This is a response that I gave on a forum I found online awhile ago. I did not publish then because I do not like to label myself as bipolar especially since, as I have stated before, I have gone to great lengths to NOT be "diagnosed" (even if it is just that the Dr. I see knows that I don't want it so he won't outright say it)
But anyway here it is:

"I just googled bipolar and religion because I am going through very similar to what you are (or were) going through. I wanted to know if that was normal.
It is nice to hear that I am not alone. I am glad you posted.
It gets hard when some serious instability has some religious/spiritual roots. Stabilized on medication I no longer have the spiritual highs and divine inspirations/understandings that I once did, sometimes I miss it, but I also do not drop into the depths of Hell either. So I also tend to relate it all to mania. It is hard for me to know how much religion has played a role in that, especially being born and raised in a very strict religion that has extremely high expectations of it's members (not that that is "bad" it just has been a struggle for me personally in dealing with a disorder that I don't want to accept anyway).
It is hard to know what God wants of me.

I have also found some comfort in Buddhism, coming across it before medication this last time, but I to can still see links to that and some manic issues.

I am having some serious aversion and I am actively involved in my religion. Sometimes I find myself thinking "they are all a bunch of crazies" and yet I can't deny the good that being raised with high moral standards has been, which I know have helped me and saved me from a lot of pain (especially being mental the way that I am).
Anyway, I guess my point is that I appreciate your question and your own concerns. I also appreciate the comments that people shared, especially manic faith.

So I relate to your aversion, only since I have stayed actively involved in my church I am just finding it harder and harder to keep going. I just want to break away for awhile and try to come to terms with what I feel and not with all things that are swimming in my head of what others feel and believe and their convictions and fears... and yet my whole life I have been taught how dangerous that is so I am wracked with turmoil. But at least with the help of medication it is tolerable and I likely will not go "crazy" thinking about. I guess I just need to decide what is right for me right now and be OK with that. Who knows what the future holds.
I also agree it is not "all bad" but rather there is a lot of good maybe it is just hard to find the balance (especially coming from such an imbalanced state).
So thanks again and good luck to you."

suicidal default 101

It's one of those mornings. So many thoughts have been swimming around in my head that I'd like to write about but I just can't find the time. Plus I am a bit unorganized and chaotic...
And today when I feel such a pressing desire to write I can't think of the things that I really wanted to write about anyway.
So I'll just start writing.
...The other day I was chatting (on-line) with an old high school friend. Conversation came around to my mentioning that my brother had died of a mental illness (I still don't know how I feel about that term). The friend asked "how's that?"
Now I was chatting online which means I could not really read the question or the friends understanding of what I had just said, but the particular wording later got me thinking.
"How's that"
I think that it is likely what many don't know or understand that a mental illness or even disorders can be fatal, can actually be the cause of death.
Totally a hard concept to wrap ones brain around.
But when I think of my friends from high school who lost their dad in a very dramatic and tragic suicide. When I think of my friend who I worked with when my brother died and her dad that committed suicide when she was very young. And especially when I think about my brother I know that though technically it was their own hand that would have been the cause of death that their physical chemistry was the cause more then anything else.

My brother was a good person (and the other two men mentioned). He loved life even though he despised it. He was loving, kind and generous. He was so fun and very intelligent. But he had a suicidal default that is not "normal" and, just like a cancer that is not being treated, can only be fought for so long. We don't know who gives up and who gives into death when fighting an illness but many die from things that are not considered major or serious illness's, while some "fight" for a lifetime (or what we culturally and socially accept as a lifetime and a fight).
However in such cases chemistry/physiology over whelm either the body or the soul or both and it is time to let go. In a sense Pain trumps. And with a suicidal default (I believe I have previously written  a definition to that self coined term) one can easily commit a fatal offense with out really meaning to "kill them self."

Here is one silly little simple personal example that I can give (and I may have given before) about how an out of whack chemistry that seems to cause said default can cause a fatality.
Once, just a couple of years ago, I was driving along the freeway while my beautiful little mind was racing through my newest brilliant life plan. But it was not just formulating a plan of how to achieve a goal that my mind insisted on working through but imagining the course of my whole life in addition. When I got to the end, which took a matter of seconds to maybe a couple of minutes at the most (racing minds work quick), BAM I was done and slamming my high speed car into the cement barriers on the side of the freeway was a flash that was almost overwhelming in the quickness and intensity of such a delusion.
I didn't, but I have experienced varying degrees of intensity and dellusion (I am sure most people have really), but had my chemistry been that much more off I could have easily and instinctively responded to the demand before I realized what I was doing and where I really was.
I was not down and there are many fortunate things to my situation but a suicidal default is something that can over ride the sensible systems and truly has to be attributed to a screwed up chemistry. Because, seriously, it is just stupid to think that under a healthy and properly functioning brain chemistry my body and mind would do that to me. Wait, they don't, when I am on an even keel. Which as of recent, has once again, had to be achieved with the assistance from the miracles of modern medicine. But I do know first hand the reality of the chemical difference.

Long post, I know, and I don't know that it makes any sense at all but I suppose I occasionally feel the need to defend my brother because we all knew (he had even promised us) that despite his intense and prolonged struggles with a suicidal default he would never do that.
P.S.
I don't think we realized how intense his struggle really was until he passed and then read his journal. There, it is very apparent that it was not just depression or a fascination with death but a default and a constant struggle, likely the only thing that made any real sense to him.

Which came 1st the chicken or the egg?

???

I am a giraffe

The night before last I was telling my husband that I think I would be fine to go off medication. I told him that I'm really fine and I really probably don't need it. That I really don't want to take medication so I was thinking about going off. If you have read any of my blog you would gather that I really do not like the idea of "needing" medication one bit. I want to be fine on my own.
I know that it is a typical response for many that take medication to get to the point where they feel fine and have enjoyed some stability to then think that they really don't need medication and stop taking it. I know this but still my response to my husband with all that he would say when explaining that he really didn't think it a good idea was that I was really just being a hypochondriac of some pathetic sort and that's all. Really I am fine it was just due to this or that as to why I was such a freak before but now I can see it for what it was and I am fine.

Well you'd think that I'd have learned by now.

But then yesterday I had an appointment with the psychiatrist. It went well and he was very happy with the result and how I was doing (I like that he was happy for me, not just for the results)....
But then we got to my giraffe patches.
What are giraffe patches you ask?
Well no one really knows.
I'll do my best to explain. In about March or so I noticed a circle on the side of my torso. It looked like some one had stuck a suction of some sort (you know how it works, suction on the skin and leave the red circle. A common gag that people will pull leaving a red embarrassing mark on the chin or what have you). I thought it weird because I couldn't figure out where it came from. So I watched it. It didn't go away. Then I started noticing other "circles" only some were oblong and they were various sizes. At that point I believe there were five ranging from about an inch in diameter to one that stretched from my shoulder blade to the center of my chest in front. They are a very faint red outline. They are not elevated, scaly, itchy, or anything else. Just a faint red outline. Oh, and they grow. As they grow there shape does not stay so circular but change to shapes that resemble something more like the shapes of a giraffe spots (not the color, color stays the same). But unlike a giraffe they will actually converge with each other. Now these lovely spots are rather faint and limited to being only places hidden by clothing on my torso. Like I said, they do not itch or bother me in any way. I did call the psychiatrist office when I first noticed them (per the medication disclosures request) but they did not recognize them as symptoms of any major problems due to medication but strongly suggested I see a dermatologist. Which I did and he was baffled (though he was a seasoned PA) but not super concerned. So I haven't worried. However they are reproducing and I have quite a few more.

Back to my appointment with the psychiatrist. He was concerned. Something about it possibly being an indication of other potential problems, I don't know. But he suggested that I go off the Lamictal very slowly, stay off it for a few weeks and see if the "spots" go away. I guess said drug can effect the skin and apparently he is concerned about it if it is obviously getting worse.

You might assume that I was happy to have permission to taper off. I would have assumed it. But after having the conversation with him about how well I was doing and the conversation with the husband the night before, I suppose I recognized a thing or two and I was not supper thrilled with the idea of going off... just yet. Rather I was quite nervous about it. I like the way that I feel these days and I guess that outweighs my desire to not take medication.
But the doctor said it would be the prudent thing to do.
He concurred with me trying to go off the antidepressant first just to see if it might be a combination of the two that might be the culprit. Though he didn't seem to think it was too likely I think we are both hopeful that maybe just maybe that will work (and I will loose my giraffe spots).
Well I guess we will see.
Here is to a new adventure!

a high schoolers longing for death

Sometimes when I start cleaning and going through things, finding new homes for stuff, I find junk from my past. Today I found a binder containing some Jr. high and high school English papers and other writing assignments.
In one particular high school project I mention death and dying at least three separate times. All three are obviously in reference to me dying and one specifically mentions my desire to die.
I know that nothing ever came of this but I wonder how common it is for high school students to write about death and their desires for it that it would not raise some concern suggesting to the teacher that maybe they should recommend the child to someone or at least mention it to their parents?

To Write or not to Write?

Not

I mean to write more on this thing more often then I do anymore. Honestly lately I lack the motivation and desire, mostly because I do feel so normal. But I am being a bit of a bum right now getting sidetracked by the computer so I might as well write something right?

Though I know that I am really truly not normal and never will be (I say this with presumptious sarcasm because I know there is really no such thing as normal anyway) I must say I rather like feeling so "normal."

I like that I am stable. I am curious about my "lack of spirituality" but I am glad to not be floating so far off into outerspace and sinking down into the depths of hell as well.
Really I am rather boring any more and yet I am totally ok with that.
The other day I awoke to the slight feeling of darkness that I used to know so well. Then didn't realize how crappy it really was. It was slight and likely due to a few days of not going to bed when I should have and some of the stresses that are not ussual daily stresses.

It was a good reminder.

I visited my parents and the room that my brother died in recently.
It was hard.
It is hard to think about my brother and how he died. In my current mental state I have less comfort about what happened. I forget that I understand how and what can happen so easily. That little shadow of darkness helped me remember.
I know that what if's and I wish I had's accomplish nothing... Uneless you do something that may be able to help someone else suffering somewhere else with or from something similar. For that I really really wish that I could have somehow let my brother know how bad it was and how good it really could be. How some of those feelings and darknesses that we accept as part of who we, are and often attempt to self medicate in so many other ways, really are something else that we really don't have to tolerate or suffer through. I wish he could see, feel and know how much better, happier and so much easier life could be...

... it is sad to know that I can't.
It was heartbreaking to read his diary and see how much he really was suffering. To see the signs that now, knowing what I know, would seem so very obvious.
It had been such a long time that he struggled that he could not seperate it from who he was. Our lack of understanding and acceptance of mental disoders and illness's really did cost him his life in so many ways, more then just the physical end. He was not a depressed person but he did have depression and battled it tenaciously. And his pendulum would swing, whether that was due to a very strong solder who was fighting just depression or if it was something altogether different who really knows but he did fight the lows and he did still find ways to enjoy life and he most certianly had highs. He also had ruminating, possibly obsessive, thought patterns that were very obvious as well. But he tried so hard to be all that he could be and yet in the end he had no idea how bad his own illness/disorder was even though he was aware of it. He had no idea how bad it was becasue he had never come completely out of it. He had not had the opportunity to experience what I am now enjoying. He never got to completely loose touch with that suicidal default and realize how foriegn and strange such a mental state of being really is.

what more can I say?...