The Bipolar Burble welcomes author of Hopping Roller Coasters, Rachel Pappas for today’s guest post.
I wrote my memoir as an apology to my daughter, who I tore apart emotionally and verbally for years. But I also wrote the book to quiet some old ghosts. And I wanted to remind people fighting similar demons they are not alone.
My Ugly Dance
Probably like many of you, my “ugly dance” began ages ago – before I was old enough to know my own steps. I was following my very unhappy, sometimes untamably furious mother’s lead. I kept dancing once my daughter was born.
The red hot flashes would come on, the wires in my head would tighten, then pop, and I’d go at Marina. Later I’d kiss her tear-streaked cheek, tuck her in. Flip the light switch with the white kitty and sparkles, and hope my little girl would sleep soundly. Feel sick about what I’d just done, then do it again.
My sweet girl with the pixie cut and bangs accepted my apologies. Over and over.
Last week on HealthyPlace’s Breaking BipolarI mentioned that I use a nom de plume. Yes, that’s right, Natasha Tracy is not my legal name. I don’t think this should come as a gigantic shock to anyone given as writers have been writing under pen names since the beginning of the written word.
But apparently it did come as a shock. And apparently people felt betrayed by this piece of information. And apparently some people felt like being rather nasty about it. And apparently some people felt like becoming ex-readers over it.
Well, OK, fine, that’s your prerogative. But I have my reasons for not using my real name. Here are a few.
One of the criticisms antipsychiatry folks like to make of psychiatry is its lack of objective diagnostic criteria. In other words, there’s no blood test that says you have bipolar disorder or schizophrenia.
And this is true. While today we do have blood tests for biological markers indicative of mental illness diagnosis, there is no hard and fast test that can diagnose a psychiatric disorder (except Huntington’s, for which we have discovered a gene).
The fact of the matter is no matter what is written in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM) or what blood we draw or which scans we do nothing diagnoses a person properly except a trained psychiatric professional.
But that doesn’t mean there’s nothing objective or meaningful about it.
After my recent post about stress leading to hypomania in bipolar, I’ve had a couple of questions about what tools I use to handle hypomania. I’m happy to share my experience with hypomania but I can’t promise it will agree with your own. (Remember, hypomania is not the same as mania. In bipolar I, mania can easily be life-threatening.)
Are You Hypomanic?
I know it’s tough to admit you’re hypomanic, which is a mood, which is a symptom of bipolar, because many of us enjoy parts of hypomania and we don’t want it to go away, especially considering some of the alternatives. We just want to believe we’re feeling “good.” Really good. Which would be nice.
Nevertheless, the first step in dealing with bipolar hypomania is realizing that you’re hypomanic. And, of course, there are various degrees of hypomania – the more hypomanic you are the more worried you probably should become. The more hypomanic you are the more you need to focus on dealing with it properly because the chances are greater are there’s a nasty depression waiting for you at the end. (See, Self-Diagnosing Hypomania.)
As many people know from my last post on hypomania, last week I was filmed for a documentary by Andy Fiore. The documentary is about bipolar disorder and I was one of three people interviewed. Michael Schratter of Ride Don’t Hide, an international tour and movement to battle mental illness stigma, was also interviewed.
I’m not sure how your average person deals with stress. Bingeing? Talking? Ranting? Raging? Running? I just don’t know. As far as I can see, people do all those things when they’re stressed.
But for a person with bipolar disorder, stress can lead to hypomania. And one has to deal with the stress and deal with the hypomania combined – which is kind of stressful in and of itself.
I’m Stressed
Tomorrow I’m being filmed for a documentary by Andy Fiore of Fiore Films. It is for a documentary about people who have learned to successfully live with bipolar disorder. As many of us do, I successfully live with bipolar disorder type 2 even if it’s a rocky path much of the time. And one might argue, I have turned my bipolar disorder into a positive by becoming a mental health writer and helping create a positive path for others living with bipolar disorder.
OK. Fine. But I kind of can’t breathe.
But I admit, I’m nervous. Stressed. I’m stressed about appearing on camera. Even though I do a video spot for HealthyPlace once a month, I still don’t feel particularly comfortable looking into the black abyss of a camera lens.
And I’ve decided to include, at the back of the book a list of hospitals that offer ECT to help people who want the treatment with a starting point on how to get it.
There’s just one problem – there’s no central repository on who offers ECT treatment.
Please Help Me with the List of Hospitals that Offer ECT
So I’m asking for your help. If you know of a facility that offers ECT, please let me know in the comments below and I’ll add it to the list. You’ll be helping me and helping others as well. Please include hospitals in Canada and the US.
And, of course, if you have any questions about ECT, also feel free to comment on those and I’ll make sure the answers are here and in the book.
But then something happened. It wasn’t an earth-shattering thing, it was just a thing. A life thing. A thing that your average person would feel bad about but not the end of the world.
Just the end of my world.
Depression
Depression is a funny thing. Not so much funny ha ha but more funny want to slit your throat. Depression makes you believe things that aren’t true. Depression makes you believe that you are lowly, that you are nothing, that you are unlovable, that you are unlikeable, and a host of other things all seemingly designed to tear you to the floor.
And it’s really unfortunate when life events work to confirm, or seemingly confirm, these false beliefs.
Hi all. A lot happens around these parts in six weeks. As most of you know this month I launched a new blog on Healthline.com called Bipolar Bitesand, of course, I still have my blog on HealthyPlace.com called Breaking Bipolar.
Bipolar Bites and Breaking Bipolar Articles
In case you haven’t kept up with your reading, here’s the best of what you might have missed in the last couple of months from both blogs:
I remember the day, or rather, the night, about 13 years ago when I discovered I had bipolar disorder. I did exactly what I tell people not to do: I went online and diagnosed myself. In my case, I happened to be right.
I remember the extreme pain, fear and shame I felt at realizing I had a mental illness. I remember the indignation I felt at the idea that I would have to take medication for the rest of my life. Mostly though, I remember the tears. I remember the candy apple-red face stained with hundreds of tears. That’s what I remember the most.
But that was 13 years ago and a lot has happened since. One thing I have learned though is that I didn’t accept my mental illness that night. Nor the next. I didn’t truly accept my mental illness for years.
Recently a couple of my posts / links / images raised eyes with some of my readers. Some complained and others requested that I put content warnings in front of them.
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