Not infrequently, at the Bipolar Burble I get comments about how if famous artists with mental illnesses had of been medicated, we would have no art today. For some odd reason their go-to example is always Vincent Van Gogh. Without his untreated mental illness, they argue, Van Gogh wouldn’t have been the great artist we know him to be today.
Right then. Let’s all go off our meds and paint. And chop off our ears.
Read MoreA commenter, Jessica, left a comment yesterday that so succinctly expresses what so many of us feel about depression, bipolar and mental illness, and continue to feel. The following is her comment and my response.
“when I just feel so sick and tired of fighting for what seems like nothing…what seems like a never ending battle…what seems like someone hitting me over the head with a two-by-four every two minutes, telling me it will never stop until the day I die, and then they explaining to me why I should continue to fight to live for another 40 years.”
Yes. I know.
We fight to the death for millimeters when we really need a mile. I know.
Read MoreOne of the truly horrible things about a lifetime of bipolar, hypomania, depression and illness is that you’re always left wondering, is this depression the last depression? Is this my brain and my mind’s breaking point? Is this the depression I end with suicide?
And worse, people around you, in idle moments, might wonder if this the last time they’ll have to hear you sobbing on the phone. Is this the last time they see your depression? Is this the last time they have to be scared for you?
Ah yes, a mental illness reality that is a treat for everyone.
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Just how suicidal are you? OK, admittedly, it’s probably not the best idea to fixate on this question, but in point of fact “being suicidal” doesn’t mean just one thing. Being suicidal exists on a scale. But how does one quantify how suicidal you are?
Thanks to very depressing research we do know many awful suicide statistics.
(There are lots of other suicide statistics provided by the National Institute of Mental Health.)
Today I feel angry.
Really angry.
Today I feel that my mentally ill, depressed, bipolar life is inexorably unfair.
Today I hate everyone.
Yes, I know, I’m supposed to be better than that. Yes, I know, I’m supposed to rise above that. Yes, I know that isn’t fair or particularly true. But I feel it anyway. You try being this depressed. You try being this suicidal. See how many people you hate.
Read MoreStabbing is bad. It just is. If you have to pick self-harm options between cutting, hitting, and stabbing, don’t pick stabbing.
Unless you’re trying to kill someone, in which case I think stabbing would be pretty good. And satisfying. I’m surprised more murderers don’t pick stabbing.
I’m having anxiety issues. And impulse control issues. And stabbing issues. Well, that last one is really a function of the other two, but it’s an issue nonetheless.
I’ve always been attracted to stabbing. I think that’s because when you start wielding a blade with force, you can’t change your mind. And it’s so easy to did deep. And draw a lot of blood.
Read MoreThis silence feels familiar. I despise the deafening, familiar sounds of silence. They terrify me. I suppose the silence strangles me. Strangled, alone, screaming.
People who know me, know this about me. They know how much I hate being ignored. They know that when they don’t return my calls or my emails my mind riles in negative and catastrophic scenarios. People who actually like me don’t want to do that to me.
Read MoreThere are frequent reports that of the people who survive suicide attempts, they realized sometime after the pills, or the gun, or the jump, they didn’t want to die. This is obvious. No one wants to die. People who attempt suicide don’t want to die. They want to be out of pain.
People Who Attempt Suicide Don’t Want to Die, They Want to Be Free of PainIt is obvious that every human wants to live. No matter what their personal circumstance each human claws against death until they either don’t see it coming, or they feel there is no alternative for them.
Many people actually have no problem with that – we call it doctor-assisted suicide. The reason it’s “OK” to kill yourself near the end of your life is because it is medically certain you will be in agony for the short remainder of your existence. In this instance doctors just turn their head while a little extra morphine is administered. Happens all the time.
No one, however, recognizes mental illness as a terminal illness. It can never be determined to a medical certainty that the rest of your life will be lived in agony. Even though it might be. Tomorrow might be different. Magic might happen. A unicorn might walk through my front door. But probably not. Tomorrow is probably going to be exactly like today. Only it’ll be Saturday. Yay.
The problem with a disorder like depression is that pleasure is simply absent. Pleasure in all ways is gone. Desire is gone. Depressed people don’t like anything. Depressed people don’t want to do anything. And even if something extraordinary were to happen, like a unicorn in your living room, it wouldn’t matter. Because the ability to feel pleasure is gone.
And if anhedonia weren’t enough to make life absolutely pointless, there’s the adding of pain on top of it. Pain on top of pain on top of the unbearable, unarguable knowledge of more pain. And still, the fact is, I don’t want to die. I just really don’t want to live. Like this.
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Caffeine is the world’s most popular psychoactive substance. So many of us love it a la Starbucks, Tim Hortons or just out or our home coffee machine. Me, I love coffee and I’m a fan of caffeine too. Coffee’s the nectar of the gods and nothing will convince me otherwise.
It seems though, caffeine can actually hurt you. I know, I never thought my beloved coffee could harm me, but I suppose anything that you abuse, will abuse you back. So, here is everything you ever needed to know about caffeine, caffeine disorders and caffeine and mental illness but were afraid to ask.
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