Posted by songtothesirens on October 22, 2014
This is something the doctors do not tell you when you are diagnosed. Being, or rather, having Bipolar Disorder is a lonely thing to have. I do not know if I have chosen solitude because I have no problems with telling people I have Bipolar, or if people just sense something is off about me, and choose not to get to know me. I do not date anymore due to the lingering negativity from my marriage to the psycho porn freak. I have no idea what could be worse than that, but I am almost 100% positive that it is out there somewhere and with me being me, I will stumble headfirst into it. I realize that you have to talk to people to get to know them. It is kind of an obvious given. It is the same with going places where people congregate, and no, concerts with your mom and her husband and your niece do not count.
I let all my walls down with my ex-husband, and I had them in place for good reasons. However, he made it through my massive defense mechanisms, and then stomped on what remained of the walls I had spent years erecting. When someone lets you in, that is something to be respected because chances are you may be one of the few who ever gets to see inside the madness, the weirdness, and the normalcy that is you as a person. They get to see the “real” you because you felt comfortable enough to let them see. It is a horrible thing to have that kind of trust betrayed. The new walls are simply taller, thicker and more heavily fortified than the old ones. At least that is the experience that I am having. I trust very few people because my life experiences have taught me that, given the chance, most people will turn on you. They can’t hang on for the ride never realizing one very important thing: they can get off the ride of they choose. I cannot. This is my life, and while I do not relish the idea of spending it alone, if that is what happens, then it is what it is.
I would go out, but all my former friends are married with children of their own (I would have a 27 year old and and a 17 year old right now had things been different.) And, going out by myself just does not appeal to me, and you really can’t meet someone unless you leave the limited and comfortable sphere you have created for yourself. Add a little dose of paranoia to that, and everyone now suddenly has ulterior motives, or they want to hurt you, or you are one of the unlucky few who actually run into a serial killer. That would be me. I could be dating someone like BTK, and never know it. I just attract weird and odd people, and not the good kind of weird…..the scary kind of weird. The kind of weird that can freak someone like me out, and I have been in some really strange places in my life. I have been in some really dangerous places in my life, and these folks are scarier than that.
I guess I just really miss the companionship, the having someone to talk to, eat with, get along with and fight with. I miss the stability that comes out of a good relationship (notice the qualifier “good”). My ex-husband and I did not have a “good” relationship…..at all. And, the thing that gets me, and gnaws and chews at me is that I gave up one of the purest loves I had ever had in order to marry the jackass that my ex turned out to be. And, it is highly likely that I will never see this man again. He did not try to change me. He knew who and what I was from the beginning, and it didn’t bother him in the least. There has only been one other person like that in my life. We have known each other for some 27 years. He gets me. Yes, I know I am throwing myself a pity party. But, I am in a funk. A deep blue indigo funk. And no one wants to hear it. People ask “How are you doing?” They don’t expect an honest answer. They expect, and, in fact, assume that you will lie and they can go on their merry little way. No wonder there are so many shrinks in this country.
Posted by songtothesirens on October 22, 2014
When I was small, like about 3 or 4, my father frequently played the banjo. He was, in my little girl opinion, very good at it. Now that I am an adult and having tried the violin in school, I have to say my father is musically inclined in a major way. But, anyway, I got involved in a “comment” discussion about songs remembered from childhood, instruments that were tried, singing in general, and memories of those songs. One of the songs my father was trying to tackle was “Dueling Banjos”…..yes, I realize you need a second banjo for this song, but he was working on both parts. So, this post in the category, “Music on Mondays” from the blog Russel Ray Photos reminded me of this one bluegrass song that I have dearly loved since being a little kid when things were simpler and happier. So, here is “Dueling Banjos.” See, Bipolar people aren’t scary. We are just a little more eccentric than other people :) This was a hard video to find…but maybe that is because I am picky…..the kid in this video can pick. So, “Dueling Banjos” by Glen Campbell and Carl Jackson from 1973.
Posted by songtothesirens on October 1, 2014
There is something that I want to write. I can feel it forming in my brain, I can sense it coming out the tips of my fingers, but I can’t seem to find the words. Anyone who knows me well knows that me being at a loss for words is a rare occurrence. It all started this morning before I woke up. I was dreaming of someone whom I love very much, and will probably love in absentia for the rest of my life. It was not the greatest dream. I could see him, but I could not reach him or talk to him. Something was preventing that. Space, time, maybe? I have not seen him since I got married, and to this day, considering what happened in my marriage, I do not know why I chose my ex-husband over this man who never judged me, never had total losses of temper regarding my mood swings (he just held me, and made things okay)….pardon me, I have to stop and cry for a bit. Damn tears came out of nowhere, I am going to have to buy some waterproof mascara for days like these.
Okay, tears dried up. I have no idea exactly where that came from. It is like the chances of rain in my city; it can thunder and blow and have lightening breaking across the sky and the incredibly dark clouds, and not a drop will fall, or the downpour will be so torrential that flood warnings are issued and we are warned to stay out of the arroyos and run-off ditches. That’s what feeling melancholy is like for me. Sometimes not a tear will come to my eye even when by all rights they should, and then sometimes they come out of nowhere to leave black streaks beneath my eyes (hence the waterproof mascara.)
I am lamenting a bad choice. I think that is what it is. I made the wrong decision, and am now regretting it as it was a decision that left me open to a man that did not really care about me (both as a person, period, and as a person with an affective disorder), was abusive in very subtle ways that left me questioning everything about my self as a woman and as a person, was incredibly critical and considered it constructive while I considered it simply criticizing for the sake of being contrary. The man that got left behind was never abusive, never critical, never judgmental, didn’t need to understand my mental issues to be a kind and loving friend; he just inherently understood me, and that I was different than other people. He loved me because I was me. I would wager he still does as he does not strike me as someone who loves easily or lightly. That is something we have in common; I do not love (or trust) easily or lightly. To this day, I wonder how my ex managed to pull the wool over my eyes until it was too late, and I was stuck with the creature he became after marrying. I did see my lover-friend once after I made the mistake of getting married. It was at a bike run that I drove four hours to get to just to see him one last time.
There is something that bound us to one another that I cannot put in words. It simply was. I told him one night after we had been out drinking beer and listening to live blues at some seedy bar that I needed to tell him something and he wasn’t allowed to think I was crazy. I told him late that night that I loved him, and his response (here we go with the tears again) to me was ” I have loved you for a long time.” That was the only time we said “I love you” to each other, and it never had to be said again. It was just something that was understood. I do not remember my ex ever telling me straight out that he loved me. It was always round about in some way, but it never came out as “I love you.” It was never to the point. I think that he loved the idea of me, but that he didn’t really love me as a real person with strengths and flaws and quirks.
The odd thing is the two men were fairly close in age, but they could not have had more different outlooks on life. Whereas one told me the last time he had use for a tie was in 1967 to tie his bedroll to his bike before taking off for Mexico, the other lamented the fact that he had no real reason to wear any of his extensive and expensive collection of ties. How did I make the choice to abandon my true lover-friend for my ex? Or maybe the question ought to be how did my ex convince me he was someone he was not; that he was open-minded, quirky, silly, serious, funny, liked the same things I did, had a similar sense of humor, liked to make me blush with some comment that usually took me a while to figure out completely, liked to tell me when I was walking to “stop fast”, wished he could play blues on the guitar and had since he was a boy, and was basically a complete pervert (but in a good way, not a damaging way?) That’s the question I cannot answer, and that is what I ponder frequently when I wake up dreaming of my lover-friend.
Posted by songtothesirens on September 24, 2014
“Bookends” ~ Simon and Garfunkel“Time it was And what a time it was, it was A time of innocence, A time of confidences. Long ago it must be I have a photograph Preserve your memories They’re all that’s left you.”
Posted by songtothesirens on September 24, 2014
Posted by songtothesirens on September 21, 2014
Hafiz ~ circa 1320-1389 was a mystic, Persian (present day Iran) Sufi poet. This selection,”We Have Not Come to Take Prisoners”, is from the lyrical poem “The Gift.”
“We have not come here to take prisoners,
But to surrender ever more deeply
To freedom and joy.
We have not come into this exquisite world
To hold ourselves hostage from love.
Run my dear,
That may not strengthen
Your precious budding wings.
Run like hell my dear,
From anyone likely
To put a sharp knife
Into the sacred, tender vision
Of your beautiful heart.
We have a duty to befriend
Those aspects of obedience
That stand outside of our house
And shout to our reason
“O please, O please,
Come out and play.”
For we have not come here to take prisoners
Or to confine our wondrous spirits,
But to experience ever and ever more deeply
Our divine courage, freedom, and
A very good friend of mine sent me the opening of the quote in an email, but I like the whole stanza. Always free yourself from anything or anyone who will not let you or will hinder your flight as a beautiful creature on this earth.
Posted by songtothesirens on September 20, 2014
Well, I survived the anniversary. It was a different sort of survival than other break-ups I have experienced. I didn’t get this (depressed is the wrong word, although I did get a prescription for 3 months of anti-depressants) moody when I broke up with other boyfriends and one fiance. Somehow, even though the marriage only lasted about 4 years, I felt more like a failure than when I broke up with my fiance of 9 years. I have been doing a lot of thinking on why that might be, and finally came to the conclusion that I was blamed frequently during the marriage for it’s shortcomings. Usually, it was the fact that I have Bipolar disorder that was blamed. I cannot help that, but somehow, I felt that I should have been less “me” and more of someone who does not live with an Affective disorder. In my rational mind, I do realize that my ex-husband never really did try to understand the disorder, and that is what lay at fault was his lack of understanding, and the emotionally abusive nature of the relationship. I always felt that I was not quite the person he thought he had married, and he tried rather hard to “remold” me into someone that more closely resembled the actors in his little “fetish” movies (I do not need to rehash all of that. There are many posts about that issue).
Being blamed for something you cannot control but can only manage to the best of your ability is terribly disheartening. When you have a “severe” psychiatric illness, you already feel different than other people, but to be essentially blamed for having it in the first place is not just disheartening, it threatens your self-image, your ego, your self-esteem, and other essential parts of who you think you are. You become your illness because so much emphasis is placed on it. I was not diagnosed in my 20’s when I was engaged for 9 years so the break-up was mutual and fairly friendly. Somehow the diagnosis made this one worse. I truly felt that it was solely my fault that the marriage didn’t work because I had to be hospitalized once (he got very angry when I asked him to drive me to the hospital; I didn’t understand that) because I was playing the “line up the pill bottles and try to decide if there is enough to overdose” game. I was trying to get myself to a safe place. I had already taken too much of my Seroquel and was falling asleep when I asked. He just yelled at me about being sick of all the drama, so I told him I would drive myself (about 45 miles) to the hospital even though I knew I would probably die in a car accident on the way. And, so the relationship went for 4 years. After a month of pondering, I have decided that my Bipolar was just a convenient way for him to take no responsibility for the failure of the relationship. And, I am still not sure about that.
Posted by songtothesirens on September 20, 2014
Today is the one year anniversary of the dissolution of my marriage. I have no idea how I feel today. I do not mean depressed or manic as those are mood states that encompass many other emotions. I am definitely not depressed (well not really depressed; I am always depressed), and I am definitely not manic (at least in any noticeable way). I am something else today. I do not know if I feel sad although I know that would be an appropriate emotion to have, I do not know if I feel somewhat angry that my ex-husband’s behavior forced my hand and made a divorce the only logical thing to do, or maybe I feel both sad and angry. Perhaps, it is a much more tangled set of emotions: I feel sad that marriage counseling didn’t work, I feel angry at him for not taking the counseling and/or my feelings seriously, I feel a certain amount of failure that, in spite of two attempts at counseling, the marriage still came apart. Maybe, I feel a certain amount of relief? That just seems so wrong to feel, though.
I know I am still angry with him for the behavior he engaged in that was really the root cause of the failure. I am trying really hard not to blame him; the behavior he was and is still engaging in is classified as an addiction in the DSM~5. However, it is very difficult for me not to blame him to some extent because I think that everyone has a tendency to point the finger at the other when it comes to things of this nature. He blamed my reactions to his addiction on my having Bipolar disorder (which he never bothered to become even remotely educated about), he blamed it on my lack of ego (if I had no ego, his addiction would not have bothered me to the extent it did, hello), he blamed my reactions on low self-esteem (once again, if I did not have some regard for myself, it wouldn’t have bothered me because I would have been a door mat). He pointed the finger at me and blamed me for his addiction. That still just flat out pisses me off. However, having been an addict of a different kind, I can see the behavior of blaming whoever and whatever is handy, and understand that is part of the nature of addiction.
He doesn’t and will never see it that way until he knows with his heart and soul that he has a problem. It is one thing to know intellectually that one is an addict. It is another thing entirely to own it, make it yours and yours only, and then get help. So far, he has only recognized it intellectually, and with me gone, he sees no reason to stop even though it will impact the next relationship and the next and the next. In many ways, I feel sorry for him that he just cannot see it.
I think also that I feel a sense of loss of self. I am not the same person who went happily into this marriage thinking it would be my one and only for the rest of my life. I have allowed myself to become jaded, cynical and suspicious of the motives of men, in general. I didn’t really realize this until several guys had hit on me, and my reaction to them was to question their motives. They could have been nice guys who just wanted to get to know me. I have been deeply wounded, and I do not know how to heal because the person who hurt me claimed they loved me more than anything else. And, I believed that……for a while. If he had truly loved me, he would have educated himself on Bipolar disorder, he would not have tried to change me from the boots and jeans type of woman I am into a woman who ran around the house cleaning in high heels like some mad version of June Cleaver, he would not have tried to make me look like the women he saw in Texas (of all places; no offense meant). Had he truly loved me, he would have let me just be me. But, he didn’t.
I think more than anything I am confused. I loved him so I did the things I thought or that he had expressed would make him happy, and I received nothing but blame, emotional and verbal abuse, and shaming in return. And, he wonders why I divorced him. Had he really wanted to, he could have changed for me, or we could have compromised. I always thought compromise is part of a relationship. At least it was in the ones I have been in before him. I am also quite confused by his present behavior. It would seem that he wants to reconcile, and he is being the person he was (for the most part) before we were married. I have no reassurances, however, that he won’t go back to the person he became and, at heart, probably still is. Why can’t this man just be normal like everyone else I have been in long term relationships with? Why the confusing gestures and mixed signals? I dissolved the marriage for a reason, and in my experience, those reasons rarely change all that much.
Posted by songtothesirens on August 29, 2014
We have all seen the lists of things a person, albeit well-meaning, should never say to a depressed person. We also know that periodically experiencing crippling depression can be a symptom of a relapse into illness.Hopefully, if you have either had Bipolar disorder for a while, or are just very attuned to your mental emotional shifts, you can stop it before it happens. Here is a list of things you CAN say to a depressed person,
- Can I relieve your stress in any way? Words have very little effect, if any, on a depressed person. In fact, they can twist them around in their minds to make themselves feel even worse. What you can do? Come over and offer to clean up their house or fix them a meal or go out and run some errands for them. These are ways of showing you care about them, and respect that they are experiencing depression. Showing through action that you care is worth all the wasted words in the world.
- What do you think might help you to feel better? Here again words are important. Especially how you phrase them. According to Psychcentral.com‘s associate editor, Therese Borchand, it is much like dealing with a defiant child. Depressed people are well known for being difficult, as are children when you take their candy away, for example, telling them they will turn into a ghoul if they eat more. What seems to be more effective is to ask the child about something he or she did while under the influence of a sugar rush. Ask them if they want that to happen again. The answer is usually ‘no’ and they will reach for something else entirely. The same goes for a depressed person. Acknowledge their depression, and rephrase questions in such a way that they come up with their own way of feeling better.
- Is there something I can do for you? Again we have action over words; showing the depressed person that you care about them. This is an excellent time to show compassion. The depressed individual is likely to say no, there is nothing you can do for them, but what does register through the fog and the tears is the thought “This person really cares about me”.
- Can I drive you somewhere? Here again is action over what may come across to a depressed person as shallow words of pseudo-sympathy (been there, done that). Here is something concrete that you can do for a depressed person. Apparently, people who are depressed are really bad drivers. So, offering to drive them somewhere they need or maybe do not need to go is good for them (they get out of the house for a while and maybe get some grocery shopping done or maybe a pedicure, as my mom once did for me), it is safer for them and all the other really scary drivers out there.
- Where are you getting your support? This is completely different than asking if they are receiving therapy or attending group meetings either in person or through an online support group. If you ask if they are receiving therapy or some type of support, and they are not, this has the implication that they are too lazy to get help (they are depressed, not lazy. It is hard to do anything in this state let alone secure support). This question is much more proactive. It says, if you are getting help, great! But, if you aren’t, let’s figure out a way that you can get support through a one on one therapist or through a group because the depressed person does need the help/support to help them through this part of their life so they do not feel isolated and one of a kind.
- You won’t always feel this way. I am a bit ambivalent about this one. Why should I believe someone who is not nor has experienced depression that this will go away? However, it is a simple statement of fact. It doesn’t try to manipulate, it doesn’t try to persuade, and it doesn’t judge the person who is depressed. It simply states that this is not going to last forever, and that can provide that little ray of hope that a depressed person needs to continue on to the next day. Now, whether that day bring a pin-prick of light at the top of your rabbit hole or a semi-trailer bearing down on you remains to be seen.
- Can you think of anything contributing to your depression? This is basically a very kind and round about way of getting someone who is depressed to look at what might be causing it. It is a gentle way of saying, “Maybe it is the abusive relationship you are in,” without coming out and saying it. It could be a myriad of different things that is causing the depressed mood. This is a way of getting the person with the low mood to come to their own conclusions about the cause, and consequently, what to do to get rid of the source (we are talking about situational depression, not the kind caused by brain chemical imbalances). This allows the person suffering to come to their own conclusions about what is appropriate for them to do, take accountability for their own action, and not end up blaming someone fro advising them on a course of action that may be entirely wrong.
- What time of day is hardest for you? This is a question that my psychiatrist and psychologist have both asked me when I have been depressed which is most of the time due to the mixed episode problem. According to Therese J. Borchard, associate editor at http://psychcentral.com/, the most acute times for depression are upon waking (realizing that it is another day, and you will most likely not be happy-go-lucky just because you slept for 8 hours), and at about 3-4 in the afternoon when blood sugar dips and anxiety can set in. This is something anyone close to the depressed person can ask; a parent, a good friend, an extended family member. They can also do something about it when they get the answer; they can call the person experiencing depression when they are at their lowest during the day. For me, personally, I become most depressed at night when everything gets quiet, and everyone has retired to their respective apartments. Since no one thinks to call at night, I often end up reading in bed and then going to sleep so I do not have to deal with the emotions. I know what causes them, and that is not going to change any time soon. During the day, I am fine because I can always find something to do (but neighbors don’t like you vacuuming at midnight :) )
- I’m here for you. This is a simple statement that carries no hidden meaning whatsoever. It is simple, and lets the depressed know that you are there, you aren’t going anywhere just because they are depressed, it tells them that you get it, that you understand they are going through a rough time, it says you care. It doesn’t imply that you understand; what it does say though is you care, and that you are there to support them.
- Nothing. My personal favorite. Sometimes, someone to listen is exactly what the depressed need. They do not need advice, they do not need to hear “this is what you SHOULD do”, what they need is attention and someone to hear them and their pain. From the book Kitchen Table Wisdom : “When people are talking, there’s no need to do anything but receive them. Just take them in. Listen to what they’re saying. Care about it. Most times caring about it is even more important than understanding it.” ~ Rachel Naomi Remen.
I wrote this list because I see so many lists about what NOT to say to people who are depressed, mentally ill, etc. that I thought it might be nice to have a list of things that may be helpful to do for or say to someone who’s having a rough time of things.
Posted by songtothesirens on August 28, 2014