It's been too long.

I just got an email saying I've received a comment on my blog....I had completely forgotten about this blog, oops sorry bipolar blog lol. I guess I've just been busying doing nothing.

I'm still completely off any medications, which is huge for me. I hate having to take meds, especially when I feel in my heart there is nothing wrong with me. Everyone gets sad sometimes, right? And it passes.

I have been feeling sad lately. I guess it has a lot to do with being lonely. I have 2 children under the age of four and a husband so technically I'm not alone but I feel so isolated, sometimes it's paralyzing.

And what makes it even worse is that I've finally excepted the fact that I have no friends. Up until now I've still tried to reach out to my high school friends. Write them on Facebook and say we should get together and catch up and so on. And they used to at least write me back with excuses but now there's nothing. No response.

So I think it's finally time to except the fact that maybe they didn't even really like me. lol

I don't know.

I think this coming year is going to be a good year for me.

I'm going to get my license.

I'm going to lose 50 pounds of myself.

I'm going to spend time with my sisters and my brother.

And I'm going to be happy because I like me.

Oh and I'll try to write more, especially about my hospital stays and experiences with mental illness.

Now to try and get some beauty sleep.

Good night.

Time

This has been happening a lot lately...me staying up late. Not able to sleep. Head racing. Thoughts of sadness and regret. Thinking about how time has gone by so fast. It's not fair, especially when you feel like you've been cheated out of a lot of time. Time is so precious. And it really fucking scares me to think of more of it passing. Soon I will be old and everyone I know will be gone. I'll be one of those old women or men you see sitting at a restaurant eating alone. Soon my parent's will be gone and I'll have no one to turn to for help or advice. And that's a horrible scary thought. I don't want to be alone.

Hello Loneliness...My Old Friend.

"We're born alone, we live alone, we die alone. Only through our love and friendship can we create the illusion for the moment that we are not alone.

 -Orson Welles

"Every living creature on Earth dies alone."

-From the movie Donnie Darko

It's strange when the fog of depression settles back upon you. It's like the heaviness never left. It's a comfortable old friend coming back to say hi. And suddenly everything sucks. Nothing in your life is good. But I know this will pass, it always does. And yes this old friend does seem to come around more than I'd like and definitely more than I've lead on to the outside world. I've become very good at pretending nothing is wrong when things are completely wrong. But I just breathe and live and wait and soon it leaves. And that's what I'm doing now....waiting.

I've written before about wishing I had friends and I'm gonna mention this again...I want some friends. Sometimes I think I'll go mad just because I have no one to talk to. And lately I have been in the company of two friends both male and that's great. But I really wish I had a girlfriend to talk to. Mostly I wish my sister would come home. I miss her more than I can express with words. And I feel like part of me is dead without her.

But now it's just important I stay busy....idle hands are the devil playground or something like that. Paint, write, Family tree research, Movies,  maybe finally getting my bike out of the basement, singing, playing the guitar again, laughing, smiling.  Doing all the things the old me used to do. And trying to love myself just as I am.

Sweet Dreams xo

(whoever is reading this)

I'm still alive....

Wow it's been an incredibly long time since I last wrote. But I am here, still kicking, just busying. I got caught up in family tree business which I am hopelessly addicted too. Believe it or not I even dream about doing my family tree and search names and finding documents. On the Bi-Polar front I am doing well. I'm down to 37.5 mgs of Effexor every second day with no withdrawal effects yet (knock on wood).

The only problem I have been experiencing is extreme exhaustion and wanting to stay in bad all day which is not a good thing when you have small children to care for. It's hard but I'm managing and I'm looking forward to my vacation to BC in 6 days. I know the sunshine and company of my Mother and Grandparents and other family will do me wonders.

Good night.....

Method to the Madness

"A mind is a terrible thing to measure"

-Adam Phillips (New York Times)

You know what's funny, the whole reason I was admitted into the Hospital was my "supposed suicide attempt", the accidental, too deep, self harming I had done while high on sleeping pills and while I was there no one ever asked me anything about it. My doctor didn't really talk to me at all. In fact she talked to my parents more. Pretty much all the info she had on me was second hand from my parents, who didn't have the first clue as to why I did what I did. The strategy there was to drug us instead of talk to us. In the movies you see people getting one on one therapy, lying on a couch, talking away, making breakthroughs....it's all bull shit, or at least in my experience. I think I had the shittiest doctor possible. She never asked me why I cut myself....in face the cutting which she obviously knew about, was never mentioned. I know now, looking back what triggered the cutting. But no one asked me how I felt about graduating, not knowing what I was going to do with the rest of my life. The routine I had and we all had of waking at 6 or 7, going to school, eating lunch, talking to friends, coming home, eating dinner, doing homework, going to sleep and then staring it all over again the next day, was gone. And it hit me hard, harder than I thought it would. And then there was the whole thing with my parent's divorce. That was something that affected me deeply although I hating admitting to it. And there were personal things I had bottled away. Things that happened that I pretend didn't and they surfaced now and again. But I never had the opportunity to discuss these things with anyone. I was told I was Bi Polar, case closed. No explanation.

And those drugs they give you are horrible things. To help me sleep I was given Seroquel and Risperdal which are both  anti psychotics....pretty heavy stuff to be prescribed as a sleep aid. I was also given Lithium, clonazepam, Wellbutrin, Effexor and several other drugs I can't remember the names of. The side effects were terrible. I wouldn't wish them on anyone. But it's getting late and I must get some beauty rest.

My first time

"You become your environment, and you become what you are expected to be...I  went in well and turned ill overnight."

-Norah Vincent (Voluntary Madness)

(sometime during my first hospital stay)

Ok let's get back on track here. I started this blog to post word vomit about my sickness and hospital stays, my journey into insanity and back again and I haven't been writing like I thought I would. But I'm having one of those nights where I can't sleep and my head is racing with thoughts, basically writing one of these things itself so I thought I better take advantage of it tonight.

May 10th 2002 and it started like this.....

I had been abusing some sleeping medication for a little while now, not excessively but abusing none the less and this night I took 1 or 2 pills before taking a shower. I got a little woozy in the shower and for some reason I can't recall I decided after dressing that I would cut my wrist. Not suicide cut but because of the sleeping pills my motor skills were impaired and I cut myself much worse than I indented and because I was high and not thinking right I decided to show the deep gash with little balls of fat peeking out, to my younger siblings....bad idea...really stupid. I scared the shit out of them, obviously and this was the final straw with my parent's. They tried themselves, unsuccessfully to talk me into going to the hospital and then got me to talk to some guy on a suicide hot line or something. Which was horrible for me because I did not want to go to the hospital but I'm the type who pretty much always tells people what they want to hear. So I got talked into it pretty fast. They said it was just for one night to talk to my doctor and figure out a different medication situation for me to try....blah blah blah. But it turned into 3 weeks.

I spent the first night in emergency still naively thinking it was just for one night. After the horrible night there I was lead up to "crazy ward" and shown my bed. I told them I wasn't staying and they informed me, that yes I was....And the crying began.

After that stay at the Hospital I came home a different person. I feel like the Tessa that went in, didn't come back. She died. The drugs, the treatment, the whole environment swallowed her up. I was told I was sick and I became sick.

Sunshine where are you???

"I became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity!"
 -Edgar Allan Poe

Wow, it's been quite a while since I last posted something. I guess this cold weather and lack of sunshine has finally gotten to me. I've been feeling so run down the last few weeks. I did manage to get some much needed "me" time by going out for a drink with my friend Jimmy and then spending a night alone at my Dad's house. It felt really good to be able to sleep through the night, no babies crying, just peace and quiet. And I also managed to get the painting I've been putting off for weeks, done....So things are looking up. My son is turning 1 next week and my 11 year anniversary with my husband is coming up in 2 weeks....And hopefully it'll get warmer soon and I can get some sunshine into my skin. Spring please come soon.

Finally some peace and quiet

"Years ago, it meant something to be crazy. Now everyone's crazy."
-Charles Manson

So I really wanted to commit to this and write every night but I'm starting to see that that's not possible, especially with 2 small children. Not to mention the fact that sometimes I just can't write. It doesn't flow. I guess that's called writer's block, right?

Since 2005 I've been slowly reducing the number and doses of medication I was given. I'm now currently on the smallest dose of an anti-depressant called Effexor and I'm stable for the most part but there's this underlying consist sedation in me. This lack of energy and motivation to live. I am constantly wanting to sleep because sleep makes time pass. I love sleeping. If I had some time to myself which I haven't in 3 years, but if I did, I'd spend it sleeping. I function well. I take care of my kids. I'm a really good Mom. But I don't really have a life other than that. Who is Tessa? I have no idea anymore. The last time I did anything with another adult that wasn't my family or husband was for my birthday, May 2010. That's almost a year ago. Sometimes I find myself thinking about my friends....where they are now, what they're doing? And I wonder how I lost contact. I know it all boils down to grade 12 and me having my first real boyfriend and becoming so involved in that world, in that relationship that it basically cut off the other's oxygen supply. And then there's the whole being hospitalized and drugged up and sleeping for a couple of years and really not remembering anything from 2003-2005. And people move on with their lives, meet new people, get married, get Jobs, go to school,  have families.....I just miss my friends. I find it so weird when I hear someone actually say my name because I never hear it. It shocks me at first and I think "oh yeah that's my name".

But I'm not saying that it's not my fault either. I know there are times when I don't want to talk to anyone so I can only assume that when I was at my worst I probably felt that way and I probably rejected any kind of friendship out reach that was made.

But getting back to my medication...how did I wander over to this subject anyways.....I'm thinking of going on a new anti-depressant. I never got the complete drive or passion back to my life that I lost when I started all the medication in the hospital. And I want that back. So maybe that's what I need as much as I am against drugs, I think maybe I'll try something new. I've been on Effexor since I was 16....that's a long time. I need a change.

the origin of my demons

"The statistics on sanity are that one out of every four Americans is suffering from some form of mental illness. Think of your three best friends. If they're okay, then it's you."

                                                                                           

 -Rita Mae Brown

I said before that I haven't had a proper diagnoses, or one that I felt was justified. But I can tell you from my own research and talking to my family physician I've come to the conclusion that I am rapid cycle bi-polar. Which means I have severe ups and downs that come very quickly but also can change very quickly.

When something upsets me, and it can be a little thing something stupid, incredible insignificant. I can actually anticipate my mood coming down immediately.  Almost like I can feel the sudden cease of happy chemicals being produced in my head. I think of it like the little workers up there suddenly went on strike. No more neurotransmitters (the chemicals responsible for carrying signals in the brain).

Now I'm not saying that I need to have my way all the time and that people need to walk on egg shells around me, but I've had to really practice holding back and not running away with my emotions.

Breathing exercises, taking a long shower or just having some "alone" time are some of the tricks I use.

It's taken me a long time to admit to myself that this is something I'll carry with me forever. Mental illness is not something that will just go away. It is something I will always struggle with but I would rather do it my way than with the drugs the doctors throw at you. I'm happy to say that I'm on only one anti-depressant and a very small dose at that. But it wasn't always like that. At one time I was on no less than 8 medications at once. Anti-depressants, Anti-anxiety meds, Mood stabilizers, Sleeping pills and even an Anti-Psychotic medication which was completely unnecessary.

These drugs had terrible side affects. I gained 60 pounds in less than 6 months. I literally woke one morning to discover the pants I had worn the night before, no longer fit me. You can imagine the damage this would do to someone's self esteem, yet alone a 120 pound, 19 year old girl. I slurred my words. I tripped and fell a lot. I pretty much slept for 2 years straight. I lost touch with all my friends and slipped into this isolated hermit lifestyle. Not only did I become 50 times more depressed on all these medications that were meant to help me, but I could no longer function.

My mother would yell at me for slurring my words and being "high", when all I was doing was exactly what the doctors told me too. I felt like a complete failure. No matter what I did it was always wrong. I could never make the situation right.

I became very very angry and I bottle that rage for a long time.

Blue Monday

"Dying
Is an art, like everything else.
I do it exceptionally well".

-Sylvia Plath

I've started and re-started this post a number of times already....I hate forcing myself to write when it's not coming naturally. But I really what to try to write every night. So what to write....that is the question. Last Monday, the 17th was "Blue Monday", the most depressing day of the year. The third Monday in January. This was figured out by some equation that has to do with the weather, debt, time passed since Christmas, failing your new years resolutions and so forth. It got me thinking what I was feeling or doing on all those Blue Monday that have passed in my life time. Checking my journal I can see that last year I was quite cheery. A typical day at home with my daughter, other than the fact I was 7 months pregnant. I write about doing puzzles with Stella and the frustrations of trying to get your young child to stay in their own bed at night but nothing about feeling sad or lonesome or anything along those lines. I think I'll make it a project to look through my other journals and poetry books and find the other Blue Mondays....lucky for me I've recorded a lot of life into journals and calendars.

And I think that is all for tonight. It's one of those nights where my mind doesn't want to get active, just relax and watch a movie....."The Town" to be exact.

The first cut is the deepest

"There is a classic moment in ‘The Sun Also Rises’ when someone asks Mike Campbell how he went bankrupt, and all he can say in response is, “Gradually and then suddenly.” When someone asks how I lost my mind, that’s all I can say too."

                                                    

-Elizabeth Wurtzel

 

 

 

The first thing I can think of that strikes me as odd about myself and my childhood is this strange fascination I had with cutting myself, without actually cutting myself. In middle school I would use a ruler and this really sticky, partially dried red Crayola ink pad and I would rub the ruler around in it and then slide it across my wrists. The result was a scary realistic looking slash, and if I wet it a bit, it would actually look like blood, fresh bleeding cuts. I search myself now for the reasons I did this and I come up empty. I can only remember doing this and not the reasons why.....

 

It wasn't until I was 16 that I actually started to cut for real.

I remember that night and the situation that led up to it, it seems so insignificant and stupid now.

My mother wouldn't let me go on a boat cruise with my friends on a Friday night and this enraged me so much I took it out on my fresh.

I had been dealing with a lot of rejection from the opposite sex. I would focus all my attention on one boy. I would make this boy a god and then be rejected and fall hard. I could name names...my list of loves that never were, but the weekend before, my friends and I had gone on a boat cruise and I had ended up actually , while let's put it this way, there was sexy dancing and kissing and I was in Heaven. I felt so good about myself. Although looking back now, it's embarrassing and pretty much a bad memory. I'll never think of "Mambo #5" the same way.

But my mom stopping me from going out with my girlfriends and feeling like that again, just made me blow up. Cutting myself that night was the first and only time I can remember cutting because of anger. Later it became a way to numb the hurt inside. I wanted to feel a hurt greater than the one inside my head.

 

And this is how it started, the gradual and then sudden depression that started to brew inside me.

This is my truth...

"Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage, against the dying of the light."

                                                              -Dylan Thomas

I've been tossing ideas back and forth in my mind about how I should write about my experiences with depression and all the baggage depression carries.

I've never been properly diagnosed. I've seen many doctors all of whom asked me simple questions, none pertaining to any of the problems I was facing or struggling through and from that labeled me either Manic or depressed or both. I've been told I have border line personality disorder with a slight anxiety disorder, really I've heard it all.

But I always wondered how from the 2 minute Q&A asking ME things like, "How are you feeling today?" which I replied "fine." or "Are you sleeping at night?" which I said "yes.", were they able to come to that exact destination and say this person is this or this or this.

It almost would be easier if we all came with labels on our heads saying" I'm bipolar", because the shit I went through with my treatment and all the drugs that were put in my body that weren't necessary have caused more problems than the depression I was suffering with in the first place.

I wanted to start blogging because I'd eventually like to put a book together about my experiences and all that I went through in high school and the years that followed.

I'm the kind of person who really keeps what's going on in their head quiet. Most people have really never heard me discuss these things, In face some people in my family didn't even know I had been struggling with  mental illness or being hospitalized for years until many after the fact. So I just want to put it out there that these are my personal feeling and memories and opinions and if you don't like reading them to simple not read them. I don't want pity or anything like that. This is for me. I want to lay my cards on the table and look'em over. This is my truth from my mouth and my head and my heart. I've been keeping a lot inside for far too long and it already feels good getting this out.

till tomorrow or when I get another chance to write in peace.

xo