I am depressed, hopeless, feeling suicidal, abandoned, friendless.

Lost. 

I have been keeping my moods (and tears) to myself since I was 11 and first started to show symptoms. Funny..having just been diagnosed as BP 1 at the age of 31, I think that some people in my family don't realise it's such a big deal, or don't really believe it, because I have spent do much energy over the last 20 years keeping all the agony and ups and downs well hidden. My facade was build stronger than the Berlin wall but even that monsterous construction built to divide had to come down eventually.

I don't do drugs or drink; have been married for 11 years, am still working but it is just so hard. I feel like I can't keep up the effort trying to keep it together anymore. I guess if I had to sum up my life in one word to date it would be "suffering". Don't get me wrong...I am quite happy some of the time. I am lucky to be married to a great guy who has been with me all the way. I have at times achieved greatness academically, in my career and in my creative pursuits. But sustaining anything has always alluded me. Nothing lasts because I cannot go the distance. things start to slip and spirial out of control. I start to worry about what I am doing, the self doubts creep in and take over, soon I am not answering the phone, then not leaving the hours, or the bed or sofa. I am worthless. I am nothing. I am pain absolute. I feel no pain just numbness that goes on forever.

 One day suddenly the sun will shine again, the birds will chirp and I will begin to see them again.  

Something awakens in me. I feel alive. I feel free. I feel happy. I feel such joy in life that my heart could burst with the enormity of it all. I push myself to make the most of every experience. I achieve again. I am great. I take on more and more and more because it is my destiny. I hear music and laugh at the strangest things. I cannot stop. I cannot sleep. It coarse through my veins like poison. Every muscle is tense and ready for action. My mind is a wide screen tv constantly playing and replaying the interactions of yesterday, today, and tommorrow. I talk too fast that no one can understand. I spend too much money. I spend out of control and love the power it gives me. I write elbourate business plans guaranteed to make my fortune. I stay up all night. I organise the house til 2am that has fallen into disorder during depressions past. Life is grand for me but no so grand for those around me. I start to stumble and fall. I cannot keep up with what I have started. Nothing gets finished. Projects and inspirations lie abandoned. I am confused. I am exhausted. I cannot get up. I crash again and wait for the day the sun started shining again.

I am just about to start medication for the first time so am not looking forward to the process of that. I am looking forward to hopefully the point in the future whether I have found something that works for me and doesn't take to much of me away with the rollarcoaster ride. Not that I really know who I am anymore. What is me? What is my illness? What is balance and what is normal? Too much time has been lost and can never be claimed back again. Time to start again. Time for a new beginning.

What an uncomfortable day it was for me.  My husband went off into a rage last night breaking things and verbally abusing me infront of my daughter and also verbally abusing her.  I have beensupportive of his bipolar disorder and keep trying to make things work but I have come to the point of just giving up.  I am tired of the abuse and the broken promises.  I dont want my daughter around the abuse anymore.  She is my number one.  He is a very hateful man, he will not leave knowing that he is never to come back.  He is just that way...if I want him to leave he wont...if he wants to leave he does.  I guess I will just pray to my higher power for the strength and courage.  I just dont know how to go about it.  If I was to put a restraining order on him he would flip!  I live in "small town" USA in the midwest and the police force here is not supportive to say the least.  I have called them before and they just make him leave and say that I can not kick him out because he has a right to be here because this is his house too because we are married.  Actually it isnt his house it belongs to my brother but the police still say he has a right to be here because we are married.  Ugh...which way do I go??? It was my day off and I walked on eggshells all day.  He did not utter a word, neither did I...until later on and he said "I am not taking all the blame for this" very typical for him.  Never takes ownership...Ugh...confused...

As of today 03.18.2008 I am 27 years old. And to be honest my life has been consumed with more bullshit and lies than most people will ever know. I was adopted by my biological mother and step-grandfather. They treated me like road trash. I was always a whore...even before I ever had sex. My childhood consisted of taking care of my grandmother who was diagnised with COPD when I was 6 yrs old, cleaning, and I was cooking full meals by the time I was 12. Doesnt seem so bad huh? Well my entire life I was nothing more than a reminder of my biolofical mom. I talked like her, stood like her, acted like her so of course in their ignorant eyes I must be her. I was being called a whore before I even knew what a whore really was or even what they did. I was beaten if the coffee wasnt made strong enough, or if the dishes werent just right or if I didnt hang the clothes out on the line the correct way. By beaten I mean I had fractured arms, swolen eyes, bloody welps. I was beaten so badly I would pee on myself befor ethey even hit me. When I was about 13 my biological dad was in prison and the family came in contact with a woman named Ingrid. Ingrid nicknamed me Cinderella right from the beginning. She seen the way i was treated. She eventually started wriing my biological dad and they got married in Houston Texas a year or so later. But even then noone came to help me. My childhood was stolen from me. My grandmother had grown kids but for some reason it was left up to me. The child. As they all would sit and watch them beat me, throw hot coffee on me, hit me in the face with 2x4. I hated it. I hated them. All of them. Due to such a chaotic childhood of course what was going on with me as an individual was over looked. Noone cared about my grades, if I took a bath, if I had clean clothes, etc. I am 100% self taught!! So now at 27 yars old all that should have been addressed so long ago has finally caught up with me.  At 24 yrs old I finally realized there is truly something wrong with me. I started doing research and went to a psych. I was diagnosed with ADD and BiPolar II. And anyone who has lived with bi-polar or bpd knows how everyday is a struggle just to make it. Never being happy, always feeling empty.  After 2 1/2 yrs of seeing a dr who was just using me as a lab rat and nothing was changing with my moods I decided I was going to the top for my treatment and so I did. And in 2 weeks I feel so much better. I am a better mother. I am more productive and happy.

Hi, well my name is Kadii im 16 at the moment but my story starts when i was about 8. i went to a family bbq and my cousin just started touching me for no reason. i was only 8 and had no understandingto what was happening to me. this went on every birthday in the family, christmas, easter evertime i saw him it would happen. i had no escape my mum loved him like a son and he would stay over all the time. one time i was in the shower and he somehow got in and started feeling me i wanted to scream and kick but my whole body just froze up. the first time i realised what he was doing was wrong was when i read a book about a girl who was going through what he was doing to me and i realised that it was wrong. i didnt wanna say anything to my mum cuz he told me he would kill me if i ever said anything. i told my best friend and school after she saw hinm touching me one day.

 

she told me that i had to tell someone but i was so scared of what he would do as he was 4 years older then me. finally when i was 12 i wrote a letter to my mum saying what was going on but i never mentioned the name and i put it in my school bag and i was supposed to throw it out but forgot and mum found it one night and she came into my room asking hu it was and wen i told her we both broke down in tears. my mum has supported me throughout everything although telling tore my family apart i wouldnt go back because now he can never touch me or anyone else again. i have had sexual relationships since it happened but none that i ever stay with the guy because all i can see is my cousins face. i attempted suicide once and ended up in hospital for 8 weeks thats when i found out i had post traumatic stress disorder but since then i have been diagnosed with Bipolar anyone who may be able to give me advice or support please message me!

I am very upbeat and restless today.  I can't seem to sit still.  Of course it could be the Abilify.  I had to start taking Cogentin yesterday to counter-act against the teeth-grinding.  I couldn't stop at all.

I got a ton of cleaning done on the house today.  I checked my bank balance, and almost cried.  There is nothing left in my savings account.  I have to get outta this funk.  I surely can't spend anymore.

Holy Cow, I have only been awake for an hour and 15 minutes and it already isn't good. The people that I live with just don't understand what I am going through and that sometimes it isn'treally me and that sometimes i just need to wait it out until I can talk to them. They just get upset with me and start telling me about how I don't need to act like that and it makes me feel so stupid and i know its not really me but I cant help but feel like I am the one doing all of this. Today will hopefully get better. Maybe I will go excersise.

I dont know if it is just me or the BP but sometimes I just cant stand people and I dont want to be around anyone all I want is to listen to my music and be with my dog. At least she just listens to meand dosen't get mad at me or anything like that. This morning I had a doctors appointment and my ousin took me and she kept asking me questions and drilling me about stuff and I just wanted to jump out of the car by the time we got to the parking lot!! Sometimes I just dont know what is wrong with me.

Well this is my first step in communication. Don't ask me why I can do this when I usually cant communicate in any way shape or form. I have recently moved in with my cousins, and for most of mylife before this I lived with my grandparents and I was emotionally abused by them and we never talked about our emotions or anything else the only time they really talked to me was when I was in trouble. Well now my cousins are trying to get me to talk and communicate with them and I just cant do it, my cousin actually bought me a notebook and pen set for me to keep a journal to see if it would help me. Well it didn't I cant really explain why but I cant even write about y feelings in a journal. And why I can talk about them on here I don't know why, maybe its because people on here have somewhat of and understanding of what i am going through.

So now to the present, I have recently been diagnosed as Bipolar and I am very wierded out but the whole thing, I dont know how to tell people and I dont know how my loved ones will react and to out it straight out I am scared for myself and the people around me. Today I had a depressing day maybe tomorrow it will be better

I never did share my art with my new friends ... think you might like the piece entitled "Bi-Polar."  You may see a lot of my personality in my work as well as my disease.  Enjoy. 

Louie  http://rochonsculpture.artspan.com/

 

The Story of how 'Daily Good Dog Feedings' Started.

It is one of those stories that can change your life, forever, ignitinga spark of hope and offering up a powerfully effective yet simple technique. The story of the Good Dog has changed my life forever and as you will see, the lives of many others around the world.

Often, when I'm suffering from my mental illness, (Bi-Polar II), mania and depression as well as severe ADHD, when hope fades into desperation, I pray, No, I plead with God to listen to me, to help relieve of my suffering ... yet, I hear nothing but that maddeing silence.

This story is about how God answered my pleading prayer, not only giving me hope and strength but also giving me the idea of lighting a single candle that has already lit thousands of other's candles all over this planet, providing a little daily flicker of hope that others can light their own candles and find their way out of the dark.

Oh, back to the story ... sorry, I do get a bit manic when I write ...

About a year ago, I was undergoing a particularly bad bout of debilitating depression, hiding it from those around me, as usual, while dying inside. I was at an alcohol support meeting when someone shared a simple story.  My life has never been the same since then.

Funny how sometimes somebody says something that sticks, that becomes a permanent fouundation on which you can rebuild your entire life.  Perhaps I was at a place in my life that I was worn out and ready to listen. That day, God answered my pleading prayer, through one guy, that I had not seen before or since that meeting, one of my angels - there have been, many!

Finally ... The Story that Changed My Life, Forever ...

ABOUT 'Daily Good Dog Feedings'

A Native American Elder told a story about his people believe that we all have, within us, a 'Good Dog' and a 'Bad Dog,' that are always fighting to be in control.

My friend asked him, "Which One Wins?"

The elder simply replied, "The One That You Feed."

That anonymous angel shared that story with me in January of 2007.  At the time of hearing it, I thought, "Cool story, after 20 years around this place, it's amazing to hear something I've never heard before."  That was it, just a simple story that I thought was pretty cool.  I filed it into my brain with all the other clutter accumulated from 54 years of mostly useless thinking and went about trying to survive another day of my life.

That very next morning (mornings are the hardest time for my depression) I seemed to be especially aware of my thoughts. I watched as my mind instantly went towards fear, dread and self hate; it's as if I was watching myself watching myself and condemning myself.

My depression, especially when mixed with extreme mania at the same time, can cause me to feel disconnected, totally fragmented from my-self (whatever self is) and the rest of the world.  That morning was especially harsh, feeling as I was hovering over myself, watching this pathetic human parasite in that dirty bathrobe smoking a cigarette and filled with hate and disgust and anguish of feeling so alone and anger at God for feeling like such a victim for having to endure this kind of pain.  You get the picture ... it was a pretty atypical morning for me. 

Normally, it would take a full pot of coffee and a 1/2 pack of smokes before I could start making a meager plan for coping through the day.  This was my life, trying to figure out how I could hide from everyone around me, for an entire day, pretending like I was normal, until I could close the door to my room, alone, put on my dirty bathrobe and finally, feel a sense of relief in closing off the world, until morning.  And it would start over again.  Every single morning, day after painful day, it would start  over again like a perverted mnetally ill version of 'Groundhogs Day.'  This was, my life.  But this morning, looking back, was a morning unlike any other morning I had ever experienced.  This morning something would change my life forever ... back to the story ...

That January morning, slumped in a chair, sucking coffee and cigs in my dirty bathrobe, suddenly a thought, a clear thought (that's a novelty in and of itelf) came to mind.  The story of the Good Dog vs. Bad Dog popped into my foggy little mind as well as the words of Eckhart Tolle. 

Eckhart Tolle's The Power of Now, which I had studied for years trying desperately to find relief, asserts that ...  Emotions are Caused by Our Thoughts and Our Thoughts come from What We Think and What We Think is Determined by What We CHOOSE to Think!

That's what God was telling me through my angel and his story of the Dog, and through my memories of the words of Tolle ... that I have the power of choice of how I feel.  "Oh Sure I do," I thought, "Right!."

"OK," I thought, "I'll give this a try. Like what do I have to lose?"  At first, trying to think of something positive when I had grown morbidly accustomed to the gloom and doom of endless years of depression, seemed impossible.  Yet the concept of the Dog made so much sense to me.  I had to reach for some hope.  I was watching myself die.

I forced myself to make a mental 'Gratitude List,' something I had done over the years with success, when I remembered to do it.  It was like trying to turn around the Titanic, after it had sunk, but I tried, God I tried to think of things that I was grateful for, yet I was filled with such self hate, fear, rage, and fragmented thinking.   I did manage to scribble a few mental gratitudes.  Within minutes, I noticed that my depression was 'different' ... not as overwhelming, still there and very powerful, but not taking me over completely. 

As the weeks went on, forcing myself to listen to the Good Dog and forcing myself to stay firmly planted in the present moment (as best I could), I was noticing a change, a BIG CHANGE in depression, on a more permanent basis.  I was getting help, medically, but I believe that this mental trick, this forcing my head to focus on something positive, worked and worked better and better each day.

Running out of positive thoughts and things to be grateful for, I started reading and researching to find life affirming quotes, poems and short stories.  I started writing them down as I searched for positive 'Good Dog' reinforcement.  Then I started emailing them to my son, who said he was having some depression.  I would research and put together a daily email with a combination of quotes, short stories or poems and send them out with the title ... 'Daily Good Dog Feedings.'

Before long, word spread like wildfires, as people forwarded these 'Daily Good Dog Feedings' to their friends and family.  As I am writing this to you today, there are thousands of people from all over the world that are receiving the Dog, which I affectionately call it today.  I am in contact with dozens of people every day.  I am making friends with people I have never met, yet feel a bond as strong as those of close friends, why ... because we understand each other.  We are survivors and we are all in the same lifeboat together.  We need to help each other, not to die, but to get stronger and live, to recover from a disease that can be managed, if we choose to recover.

Anyway, I'm rambling cause I'm pretty manic today but hey, rather ramble on about something positive than hide in bed, beating myself up.

I have spent my entire life in this painfully lonely and dark place; the insanity of mental illness. I'm done suffering!  If I suffer now, it's my choice because today I have tools and I use them.  I have my Good Dog choice, my doctor and medications as well as many other tools I can use if I CHOOSE to heal. 

Today I choose life and today life is sweet, even though there are painful episodes from time to time.  Today, even the pain feels good as it reminds me that I'm alive.   I'm not going back into hell.  I've been there and it's not all that it's cracked up to be.

Hope you decide to have great weekend.

God Bless Us All, We Deserve It.

Louie (uswalker)  http://rochonsculpture.artspan.com/mbr_bio.php

NOTE:  I am happy to share the 'Daily Good Dog Feediing' with anyone that wants it ... just email me at uswalker3@hotmail.com  I am not doing this for two reasons, first because this daily practice keeps me alive and secondly, because it feels really great to be able to help others. 

 

To start of Valentine's Day... It was a very nice day for me. I had began to worry that I wasnt going to have fun. I really worked at cooking a big meal for my boyfriend and I and truthfully, Iwas not feeling it you know, my usual happiness of the holiday. And Tim, I love the guy,but at first I didn't think I was going to enjoy the day with him and I tried hard not to make it apparent, but I know he knew. But... The thing about me is, like twenty minutes in, I was just so happy to be with him and have him near that I couldnt stay in a iffy mood. I had a very good evening with him. It was a very different type of valentine's day with him. He really just chilled and relaxed, and after the week I have been having, relaxing is just what I needed. Leave it to Tim to know what I need even when I don't know myself sometimes. thats why he is my boo. lol

But the changes in my life are due to the way I have been feeling lately. Today I did a mood chart. in the past 14 days, I have been depressed 6 days. That is almost a week out of two weeks. Only half of that time, have I been in a good mood. Of these depressed day, two days I was moderately depressed to the point of having a hard time going throughout my day. I have over slept most of these days and in the past two weeks, I have been over eating to the point of having stomach aches. I have dealt with extreme anixety 9 of these 14 days, and 1 time, I had a panic attack that cause me major distress. I thought I was dying. I delat with one maybe two hypo-manic days, which if you ask me, they are a pretty damn good time, so you dont see me complain. for those who dont know, hypo-mania is: A condition similar to mania, but not as severe. A person has a high mood and may behave strangely. But the person is able to function normally. So like I siad, its not a big deal. But the anixety is what worries me the most. The anixiety causes the depression, the bad headaches, the isolation behaviors, and the worst part, the stomach aches. My stomach hurts so bad sometimes, I don't want to move. Also, by mild case I dont mean I am not feeling this way (depressed) strongly. But I am not at the point where I can't function, I want to kill myself, or hurt myself or someone. I never have been really. I suffer mostly from moderate to severe depression. I've been like this on and off for the past month and a half, which the last time I felt like this for a long time without reason was three years ago. So a mild case means I dont go thru this much. Normally, I'll be depressed maybe three-five days, every two months or so, which is normal for most people. Its not often I get episodes like this you see.

So in light of the things that have been going on with me, I realized that it is time to make some changes. For one, due to the fact that I am suffering from what many people call a serious illness (but not serious enough for it to be an excuse for misbehaving, I am one of the lucky people to have a mild case. People tell me all the time that I am lucky), I can get a medical withdraw from school. The people at school, doctors, and my parents suggested this. I guess the main purpose of my life is to get better. Ak I feel ashamed to be truthful of having to deal with this, having this, and making my loved ones live with me like this, but then I remember that for 80% of the time, I am not like this, I'm not all that bad right now,its just anixety talking, and I don't have care what anyone thinks. The people that matter are always here for me. Thats all I need really. So... I am planning to look for full time work lol. If I'ma have free time, i'll use it to make money. I need to save anyhow and study for the entrance exam at Eastern. I still got two classes and my little after school job to keep me occupied, so till then I am getting myself together. I finally realize that I need to lol. And its gonna take some adjustments and some work, but my health is important, so that is all the matters really. (that I just realized too)

Now, I usually keep the blogs of this degree private. But, some people are misinformed about depression. The blues is not depression. Depression is disabling at times. Painful in many ways, physically, mentally. It can cause people to do alot of things that wouldnt usually do, and destroy personal relationships. It is not a way to look for attention (if I wanted attention, I'd put on a sexy outfit lol). It is not a way to back out of responsibilites. Doing all these things caused depressed people sadness. I hope that my telling you this will help you see a side of me that is usually seen as me being stuck-up, moody, or withdraw. I hope you really see the pain I am going thru and understanding that we all have our own personal battles to fight. Mine is this.

Good Day All!

Jasmine

Best I have felt in a long time.  It was probably just a week or two, but it feels like forever ago that I actually felt like a functioning human being.  I'm in week two of my Lamictal starterback.  No side effects this time either (rash).  I also took pseudophedrine for my cold/allergy and it has brightened my day as well.  Time to enjoy my day off with the kids.

This SharePost is a response letter to a friend from this forum as it represented where my head is at this am. 

Hope you don't mind, MC.

 

Dear MC,

 

Thanks for your comments. It's true that when I write, I challenge my intentions; it's almost like I have discussions with my 'self,' on paper. Hey, why not? We do it all the time in our heads. It's kind of fun when you write it down as you can actually see the demons working away at you, each trying to have their way with you. Kind of P_____sses them off when you see them, exposed.

 

I wrote a blog a month or so ago, in which I saw for myself, firsthand, this ongoing discussion - (fight for controlling interest of my head).  Check it out if you are interested ... http://www.uswalker3.blogspot.com/

 

I write a daily email inspiration (positive life affirming quotes, poems, parables, etc).  This daily mailing which has taken on a life of it's own over the past year, growing each day to include people from all parts of this planet, is called the 'Daily Good Dog Feeding.' 

 

Here is the story about how Good Dog was born.  I mention this because it reminds me of those two voices in my head ... as well as inviting you to receive it as my gift to you, if you'd like.

 

 

ABOUT 'Daily Good Dog Feedings' 

A friend shared a story with me about a meeting he once had with a Native American elder. This story had a great impact on me. The elder told my friend that his people believe that we all have, within us, a 'Good Dog' and a 'Bad Dog,' that are always fighting to be in control. My friend asked, "Which One Wins?" The elder simply replied, "The One That You Feed."

 

______ . ______

 

I started researching and sending out a daily inspirational message to my son as well as to reinforce the 'Good Dog' in me. Thinking my friends might find it of value, I added some people. Soon, it took on a life of it's own. This simple story, from my friend, has grown into something that has greatly improved the quality of my life and from what I hear, from people from all over the planet. What a blessing. Want to be added to the list? Email me ... uswalker3@hotmail.com

 

You or anyone else reading my rantings are welcome to receive Good Dog.  Just send me an email.  Cancel any time, if you don't like it and I will NEVER sell it out with Ads or use the names. Promise.

 

I really love to share this with people. It makes me feel great to do something that I know makes life a little better place for others.

Kind of selfish, but hey, I'm human.

 

 

You know, MC, this email column that I write every day is one of those 'God Shots,' a powerful tool that I use every morning, and have for over a year now.  I get so many positive responses from people, that I have come to look at it as a responsibility for me. 

 

Even when I am suffering from extreme depression, which is usually the first few hours of most days, this mandatory self-requirement forces me to turn my minds attention around towards a positive 'Good Dog.'

 

Without this tool, I'm afraid that I would spend many days hiding under the blankets, feeling sorry for myself and falling victim to my disease.  I am so done with that energy - having done that all my life and really don't have time for it these days! 

 

I have to admit, this may sound simple, (changing your mood by focusing on Good Dog) and it is simple ... but it is FAR FROM EASY.  Beating mental illness is not whimps!  Many days, it's like turning the Titanic around, but you know, I've found that I can always turn it around, with constant steady pressure.  Some days, it runs my ass over.  Oh well, 2 steps forward, 1 step back - Progress, Not Perfection is my goal these days.

 

Good Dog always helps turn around my attitude, inspite of my mind's intentions.  I have found that my attitude is a direct reflection of my emotions, and my emotions come from my thoughts and my thoughts come from whatever it is that I CHOOSE to focus on.  Seems to be totally backwards, putting the acrt before the horse, but it works, for me. 

 

I have found this to be a valuable tool for my emotional survival, something I need to work at, very hard, each and every day, hour by hour, minute by minute - sometimes.

 

In the Dog, I always use quotes, poems or parables that seem to address what issues I need to focus on. Funny how that works; it's almost as if I do my part and sit my ass down at my laptop ... then God takes over and writes what He wants. I am not claiming to have any inside connection with the Big Guy - it just seems that whenever I do my part, ideas pop into my head.  I just have to type. 

 

It's pretty much the same with my sculptures - I have to do my part and walk out into that cold studio when everything within me is screaming NO ... and usually, within a short time, ideas come to me and I start getting excited.  All I need to do is allow my body to move around and put stuff together and eventually, VOILA ... something is created that was just a pile of stuff.

 

One thing that I have found out for a fact ... I have never written one word or created one piece of art, from under my blankets. That is where my disease wants me to be - in bed, despising myself for my illness, trying with all it's might to convince me that I am a worth-less, use-less pathetic parasite carbon based life module.  I say F______ the disease ... I got stuff to do.  I have a life to live and even though it seems, some days, that I can literally feel it's cold breath on my neck as I am moving on, I AM moving on.  If I stop, then it catches up and takes me down.  Most days, I out run it.  Some days i don't.  That's' life.  Those days, I just stand there and hurt and that's OK. 

 

The real miracle for me these days, is that I don't feel desperate to run around trying to find something to put out the flames.  Being a Dual Diagnosis (recovering from BPII as well as an alcoholic) it is my nature to feel the need to not feel the pain, to obliterate my emotions when they hurt so bad.  In all actuality, I am addicted to damned near everything.  I am addicted to 'MORE,' more of anything has always been my answer to pain and suffering, which of course causes more pain and suffering.  You name it, food, alcohol, legal and illegal drugs, workaholism, relationships (or in my case - hostages), sex ... i mean, there is NO END to where my 'self' wants to hide.  I have spent my entire life is FEAR, which up until an accuarte diagnosis of BP and proper meds, FEAR stood for F--- everything and Run.  Today is stands for Face Everything and Recover.

 

OK, now I've noticed that my mania has kicked in as I'm rambling on and on.  Sorry mania, time to cool your jets for a while.  I'm in control these days.  Thanks for listening to my head.

 

 

God Bless Us All, We Deserve It.

 

Louie R (uswalker) http://rochonsculpture.artspan.com/mbr_bio.php

 

About a year ago, I started writing a daily email inspirational to my son, entitled 'Daily Good Dog Feeding,' which I started to help myself first thing in the morningto point my head in the right direction.  It's helped me a lot.  Since then, it has taken on a life of it's own, spreading all over the planet.  Must be helping other people point their head in the right direction as well.

Anyway ...  have been struggling with BiPolar II depression all of my life and did not have a proper diagnosis until last year.  Finally, over the past 12 months, I have found great relief, actually finding balance, most days.  This is nothing short of a miracle, for me.  Every day, I use every tool in my bag of tricks to stay well.  I fight hard for daily sanity.  I'm sick and tired of letting the demons win over my mind.

There are days that aren't so fun, but on the whole, just having hope in my life again - is simply amazing and I couldn't be more grateful.  I am so happy that I didn't end my life as I never knew life could be this good.

I wanted to share one of the quotes from a recent 'Daily Good Dog Feeding' that I have on my wall.  I take my meds, religiously, every day.  I also read all my favorite positive quotes that I have collected from my daily email project.  This is one of them.  Hope it helps you as it has me ...

 

Vaccine for Depression

"... and therein lies the genius of my teacher, my mother's mother, who fulfilled herself completely by always forgetting herself in the joy of the welfare of all those around her. This is the only real cure for depression.

It is the prescription that would come from any authentic spiritual physician. If you dwell upon yourself and your own private satisfactions, the first disappointment will throw you into a depression.

If you can train to think more and more of the needs of all those around you, to work with people around you even if they are not always pleasant, you will be making yourself immune to depression, and you will be helping others to do the same."

From

THE PROPHET, Kahlil Gibran.

 

Louie R (uswalker) 

http://rochonsculpture.artspan.com/mbr_bio.php

 

Looking back over what I have written, I apologize (no, I don't) for ranting a bit ... I am a bit, a BIT manic right now, and blurted out some memories.  It's helped me.  Here it goes ...

 

I have learned to be very careful with who I share my mental ilnness issues with, as I do with my alcoholism.  Unfortunately, there is still so much misunderstanding about depression, with 'normies' that experience situational depression from time to time.  They look at us with contempt, as weak because they had the strength to 'pick themselves up', 'think happy thoughts' or whatever form of self discipline they used that they judge us as lacking.

 

It really isn't their fault.  They simply don't understand.  I'm learning this even more, everyday, especially the last few days with all the comments I've gotten from 'normies' that have expressed that they have a different way of looking at those they love, struggling with mental illness.

 

The most maddening part of my journey, was the ignorance and misunderstanding of my illness and symptoms from the very people that I have always believed I could trust - the medical profession.

 

Sometimes it would take me a year of intense suffering before I was worn down enough to be able to crawl into my doc's office and lay out all my symptoms, only to be told "Sounds like you a have a bit of depression." 

 

"A BIT OF DEPRESSION, YOU .......... .........!" I think.  Then she gives me that nervous, almost scared little smurk of hers and shoves a piece of paper with 12 questions into my hand, leaves the room and asks me to evaluate my 'bit of depression.'   Hell, I can't evaluate up or down, black or white, reality from delusion ... I can barely hold the pen as I am shaking so bad from the inside out and she wants me to calmly assess MY condition?

 

Then, she comes back, glances at the paper, and says, "Yes, seems like you are pretty gloomy these days."  OK, that's about it!  This ...... is going to get a a good healthy dose of MY reality. 

 

"Hey doc, do you think it's normal to wake up in the morning and the first thought of the day, is that you want to be dead.  Do you think it's normal, that in order for me to even fall asleep at night, I create these elaborate fantasies of my own death, complete with my hands folded neatly across my chest, which fills me with a sick sort of peace, that lulls me into a fantasy that reassures me that the pain is over, that I have to fool myself into thinking I am dead, in order to function?"

 

"Well, does sound a bit serious."  She uses that word 'bit' just one more time, and I think she will get a first hand lesson and example of exactly what 'going mental' looks like, right here here in her little cubicle.  "OK, calm down wacko, let's try and get some help," I reassure myself.

 

"So, what do you think we ought to do?" she asks, ME!!!! 

 

THAT's IT ... I'm done acting sane.  I can no longer control it and start shaking and crying ... ****, I hate that.  A 54 year old man, that has always prided himself on being able to handle anything that life has to throw at me, has totally broken down in front of my incompetent medical expert. 

 

"What do I think we should do,"  I shout at her. 

 

"Do you have any idea what it took for me to walk in here today.  It took me 6 months of agony to even pick up that damned phone to make an appointment and now ... NOW, you ask ME, what I think?" 

 

"I CAN't Think anymore, that's why I am here.  I don't trust my thinking.  I'm scared.  I'm scared to death that I'm losing my mind.  Do you have any clue how terrifying that is, to believe that you are actually losing the ability to control yourself, to function or to even pretend to be OK?  Do you have any clue as to the fear I have of what it would be like to be locked away, forgotten and written off, lost forever in a coma of insanity?  I NEED YOU, to HELP ME!!!!  I don't know what to do.  For two years, I've been coming to see you, beating around the bush, always afraid that you are thinking in the back of your mind, "Oh here comes that hypocondriac ... wonder what new symptoms he has now.  My sick mind won't even allow me to look into the eys of your staff nurses imagining that they are all laughing at me as well, hell, they probabaly laugh about me at lunch.  This is the what my head thinks about ... Do YOU think normal people obsess over these kinds of things D O C T O R ?  I need help, please, help me."

 

I felt better.  Relieved.  Had a sense of hope that maybe she will finally understand the depth of my suffering, that I'm not making this stuff up, that I need help .... until ... once again, I see that scared, nervous look on her face as she attempts a smile and says, "Alrighty then, I think we should try an anti-depressant." 

 

"Oh GOD!  I have so been here before, for 15 years, I have so been here, and have tried every kind of anti-depressant known to medical science," I think to myself.  Maybe I should just walk into a mental hospital, lie down on the floor and let them whisk me away into Zoo-land ... I just don't care anymore."  This, was my experience with the medical community, for many years.

 

As I've written in my journals, it took many more years, before I happened upon the perfect storm, a set of circumstances that availed a new opportunity to get the proper care, medical professionals that understood what they were talking about.  Do I regret those years.  Not really.  Guess it took what it took to get here.  Do I wish I would have found the proper diagnosis earlier in life, saving so many years of pain and suffering.  Yes, of course, but that's just not the path I was supposed to walk.

 

Today, I will NEVER stop trying because I KNOW what it feels like to be alive and even though I may not be there, as I write, I've been shown the miracle of sanity.  It was possible once and it is possible again.  I will never give up on myself.  This disease is treatable.

 

For anyone out there that is suffering and has lost hope and feels embarrased and humiliated - I suggest that you GET MAD!  Do whatever you need to do to get listened to and don't be afraid to express your pain and ask for help.  My ego held me back, for so many years from uttering the three most powerful words I have ever verbalized, resulting in almost instantaneous results ... "I NEED HELP.  Please help me."

 

God Bless Us All.  We deserve it. 

Louie R. (Uswalker);

http://rochonsculpture.artspan.com/mbr_bio.php

The Fork, a razors edge of insanity.

Another long night.

Every now and then, conditions are just right, just enough pouring rain hitting the window with just the right rhythm at just the right hours; the quiet small hours when it all stops and it feels safe. Last night was one of those nights - dark, quiet, safe. Precious moments, really, when I savor each second and can breathe, again, finally, feeling safe.

I was reading, somewhere, that it is quite common when entering the envelope of spiritual enlightenment, for all hell to break loose. Why? Because as you experience the Truth, the other side, there is a heightened sensitivity to all thoughts, all emotions and that which used to serve as a calm protected harbor from the relentless storms of my mind, no longer welcome me and provide safe harbor. This, I think, is the fork in the road. Something feels all too familiar about this place. I sense being here before, this fork, this place in time, this choice.

On one fork, it appears, faintly to my senses, to be the safe path, protected and quiet, lulling me towards wrapping myself within it's cloak. No one can hurt me there. No one can see me there. I am invisible. I am safe. Yes, this place seems all too familiar to me. And it should. I know this place, well. I've chosen this path, often. And it also, appears to me, faintly as if a distant memory, that this path leads to no place, to no where, to darkness, to an endless maze that leads only to despair and anguish, a place of endless sighs, to self destruction of all that is good.

There is something different about this path, this place, this time. I can sense it's deadness, it's void, it's emptiness, it's lie. And yet, this other path, it's so bright, so incredibly bright _ and loud, untried, un-trodden, so fresh and promising yet so open and unprotected.

I have arrived at this fork in the road once again.
This is where I am.

Today, I do not choose to hide in the shadows of depression nor do I lurch forward into a euphoric fanstasyland ... today, I will just 'be' and if need be, it is OK to just stand here, and hurt. 

This is my choice.

I choose to walk towards the light, at all cost.

Thank you God, for hope.

 

June 17, 2007

Every morning, as I write out my To-Do list, I dutifully enter "Work on Book." And every night, when reviewing the progress of my list, without having written a single word, hopefades that I will ever complete this book, "A Long Walk Home."

Sharing with a friend, my frustration, he suggested that I write the reasons why I feel blocked from writing. Here I am, writing.

I have worked very hard over the past few months, to get new medications to stabilize my emotional swings and for the most part, I feel pretty functional these days. I have even had the motivation to get started on two new art works, a definite sign that the symptoms of my manic depression have lifted. Nevertheless, sitting down and even opening the file to my book, seems impossible. I had always thought the reason was associated with my mental illness. I don't believe it is. This is something situational.

There is always a conversation going on in my head, sometimes quiet and subtle and often, relentless screaming. When thinking of working on the book, these inner thoughts are very quiet and so subtle, I hardly can recognize that they are there. They are there!

This morning, quieting my mind and allowing these inner words to flow through my fingers onto the computer, I hear ...

"What the F%+* do you have to say that
anyone could be interested in hearing." "Who to do you think you are to write a book anyway." "There are REAL problems and REAL suffering of people going on out there in the world and I am sick and tired of hearing your pathetic endless whining about your depression. Shut the F$*^& up and get a life."

Wow. That felt kind of good, in a sick kind of way. "What are your reasons for writing this book anyway?" just flashed into my mind. Let the thoughts flow ...

"For My SON! This is a record of the most significant effort of my life and I want to share this account with my boy, the most important person and purpose of my life."

"Personal Healing. It's been suggested by quite a few writers that the process of writing in and of itself, provides a healing through insights that may never have surfaced without closer examination."

"It has always felt like the walk is not finished. And I have always been tormented by this, arguing to myself, 'what more could I possibly do than walk through everything I endured staying true to my commitment. I did my job. I've done enough.' But have I done enough? Maybe I stopped short, thinking taking the last few steps of 5000+ miles of walking and a final press conference was the end. Maybe this is just the beginning?"

"What if the real value of the walk is not in the miles walked, the money raised, the millions of people that became more aware of pediatric AIDS but perhaps it is in the writing of a book that has the potential for reaching even more people with this story? Perhaps"

"Bullshit! This walk began as a desperate effort to find yourself - your basic mid life crisis and looking back, this walk was about trying to walk away from your real demons - depression."

"Well, maybe, just maybe that is the reason the walk has never felt completed. You started out looking for answers and you never found them, in fact by the time the walk ended, you were in worse shape that you were in the beginning - more lost and more depressed than ever!"

"But I have worked so damned hard, trying to survive, to live and find some measure of freedom from the demons of my mind, and I still don't feel healed. Without an 'ending' to the story, why write the book?"

"Ahhh, maybe we're getting somewhere ... 'the ending to the story' ... maybe there is no ending, maybe the ending will be a happy ending or not, maybe the ending will be discovered as a RESULT of writing the book. Ya think? Damn!"

"If I can draw on the type of reckless courage and blind determination that I summoned each day out on the road, just to get a few miles in, then MAYBE I can find that courage to sit my sorry ass down at my computer and tell my story."

"And maybe, just maybe, I might help give someone else that is struggling with mental illness, a glimmer of hope and inspiration. If nothing else, someone like myself reading this book might not feel so desperately alone and freakish."

"OK, I will tray again. This is my first try. God help me, if it be Your will for me, empower me to do Your will.

Whew. That was helpful. Thanks Eric for suggesting this exercise. I feel renewed with a fresh energy. I intend to start writing again, soon.

Writing is a large part of my recovery from Bi-Polar 2.  For more blogs, visit: http://www.uswalker3.blogspot.com/

Bio: http://rochonsculpture.artspan.com/mbr_bio.php