15. Alcohol And Take Aways… Mmm

As a continuation of last week’s blog here are some things I’ve found which have helped me to create a little bit of calm in my BPD teacup since diagnosis.

I’m not putting these things down on paper to try to guilt anyone else into doing something that doesn’t sit well with them. I’m just trying to let you know that these things work for me and therefore they might work for you if you fancy trying them.

My first line ‘Follow a bit of a routine’ might horrify some of you. The thought of it horrifies me. I’m a free spirit. Wild and young(ish) and I don’t want to be bogged down by routines and boring schedules. But I have discovered you can have a ‘bit’ of a routine which satisfies the disorders needs but still gives you freedom to live your life the way you want to. So bear that in mind before you storm out of my blog having decided I must have a stick up my bottom. I can assure, you that’s something I save for the weekends.

Follow a bit of a routine – It doesn’t have to be set in stone but it does help. Go to bed at a set time and plan to get 8 hours of sleep a night. A routine involving bath and bed, aromatherapy, or something relaxing and pampering like moisturising will help you feel as if you’re doing something for you, rather than getting an early night just so work comes around quicker!

Avoid alcohol as often as possible – Obviously you don’t want to offend by not toasting the bride but equally going on a vodka-laced bender over the weekend isn’t likely to make you feel on top of the world afterward.

Caffeine – I’ve found I’m surprisingly sensitive to caffeine and if I drink it after midday I won’t sleep and quite often feel anxious all day. If you get jittery periods try limiting your caffeine intake to the mornings for a week and see if it makes any difference.

Diet – Take a look at what you eat. We’re all guilty of eating fast food, packet meals, ready-made goodies and sweets for energy but you may find that all the hidden additives and sugars are playing havoc with your mood and ability to relax. Plus you really don’t know what it’s doing to your physical health. I once had a cold for two and a half months! It would NOT go away. I changed my diet and hey presto… well, it turned into a chest infection. But after THAT, I was good.

Exercise – This doesn’t have to be blood pounding, run a marathon, Kung Fu kick your way out of a drug fuelled district of LA with Jackie Chan behind you, style exercise. Yoga can be incredibly relaxing while toning and tightening the muscles. Most yoga classes will tag on a period of meditation to the end too, which is great for the soul. And it’s funny to hear people snoring when they drop off. I’ve seen young and old do yoga and I’d say the hardest thing about it is stopping yourself from giggling when someone accidently lets one rip.

http://authentichappiness4live.wordpress.com/2014/03/11/does-exercising-make-us-happier/

Doctors – Keep your appointments and, if you can, keep a mood diary. I’m not great at taking my own advice here but it is a great way for a doctor, who may only see you for 10 minutes every 3 to 6 months to know what’s been going on with you. Only you know how you feel and if you feel the doc is downplaying something, push a bit harder to get a response that satisfies or take someone with you who will push for you when you’re just not feeling up to it.

Caregivers – When you, as a bipolar sufferer, are feeling well it’s a good idea to turn to your caregiver and make sure they are looking after themself too. Most of us only have 1 person we rely on heavily and that person often has to neglect their own needs to help us with ours, which can be stressful for them. It doesn’t hurt to make sure they know how much you love them for the things they do.

What works for you? Please let us know in the comments section.

Next week I’ll be reviewing mood diary apps.

14. That’s One ‘First Time’ I Could Do Without

The first time I went to the doctor after my nervous breakdown I was in a bit of a state. As you can imagine, nervous breakdowns don’t tend to leave you looking glamorous and at the peak of health. I remember there being a severe need for waterproof mascara and a box of Kleenex for all the snot induced crying fits. Equally, if you know of anyone who found a way to keep their dignity during their nervous breakdown I’d be interested to hear about it. I could use some tips for the inevitable next one.

My husband came with me and explained in no uncertain terms that I was mental, needed to be put into a straight-jacket immediately and asked whether HE could have some pills to help him cope with all this. Thankfully he was joking but I’m not sure my GP really knew how to take him.

I was assured that, given the circumstances and all the snot, I was an emergency case and I could expect to hear from the psychiatrist for an assessment (not treatment) in THREE MONTHS TIME!

An EMERGENCY case. In my book emergency’s don’t usually hang around for 3 months, hence the urgency of an emergency. If I’d been anorexic and my kidneys were shutting down would they have fobbed me off with a 3 month wait? What’s more urgent than an emergency when the symptoms of your problem could kill you?

Anyway, I moan only because I was on the brink of giving up on life. Nothing major. In other ways I can’t fault the NHS and mental health system. Not really. We do always seem to have trainees in psychiatric positions for 6 months at a time, but they tend to be pretty good and my first psychiatrist was the best of the lot. He arranged Cognitive Behavioural Therapy for me, counselling and later on, once I plucked up the courage to tell him about my ‘other’ symptoms reclassified my condition from ‘Severe Depressive Disorder’ to ‘Bipolar Type 2’. He changed my life. He helped me achieve a positive outlook for times when I’m well and a coping strategy for times when I’m not.

I can safely say, looking back to that time and how fragile I was then, that the NHS and its community mental health team has made me strong again. Despite the flaws of never getting to know your psychiatrist because they move from one place to the next and despite the long waiting times between appointments, once you are on their radar they do as much as they can to help – in my experience.

I’ve also found that it’s up to you to take their advice and the education they offer about your condition and work hard to make your own life better. There are things you can do to help yourself and I’ll talk more about those next week.

https://www.facebook.com/myfamilyandjanice?ref=hl#!/photo.php?fbid=690403364335565&set=a.180798161962757.37670.157585027617404&type=1&theater

8. Flashing Signs And Beepy Buttons

Humour is something my husband and I have always used to get us through the tough times that my non-stop mental health issues have put us through over the years. It’s hard to say where I’d be without him and it makes me wonder how others, who don’t have a strong framework of support, get by. This is the conversation we had at 6.15 this morning while he dropped me off at the train station.
‘I hate this car. There’s always a light flashing or an alarm beeping on it. It’s becoming less and less like a car and more like a low-standing shed every day. I’m just waiting for the wheels to drop off,’ he says while tapping the petrol light. I’m pretty sure that one needs attention whether it’s lying to him or not.
‘Why don’t you buy a new car?’ I ask.
‘Because we can’t afford it.’
‘Why don’t you swap it for something equally as pointless like an ice cream machine?’
‘How am I going to get to work on an ice cream machine? On a giant trail of Mr Whippy?’
‘Yeah,’ I laugh imagining the congestion that would cause. I can see him in a Mr Freeze outfit.
‘You’re not thinking this through, are you? Then I’d also have to buy a snowboard and that’s MORE cost.’
‘Oh yeah. Silly me.’

It made me think that there are times when you really want something more obvious to happen when you’re not feeling right. A flashing sign, beeping alarm or to turn up at work and find your psychiatrist waiting for you at your desk, picking through your best pens and pocketing a few paperclips. You’d know something was up then. How can you tell people that you’re not feeling right when actually you’re in a fabulous mood, ready to do karaoke at the drop of a hat, stand on tables, throw your knickers* at the DJ and be the life and soul of the party?

Depression is a little different in that it presents itself slightly more obviously, but again, there are a lot of people out there who are very good at hiding just how bad they’re feeling. But generally you can see that someone with depression is very down and not in a normal mental state. You can count the pills in the paracetamol packets every morning and you can keep an eye on things hoping that tomorrow the tide will turn and that person will start to feel better. You can feel slightly active in their care because you’re aware they need some, is what I’m getting at.

But, you try and stop someone experiencing hypomania from being overly happy or overly irritable and you’re likely to find yourself on the business end of a full-scale hissy fit. Rational behaviour like the rest of the world knows and expects from another human being isn’t always on the cards during a hypomanic episode. I would say ‘And certainly not during a manic episode,’ but I would be speculating. I don’t think anyone reading this needs or wants me to do that, but if you suffer these types of episodes yourself and want to leave a comment to educate me and other readers, we’d be happy to read it.

They say that hypomania is often credited with increased creativity and productive energy. I definitely find this is the case. Most recently it has affected my work because that’s where my focus has been after finishing a long contract. But I have noticed, before diagnosis, that I would have regular and persistent periods where I would commit to something, a hobby say, like art. I would learn everything I could about it almost obsessively, develop very quickly, produce lots of work in a matter of months and then, for no apparent reason, totally lose interest and never go back to it again. Not having any idea what bipolar was at that time I can’t say whether these phases coincided with any mood changes but I suspect there was more going on than I was fully aware of.

My point is (yes I do have one), the best way to let others know how you’re feeling is to tell them. It’s taken me a very long time to come to this conclusion because, as I’ve said before, bipolar can be pretty scary. The symptoms are one thing, but it’s the unknown reactions of others that has scared me more. I don’t want people to look at me differently just because they now know I have a bunch of people talking in my head or because I see werewolves in car parks. I mean really, people, do you have to judge?

The surprising thing is, I don’t think many people do judge. In the few weeks I’ve been posting this blog I’ve had no strange or probing questions, I haven’t found any ambulances pulling up at my front door to take me away. What I have found is a lot of private message from people who find life hard in their own way, telling me they think I’m brave for sharing. And that’s truly lovely to hear. It’s been a relief and a release, because I’ve been carrying this stuff around for a long old time now. Perhaps, with the help of both friends and strangers I’ll be brave enough to let a lot of my issues go and trust that everyone will understand.

*I would like to make the point that I have never thrown my knickers at ANYONE. And that time I threw them at the cat I was actually aiming for the wash basket. Just wanted to make that clear.

6. A Husband’s Lot

You know, I often wonder how I managed to get anyone to marry me. My husband doesn’t just have to put up with the usual stuff that a husband puts up with like arguments about the bills, deciding whose job it is to take the rubbish out, or whether there’s likely to be a nuclear fallout if he forgets to empty the cat litter tray on one more occasion. He has to contend with one or two more delights thanks to the personality issues that ensue in our household. I wonder if he would have been so keen to get a ring on my finger had he met me through the ‘Bipolar Dating Ads’.

Elle’s Dating Profile:

Described by some as ‘quirky’ I can be a giant, teary-eyed, ball of energy when I want to be. Always on the receiving end of an arrest warrant, the police just love my sense of humour. If I’m not being the life of the party myself then usually Janice, (she’s the voice in my head – oh she’s a scream), will take over and get things going.

I have developed a close friendship with the ‘c’ word over the years and use it with wild abandon to describe anyone from dictators I see on the news to whoever took the last Twix out of the cupboard. I am willing to give up this friendship for the right man and a lockable storage box.

I have certain ‘toxic’ medications which keep me on an even keel but sometimes I forget to take them. I’m sure you’ll find we have a lot in common if you’ve ever:
• Found yourself balled up in the corner of your bathroom, rocking and crying, because you’ve just discovered you’re down to your last tube of toothpaste.
• Decided that the bus driver who didn’t smile at you this morning when you smiled at him obviously hates you and you must now analyse all aspects of your personality in order to discover what’s wrong with you.
• Decided that the bus driver who DID smile you this morning when you smiled at him obviously fancies you desperately and you must now analyse every aspect of your life in case making a new life for yourself with said bus driver is an option.

I’m also quite entrepreneurial. Some would say that I wrote the book on passive aggressive behaviour. Now if that is the case think about how successful I’ve been. I’ve reached almost every woman on this planet with minimal effort. But books are no longer the way to go. I’m currently perfecting an App on the subject and hope to roll that out very soon along with a complimentary bottle of full strength crazy with every download.

The cat and I have made a pact with the devil. I feel any potential mate should know about this. It’s only fair. We are both going to live forever and love and snuggle with each other every single day. You, however, need to make your own arrangements.

I’m very versatile, able to make the best of any situation. For example, this morning I was on the train and my nose started to run. I reached into my bag for a tissue and it wasn’t until I got the ‘tissue’ to my nose that I realised I was in fact about to blow my nose on a panty liner. A quick scan of the train carriage informed me that no one had noticed and therefore, I can reliably inform you that they ARE as absorbent as the manufacturer states. Versatile. That’s me.

And finally, if you were to date me and decide that you no longer wish to see me but I decide I would like to carry on seeing you, I reserve the right to become obsessed with and/or stalk you. Terms and conditions of stalking can be obtained through written request, however, since I find it impossible to believe that my behaviour constitutes stalking my response will mostly include the words ‘F**K’ and ‘YOU’.

Now who wouldn’t marry that?!

5. Team Talk

Let’s talk work…

…

…

God, I’m bored already.

The thing I’ve found with bipolar and never wanting to let on just how difficult things are for me is that I have to be constantly aware of what others around me think. ‘There’s that weird girl that giggles to herself and talks in riddles.’ That’s not the girl I want to be by any means. I work hard NOT to be that person and it can be exhausting. It’s also upsetting to admit that I feel that way, but how many of us can say the words ‘I work hard not to be me’? How many of us are unhappy with our inner thoughts?

You normal people out there aren’t that far from where I am, you know. You’re one stressful period, one depressive episode or one trauma away, in fact. You think I don’t see you all walking around smiling to yourselves? Laughing at the conversations that take place in your heads? I’m just a little more evolved in that I’ve also developed personalities… some with bank accounts of their own.

I try to be someone else so that I can have the life I want, not the life I could end up with if I gave in to this condition. And I think it would be easy to give in some days. Just stay in bed on bad days and dance around the street in wellies, vest and knickers on good days. People would just shake their heads and thank their lucky stars that’s not one of their kids out there making mud pies and talking to the bus.

Anyway, we were talking about work! I’m contracting at the moment which is exciting because you get to learn a lot and you have no commitment. It’s almost the perfect way to be for someone with my condition. As soon as it stops being exciting you move on, kick them to the curb, run away laughing and mooning the office on your way out… ok, so that’s more of a Janice move. But they definitely wouldn’t be getting a Christmas card from me if I left.

Currently I work for an IT firm. It’s fantastic. I always wanted to be a specky four eyes techno geek and now I’m one of the non-technical variety. I never knew when watching ‘The IT Crowd’ that life ACTUALLY is like that in the world of IT. Everyone here has an amazing sense of humour and I’m not sure if it’s because of the fact they were ALL bullied relentlessly in school but they have formed a band of brothers in which jolly japes and tom-foolery abound.

I was recently integrated into this band when the network team presented me with a mug stating ‘I love Spreadsheets’ on my birthday. I’m telling you people, there were tears.

My colleague Noel is very methodical and thorough in his work. His laugh makes me want to double up. Imagine Baloo (from Jungle Book) meets donkey (from Shrek).

Sean is my boss. He’s absolutely lovely but when he gets stressed he starts swearing without swearing. I’ve never heard so many bother’s, frig off’s and fudges in all my life.

Alfy is my third and final colleague. He’s definitely real. I’ve checked. He knows every place to eat around the city (which is quite big for a short person like me). Unfortunately Alfy ISN’T a short person like me. He’s a massive person with long, gangly legs. I felt like I’d run a mini marathon by the end of lunch when he’d shown me round, and I was so hungry I had to buy TWO sandwiches.

There are many traditions where I work. I know not how many of them started but one of my favourites is the ‘Night, Phil,’ gag. This has been running every evening for some years as far as I can make out but recently a new twist was added to an old favourite.

So, to fill you in on the joke, we have a guy named Phil who is responsible for the Domino Server and email accounts. He sits at the very far end of the office. I’m in the middle and then there’s another team further up from me. Every evening Phil gets up, walks through his department and each and every member in turn says ‘Night Phil.’ The first day I was here I didn’t really notice it but it happens every night and now every night it makes me giggle. ‘Night Phil.’ ‘Night Phil.’ ‘Bye Phil…’ (You probably have to be there).

So anyway, this week Phil was leaving and we had the ‘Night Phil,’ routine, when he spotted someone up the other end of the office and headed off up there. Five minutes later one of his colleagues wandered out of his department, spotted Phil and turned to say to his team ‘Hey everyone, Phil’s still here.’ To which they all responded in turn ‘Hi Phil,’ ‘Hi Phil’, ‘Alright Phil’.

It was very funny… I promise you.

3. Vanilla Me

So my last post introduced you to ‘bipolar’ me.  This time I’d like you to get to know ‘me’ me.  I’m the rather boring side of the personality Rubik’s cube that is me.  I like chocolate and tele and I love my family and my cats and because I’m the boring, neutral, vanilla part of me, I fear the other personalities might gang up on me one day and bury me in the woods somewhere.  I think they’re capable. And they know I have no sense of direction so I’d never make it back again.

Since I was a kid I wanted to be Melanie Griffiths in Working Girl.  I wanted to wear a suit, work in the city, earn mega bucks, have MASSIVE hair and use big words like ‘infrastructure’ and ‘acquisition’.  That was my idea of success.  It was so far removed from my world as a child where I had no control over anything.  This world of ‘The City’ was where dreams came true and on top of it all you could be rich and loved by Harrison Ford.  Who wouldn’t want THAT?

So that’s what I’ve worked for.  However, I have the distinct feeling that depression held me back for a loooong old time.  Now I’m not making excuses here, don’t get me wrong, but depression is an illness and if you had flu every day for 15 years your career wouldn’t be as perky as a cheer-leaders butt cheeks either.

I had a nervous breakdown at the age of 29, fought my way out of the well of depression that I fell into only to find that at the top of the well wasn’t the home and the family I knew but a hyped up, slightly insane version of the world which shouted in my ears and made me feel as if I was going crazy every day.  I think this was when the bipolar started showing itself.  Of course, at that time I had no idea what bipolar was or why I was feeling so unable to keep a grasp on reality at times.  I started seeing things (which still happens even today).  Mostly people lurking in bushes or hiding behind lamp posts, sometimes other things like animals. 

I couldn’t follow people’s conversations if there was more than one person talking in front of me.  It was like I couldn’t hear them or my brain wasn’t able to react quickly enough to take everything in.  I also felt as if I was 2 inches inside myself, if that makes sense.  Like I was looking out of my head and not quite part of my own body.  Not attached, just, following it around.  Have you ever sat in a noisy school canteen where everyone’s talking but you can’t actually make out anything clearly?  That was the state of things in my head. 

Life was tough and confusing as well as isolating, but I refused to speak to my psychiatrist about any of what I was feeling.  I didn’t want to be put in a straightjacket or carted off to hospital. I’d read so many horror stories about those who end up in mental wards and what they go through while they’re there, not to mention what it might do to any career I managed to salvage after all this was over.  They even ask you when applying for insurance whether you’ve ever been committed!  So I kept quiet, but the feeling of going mad only grew stronger. 

To be continued…

2. Introducing… Janice!

I’m trying very hard to concentrate while I write this over Janice’s voice. She has a New York accent and she’s being quite loud today.
‘I’m blogging,’ I tell her.
‘No you’re not, you’re ignoring me. Anyway, I was watching the new Star Trek film last night…’
‘I know. I was there,’ I say absently.
‘My god, that Benedict Cumberbatch does things to me.’
‘I don’t want to know,’ I say but I can’t help but smile because he sort of does things to me too.
‘That Sherlock could frisk me all over. And his friend.’
‘Who?’
‘The other one.’
‘Dr Watson?’
She nods and I note how unusual it is for her to be this quiet for this long.
‘He was in the hobbit,’ I say.
‘Hey,’ she whispers. ‘Do you think he’s hobbit sized all over?’
I slam my hands over my ears in a futile attempt to block out her voice. I’m ignoring… I’m ignoring…
She carries on yammering regardless, which is the only way I can describe the way she speaks. Loud, insistent, and often very, very funny. She makes me laugh out loud, which is a feat, and most of the time she’s good company. But right now I’m blogging so I don’t want to be disturbed, but when someone lives in your head it’s not so easy to turn them off.
One thing I find odd about Janice is she’s always talking about men, she’s constantly flirting, and always saying things which make me cringe or laugh. She’s the total opposite of me. I carry on writing. I’m ignoring… I’m ignoring…
‘…and who doesn’t love to be naked and covered in jelly,’ she says and the surprise of it makes me laugh. This is all a bit much for 6.30 in the morning.

It’s strange living with someone who comes and goes but essentially lives in your head and is nothing like you are. It’s weird, don’t you think I know it’s weird? I can no sooner predict what’s about to come out of her mouth than I could predict what you might be about to say. But it’s cool. She doesn’t cause me any grief, she’s loud and it stops me concentrating at times but she’s never pushy. She doesn’t tell me to kill anyone in their sleep or steal cars. She’d probably like it if we bought a few more handbags but she’s mostly happy to talk… and talk.

The trouble is that she does herald the start of an episode usually. Things get loud in my head when she’s around. They get confusing and fast and exciting and I stop caring about the things I usually care about like my husband’s feelings, my responsibilities, the routine things that need doing and I start to care instead about making life exciting and fun and just a little bit scary. I start applying for new jobs, usually paying £200k a year and way out of my league but then I’m a genius, you know, and if someone else can do it then I can DEFINITELY do it. They’d be mad not to let me try because knowing how good I am I’d probably give them £250k’s worth of work!

It’s also a time when I can get lots of things done. If I’ve wanted to do a course I will sometimes sign up to 5 and get them all done within a month. In that sense I wish there was a way to motivate me to do the housework in such an efficient manner. It seems that no one’s ever ill enough to fancy bleaching the bog.

But it’s not all fun and games when the real mania comes on. This is going to be difficult to explain because I don’t really understand what happens myself. There’s another person that takes over during the height of an episode. It’s almost like driving from the back seat of your car. She pushes me to the back of my brain so I can only see the back of my own eye sockets and everything she’s doing through them, but I have no control. I know what’s happening isn’t always right but what can I do? I’m not making excuses but I feel like a toddler whose mum is pushing her around the supermarket whilst serrupticiously putting things down her child’s jumper to steal. At the end of the day, the toddler will get frisked and whether she’s to blame or not she’ll feel the guilt of the act. That’s the trouble with bipolar. I’m always the one that takes the blame, no matter who was in charge at the time. I’m the responsible driver whose keys get stolen regularly.

Plus, I see things. People usually and they’re almost always hiding behind trees and bushes or lamp posts. I don’t know why my brain does that, makes them look as if they’re hiding. Laziness I suppose. It can’t be bothered to pick out an outfit for my hallucinations. I guess that’s one of the reasons I’ve never really been all that scared by them. They’re disconcerting, don’t get me wrong, but if I’m honest, when I first started seeing these Primark wannabees I was more scared by the thought that I’d be committed if I told anyone. Therefore I kept it secret for a good 3 years along with a lot of my symptoms. It’s only been the last few months that I’ve told anyone about Janice.

She doesn’t care. She’s too busy yammering.