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
There are days I long for someone understanding of my bipolar, to find me and love.
Most days I am sure that there is no one who is willing to deal with or love me as a person with the ups and downs that come with the day to day uncertainly of bipolar mood swings.
I tried it once and it did not work out for many reasons. Yet I feel that I have to a lot to offer in spite of my mental illness. The symptoms of the illness may be stable for a while and then decide to show up. The symptoms are what happens but do not define me or what I have to offer someone.
Just because my love is there when things are fine, will he still be there when I go from one end of the roller coaster to the next.
Will he grow tired of riding it out with me? Will he have enough and regret his relationship with me. Will he stay with me being unhappy and ruining any chance of happiness with someone.
I want love to be in a lover’s arm and feel secure that they will love me enough to be strong to ride the waves for me. I think that is too much to hope. If they stay, they may ruin their life. If they go, it may feel like my life is ruined. I don’t want to find love only to have it leave in order to not ruin their life and find someone new.
The illustration says it all except more accurately my statement is:
I live with bipolar and want to someone to love and love me. I am afraid for love to find me because I feel somewhere between the highs of mania and the lows of depression, I am afraid to give and receive love because I do not want to ruin their life.
Life is a gift and I try to treasure the present day as a such. Yet, there are times when I long to be connected to someone who will not be afraid to stay no matter what end of the spectrum I am at because they will know we can make it together as long as we realize there is no guarantee mania and depression will return.
Because he loves me and wants to only be with me, he will be beside during the highs and loves and be certain that no matter, I love and treasure him.
He take time to learn not only about the illness but how to help me through episodes, sometimes just being there and not saying a word. Reassuring me of their love and not staying will not ruin their love but will make our love grow and our bond stronger.
I want to love, but will loving me cause him to one day feel like loving and being with me is ruining his life?
Time will tell, if I take the chance and accept love when it finds me
Sometime i think bipolar is something made up. I believe the only mental illness is schizophrenia.
Sometimes I can’t tell my personality from the illness. I just don’t know.
When I am this thing called “manic”I do notice my level of irritability increase s.
It is at this time I just don’t know if it is me or the illness because I say and do things that are very unkind. Normally, it upsets me when I hurt someones’ feelings. This causes, chaos, broken relationships and sometime irreparable relationships.
I think if family really took the time to learn about my illness and me as the individual I am I would not feel the need to run away and hide when mania gets out of control. Maybe it would not escalate to the level it does. Maybe they would realize there are things you do not say to a person with a mental illness, no matter how innocent you think the statement is.
I just don’t know why we fight to get out from under stigma and the people that surround us are the main ones who make it impossible. Sometime they are our family, friends, and even other people with mental illness. I just don’t understand.
I am not depressed but I am sad and I begin to cry everyday and cannot seem to stop. I have no desire or use for food. Why was I so mean. What the hell is wrong with me. Am I really a nice people person always trying to bring a ray of sunshine even but for a moment. That moment may be something that the person holds onto and helps them when things start going to the depths of depression. That one moment may be the thing they hold onto to stay just above the surface of depression.
I just don’t know which is the real me, my real personality at the time. I know it is becasue I am told this thing called bipolar changes my mood. Is it changing my mood or me? I just don’t know.
This only happens when I am manic or in the middle of both ends of the bipolar pole. In other words, I believe I am on a roller coaster ride when there is no roller coaster where I am.
This may not be a good analogy so let me explain what I mean.
When I meet someone of the opposite sex that is nice to me, I tend to form a relationship in my head that does not exist.
My thoughts and actions toward this person are what you would expect from someone that you are in a serious relationship with. This person might not even be a friend but an acquaintance.
To be more specific: there is a person that hugs me whenever they come to my home. I don’t see them very often and sometimes not for months. But because they embrace me, make me laugh and have a warm personality, there are questions that burn in me that I know I do not have a legitimate right to ask.
We are not in a relationship so it really is not my business what this person does in their personal life. That is the reality.
In my illogical thinking we are in a relationship and I want to know what that person is doing in their time when they are not working.
In the beginning, I ask do you have a significant other in your life. I ask because I do not want to be infringing on someone else’s love. They tell me no.
At first I believe them because I am thinking rationally.
Once mania hits, rationality goes out and irrational thinking is where I live in my mind.
My behavior becomes that of a cheated on woman. I cry about their disloyalty because I think they are sneaking away on the weekend to be with someone else. I send crazy texts like “you lied to me I thought you said you said you were not involved with anyone”.
There is a battle in my mind. Reality vs. unreality . Thoughts to questions that do not apply, such as why are they ignoring my text messages become an obsession.
The reality is that they never call me or text me, only in my mind. But it is an existing relationship to me.
I cry as though I have been cast to the side, lied to or rejected.
Reality comes back and I now have to clean up a mess.
Unfortunately, that is the only thing that is real. I have to clean up a relationship mess, even with acquaintances who bring something special to me: a hug, good conversation, a listening hear and encouragement.
As always, bipolar is a stubborn BITCH, that will not go away.
I realize that I am just starting to get manic. I googled Plenty of Fish and there in big letters was the story of a woman raped by a guy from POF.
Normally, things like this can and do happen in all dating sites, would be my logic and I would proceed to activate an account.
Being between mainstream and manic, I do realize there are potentially dangerous situations that can happen whether you met someone from a dating site or not.
As much as I want and need human touch, at this moment that is not a risk I am willing to take. I hope this logical thinking stays with me throughout this ordeal. Thoughts usually flip for me when manic. Logic is now illogical and illogical is now logical, hence, no negative consequences, only a good time.
I usually do not even realize when I am going into mania, until it is too late. I am already there.
Now my mind thinks, maybe I should go back and try to find one of the other ones I was already dealing with, NO thanks.
Get some type of hobby, what I don’t know. Something that will keep my mind in check and my body will follow suit and stay in the safety zone.
So it seems as though my last post “Can We Talk” went a little too far. It appears that I am probably the only one with this problem.
I apologize for those of you who may have found this topic offensive.
On another note. I am struggling to figure out what actions are bipolar and what actions are just my personality. Sometimes the lines get blurred.
One of my children says I am outspoken and I am. I know that is my personality. Being outspoken can be a good thing when you an advocate for yourself or others. Your voice is the one that fights not only for your rights but the rights of others who have not yet found their voice. Some are too shy and never will. That is when being outspoken is a good thing.
On the other hand, it can produce negative results or cause one to be offended, such as the last post. It can also destroy relationships whether we mean to or not.
I have learned that every thought we have is not for us to say out loud. This takes great discipline because it causes us to pause and think for a moment the possible consequences that thought might cause.
Even though the lines become blurred at times, there are some signs when I know it is me such as laughing. When I am me or not heading for or in mania, I laugh at normal things that are funny. When manic, things are just plain funny, whether others think so or not. At times I just sit and start laughing. I have heard people say, “She is in her own world” and I am. No one knows what I am laughing about and everything is funny to me.
Being outspoken takes a little more thought. When in a group, I tend to say what I am thinking whether I agree or not. I say it with an example so everyone understands and most everyone agrees. It is just that some people are shy but when someone else expresses what they are thinking it brings out what they want to say. That I know is my personality. When I just start saying random things and do not care about others feelings on the subject, I know it is not me. Being insensitive and hard on people is not me. People do not complain about this. They just think I am having a normal bad day, but I know the difference and those who know my illness know it is not me. I am generally a happy person and life is as the character Forest Gump says,” life is like a box of chocolates. you never know what you’re gonna get”
The last part is when I am irritable. If I can figure out why, then most of the time it is me. However there are times when I cannot tell if it is me or the bipolar because I may not be able to figure out the cause. It can be something or someone triggered me. It can lead to self harm. Am I self harming as a result of being irritable or am I self harming because I feel misunderstood. I know it is two in one, being irritable and self harming.
Finally, I truly believe out of all my diagnosis that are current and the ones I am waiting for a report, mental illness is truly a BITCH. It does what it wants, when it wants. It is a daily fight. So is having cancer ( I am a two time cancer survivor. These statements apply to what I have experienced and how I feel). However, if cancer is caught early enough, most times, something can be done to treat it whether surgical or some other form of treatment.
Mental illness cannot be cured. Time and different techniques have been tried and failed. Hopefully many of us are getting treatment and following our wellness plan. The sick part of our brain cannot be operated on to make it better. There is no treatment to make it go away.
The only treatment that works for me is compliance with going to psychotherapy and taking my medications as instructed. Honestly, sometimes I fail at both. Yet, because I know it is a matter of giving up and losing my life or fighting and living, I choose to get back on my regimen and live as long as I can.
I do hope this is a better post that more people can relate to. I do realize that many of the issues I have are are not experienced by everyone or even a majority of people with mental illness. Those who do experience it, may not be willing to share. It is a personal thing.
I share, my experiences, good, bad and not so good in hopes it will help someone to understand they are not alone and it is nothing wrong that they did, it is the illness.
One thing I hope we all agree on: at times, our mental illness has a way of ruling what we think, our actions based on what we think, what we perceive as real, even though it may not be real. It is not our fault. It is one of many characteristics or symptoms of mental illness.
love to all,
hope this helps someone whether they comment or not.
When I am manic, I get very hyper-sexual. If I am not paying attention to my thoughts, by the time I realize what is happening, I am already in the danger zone: the uncontrollable, impulsive, exciting, zone that comes with mania. My mania.
I cannot and dare not say we all experience all the same feelings and behavior as everyone else with bipolar.
This I do know. I am not alone in this risky behavior. Although I do not know anyone else, I do know that there are others who go through this only later to be embarrassed by the deeds we did when in this state of mind.
Each time it comes around, I take more and more chances with no thought of consequences. You see, everything that we once agreed were logical becomes illogical and senseless to me and that which I once thought was illogical now become logical to me. Because my brain now tells me everything is reverse in my thinking, why would there be negative consequences?
Mania is as if my brain lifts and shifts to the front of the lobe where impulsiveness is now the ruler of my mind and my actions.
I came to the conclusion today that when my mind is focusing on something else for a period of time, I have no idea what is going on until I am inviting strangers to my house. I am talking about men that I meet online. Before I know it, it is another and another. Always a different one. I realize that this dating site is merely a pick up site and now it is a hunting ground for me.
Time would escape me and days were now weeks in my sick mind. When I did not hear from the same man in a short period of time, I would get very irate and let him know it because he should have called sooner, my brain says. Later, when no longer manic, I realize what I thought was weeks were only days and months had only been weeks. It seemed as though i had lived for months this way only to later realize it had not been that long at all.
I would get wasted at night because I had no new emails from the site thinking no one else was interested. One night I was so wasted I sent a nasty text to this one guy (I did not know even remember what the text said when he called to confront me moments after I must have hit the send button.
I would go out of town to meet someone for the first time and not tell my family or friends where I was going. I told one person the first time I left town. I gave very little information and thought nothing of spending the night at a stranger’s house the first day we met.
When my brain shifts again and goes back to well, I am disgusted by my actions and vow to not repeat those actions.
I usually tell my therapist most of what goes on, but you never tell anyone everything. You keep a little part of every story hidden from others, including yourself.
The memories of the things I did come back at a later time and I am very upset and disgusted in the pit of my stomach with myself. I know this is not the normal me. I am not perfect but there are some things I normally would not do.
My therapist reminds me this is part of the illness. I must try to remember it so I can try to self check my thoughts and movements a little better. Mostly, I try to remember it is part of the illness so that I do not get so disgusted with myself that I do not confront it.
Will I never experience hyper-sexuality again? I honestly do not know.
I might not or it might continue as a seasonal sequel that takes a rest during certain months.
Recently I went to the doctor because a mass, cyst, tumor, depending on which doctor you ask, it is what it is.
His medical assistant took the paperwork and checked it with my medical history.
When the Dr. read the information, his comment was “you are a fighter”
I never thought of myself as a fighter before. My comment was, if you don’t fight you die.
I am a lot of things that people try to compliment me on and I have a hard time believing them. But this I could believe. “I am a fighter”
We all fight for something we want to hold onto, things people and especially our health.
I fight for my health. Kidney disease, bipolar, psychogenic non epileptic seizures as well as other diagnosis. I have been through cancer twice.
Yet, by the grace of God and the strength he gives me, I am still here and life is totally awesome.
I fight like crazy everyday to keep my mind and body moving. It is very easy to lay in bed and make excuses to mentally take a trip to a day when you no longer have to work.
That’s okay. But, we with mental illness diagnosis’s cannot afford to take the tine off. It is too dangerous. We might take a day and then another and then another because we let or mind wonder to a time when we no longer have this bipolar or other mental illness. We know that there is no cure and it becomes discouraging but we have to get up whether we want to or not.
A fighter in the ring, gets knocked down,but he gets back up if he wants to win.
We can get through the depression and manic episodes because we have done it before. We won the last time because I am here writing this and you are here reading it.
I am so sensitive I cannot distinguish between me and the bipolar. Lately, everyday I break down and cry. Sometimes, it seems that I even forget to breathe. What is going on with me?
I am wondering if I need a medication adjustment or am I having mixed episodes from day to day.
I realize people treat you the way they observe you treating yourself. Sometimes I do not think highly of myself and this comes through. I say negative things and it comes across as being weak minded. One person called this bipolar drama. I assured him that having a mental illness is sh**** but think about how the person feels who lives with it everyday. We cannot help that our brain is sick.
I know this, but it seems as though I am having a hard time changing how I respond to things. Too sensitive I know, however I have been like this all life. How do I change?
One person said it is high school sh** and that I need to be like Teflon I believe that if I were Teflon it would almost dehumanize me.
How do I find the balance in between way too sensitive (usually between depression and mania) and being Teflon?