the fucked up mess my life is, but I can’t discount it, or discredit it altogether either.

Maybe when he has time to cool off, maybe when the mad and hurt ease a little, maybe in a few days he’ll hear the repeated I’m sorry and I love you’s.  But probably not.  And that’s the price I have to pay.  I can’t blame him for walking away, hell I would run away from this disorder if I could.  He has the choice, he has that freedom.  I don’t.  You can expect a person to love you through hurt and pain and storms for so long, and I think this time, he’s reached his limit.

“I’m sorry” won’t be enough.  Maybe “I’m leaving” will be.

#We’ve Tried To

Yesterday on Twitter, in a lame attempt to find something to blog about, I came across the trending topic #We’veTriedTo. You know, stupid things everyone has tried, but won’t really admit out loud….

#We’veTriedTo spell Quadaffi Gadaffi you know that dead dude in Libya.

#We’veTriedTo close the refrigerator door slow enough we could see exactly when the light goes out.

#We’veTriedTo give Lindsay Lohan the benefit of the doubt, but now it’s just grab some popcorn and a seat and watch the train wreck.

#We’veTriedTo explain to our daughters who Punky Brewster is, and why their trend of wearing mis-matched socks isn’t exactly revolutionary.

#We’veTriedTo figure out why our +Klout score is important, and then figure out a way to increase ours short of retweeting our own tweets. (Best way to lose followers)

#We’veTriedTo understand the appeal of The Three Stooges, UFC, and Bud Light with Lime.

#We’veTriedTo explain to our daughters that high school drama is not life or death, when the same shit is happening on the internet day in and day out.

#We’veTriedTo understand what’s the point of a single glass of wine

#We’veTriedTo stretch a dollar further than even we thought possible

#We’veTriedTo explain economics and why we can’t just print more money to a 12  year old. And #We’veGivenUp.

#We’veTriedTo understand what Occupy Wall Street is all about, and what it is exactly they want to change.

#We’veTriedTo guess what kind of deal each of George Clooney’s “girlfriends” get because clearly marriage is never going to be an option.

#We’veTriedTo wish Ashton and Demi good luck and hope their marriage works when in reality we’re all sort of hoping she would just get the eff out of the way.

#We’veTriedTo have that die hard Cardinal faith that we’ll win this series in 7, when deep inside we’re all like Really boys, taking it to 7 games for effect and suspense right?

#We’veTriedTo get through school pick up lines without wishing we could stab someone in the head

#We’veTriedTo understand how some people make it through life day after day without killing themselves or someone else on accident

#We’’veTriedTo take up running as a form of exercise, but gave up when it got cold. (Fat is insulation, yo)

#We’veTriedTo ask the 12 and 14 year old daughters if they are going trick or treating this year.

#We’veAlsoTriedTo decide if 12 and 14 aren’t just a bit too old to trick or treat.

#We’veTriedAsALastDitchEffortTo convince said 12 and 14 year old daughters that I would just buy them a bag of mixed candy if it meant we didn’t have to do costumes and I didn’t have to drive them to a decent neighborhood that gives out great candy (and adult beverages to the adults).

#We’ve Tried To

Yesterday on Twitter, in a lame attempt to find something to blog about, I came across the trending topic #We’veTriedTo. You know, stupid things everyone has tried, but won’t really admit out loud….

#We’veTriedTo spell Quadaffi Gadaffi you know that dead dude in Libya.

#We’veTriedTo close the refrigerator door slow enough we could see exactly when the light goes out.

#We’veTriedTo give Lindsay Lohan the benefit of the doubt, but now it’s just grab some popcorn and a seat and watch the train wreck.

#We’veTriedTo explain to our daughters who Punky Brewster is, and why their trend of wearing mis-matched socks isn’t exactly revolutionary.

#We’veTriedTo figure out why our +Klout score is important, and then figure out a way to increase ours short of retweeting our own tweets. (Best way to lose followers)

#We’veTriedTo understand the appeal of The Three Stooges, UFC, and Bud Light with Lime.

#We’veTriedTo explain to our daughters that high school drama is not life or death, when the same shit is happening on the internet day in and day out.

#We’veTriedTo understand what’s the point of a single glass of wine

#We’veTriedTo stretch a dollar further than even we thought possible

#We’veTriedTo explain economics and why we can’t just print more money to a 12  year old. And #We’veGivenUp.

#We’veTriedTo understand what Occupy Wall Street is all about, and what it is exactly they want to change.

#We’veTriedTo guess what kind of deal each of George Clooney’s “girlfriends” get because clearly marriage is never going to be an option.

#We’veTriedTo wish Ashton and Demi good luck and hope their marriage works when in reality we’re all sort of hoping she would just get the eff out of the way.

#We’veTriedTo have that die hard Cardinal faith that we’ll win this series in 7, when deep inside we’re all like Really boys, taking it to 7 games for effect and suspense right?

#We’veTriedTo get through school pick up lines without wishing we could stab someone in the head

#We’veTriedTo understand how some people make it through life day after day without killing themselves or someone else on accident

#We’’veTriedTo take up running as a form of exercise, but gave up when it got cold. (Fat is insulation, yo)

#We’veTriedTo ask the 12 and 14 year old daughters if they are going trick or treating this year.

#We’veAlsoTriedTo decide if 12 and 14 aren’t just a bit too old to trick or treat.

#We’veTriedAsALastDitchEffortTo convince said 12 and 14 year old daughters that I would just buy them a bag of mixed candy if it meant we didn’t have to do costumes and I didn’t have to drive them to a decent neighborhood that gives out great candy (and adult beverages to the adults).