I have explained to many people, many times, that bipolar is existence at the ends of a spectrum. It’s not that your average person doesn’t get sad, or happy, or devastated, or elated, it’s simply that they do not experience these emotions so fully, so much of the time. My bipolar problem isn’t the existence of these emotions, simply their intensity, their duration and their frequency.
All this bipolar emotion makes people look at me strangely. I know. But oddly, someone it seems not only loves me in spite of bipolar but even finds reasons to love me in the bipolar, because of the bipolar. Love.
The bipolar burble welcomes guest author Stephanie of Mommy vs. Madness. Today Stephanie talks about something I can certainly relate to, the concept that stereotypically, those with bipolar disorder are nothing but crazy and so are to be disregarded. Stephanie talks about the cost of fighting this stigma.
Fitting in is hard. Fitting when you are bipolar is harder. Most people can fit in by adorning themselves in the latest shoes, bags or clothes. Others may compensate by engaging in witty conversations, bragging about their job accomplishments or their children. Being bipolar, I feel the need to compensate for my perceived incompetence. I feel that in order for me to fit in, I have to prove just how sane I am. For me to accomplish this I feel I must be smart, I must be funny and most importantly I must be calm and rational at all times.
It’s important to note that I did this without medical supervision and so my thoughts cannot necessarily be generalized to what would happen in a clinical setting. And I don’t need to tell you this, but don’t try this at home kids. Bad things can happen.
During Day One of Chronotherapy
Staying up for 36 hours isn’t fun. I would imagine most people instinctively know this, but I can now say with certainty that 36 hours is too long to be awake.
The changes I noticed during this time were:
A lot of dizziness, difficulty going from sitting to standing
Lack of coordination
Nausea, lack of hunger
General feeling of weakness and unwellness
Depletion of cognitive ability
Disconnection from the world around me
This was not fun in the slightest and the only thing that kept me grounded was a friend that stayed up with me.
I am an extremely competent individual. I’m intelligent, hard-working, perfectionistic and driven. I’m gentle, kind, giving, funny and witty. I’m a great employee and I like to think pretty good friend. But like many of my mentally ill brethren, I feel like I have to keep proving over and over how competent I am due to the unfortunate mental illness stereotypes. People tend to think of bipolars in a negative light.
And this is just what Schwandy, from Mommy Vs. Maddness will be discussing in her post next week…
Still on the ridiculous chronotherapy experiment schedule.
Last night I did get about six hours of sleep, which I do appreciate, but it is seriously not enough sleep for me. I get the impression this protocol suggests that seven hours is the “right” amount of sleep for people. These people are nutbar. OK, probably not nutbar but unreasonable. Never in my life has seven hours of sleep been enough for me. The bags under my eyes appear to have been chiseled there. Getting up at 3:00 AM just felt like an inhumane torture…
I’m getting ready for the second 7-hour stretch of sleep. Honestly, I’m not sure whether I’m awake or not at this point. So little sleep over so many days. This has been the longest month, um, week, um I mean, three days ever. Want to make time stand still? Try not sleeping.
The day has been so up and down in energy and mood fluctuations that I feel like my molecules are spinning apart a little. Perhaps I will become see-through…
For the last couple of hours I’ve regained a bit of energy. I guess it’s those early morning hours that are the biggest bitch, but then they would be, if you don’t sleep. Still definitely exhausted.
My brain still feels like it’s sliding out my ears. It’s all squishy and porous. Thoughts are leaking. I can’t seem to maintain a ribbon of logic…
Seriously dude, I am tired. Like, really. Two days with almost no sleep. I am not fun to be around either. Growly. Annoyed. Nauseated. Brain-dead. Mistake-ful. Comprehension-challenged. Hurting. Dizzy. Icky. Not with the happy.
It’s not the end of the world. I’m not homicidal or anything but I really, really want to sleep now…
Thus ends the first sleep. It was supposed to be 7 hours but apparently, that was not to be. I went to bed at 6:oo PM as directed, but sleep would not come. I didn’t sleep any sleep medication as I felt that after 36 hours I would actually fall asleep on my own. Ah, have I learned nothing about my brain!?…
Continuing on the chronotherapy experiment and just about to set down for my first sleep in 36 hours. I’m exhausted and tired and pretty much shocked that I survived 36 hours awake. Really, I don’t recommend it.
I’ve got increasing anxiety that when I actually do lay down in 30 minutes I won’t sleep. And then I’m scared that I won’t wake up again at 1:00 AM like I’m supposed to. I suppose if there’s nothing to worry about I’ll make sure there’s something to worry about. Sleep and stress. They are so tightly knit…
Continuing on the chronotherapy experiment. Feeling much better. Almost felt like I was going to pass out a few times around 10 AM but I seem to have picked up a second, or third, or sixty-fourth wind or something.
The panic is gone and the anxiety has diminished. My friend is awake again after he napped off and on for 2.5 hours. He’s allowed to nap, I’m not.
I think I’ll be able to make it to 6:00 PM but I wish it would hurry up and get here already. This has been the longest day, ever…
I’m still alive and ticking on the chronotherapy experiment. Still pretty tired. Dizzy. Nauseous. Feverish. Coffee’d. But still going. My friend is still here but he’s dozing in and out. It’s mostly Dexter keeping me company at the moment.
I had some moments of pretty high anxiety and panic but as long as I sit still and focus on the TV, the computer or my iPhone it seems to be OK. Quietly. The word of the moment.
I think I can stay awake until 6:00 PM. We’ll see. My brain is pretty scrambled…
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