Give me a tiny violin

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When people would just complain and feel sorry for themselves or have a woe is me attitude like I have been having over the last few posts one would hand play an imaginary tiny violin.

Thank you for bearing with me while having my pity party.

Well, this is my tiny violin for whining.

I read someone that family, friends and sometimes even us, cannot tell the difference between the behavior: is it the illness or just us, in my case, a little of both.

Now that I no longer have that woe is me attitude ( some me and some the illness)  all is well again (it appears to be alright now, but who knows when it will show up again)

It does create havoc for both me and the person who gets the brunt of my irritability and paranoia.  I have to hope that the other person can tell the difference, me or the illness.

I am asking the impossible.  How can they tell, when sometimes I can’t tell.  By the time I realize I am in anger or rage mode of mania, it is too late.

So far I have been forgiven but how much more can they take of behavior they do not understand?

 

Oh Boy

I did it this time.

It seems as though my mother always seem to get the brunt end of my manic rages unless by chance I get to see the therapist.

Therapist.  Have not seen one in a while and that has proven to be a big mistake.  Instead of taking frustration out on mom, could have put all that anger and rage to the therapist.  She knows what is going on and pays the rage and anger no attention.  She is able to see past  that and know it is mania.

No therapist, rage unrestrained and in text messages: which is worse, text or phone talk or even face to face.

I say, if it is a family  member, neither is the best way.  Just find a therapist or a rock and shout what you need to.  Go someplace where there is an echo and you will hear what you were about to say to someone you love.  To someone that your words have the potential to hurt not only their feelings but the relationship and there goes another one, another relationship.  Hopefully mom will understand.

Maybe by some small chance mom understands  a little about bipolar and knows that rage is part of your mania.  Still, she will only take so much.

What about your siblings that don’t understand?  They are more than will to kick your ass for disrespecting mom.  Illness, what illness.

Maybe you used the same person as a frustrated screaming board, one time to many.  Let’s face it, they do not know what is going on (most of the people we know), at least not in my family.

What do you do when you cannot control your rage and people you love are getting the brunt end of it, especially mom/ dad.

How do you handle the rage in general?

It sneaks up on me and I begin to think bipolar is something made up and that I am really just a bitch.  (excuse the language) I begin to think, I really am this mean.  The other side of me says, you are sick and people just do not know, understand or rather say you disrespectful.

So, any answers: 1. Can and how do you control your rage?

2. Is your rage purposely directed at the person you are anger with or just a substitute

3. Has the relationship taken a beating

4. Have any of your relationships been permanently destroyed.

Here is a new one:  does someone think you just want attention?  That you are a drama person?    WTH

 

 

 

 

Which way is up?

The last few months have been strange but I know it is the illness.

The morning and the early afternoon I am even keel and zany.  My normal zany, just making people laugh.  Sometimes my tickle box falls over and I keep laughing.  But this is normal for me.

Toward the late afternoon and into the evening everything changes.  I am irritable and cranky which leads to anger and then rage.  I am angry about everything and nothing, everyone and no one.  I cannot explain it.  My therapist reminds me this is the manic part of the illness.

I am used to being manic all day for days and then even keel.  This is even more illogical than usual for mania.  I don’t understand it.  How can I be even keel and fine in the morning and the switch goes off later in the day.  It happens this way everyday for months.

Even more than those changes, when this happens and I am alone, I go through the dark places again.  I don’t do everything I did last time but I am still walking through some areas of darkness.  It does not matter if it is some areas or every area. It is a darkness I hate because they are things, places, activities and behavior I normally despise.  I know this is not the true me, but the mania drives me.

My brain shifts and the impulsive part comes to the front.  The part that does not think of consequences, other people or even self, seems to be front and center.  No matter how I try to make it shift back, it refuses to comply and stays.  It is the ruler.  I feel like the real me disappears when this happens because when my brain shifts again and I remember what happen I say, Who the hell was that person.She was in my body but that is the only thing that was me.

Family, friends and acquaintances that see me on a regular basis do not recognize my behavior as me. Some of them do not realize it is my mental illness because they do not know what mania does to me.  Most of the time they do not refer to it as part of my illness.  Some people just think I am going through a rebellious period. Come on now.  I am a grown woman.  Can we think of some other word to call it.  Others just wave me off and think it is normal or I have changed on purpose.

My biggest fear is that people that met me when I was even keel will leave me when I become manic. They do not understand my behavior.  Some decide they do not want to be around me either because of the behavior I am exhibiting or because they are afraid of being around with someone with a mental illness.  I live with this fear when I begin to experience mania.  I know there is very little I can do except to ride out the storm, to stay on the roller coaster until the ride ends.  It is, what it is.

I wonder if I am doomed to be alone, not be in a romantic relationship for the rest of my life.  I get up every morning and just keep it moving.  When the thought comes to mind, I give it a second, not a minute, but a second and then I move on.  I have to live and not worry about that.  I keep telling myself, if it happens, it happens, but that is a crock.  I want it to happen but of course I cannot make it happen.

Honey, where are you?  🙂  Oh well, I guess he is not here yet.  He will catch up with me at some point. In the meantime, I just keep it moving.

pb: Love to all

Persistent pursing the best things life has for me that I are within my capabilities of obtaining.

Pushing past the symtoms

Yesterday was a trying day.

I stayed in bed much longer than normal.  I really did not want to get out.  I stayed about 3 hours longer than normal and I was not tired or sleepy, just had no desire to get up.

When I finally got up, I pushed myself out of the house although I wanted no part of the outside world.  I knew that I had to go out despite how I was feeling even though I did not quite know at the time what I was feeling and why.

It was not until I called someone and realized how angry I was at the world and how bitter I sounded that I finally had to admit that I was depressed.  I have been trying so hard to stay as busy as possible for fear of getting depressed like I was this time last year.

I went to the library to listen to music to get into a different mood.

Later that day, I made plans to get together with someone and go to a movie.  I was a little hesitant because I was afraid my mood would show through and ruin the day for them.  I knew I had to do something fun because it is one of my tools for depression so I don’t give in to it.

It turned out to be a great time, although I overloaded on sweets, but I did not care.

I pushed past the symptoms: anger, irritability, lack of desire to get out of bed, leave the house and the need for isolation, and did not let the black hole of depression suck me in.

love to all,

pb aka peanut butter