A Chronically Discontent Manic Depressive

I was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder in late 1994 and I’ve had 22 some years to study and learn about this illness. I’ve learned a lot. I read books and magazines all the time and I search the internet. I’ve learned how to dance with this disorder pretty well, especially since last year when I was put on a new mix of medications. I’m doing much better. In fact I feel pretty stable for the first time since my diagnosis. It’s still hard, but at least I have a clue as to what’s possibly coming down the line towards me. My brain is different than it used to be and it’s taken some getting used to, but I’m getting there.

Last year I was also given the diagnoses of PTSD and Dysthymia. I’ve been studying about how these disorders affect me since then, and again I’ve learned a lot. But it’s still new, and I don’t know as much as I need to. I recently read a book called “The Half Empty Heart”, by Alan Downs, PhD. It’s all about Dysthymia, or what he calls Chronic Discontent, and man I can relate all too well to this description. It’s also called low grade depression because it’s always there and never really goes away. You’re in a low state of depression basically all the time. It cycles some but mostly it’s just there, underlying all your actions and thoughts. I read this book a few years ago and it intrigued me, but I didn’t have the diagnosis yet so I just thought about the subject and how it affected me. But since I’ve been diagnosed with it and know more I can see that it’s affected me my whole life. I’ve learned a lot more reading it this time.

One of the main things that people with Chronic discontent deal with is a tendency to emotionally and physically withdraw from stressful or difficult situations. It’s a hallmark of the syndrome in fact. And it’s one of the hardest symptoms to handle. There are exercises in the book that are intended to help you overcome this, but I haven’t gotten too far in that. But I have read enough to know that withdrawal has been a constant theme in my life, since I was a young child in fact, right up to today. When things get too hard for me, instead of trying to work it out I often tend to just disappear and run away from the hard stuff. I can’t tell you how many people and situations I’ve abandoned in my life. Dozens at the least. I’m not happy about this, in fact I’m totally ashamed of myself. That’s a big part of the symptomology too. Experiencing shame is the way we live our lives, based on perspectives we developed when we were very young. We just don’t feel like we’re OK as human beings deep inside of ourselves.

A shame based life is filled with regret and unfulfilled promise. We respond to life as tho we feel we aren’t as good as the people we interact with, and so we self-sabotage many of our relationships. We often are left with no one to call friends any more. That’s my situation. I’ve left so many people that there are just a few left. As I get older this is a big problem. And I don’t have a clue how to overcome it. It’s buried so deep in my pysche and I’m so terrified of changing it that it informs most of my decisions. It might as well be who I am. But it’s not. I still refuse to be defined by my diagnoses, but it’s hard not to be. I’ve always been ashamed of who I am, despite all the good things I’ve done in my life. It’s like they don’t matter and all I can see are my failures and abandonments. This has been true for as long as I can remember, even as a small child. In fact that’s where it started I’m sure.

I don’t mean to blame anyone for this, but it seems clear to me that this began in my childhood, and of course that means that my parents were at the root of the situation. I had wonderful parents and they loved me so much. They were happy to have me, but I was so sickly that they severely overprotected me and I grew up believing that I was too much an invalid to do too many things. This despite the fact that they also told me I could succeed at anything I tried, and I so often did. But the shame I developed over that time lives on today. Back then it was an undefined feeling that I was inferior to other people. I still feel that way. I know that both my parents suffered from low self esteem and I’m sure that it translated into my psyche at a young age. How could it not? Again I don’t blame them. They were just living their lives the best they could after all. But I never talked to them about this before they both died. Now I can’t ever deal with it with them and it’s up to me to overcome it alone. It hurts my heart because I love them so much and yet they left me with such a painful legacy.

The title of this book – the Half Empty Heart – is very powerful to me. It’s a hard thing to face but it’s the way it seems to be. We tend to look at life as a glass half empty instead of half full. And in that we fail to take care of our hearts. It’s very painful when the reckoning comes around and you see all that you’ve lost thru your lack of action, or actions you’ve taken to escape. It seems like every time I begin to have a good life and accomplish something, I sabotage it somehow and end up with nothing left. This is a common experience for people with chronic discontent. We stop ourselves before we’ve even given ourselves a chance to succeed. I’ve so often declined to even begin something because I was sure it was doomed to failure. It’s not that I lack courage. I just don’t have the faith in myself.

But here’s where the mix of diagnoses comes into play. Having Bipolar disorder means that you may cycle constantly and can be up or down depending on your current mood. When you’re “Up” you feel on top of the world and I think that because I’ve lived so much of my life in hypo/mania – the good stuff feelings – that it overcame a lot of my chronic discontent and allowed me to do more than I might have otherwise done. I couldn’t help but feel good about myself, even if it was based in mania and not reality, it still felt good and I believed it was real, so it was. In a strange way I feel lucky to have both of these illnesses together. I think that life would have been much worse for me if I’d just been chronically discontent, or just manic. I probably wouldn’t be here by now I suspect. I think that having those up times of bipolar mania allowed me to distance myself from the bad feelings and I had the courage to do all kinds of outrageous things that nurtured me and kept me happy despite the low grade depression I still felt deep inside. It was a strange mix, and it still is.

The other side of it is that the dysthymia often kept me from displaying florid manias to other people because I was too ashamed to “act out” and embarrass myself. I so often hid my horrible feelings of distress deep inside so that no one could tell that I was experiencing such difficult emotions. In some way I feel that this saved me a lot of heart ache because I never got “caught out” with my Bipolar until I was old enough to make better sense of it than I would have in my younger days. If I’d been diagnosed with it in my teens, as most people with BP are, I would never have accomplished half of what I did do. So the two diagnoses have worked in tandem to help form my life as it is now. Not great perhaps, but I’m not in a hospital (tho I have been) and I’m not dead (tho I’ve tried to be). But I haven’t been that successful in my life either. Depends on how you gauge it. I’ve done good things but I never made much money, and that’s how we judge success in our culture. So I feel like a failure even while I revel in my good works. It’s a weird way to live I guess but it’s what I know and have done. And I suspect there are others who have similar experiences.

I hope I don’t seem to be complaining about any of this. I assure you I’m not. I get it that I’m the one responsible for my actions and ways of being in the world. I’m not making excuses. I’m the one who bailed on my friends and communities in my chronic discontent, and I’m the one who was manic and did great things while I was too. I find it fascinating to try to embrace these two different illnesses. And I haven’t even touched on the PTSD. I could write a whole post just on that. All these diagnoses work together for me, sometimes in helpful ways, as I’ve described, sometimes in terrible ways too. I’m still working on the challenges of having these disorders and sometimes I think I’m even making progress. I hope I am anyway. Life is too hard for me too often, but it’s also so beautiful. I’m a lucky guy actually. I have a wonderful man who loves me to death and I have a home and good food to eat, and so much more. I even have good health, despite these disorders. So take all this as a discussion of how one can manage to live with these challenges and how I personally have dealt with them. At least it makes some sense to me…

If any of this resonates for you too – there is help. Go find it!

Steve

Advertisements

Cycling While Stable

I wrote a blog post last November on my 67th birthday about how I thought I was doing much better since I’ve been on a mood stabilzer that actually works. It’s been about a year now that I’ve felt this relative stability, but lately I’ve been looking back at my behavior over the last few months and I realize that I’ve actually been cycling thru hypomania and depression quite a bit more than I realized at the time. Impulsivity is the biggest and most problematic issue for me. But obsessive thinking is a close second. The two go together for me too often and I make a fool of myself in situations where I should know better.

Over spending is another one that’s gotten me lately. Impulsive again, and obsessive. These are all symptoms of Bipolar illness and apparently I’ve been experiencing them frequently. I didn’t really see what I was doing at the time but at some point I realized it and I stopped it, or tried to. But I still act too impulsively and without proper forethought. It drives me crazy and embarrasses the hell out of me. I say things or write things in emails that are out of line with my sense of self, and I portray myself in ways I’d rather not. I can’t seem to stop blurting things out that make me look and feel stupid, both in print and in interactions in real life. I attribute this mostly to the hypomania but I see there’s a clear element of depression in there too.

I guess I’m in a mild mixed state, where I experience both the highs and the lows that are the hallmarks of manic depression. I go there when I see the effects of my hypomania and it upsets me, so I get depressed. Then I feel better and act out stupidly again. Then I get depressed. Then…. You get it… It’s a vicious cycle. I have a diagnosis of Dysthymia as well as Bipolar type 1 and PTSD. Dysthymia is a constant state of low grade depression, and I can see that it’s an appropriate diagnosis for me because I feel a bit “down” almost all of the time. I’m not really sick but I’m sad and feeling the loss of the vitality that the hypomania brings.

I’m a bit disconcerted by all this. It makes me realize once again that I’ll always cycle thru these emotions, maybe more easily at times than others, but they’ll always be there, up and down, again and again, even when I’m “stable”. It sometimes feels like a bleak future for me, but I refuse to accept that it’s going to define my life as I get older. At times it feels like I don’t have enough time left to get it right, but then I see that I really have all the time I need and I can do it if I just keep trying. I’m still pretty young after all, and people do amazing things in their 60’s and 70’s and well beyond that.

I have a lifetime of experience that tells me that, tho I’ll still cycle much of the time, I’ll also have relatively calm periods when I just feel OK. During these times I can assess my actions and behaviors and make decisions to act less impulsively and obsessively. I can learn to think things thru more thoroughly before I act or speak. Seeing these aspects of my personality lately has given me an impetus to renew my commitment to taking better care of myself, more consciously. I already think of myself as a conscious person, but obviously I don’t always live up to these expectations of myself.

I’m continually learning to cut myself some slack for my failures. It’s a big part of healing for me. I still hate myself for the slightest misstep, and beat myself up mercilessly. Suicidal ideation is not that far away at times, tho thankfully it’s not the problem it used to be. It’s a hard thing to experience as frequently as I have in the past. It’s too often been the default setting for my negative emotions when I screw up and it’s very hard to uproot it from my consciousness. Now I’ll still feel bad about myself, but usually not so much that I want to die.

In fact I want to live, and live well. So I’ll keep trying to moderate my moods and be more aware of them as they cycle back and forth thru my consciousness. It can be a blurry line between accepting responsibility for my actions and recognizing that the manic depression has “pushed’ me in certain directions that are not in my best interests. I think I’m getting better at seeing these differences all the time. After all I just caught myself for the ways I’ve been blowing it recently. This gives me hope that I can actually keep doing it. All I have to do is stay aware of my thinking, and treat myself with gentle loving care, the way I try to treat other people. It’ll be a big challenge, but I think I can do it.

Cycling consciously,

Steve

Hypersexuality

This started out as a comment I made on the BP Hope website for an article about Hypersexuality. I liked what I’d written so much I thought I’d expand it and turn it into a post for Naked Nerves. It’s the kind of exploration I want to present in these pages. It’s an honest discussion of certain aspects of sexuality, so be prepared for some frank language about sex, tho nothing too outrageous given our current cultural standards.

First I think we need a bit of an introduction to the subject here. Not many people realize what hypersexuality is, so we’ll start there. Simply put, it’s a strongly heightened desire for sex, all kinds of sex, without concern for the consequences. It’s an overwhelming drive, thirst and urge for sexual experience, and it’s almost impossible to resist it. It’s a significant part of having Bipolar Disorder, which is why the discussion in BP Hope was written. People in general don’t talk about it much, and even folks with BP don’t often do it with our Psychiatrists and therapists, but we do amongst oursleves. People who have BP are usually willing, tho maybe uncomfortable, to be open and honest about it, but it seems to embarass the professionals, as most talk of sex does in our puritanical culture. It can be great fun to feel so incredibly sexual, but more often it can ruin lives and cause scandals and infidelities, failed marriages and relationships, and broken hearts all around, to say the least.

Hypersexuality can be at the heart of it all. People may screw around too much and with people they shouldn’t be with. Office/work romances, casual hook-ups with strangers, sex with people they previously thought of only as friends – which may destroy the friendship – every sort of sexual expression people can have with each other can be affected. It’s an almost impossible urge to ignore, it’s very persistent and it can totally overwhelm your good judgement with its intensity. You just Have to go have sex! Lots of it! All the time! Consequences don’t count. It doesn’t matter at the moment if it’s risky or may hurt someone else – that’s the farthest thing from your mind. All that counts is the urge to fuck, and to fuck a lot.

I’m not trying to write a treatise here, but more of a story about my own expriences with it. I suspect many of you with Bipolar will recognize yourselves in my stories. I hope you do, and that there are some useful insights to gain from what I have to say, whether you’re Bipolar or not. It affects other people too of course, not just folks with BP. Sometimes people call it sex addiction, but that’s not quite the same. It’s more of a sexual compulsion. It’s most common in people with BP while in a manic state, but it doesn’t have to be full blown mania. It can just be a very strong “push” you feel to be sexual at any time, and I do mean any time. Here’s what that’s been like for me:

I’m a 67 year old gay man and I’ve been hypersexual for as long as I can remember, even back in my childhood. I first started playing with myself sexually around age 4 or 5, maybe younger. I recall being on the couch with my mom around then and stroking myself and her getting upset, saying it was wrong and dirty. Great first lesson in sex, eh? But I kept it up, sometimes doing it so much I caused my dick to bleed. I was obsessed. I had my first orgasm in the shower at age 8. I had no idea what had happened but it felt so incredibly good. I told my friends at school about it and said it felt like going to the bathroom all over! They thought I was weird. Little did they know!!

I had my first real sex with a cousin my age at 11, with our parents in the living room and us in the bedroom. Even then I recognized the thrill and the danger of getting caught, but I didn’t care because it felt so good. We sucked each other and I came in his mouth – he didn’t and was very confused. But I reveled in the sensations. Wow!!! I guess I was mean, only into my own satisfaction, not that that excuses it. But I was just a horny kid and I wanted it so much I just didn’t care. As time went on I became involved in a compulsive sexual “relationship” with a boy my age for about 8 or 9 years thru my teens. I got all the sex I wanted, and I wanted a lot. We did it all the time. Then I read in the encyclopedia that sodomy and fellatio were “bad” and that scared me, but it didn’t stop me, so it was always a closely guarded, guilty secret. I finally lost my heterosexual virginity to a woman at age 19 and thru my 20’s was serially monogamous with several women. I had lots of sex, sometimes with men too, and I masturbated a lot as well. I was always horny. I’d have sex with anyone who’d want me, male or female.

That got more extreme when I came out at 29 and into the gay scene in the late 70’s/early 80’s. I had lots of sex, both with boyfriends and cruising in the parks and bathrooms – highly risky, but who cared? Not me. Sex parties, groups, orgies, running naked thru the parks – I loved it all, and eventually figured out I’d had anonymous sex with hundreds of other guys over the years. I just thought it was a part of gay life and since everyone else was doing it too it didn’t seem abnormal. It was just a part of our lives – it was no big deal. Of course at first this was in the early days of AIDS, so I didn’t let anyone fuck me without a condom after 1984, until I met my life-partner. Tho very hypersexual, I was aware enough to be safe. Not everyone is so smart, or lucky. Even now at this “advanced” age I’m still horny all the time, sometimes even more so when depressed, and watching porn and masturbating and fucking as much as I can. I’m also a Scorpio, the sign that governs the genitals, and some would say that has a lot to do with how I am, but who knows for sure? I just know who and what I am now, and I believe being Bipolar has always been the most of it, even when I was a kid, given other behaviors I exhibited back then.

I’d always been depressed a lot in my life but I really “lived” in hypomania, with a few real manic experiences as well, but I didn’t know what it all meant. I was terrified of Psychiatry and I certainly didn’t know I was Bipolar. Even when I tried suicide at age 29 they said it was “just” depression. A familiar story for many of us, I know. Then at age 44 I crashed and burned really bad and was finally diagnosed with BPII, rapid cycling, mixed states. Later that was changed to BipolarI and PTSD, where it stands now. I had a few hospitalizations along the way, and after the last one I was so hyped up and so sexual I felt like it radiated it out my eyes. Walking down the street I was cruising everyone I met, and they cruised me back. I was so high on sex it almost hurt. That night I called a friend and asked him to come fuck me silly. He did. I couldn’t help myself. Not what the doctors had in mind when they released me I’m sure!

When I first explored Bipolar and read about hypersexuality I thought “this is me!” It fit me so well. I was so turned on so much of the time and masturbated so frequently, often many times a day if I could. I went for 20 years without a partner but I still “cruised” for sex a lot, even tho it was way risky, but I never got caught. I felt so invincible you see – grandiosity to the max! I felt “pushed” to spend hours seeking sexual encounters – always have felt that push, still do. Hypo/Mania anyone?? But I began to wonder if it was really OK to do it so much. I worried about myself and wondered if I’d ever find a real partner who was like I was. I wasn’t very stable at all with the BP during those 20 some years and tried tons of meds to try to get OK. It was a long, hard slog and most of the meds made me sick or crazy, and they didn’t work. Then things changed.

When I was 57 I met a man who was also my age who I fell deeply in love with. We met online on Gay.com and gradully got to know one another thru emails. Then when we finally met we were naked and in bed together in 5 minutes, I kid you not! I’d finally found my mate!! Nowadays we have sex a lot, and occasionally invite a third guy in to share our magic with us. We’re both highly sexed, but he’s not BP at all. Very stable in fact, and I wouldn’t call him hypersexual. He’s just into sex a lot, but appropriately, unlike some of my experiences. And for the last year I’ve finally found a good mix of meds and I’m pretty stable with my Bipolar Disorder too, mostly, with an episode here and there, now and then. And I’m still hypersexual.

I still jerk off a lot, as does he, and it doesn’t interfere with our sex lives at all. I like to watch porn sometimes too – it’s fun and it gets me off. I still have manic rushes of hypersexuality, much of the time in fact. I’m so used to it I mostly just revel in it, but sometimes my cock takes over my mind and I get way too sexual, obsessing about it all the time. I get caught up far too much in the search for more sex, even tho my partner and I have a great sex life. But the yearning is just a difficult thing for me sometimes, not a danger to myself or anyone else, like it has been in the past. I’m still HIV negative, and I intend to stay that way. We play safe.

I’m know I’m one of the lucky ones – I never really ruined my life with my sexual escapades, though I know I’ve hurt people, which I deeply regret. Mostly it’s been a fun journey which I’d never want to change. I’m more careful now, and have been for many years, since I was diagnosed and began the search to understand my condition. I still cycle thru depression and mania, and I often struggle with hypersexuality, but I’m pretty much OK with it all. That’s good enough for me…

I realize I’ve never really told this whole story to anyone. It feels good to talk about it so openly. Hope I didn’t freak anyone out too much. And remember – this is about my experiences – your mileage may vary… Thanks for reading.

Too Sexy Steve

I Think I’m Doing OK Now…

But I’m not totally convinced.  I seem to be on a much more level plane then I’ve been on for the last 20 some years, if not my whole life, I’m not sure.  My past before being diagnosed with Bipolar 23 years ago last week was so different.  (see “I Was A Different Person Then”).  I won’t go into all that because I did so already.  But things are different now, again, in a new way.  Earlier this year I was put on Lamictal  (Lamotrigine), a mood stabilizer, in addition to Abilify (Aripiprazole), Wellbutrin (Bupropion), Buspar  (Buspirone) and Klonopin (Clonazapam).  For the first time ever, a medication has actually changed my life.  I still spend some time in depression, but it’s mostly not that bad and I can usually overcome it with CBT  and smart thinking and action.  And I’m not too high either, tho I did try to get off 13 years of Abilify a few months ago (it makes me shake terribly and I hate it) and I had a really bad reaction, so bad I thought I was going to lose it completely.  It was the closest to real mania I’ve come in years.  So I went back on the drug and I’ve been OK since then.  (I had my Psychiatrist’s permission and support to quit, BTW).

I remember telling my counselor at the time that I was struggling with this new reality, because I didn’t know who I was anymore if I wasn’t depressed all the time.  I still feel that way, and it’s actually pushed me back into depression several times since then.  Weird.  You’d think I’d be totally at peace with this and be happy for myself.  But it’s not that easy to change a lifetime of such inbred patterns of thinking and behaving.  I Was depression in the past and it was my total life.  It was hard on me, and on the people I loved around me.  I could stop it occasionally, but not totally, and I suffered with it a lot.  It was my daily reality and it informed all my decisions and actions way too much.  I was scared all the time and afraid of being caught out as a loser.  Too much fear is paralyzing and I was often paralyzed.  I still am to some extent but not nearly so much.  I am better now.

I’m gradually learning to accept and revel in the “new” me.  I just had a counseling session with my new counselor and he asked me to do a narrative of my life – positive and negative.  I found myself listing tons of positive things about my life, but not that many negative ones.   A total surprise to me.  In the past it would have been much more tilted the other way towards extreme negativity.  When I’m depressed it’s all I can see, and it’s the same way with being OK I guess.  I Am my emotions way too much and if I’m doing well I think l’ve always done well, despite the memories of the failures and awfulness of depression. When I’m depressed it’s the opposite and it’s all I can see and feel.

Staying balanced is a real struggle for me even now.  But I can do it most of the time.  I’m amazed, but still frightened by the new me.  I still don’t know how to interact or be with people very well.  I still fall back into the old patterns of depression if I don’t keep up my guard all the time.  But I have real support in my partner Louie, and with my friends, my counselor and psychiatrist and other health care folks.  So I think maybe I can do this.  I sure do hope so, tho hope can be a trap too if you’re not careful.  Just ask a student of Buddhism.  Today is my 67th birthday and perhaps it’s the start of a new reality for me.  A truly new year of life.  I think it could be and I’m trying to believe so much that I can pull it off.  I have a lot of faith in myself these days, and it’s not based in my usual hypomania, but in reality for a change.  Plus I’m older and wiser now.  I understand myself, and life in general, much better.  Staying real and giving it time are my current mantras.  Maybe I really am doing OK now…  Time will tell.

peace,  Steve

Opiates!!!

thumb_IMG_7395_1024

I got home from the University of Washington Pain Management Clinic a little while ago. I’d been sent there by my new doctor who wanted a review of my condition so she could treat me appropriately. It was an interesting experience. We went thru the usual tests of range of motion, gait analysis, mobility of limbs, needle pricks to see if I felt the sharpness (I did) and so forth. Nothing new from this testing and no new information about what was going on with me. But I did gain some important new knowledge.

I learned that the brilliant legislators in Washington State have decreed that no one shall be allowed more than 120 mgs. of opiates a day. Period. No discussion, no rebuttal, no recourse. This is a bit of a problem for me, you see, because for the last dozen years or more I’ve  been taking close to 300 mgs of Morphine as well as 15-20mgs of Dilaudid (Hydromorphone) a day. Imagine my surprise when they told me this. I was not shocked, because I know what the climate of the country is like these days around opiates. I was expecting something, but nothing this extreme. I mean they wanted to cut me back over 1/2 of what I’ve been taking for Years! Fuck!!!

Part of me wants to go down to Olympia and break the legs of every (probably Republican) legislator who voted for this draconian measure and leave them in pain forever while they beg for some relief. After all, that’s what I’ll be doing pretty soon – begging for relief – as soon as they drop me down to the 120 mgs. I’m now allowed. Sigh. I have what’s called Chronic Intractable Pain, so called because it’s constant, severe, disabling, and causes detectable changes in your heart rate, blood pressure, etc, and if it’s not treated it ends in death. Yep, a fun diagnosis for sure. I’m lovin’ it myself… I can function, but I’m always in pain and if I do much of anything it spikes so that I have to take some dilaudid for breakthrough pain. It helps a lot but it doesn’t make it go away completely.

I’d changed docs from the one I’d been seeing for 13 years because he stopped prescribing opiates. He never asked me to pee in a cup during that whole time because he trusted me not to mess with my meds, and I never have. Why would I? It’s Stupid! But the new doc at the UW clinic requires me to do that so that they can see if I’m honest. I am, and soon they’ll learn that, if they can keep treating me that is. I dunno if they will or not. Most doctors won’t touch me with the proverbial 10 foot pole. I sure hope the UW helps me or else I’ll be so sick I’ll be in the hospital for withdrawal symptoms. I mean 300 mgs a day is a Lot of morphine, let alone the dilaudid.

I understand that people are freaked out by the rising epidemic of opiate deaths due to mis-used pain medication. I feel badly about this. After all, addiction is a disease, and maybe they can’t help themselves. But a part of me is furious at them and at the politicians who seek to make headlines with new laws to keep people like me from getting the medicine they need to live a good life. Before I got the opiates I was a mess – I fit the portrait of Chronic Intractable Pain I described above. I spent a lot of time resting and I didn’t do a lot because I hurt too much. I still hurt, even with the meds. What will I do without my usual dose? I’m freaking out here!

No, I’m not – yet. I’m trying to stay calm. After all it’s only been a few months that I’ve felt relatively stable with my Bipolar Disorder. I’m not out of the woods yet and I still get suicidal and all, but I’m doing better than I have in ages. So imagine what this will do to my mood. Pain and mood are inextricably intertwined and if I hurt I often get depressed, and vice versa. It’s a vicious circle and I’m trapped in it for life. I’m not playing victim here – it’s just my reality. I do my best to live with it and I do pretty well, now – but what about 6 months from now? Where will I be then?

I hate that because some people overdose on opiates and die that the country is overreacting so severely as to limit what pain patients truly need to be OK. Obviously none of these politicians lives with severe chronic pain. If they did maybe they’d have some compassion for us. I’m angry at them and at the ones who abuse the opiates I need for survival, thus keeping them from me. The old rotten apple syndrome for sure. I never get”high” from these meds. I’m just in less pain is all. So for them to take my medicine away because some people do get high is totally unjust and wrong. Just because a few people screw it up for the rest of us is no excuse for this travesty. I’ll be writing my  congressperson soon, you can bet on it. Not that it’ll  do any good, but maybe I’ll feel like I’m doing something to change things that are so wrong. It’s an overwhelming feeling to be in this position.

I’m 65 now, and I’ve been living with chronic pain since I was 25. That’s a long time to live in pain. I hate it. But I have a good life because of the opiates that keep me functional and not in so much pain. I can live my life as I choose to. Maybe I don’t deserve to, I dunno. But that’s my depression talking. I do deserve to be OK and not suffer so much. We All deserve that. But the politicians who want to control our every breath don’t give a shit, and they make the laws so I have obey them. I’ll go along, because I HAVE NO CHOICE!! Such is life, eh?

Pissed off royally,

Steve

Rebirth

thumb_SCOC0004_1024

It’s been almost two years since I wrote a blog post here. It seems both shorter and longer than that. I just re-read some of my posts and comments from the past and saw that in one comment I said I was just about to start with a new Psychiatrist. I did that, and man, has it made a difference! I was with my old one for about 12 years and in that time she almost never actually started a conversation with me. She was OK mostly, but she was an old school therapist and had the attitude that her silence was helpful. I didn’t find it that way and I finally got tired of it and quit seeing her. I’m so glad I did.

My new Psychiatrist is also a woman but she’s much younger and more in touch with the current thinking on Bipolar and meds and what to do about it all. I’ve got new diagnoses – Bipolar Type I (I’d been Type II for years, supposedly), PTSD and Dysthymia. Of course the DSM says you can’t be dx’d with both BP and Dysthymia, but who cares? They both fit me, as does the PTSD, tho I’m no soldier and my traumas are of a different type and order than combat shock. But they still haunt me and cause me significant distress.

I don’t want to talk about distress today tho. I want to talk about the fact that I’m actually in much better shape than I was 2 years ago when I started this new regimen. It’s taken some time, and some of that was awful. I tried new meds that landed me on the floor with horrific reactions. I often get that when I try new drugs. They usually make me crazy because I get too high a dose. As happened some of time until I got thru to her that I needed to start Real slow. So we started me on 75 mgs of Wellbutrin along with my Abilify, Klonopin, Buspar and Ritalin. We “very” slowly took me up to 450 and things never got crazy at all. In fact they even got better.

Wellbutrin is often known as the “Happy, Horny, Skinny” pill. Well, none of that has been that true for me, unfortunately. I could stand to lose a couple of pounds and my libido could definitely use some tickling since my Prostate cancer several years ago. But what I really wanted was the Happy part. In a way I’ve gotten that, and I’m not so suicidal so much these days. It’s still a threat but not too often and I can usually get out of it in time. I talk to Louie and he tells me I’m OK, and that he loves me, and boy does that help. He’s my personal savior at those times and I rely on him a lot to help keep me OK.

But mostly I have to do it myself, as do we all. I’ve learned so much in the last 20 some years since I was first diagnosed. My life is so much simpler than it has ever been. I live a quiet life with Louie in our home and garden, with a few friends and family to keep me socialized, along with some volunteer work. I have my rituals, like walking in the garden every morning to say Hi to the plants and get some blood flowing in my limbs and brain. (See my blog “Gardening in Greenwood” for more on the Gardens…) I also do some exercises and keep a good book on hand for when I can’t stop the negative thinking and need to go into some other person’s head for awhile. It works, when I can get myself to do it…

I still beat myself up too much but I keep trying to quit that. I use Cognitive Behavioral Therapy a lot to stop those thoughts that get away from me and start to ruin my day. It can happen so damn fast it floors me. So not everything is all rosy and perfect. It never will be and I know that. It’s a circular journey with BP and it alway comes around again despite whatever you do it seems. But still it’s not so bad when it comes screaming down the line at me now. I have chemicals in my brain that help offset the noise and fury. I guess they actually help, tho it’s been so long in coming I half don’t believe it. I’ve tried Soooo many drugs…

I’ve also realized that being happy might not be the best goal I can have for myself after all. I find contentment and peace far superior these days. It’s not that I’m unhappy that much, tho I am sometimes. But I look at life a bit differently now and try my best to stay in the present with my feelings and emotions and I think my Emotional IQ has gone up a few points over this last bit of time. I’ve always done a lot of education with myself on my illnesses and that’s been a great help to me. But being less invested in being happy all the time has allowed me to rest a bit in simple calmness.

I’m not usually that calm – who is when they have BP? But I try to stay chill, and it’s working often enough that I feel like I may actually be in some sort of recovery. I kind of feel uncomfortable saying that because of that mostly constant feeling of impending doom I still have, but I’ll risk it here and see how it goes. I know I can pass most of the time despite my illnesses and that’s good, for the most part. Sometimes I wish people could see what’s going on with me, but that doesn’t happen unless I lose it, and I try not to do that so it’s still hidden. That’s why I called this blog Naked Nerves of course. I may be better, but my next post may say what hell life is, because those nerves are still naked…. even in Rebirth.

And so it goes,

Steve

Bored With Bipolar

BKGRN021

 

You’d think that after almost 19 years of being diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder and 63 years of living with it, I’d have come to terms with it by now. And frankly I have, many times. But right now, and for the last few months, I’ve been at odds with my illness and it’s been anything but acceptance that I’m feeling. I’m feeling ripped apart by this disease that has so impaired my life that I have spent hours and days and weeks feeling like I should just kill myself. That I should just end it all and be done with it.

This where it gets Boring. I feel so totally boring in my depression. I’m not a fun guy these days. I don’t feel like laughing at funny things or enjoying the accomplishments I’ve had in my life. I feel like this is too much for me to handle and I just can’t keep doing it. I’ve talked with my psychiatrist and counselor about going into the hospital just for a change of venue for awhile to see if that would kick start me out of this state I’m in now. The Psych. even suggested things like ECT and Vagus Nerve stimulation, all of which scare the hell out of me.

But I need to do something. We also talked about anti-depressants. It’s been a few years since I tried one of them and maybe it’s time to try another one, tho so far I’ve failed on all of them and many have made me more ill than I was before I took them. So I don’t have much hope that they’ll fix things any but I have to keep trying. I’m working so hard on trying to change my attitude and perspective and focus on gratefulness and the abundance in my life. I have a good life and I know it, but it doesn’t seem to make any difference now. I just wanna be done with it all. This is so boring and is why I live a life that is just impossible. I so miss my hypomanias when I felt great and like I could take on the world. Sometimes I went too far with them but I’d take that any day over these crushing depressions I live with these days. A little up time would be nice…

But those times have ended pretty much due to taking an anti-psychotic for several years now. The Abilify cuts down on my hypomanias and keeps me on the low end of the spectrum. I don’t get to experience those times of intense creativity and joy and brilliance that accompany hypomanias. All I get to live with is the depression and how it eats away at my soul. I feel like I’m dying and that I’ve gotten into such a deep hole that I can’t even discern any way out of it. I wrote awhile ago about being stuck and that’s still how I feel.

I don’t have anything interesting to say here, which is why I titled it as I did. I’ll admit that being in touch with a depressed person is a boring thing to have to do. We’re just no fun and we’re a drag to be with. We had company over last night and it was all I could do to pretend that I was alright and could just seem to be OK even tho I’m not sure I was. I so wish I had a space in my life where it’s just OK to be depressed and alone and not impact others with my situation. But I’m in a relationship and that means I have to try to be OK for my partner at least as often as I can just to be fair. He has to put up with so much. I don’t understand why he bothers. I don’t think I’m worth it at all anymore.

I used to have a decent opinion of myself and felt like I had a handle on this Bipolar Disease. But I don’t feel that well at all anymore. If feels like I’ve got so much going on that it will be impossible to ever regain it. I feel so useless and like I have no reason to live anymore. I’m in deep despair and disillusionment. If it doesn’t break soon I really don’t know what I’ll do. I can’t kill myself because it just wouldn’t be fair to Louie and my few friends to do that to them. I do know better and that it’s a permanent solution to a temporary problem. But I don’t really care. I’m too far gone. I had a good friend tell me that any one who tried to commit suicide is just a coward and it really felt bad since I’ve tried to kill myself before many years ago and have never felt bad about that. But now I do. I feel like other people will judge me for it and wouldn’t understand why I did it if I did. It’s all boring tho, isn’t it?

I don’t have any morsels of wisdom to share today. I need help badly and I don’t know where to get it. I’ve slipped so much in my self esteem and self perception that it feels like I’m a totally different person than I used to be. I saw my MD the other day and when I told him I was stuck in depression and that I was stuck in feeling pain and stuck in the knowledge that I’d be in this state for the rest of my life that he just shut down on me and it’s like he didn’t even care anymore. This may be my perspective and he’s fine with me but I dunno. I think he, like me, was bored with me being still upset that I have to live with taking all these damn drugs for the rest of my life just to stay alive. Not to thrive but just to be alive. It hardly seems worth it. It doesn’t in fact.

Anyway I guess I should stop now. I know some people have been worried about me in that I haven’t posted here in such a long time, and I doubt that this post will ease their minds, but at least now the truth is out there still and the angst I feel is clear. At least it’s the true experience of someone who has Bipolar Disorder and can’t control it at all at the moment. Oh I can fake it pretty well for an hour or two but it’s hard to be upbeat for long. I just wanna hide out and not see anyone at all or interact with the world at all. And I have people coming to visit me soon and I don’t know what I’m going to do. I definitely can’t be present with them for too long but I’ll try.

So enough whining and complaining and pissing and moaning. I told you at the start it’d be boring and it sure is isn’t it? I long so much for a change and it feels like I just can’t pull it off by myself and the help I have isn’t doing it. I’m open for something new to try and see if it’ll work. So far nothing is effective and that makes me feel despondent and discouraged. Maybe someday they’ll find a cure for this illness, but until then I’ll keep trying to stop being so boring and be more positive. But I have no faith that I can do it. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see, eh?

Wishing you an interesting life,

Steve

Stuck!

Picture 158

I have a good life. I have a wonderful partner who loves me to death. I have a good home to live in and I’ve been able to improve it and add to its beauty, especially thru my love of gardening and what I’ve done there. But I’ve also added to the inside of the house and it feels more like mine instead of one I just moved into 4 years ago. I have good food to eat and a nice car and clothes and all I need to survive and be happy. But I’m not happy, and it’s driving me mad.

Or maybe I’m already there. I can’t seem to stop my brain from telling me that I’m a worthless piece of crap and I should just kill myself to make the world a safer place from idiots like me. It’s nonsense I know and I’m not a bad person. But this Bipolar Disorder really has taken hold of me right now and it won’t let me go no matter what I try to do.

I’ve been diagnosed with this dreadful illness for almost 18 years now and sometimes I really think I’m getting much better. I guess I am in many ways. My counselor and psychiatrist both think I’m doing well and treat me like I’m into recovery and on my way to feeling better. But it’s just not true. I’m still a mess most every day lately and it’s getting very challenging to live in my psyche.

I’m still in the Underworld despite the fact that I usually seem to come out of it around the Spring Equinox. I did some as I started to see the plants begin to bloom and grow. That helps me a lot to see Life arsing again and fulfilling it’s promise of beauty and continuation of existence. It’s so obvious to me that Life will find a way to continue and things happen as they do without our input or actions.

I have so much going for me I can’t understand why I’m so messed up and so full of suicidal ideation that I spend time every single day lately thinking about how to kill myself. I won’t of course. I couldn’t do that to Louie and my friends and family. I know this but I don’t know what to do. I’ve tried so many of my tricks to get my mind to shift out of this mess I’m in but I’m not having much luck. I’ve written a lot here on how I use certain ways of thinking to change my thoughts but right now it’s all bunk to me. Nothing is working.

You’d think I’d be on anti-depressants or something but I can’t take them because they make me crazier than I already am and have put me into the hospital more than once when I’ve had a bad reaction to them. They hurt me and I long for a pill or something that will change my negative self image to one that is more in line with reality and lets me enjoy my life again.

I know it’s terribly hard on Louie to see me go thru this. We talk about it often and he helps me so much just by listening to me and letting me know he cares. He saves my life more often than he knows. I’m so lucky to have him in my life and without him I’d probably give in and just off myself. I can’t seem to find my Joy button anymore and it hurts so much. Depression is a real physical disease and it Hurts to be depressed in your body as well as your mind. I’m already in pain from injuries I’ve sustained in my life and my dose of pain killers would kill most people.

So when you add in the depression it adds itself to the pain of my physical body it becomes an overload and I can’t seem to maintain. I fake it a lot. I think most people think of me as a positive person trying to make the best of a bad situation and that’s probably true. But it feels so phoney and fake to me to always have to pretend to be OK when I’m really not. It’s still too scary for me to come out about my Manic Depression in many venues and so I suffer in silence as so many of us do.

I don’t tell my neighbors, usually, what’s going on or my friends even. I don’t wanna bother them and have them turn away from me like so many have in the past because of this illness. It’s caused me to leave so many situations that just caused me distress and fear and led me to worse states so that I’m left with only a few friends now and I’m isolated too much of the time. I know I need to get out more but I feel too lousy and can’t seem to break out of the cycle.

I know this is a really lousy post and I apologize. This has been building up in me for so long I just had to vent a bit and explain how it feels for someone who is as together as I am to go thru such terrible disillusion. I can’t recognize myself anymore. I don’t know who I am or why I’m here and I’ve usually known that. I’ve had visions of my life since I was in high school and I’ve followed them, often to glory but often to falling apart.

In the past 18 years I’ve gone thru so many changes. From the initial recognition of the illness to learning the tricks of the trade in how to keep yourself well to falling apart again and again to being OK again now and then. But it’s been awhile and I’m feeling the loss of my usual bright self and energetic persona. I just feel like a wet lump of dough or noodles overcooked and it’s like moving thru oil or honey just to walk some days. It’s very physical as well as mental.

I’m hoping that things will shift soon and I’m still trying to be OK. I talk to my counselor and psych. and to Louie and other friends a bit but not too much. Maybe it’s time to go back to the Bipolar Support group I used to go to. I wonder. Sometimes others with the same illness can be good support for one another and it’s helped me in the past. I need help now. Badly. I really don’t want to implode and end my life. It’d be so stupid and I know it always changes, but it’s so hard to wait it out and feel so powerless about it all.

My diagnosis is that of Bipolar Disorder with rapid cycling and mixed states, which means I cycle back and forth from high to low too often and often will be in both places at once. It’s very confusing when I can look at my self and see how great it is and then in my inner experience it’s so terrible. It’s truly cognitive dissonance. I can’t seem to hold onto my brain and keep it running on the smooth track of self love but instead find myself on the hate train to hell. I’m so tired of it.

Is this going to be the way it is for the rest of my life or will they someday find a cure for this horrible illness that has so wrecked my lfe and made me into a different person than I used to be? I don’t like who I am right now at all… I have hope but not much. The same goes for the physical pain I live with. Together they overwhelm me too often, like today when I hurt so bad I’m at a 7 on a 10 point scale and it feels like it. I’ve had to take extra pain meds already and it’s only 11:30 in the morning.

I could use more pain killers it seems. But with the way things are going with the pain medication situation it’s so tricky just to get what I do. I can’t imagine what I’d be like if I lost the morphine. I wouldn’t be able to even function. I’d be in bed and in pain all the time and would eventually give in to it and just give up I suspect. Add in my occasional migraine and it’s a total picture of pain. It’s just too much.

OK I’ve talked enough here. I’m sorry this isn’t a more positive post. I am trying to get better. I really am.  But it seems so impossible that I feel the way I do when I have such a good life and it feels so unfair to me. Not just to me but to Louie and my other friends who have to deal with my moods and pain all the time. It’s hard on them and I’m grateful to them for staying with me and being my friends. I couldn’t do it without them.

I hope that my honesty and lack of inhibitions in talking about this will help others who suffer from this same illness feel more comfortable talking about it themselves. It’s OK, and even necessary, to air our hard stories about how difficult this illness is. I’m a big fan of education and if even one person reads this and understands more of what it’s like for us it’ll be fine with me. It’s Real and we’re Not faking it, despite the stigma we face… This is Life for way too many of us…

Wishing you a good day today,

Steve

Aging with Invisible Illness

Steve7 dsc_029

I’ve always enjoyed getting older. I’ve found that I discover new ways to live my life every day and that as I age I’m developing a greater sense of who I am and how to live a good life. I have a good home to live in and a partner who loves me dearly. I have good food to eat and medical care and many other good things in my life. I’m glad to be where I am at this point in my life.

But I worry about getting older as well. Especially with all the illnesses I suffer from. I worry about what’s going to happen to me as time goes on. I’ve heard conflicting stories about people aging with Bipolar Disorder. Some seem to say that you can get better as you get older as long as you take good care of yourself. That seems to be the way to me.

I’ve seen what happens when people with Bipolar don’t take care of themselves, either because they are too sick to do it or are in denial about having the illness and won’t seek treatment or get help. I have a difficult time with the latter folks who suffer so much and cause the ones around them to suffer too because they are too scared to want to know the truth of their situation.

But I don’t blame them either. I understand not wanting to know I guess, tho it’s not my way of being. Maybe it’d be easier if I pretended that I just don’t have these illnesses and try to live a normal life and see if I could get by OK without the drugs and the therapy and all the help I receive from my partner and friends. Maybe it’d be easier to be in denial, especially as I get older. Lots of people do it.

It’d be so much simpler to not have to deal with all these things I deal with on a daily basis. It’s truly overwhelming sometimes and I crash and burn just trying to keep myself from doing just that. It’s a vicious circle and as I age the circle seems to get tighter around me. The options seem to be fewer and I have to make better choices.

I have to be very careful in how I live with my aging body now having all the same things that happen to anyone who is 63 years old. A lot of my problems are just because I’m getting older and it’s part of human nature to age and deteriorate, at least to some extent. But doing it with illness just makes it seem impossible to handle. It makes it much harder if you’re sick.

I take something like 50 odd pills every day, most of which are allopathic medicines tho many are also supplements I take from my Naturopath. I think complimentary medicine is a good way to go and I see various MDs, a Psychiatrist, a counselor, a naturopath and an acupuncturist, at least for now. We’ll see how that all goes but it’s helping me now at least.

I’ve talked about most of the problems I face on here already but for those new to my blog I’ll update a few things with a link to a previous post I did early on that describes my conditions well. Read this to get a good take on things you probably don’t know about me and my illnesses here: https://nakednerves.wordpress.com/2012/11/23/30-things-about-my-invisible-illnes-you-may-not-know/. It’s grown a bit since I wrote it but it’s still true.

I live with Bipolar Disorder Type II and it’s probably my most serious illness, tho the chronic intractable pain I live with is a close second and at times it’s number one. Both are too challenging to really be able to cope with well or easily. But I do it and I’m so grateful for the help I get to do so. Without the help I’d be dead I’m sure. Such is life.

I wonder what will happen to me in the same way most people do – will my partner outlive me or will he pass first is probably my biggest concern. I really don’t know what I’d do if I lost him. I don’t know if I could go on without him in my life. He brings me so much joy and caring. I guess it’s the way for anyone in love isn’t it? But being sick adds an extra poignancy to it. I not only love him, I need him and his help. A lot…

I have good health care – having both Medicare and Medicaid because of my split disability. It’s good coverage and I’m lucky to have it because it pays for all my medical bills except for some co -pays. But I don’t trust the way things are going in the Congress as far as people on disability and pubic assistance. There are too many mean people who’d like to take it away from me and I wouldn’t have a way to live then.

This is a huge fear – that of losing my medical care for some obscure reason the government comes up with to save money by taking it from the poorest among us. And I have been poor. I lived in public housing for 12 or 13 years before I met Louie and moved in with him so I know I can do that if I have to but I sure don’t want to.

Public housing is awful and tho it’s a good roof over your head and I’m grateful for that it really curtails your freedoms and it’s difficult a lot of the time. At least it was for me. Plus there’s a lot of stigma attached to being on disability and living in public housing. It just adds to the burden of being sick. People can be so cruel…

But really the biggest fear I have is that they cut my medications down to below my threshold for pain and I’ll have to live with the pain I experience on a daily basis without enough medication. I take a whole lot of morphine every day and have to get a special permit to get that much. Each time they renew it I come unglued till it’s approved. Someday they might not approve it, and what do I do then?

I’ve tried to cut back on the morphine but it only showed me that I need this much to stay OK and not be in super bad pain all the time. I need it and I’m dependent on it too. It’s all a hateful situation to be stuck on opiates and listen to all the hoopla about people dying of it and how it’s misused so they want to take it away from all of us. It’s terribly scary and frightening. I don’t know what I’d do without it. Stay in bed all day I guess. Sigh…

And my mind is slowly slipping too. Of course some of that is aging naturally, but some of it is because of the depression and manias I go thru. The pain makes me nuts too so it’s all a vicious circle and as I age it’s getting worse to handle it. I don’t have as much mulch as I used to have to deal with it all. It’s getting to be too much.

I suppose the take away from all this is that when you’re really sick you already have to live your life very carefully so you can survive and thrive. But when you get older and you’re sick it doubles the responsibility you have to yourself and your family to really do a good job of being good to yourself and being smart about what you do with your time and energy.

You only have so much of it as you age and it’s really important that you put it to good use. It’s imperative to live honestly and openly and to ask for help as you need it, which you will, and to accept the good will that there is in the world around you. There are helpers everywhere if you allow them into your life. Don’t shut down as you age. Stay active and awake and you’ll be able to live a good life as you get older, even with Invisible Illness.

Consciously Aging,

Steve

Bipolar Takes Another Life

CLOUD050

I’m totally devastated right now. I just got a call from my favorite cousin telling me that his wife had just taken her own life this morning. She was 67 and had suffered with Bipolar Disorder for many many years and tried to kill herself several times before. Always they were able to save her before, but not this time.

I couldn’t stop the tears as he described the circumstances of finding her face down in their swimming pool when he got up today. He’s been in very bad shape himself from the weight of caring for her for all these years and getting sicker himself as it went along. He couldn’t talk much but he knew how much I loved her and how it would affect me so he called me.

This is so sad to me I can barely write about it but I feel it might help me if I do so I’m going to. I loved this woman so much. She was so funny and articulate and bright. She was the best school administrator in her district for many years before she retired because of the bipolar disorder. She was a dynamo and a jokester par excellence. She was the light of his world and a good friend to me too.

We were born on the exact same day only she was 4 years older than I am. 11/11 for us both. We used to spend a lot of time together when I lived in CA but I haven’t seen them as much since then. They were here for a short visit a couple three years ago but she got sick when they were here and had to cancel the trip. We saw them two years ago when we went to CA to see relatives of mine.

I was shocked to see how she had deteriorated even then. She always had a hard time figuring out which meds were the right ones for her to take. It’s a cruel irony to learn that the antipsychotic that has pretty much saved me from mania was the one that eventually killed her. It scares me so much. Not just for the drug but for what I might do to myself someday.

See I spend a lot of time wishing I was dead. I wish I didn’t have to say that but it’s just true. I have suicidal ideation frequently and it makes life hard and difficult. I Know I can’t kill myself because of what it would do to my partner Louie and to my remaining family and friends. I’ve decided not to do it ever. But I don’t trust my mind and so I’m scared.

This could so easily be me we’re talking about, or maybe it could be you too if you suffer from depression or Bipolar disorder. It’s a cruel disease and we tend to forget that 15% or more of people with it end up killing themselves. It’s a life threatening illness tho it’s still considered a stigma to talk about it and try to heal those of us who have it. I hate it right now with a vengeance…

It could too easily be Louie making calls to my family to tell them that I couldn’t stand the pain any longer, as my cousin couldn’t do, and that I’ve ended it. My own experience when I did try to kill myself was instructive to me. It showed me that when you reach the end of your resources to endure the pain you believe you have no choice but to end your life. That’s what happened to me. I couldn’t bear it any longer.

I’m  lucky I did pills then and the docs pumped my stomach and gave saline and got rid of the drugs. I thought I’d been clever, even calling the Poison control center in my town so to make sure that the pills I took would  kill me.( I said it was about my roommate…. sick..) But it didn’t work and I’m so glad at this point. I didn’t think of others at all  but I don’t blame myself. I was doing my best. It just wasn’t good enough.

So it must have been for her. She reached the point where she’d tried to kill herself several times before this and was in so much distress and confusion from the wrong antipsychotic that she wasn’t thinking right anymore. I haven’t been able to talk to her in some time because she couldn’t handle the phone, so I don’t know where she was at at the end, tho I can guess. I know it too well myself.

I don’t know what else to say. I’m drained of energy and feel like a wet dish rag from the crying and sadness I feel. It’s hard to imagine I’ll never see her again. She always made me laugh and was one of the closest people in my family to me even tho we weren’t really related except for marriage. She was Family to me and my family is one short today. We’ll all miss her dearly and mourn her forever.

Grieving for the loss of a dear friend,

Steve