National Depression Screening Day (NDSD) will be held on Thursday, October 7, 2010.
Here is a free online screening for yourself or your child:
http://www.helpyourselfhelpothers.org/
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Don't Try Suicide
Suicide is not chosen; it happens when pain exceeds resources for coping with pain.
I've spent a lot of time over the past 10 or 11 years contemplating my death. I can't stand those people that say, "Suicide is selfish. Look at what it does to their loved ones." You, my friend, are clueless. Maybe the loved ones are selfish for expecting me to continue to endure this pain FOREVER. There is no end in sight. Being bounced around on medications that don't seem to provide any relief. Laying in my bathtub (fully clothed) screaming at the top of my lungs for SOMEONE (be it God, my hubbs, Joe Blow down the road) to take this pain away. "Make It Stop!" Pulling my hair out and banging my head against the wall. People around me (mainly my hubbs) crying because he doesn't know what to do to help me. Basically, the spiraling pit of doom is not a pleasant place to be. Oh, and an FYI - I haven't felt like this in months. I'm good now. But unfortunately those memories weren't lost with the ECT's.
I've had 2 people in my life during my "crazies" commit suicide and to tell you the truth I was heartbroken but I was also jealous. In my screwed up mind I thought they were brave. One was a coworker that hung himself and the other was my psychiatrist (yeah, I know) but I'm not sure how he did it.
I got off track there. Anyhow, contemplating suicide... I am probably the biggest wuss when it comes to pain that you will ever meet...? know...? It's a blog so more than likely you will never MEET or KNOW me. Um... You will ever hear about. OK - anyways. I'm a wuss. SO - slitting my wrists is not an option. I don't want to add to the pain I already have. Hanging. That just doesn't sound like fun. The only place I have at my home to hang myself is the tree outside and I just don't want to imagine my kids being the ones to find me. Imagine the damage that would cause! Bad enough their mom would be dead, but to find me is just not really an option. Gun shot. I don't own a gun and have never touched one. I've got no idea how they work, so do I say to a friend "Hey, you have a gun, right? You'll have to show me how to use it, but could I borrow it to commit suicide?" Haven't figured that one out. Drowning. Tried that one. Hubbs stopped me. Overdose. Now that's one I could do. In fact this last time I was admitted is because I had stock-piled over 100 klonipin and one thing led to another and - BUSTED! Um... OH! The one I would do. Sitting in a running car in the garage. I just don't have a garage. So I haven't quite figured that one out, either.
Where am I going with this post? I should say something witty at this point or something inspirational. I got nothing. This is a really depressing fucking blog. Is this going to help me in anyway. I don't know, maybe I'll just start blogging dirty jokes and stuff.
Ah... here's something:
I've spent a lot of time over the past 10 or 11 years contemplating my death. I can't stand those people that say, "Suicide is selfish. Look at what it does to their loved ones." You, my friend, are clueless. Maybe the loved ones are selfish for expecting me to continue to endure this pain FOREVER. There is no end in sight. Being bounced around on medications that don't seem to provide any relief. Laying in my bathtub (fully clothed) screaming at the top of my lungs for SOMEONE (be it God, my hubbs, Joe Blow down the road) to take this pain away. "Make It Stop!" Pulling my hair out and banging my head against the wall. People around me (mainly my hubbs) crying because he doesn't know what to do to help me. Basically, the spiraling pit of doom is not a pleasant place to be. Oh, and an FYI - I haven't felt like this in months. I'm good now. But unfortunately those memories weren't lost with the ECT's.
I've had 2 people in my life during my "crazies" commit suicide and to tell you the truth I was heartbroken but I was also jealous. In my screwed up mind I thought they were brave. One was a coworker that hung himself and the other was my psychiatrist (yeah, I know) but I'm not sure how he did it.
I got off track there. Anyhow, contemplating suicide... I am probably the biggest wuss when it comes to pain that you will ever meet...? know...? It's a blog so more than likely you will never MEET or KNOW me. Um... You will ever hear about. OK - anyways. I'm a wuss. SO - slitting my wrists is not an option. I don't want to add to the pain I already have. Hanging. That just doesn't sound like fun. The only place I have at my home to hang myself is the tree outside and I just don't want to imagine my kids being the ones to find me. Imagine the damage that would cause! Bad enough their mom would be dead, but to find me is just not really an option. Gun shot. I don't own a gun and have never touched one. I've got no idea how they work, so do I say to a friend "Hey, you have a gun, right? You'll have to show me how to use it, but could I borrow it to commit suicide?" Haven't figured that one out. Drowning. Tried that one. Hubbs stopped me. Overdose. Now that's one I could do. In fact this last time I was admitted is because I had stock-piled over 100 klonipin and one thing led to another and - BUSTED! Um... OH! The one I would do. Sitting in a running car in the garage. I just don't have a garage. So I haven't quite figured that one out, either.
Where am I going with this post? I should say something witty at this point or something inspirational. I got nothing. This is a really depressing fucking blog. Is this going to help me in anyway. I don't know, maybe I'll just start blogging dirty jokes and stuff.
Ah... here's something:
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Life Long Tickets to the Roller Coster
Word of advice: If someone ever says to you, "Hey, smell this!"... DON'T!
I guess I could talk (ahem, or type) a little bit about my mania. In the early years I did not know I was going through mania, but once I was diagnosed Bipolar I was able to see it.
There's nothing special. I don't hear voices. I don't get uncontrollable urges to spend money or go on vacations or anything like that. I used to go out dancing and drinking, going to male revues, laughing at everything, making (sometimes inappropriate) jokes. Laugh uncontrollably for absolutely no reason until I am in tears. I had to leave work twice because of that. I remember for my 30th birthday (about 6 years into bipolar hell), a bunch of friends from my good job threw me a bday party at a local restaurant/bar. I was getting free drinks from men all night because I was telling everyone it was my 21st bday. "What kind of drink is that? I've never had that before." "Well you gotta try it, here, I'll buy you one." "Wow, thanks!" When I wasn't hitting on guys for free drinks, I was on the dance floor (or table, but I was dragged down from there). Although I was the only one dancing, it didn't bother me at all. I walked up to some guy, told him it was my birthday and planted a big kiss on him. I know, it just sounds like a fun night of getting trashed, I wasn't that bad. I used to be able to hold my liquor and I was sharing my free drinks with the hubbs and my other friends so I didn't get that drunk.
Another time I was out with friends after a male revue. We were on the dance floor and some little freak came up to me and started hitting on me. So I said, "I'm with her" and kissed one of my friends. No drinking at all that night - I was driving.
Now-a-days I don't really go out. No friends to go out with. But I still get silly, tell dirty jokes, have "energy spurts" that I do absolutely nothing productive with, call my bestie, John, to make lunch plans then cancel on him because I'm usually in my pit by the time the plans come around. My family says, "Mom's filter is broken again!" during these times because I will most likely say something inappropriate in front of them. Nothing really bad, but for instance I may let the word "ass" slip in front of them. But the family loves it when I'm manic. Happy Fun Energetic Great Mood "You wanna go where? SURE!"
So see - nothing bad. I really enjoy it but for some reason my docs think I need mood stabilizers to keep me from getting manic. I tell them, "But I really like being manic". Doesn't work. Are there meds that keep you out of the lows but don't stop you from the highs? I have no idea.
Bring on the mania!
I guess I could talk (ahem, or type) a little bit about my mania. In the early years I did not know I was going through mania, but once I was diagnosed Bipolar I was able to see it.
There's nothing special. I don't hear voices. I don't get uncontrollable urges to spend money or go on vacations or anything like that. I used to go out dancing and drinking, going to male revues, laughing at everything, making (sometimes inappropriate) jokes. Laugh uncontrollably for absolutely no reason until I am in tears. I had to leave work twice because of that. I remember for my 30th birthday (about 6 years into bipolar hell), a bunch of friends from my good job threw me a bday party at a local restaurant/bar. I was getting free drinks from men all night because I was telling everyone it was my 21st bday. "What kind of drink is that? I've never had that before." "Well you gotta try it, here, I'll buy you one." "Wow, thanks!" When I wasn't hitting on guys for free drinks, I was on the dance floor (or table, but I was dragged down from there). Although I was the only one dancing, it didn't bother me at all. I walked up to some guy, told him it was my birthday and planted a big kiss on him. I know, it just sounds like a fun night of getting trashed, I wasn't that bad. I used to be able to hold my liquor and I was sharing my free drinks with the hubbs and my other friends so I didn't get that drunk.
Another time I was out with friends after a male revue. We were on the dance floor and some little freak came up to me and started hitting on me. So I said, "I'm with her" and kissed one of my friends. No drinking at all that night - I was driving.
Now-a-days I don't really go out. No friends to go out with. But I still get silly, tell dirty jokes, have "energy spurts" that I do absolutely nothing productive with, call my bestie, John, to make lunch plans then cancel on him because I'm usually in my pit by the time the plans come around. My family says, "Mom's filter is broken again!" during these times because I will most likely say something inappropriate in front of them. Nothing really bad, but for instance I may let the word "ass" slip in front of them. But the family loves it when I'm manic. Happy Fun Energetic Great Mood "You wanna go where? SURE!"
So see - nothing bad. I really enjoy it but for some reason my docs think I need mood stabilizers to keep me from getting manic. I tell them, "But I really like being manic". Doesn't work. Are there meds that keep you out of the lows but don't stop you from the highs? I have no idea.
Bring on the mania!
You're still here?
Seriously. Who would want to put up with my vast array of bullshit? My hubby, that's who. First, let me tell you some of my qualities:
I cry at the drop of the hat for no apparent reason.
I sleep a LOT. Have I mentioned how much I love sleeping?
I don't like to be around people so we don't have friends and when we have to go to a family function - forget it. That is miserable for everyone. My hubby and daughter end up babysitting me.
I don't clean, do dishes, sweep the floor, do laundry, dust... you get the idea.
I have issues with leaving the house at all. If I do have to leave the house (which is very seldom, thank God) I'll be done for the day.
I'm sure there is more, that is just a quick list off the top of my head. I know if it were me, I would have left my ass years ago. I've had my good moments, like during my mania. I'm a freakin blast when I'm manic - but I am usually in the dark pit of doom of bipolar lows.
I really shouldn't question it, though. I don't want to give him the idea or maybe he'll ask "Was that an option?"
My planned death, when I'm not suicidal, is for hubbs and I to be run over by a beer truck on our way to the liquor store. We, of course, will be in a drunken stupor. If for some reason it doesn't work like this and he goes before me, I'm sure I will be shuffled from family member to family member until everyone is sick of me and then placed in some sort of long term institution. I hope it's some young hottie giving me sponge baths.
So after 11 years of hell and I've been able to hold on to him. He is really great with me. Never complains or gets mad at me for my inabilities.
He's right where I want him.
I cry at the drop of the hat for no apparent reason.
I sleep a LOT. Have I mentioned how much I love sleeping?
I don't like to be around people so we don't have friends and when we have to go to a family function - forget it. That is miserable for everyone. My hubby and daughter end up babysitting me.
I don't clean, do dishes, sweep the floor, do laundry, dust... you get the idea.
I have issues with leaving the house at all. If I do have to leave the house (which is very seldom, thank God) I'll be done for the day.
I'm sure there is more, that is just a quick list off the top of my head. I know if it were me, I would have left my ass years ago. I've had my good moments, like during my mania. I'm a freakin blast when I'm manic - but I am usually in the dark pit of doom of bipolar lows.
I really shouldn't question it, though. I don't want to give him the idea or maybe he'll ask "Was that an option?"
My planned death, when I'm not suicidal, is for hubbs and I to be run over by a beer truck on our way to the liquor store. We, of course, will be in a drunken stupor. If for some reason it doesn't work like this and he goes before me, I'm sure I will be shuffled from family member to family member until everyone is sick of me and then placed in some sort of long term institution. I hope it's some young hottie giving me sponge baths.
So after 11 years of hell and I've been able to hold on to him. He is really great with me. Never complains or gets mad at me for my inabilities.
He's right where I want him.
A very good place to start
I guess I'll start at the beginning... I was a good kid but never got great grades. Never really got in trouble. Quiet. Shy. At least until I hit high school. Boy was that fun. Sex, drugs and rock-n-roll. With smoking and alcohol sprinkled on top. I dropped out my 2nd go at 9th grade and got my GED. When I was 17 I hooked up with a complete loser, whom I will lovingly refer to as Dickhead. He was an abusive bastard. I got pregnant and had a beautiful baby girl when I was 18. I grew up fast. I worked (unlike Dickhead) and supported all of us but after a few years it hit me. "What the fuck am I doing?" So, I dumped his lazy ass, moved in with my parents, went to college and worked up to 3 part-time jobs at a time until I graduated. College is where I met my hubby. We became instant best friends doing everything together. After a while we realize we were falling for each other. Next thing you know we're getting married, he is adopting my daughter, and we are having a baby boy. That was it. December 1999 was the last time I had my sanity.
It was originally diagnosed as postpartum depression with numerous diagnosises (is that right? Is "diagnosises" a word?) since then. When our son was a baby I was unable to care for him and never wanted the hubbs to leave my side. My family was very supportive by caring for the kids and what-not but it wasn't long until Larry had to leave his job because of my problems.
Wow. There is really a lot more to that. Maybe I'll talk about that one day.
After a year I was on meds and receiving therapy and we thought it would be a good idea for me to work. So I got a job. Then another one. Then another one. The last one lasted 3 or 4 years and I did okay at work. Had my moments but they were understanding. Home life sucked. I would come home crying and go to bed. Somewhere during those years I was finally diagnosed as Bipolar type 2, with my meds constantly changing since this all began.
Did I mention, I LOVE to sleep! It's my favorite activity. Ask my kids, they'll tell ya.
So I left a perfectly good job for another one making more $$. I completely flipped out there. I think at my "good" job, I felt safe. People knew what was wrong with me and took care of me. Plus, I am more comfortable with men and I was surrounded by them there. The job I flipped at was mostly all women. I knew it was not going to be a good fit, but I went anyways.
The men comment... No, I'm not sleeping with them. But I am a disgusting perv that likes to talk about my sexcapades with my hubbs, dirty jokes, football and I cuss like a sailor. (Actually I've dated a sailor that told me my mouth was worse than one.) I'm not into fashion, hair, shoes, makeup, purses, mani/pedi's. I own 3 pairs of shoes. My "working in the yard" flip flops, my "everyday" flip flops, and my "dressy" flip flops. I haven't put a pair of socks on in years, nor shoes that cover my toes. I just don't give a shit about that stuff and have no interest in a conversation that includes it. Don't get me wrong, I do have female friends, but I'm not especially close to any but maybe 1 or 2 of them. And for that matter I haven't seen them in years. I only have one friend that I try to see and talk to and that is John Dillinger. Besides my hubbs, he's my bestie.
Bla bla bla. Anyhow, I left that job and was unable to work for a while. Got another job and walked out on that one and haven't worked since. I've been Baker Acted a couple of times, have had several suicide attempts and just recently went through 9 rounds of Electro Convulsive Therapy.
And that is it in a nut shell. Here I am. I'm unable to work because I hate being near people, I have a short attention span (took me forever to type this - I keep getting side tracked), I have an awful memory because of the ECT's, I don't retain information, bla bla bla. Oh, and because I'm fucking crazy.
I didn't really get into any of my crazy "episodes"... Not really sure what is going to go into the blog. I'm sure I will at some point.
It was originally diagnosed as postpartum depression with numerous diagnosises (is that right? Is "diagnosises" a word?) since then. When our son was a baby I was unable to care for him and never wanted the hubbs to leave my side. My family was very supportive by caring for the kids and what-not but it wasn't long until Larry had to leave his job because of my problems.
Wow. There is really a lot more to that. Maybe I'll talk about that one day.
After a year I was on meds and receiving therapy and we thought it would be a good idea for me to work. So I got a job. Then another one. Then another one. The last one lasted 3 or 4 years and I did okay at work. Had my moments but they were understanding. Home life sucked. I would come home crying and go to bed. Somewhere during those years I was finally diagnosed as Bipolar type 2, with my meds constantly changing since this all began.
Did I mention, I LOVE to sleep! It's my favorite activity. Ask my kids, they'll tell ya.
So I left a perfectly good job for another one making more $$. I completely flipped out there. I think at my "good" job, I felt safe. People knew what was wrong with me and took care of me. Plus, I am more comfortable with men and I was surrounded by them there. The job I flipped at was mostly all women. I knew it was not going to be a good fit, but I went anyways.
The men comment... No, I'm not sleeping with them. But I am a disgusting perv that likes to talk about my sexcapades with my hubbs, dirty jokes, football and I cuss like a sailor. (Actually I've dated a sailor that told me my mouth was worse than one.) I'm not into fashion, hair, shoes, makeup, purses, mani/pedi's. I own 3 pairs of shoes. My "working in the yard" flip flops, my "everyday" flip flops, and my "dressy" flip flops. I haven't put a pair of socks on in years, nor shoes that cover my toes. I just don't give a shit about that stuff and have no interest in a conversation that includes it. Don't get me wrong, I do have female friends, but I'm not especially close to any but maybe 1 or 2 of them. And for that matter I haven't seen them in years. I only have one friend that I try to see and talk to and that is John Dillinger. Besides my hubbs, he's my bestie.
Bla bla bla. Anyhow, I left that job and was unable to work for a while. Got another job and walked out on that one and haven't worked since. I've been Baker Acted a couple of times, have had several suicide attempts and just recently went through 9 rounds of Electro Convulsive Therapy.
And that is it in a nut shell. Here I am. I'm unable to work because I hate being near people, I have a short attention span (took me forever to type this - I keep getting side tracked), I have an awful memory because of the ECT's, I don't retain information, bla bla bla. Oh, and because I'm fucking crazy.
I didn't really get into any of my crazy "episodes"... Not really sure what is going to go into the blog. I'm sure I will at some point.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Be nice, I'm new to this...
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