3 years later...

2 years later...

I honestly don't know how many people have read my blog, granted, one of three I started one night during my first episode, but it's actually been 2 years.  So, nice to see ya!
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March of 2013 was my 3rd full-on manic

Success as a Trigger

When someone with Bipolar disorder goes through therapy, a standard portion involves identifying triggers.  A trigger can be basically any Noun (person, place, thing), Emotion (fear, anger, sadness, guilt) or External Stimuli that pushes you toward Mania or Depression. Now in the past, I'd say a trigger Causes the cycle, and for many it does, including myself.  A boy in 4th grade made fun of me once, and it sent me into a depression I didn't escape until high school.  An unidentified trigger is as potent as one on a gun-- sometimes just as fatal.  Identifying your personal triggers can keep you euthymic (in the middle) by allowing you to step outside the emotion, observe it, and let it past (the practice of mindfulness).

With all the self work I've been doing the last 10 months, I was very surprised to find out that Success is one of my triggers toward mania. I've always been very skeptical of the "fear of success."  Why would someone be scared to succeed? How can winning be bad?

Seriously?

Now with the advantage of lucid hindsight, I see that times when I've performed well have given me jolts of adrenaline that have cycled me up towards mania. In 2008, a great performance by my band after a hellish first semester teaching sent me reeling. On the trip back to MI I scribbled frantically in my notebook a vision of the great Band Corps I described last post. That success built up a tremendous amount of Kinetic energy that broke open like a dam when Dad died, shooting me into a completely different persona: Jim the Triumphant.  Like a Phoenix rising from the ashes I was unfettered, ablaze with confidence and clarity.  There was no weakness, no excuses.  Anyone who dared cross me was met by a "Man of Action." Thankfully I wasn't pushed to act, but I now see how those who possess such inner confidence don't have to act.  Their words are powerful enough.

This past summer it was a series of successes.  First I was able to continue working at my current position in a different role over the summer, releasing the stress of finding summer work.

Bump.

At this office job, I was given a variety of different tasks that I completed accurately and quickly, earning me praise from my supervisor.

Bump.(spinning)

I was then given a great task with more responsibility, and succeeded there.

Bump. (adding fuel)

Finally I was recommended for an interview to do this job permanently.  I aced the first interview,

Bump. (Tank is full and teetering)



*----------Earthquake-------*

Bump.  Tank is tipped over. Spark ignites fuel.


*Explosion*


And I've finally picked up the pieces from that explosion 10 months later.


So now what?


My life is in order.  I'm working again.  Euthymic.  Good relationship.  Great friends.



Set up for success.



....And I'm cautious.


Even at this summer job, the success I've had has given me small bumps of hypomania (small highs).  But now I'm much more mindful, self-aware, vigilant.

This time I'm ready.

This isn't the tossed about by the winds and the waves Jim of the past.  There is a grounding, a root that now anchors me to Mother Earth.  I have a growing confidence that God has created a good thing in me.  He has given me the qualities and tools to grow strong and to walk my own path. I have great examples to follow, but my steps and direction are my own. My family and friends love and support me, and want the best for me.

I am Blessed,
I am Ready.

Dear Life, This is Jim.

The rumors of my death were greatly exaggerated

If you only knew what I was gonna be/After the storm, you wouldn't have even bothered me.
-Tye Tribbett, "I want it all back"

Here I come.

Bring It!

"Grimm", Coins, and the Hero Complex

I was watching a rerun of Grimm earlier this week that damn near gave me a flashback to last August.   This episode centered around the mythic coins of Zakynthos.  Whoever possesses these coins gained a charismatic influence over people and experienced delusions of grandeur.  The Captain of the police force acquired them, looked out his window, and saw throngs of people shouting his name, and waving banners.  Whenever the coins are taken away, the person is left pining for them, like a junkie yearning for his next fix.

Now, I've had enough time this year to do some serious introspection and it could be that I saw the original airing of this episode while manic, and it fused into my own delusion.

 I am very impressionable.

But it's pretty well documented that Manics experience the Hero complex: an overwhelming feeling that you Can and Should fix the problems around you, even those on a macro level.  You feel like a Crusader: commissioned by God or a Divine Power to right the wrongs of the world.

I've experienced this twice.  During my first hyper-manic episode in 2009, I tried to fix all the problems in the school I was working at.  I helped fix computers and cleaned out a classroom filled, literally, with junk to get my classes out of the auditorium.  I also tried transforming my small but successful band into a militaristic "Band Corps" that, of course, failed miserably.

One day I even dressed in fatigues to kick off the project.

Yeah.  Yikes.

This past summer the mania took the form of royalty.  I felt that I was the reincarnation of Aslan, but not from Narnia.  I thought that C. S. Lewis wasn't referenced Christ through his character, but me.  The spirit I was channeling was as old as God Almighty Himself: Ancient, and Pissed Off.  The earthquake we experienced on the East Coast had awakened me, an I was angry that Jehovah had left this King without his royal fittings. I began buying jewelry, dressing in suits.  My foot hurt and felt dislodged (a Jacob-esque wound from wrestling with God), so I walked with a cane.

Sidenote: I know this is a bit much, but this was my life during August.

Now, though the manifestation was extreme, some of the root feeling were grounded in reality.  For the first time in my 32 years, I allowed myself to be angry with God.  My life has been very hard since moving to Baltimore.  I've lost my Dad, a career, a marriage, 2 cars, and several friends I love quit talking to me.  From my perspective, I had followed God faithfully, and was being punished for no good reason.

Passive/Depressed Jim made a life of absorbing his own hurt and that of those around him. He assumed  he was ALWAYS the problem in a situation, and bore the burdens of others, even to his own detriment.  I wasn't a servant of God.  I was a Slave.

But then, when life fell apart, a new strength rose within me.  The Lion was loosed.  I roared for the first time.  My words had weight to them.  I walked tall.  I was no longer a victim of circumstance.

Aslan roared to the defense of Passive Jim.

I became Master of my Domain.

And it was intoxicating.

But then the ride was over.  My coins were taken from me.  And much like the those who held the Coins of Zakynthos, I was mortal again, left weak and wanting.  Like those who held the Ring in Tolkien's books, I only wished to hold it once more.  Because in both stories, the charms are cursed.  The Coins contain arsenic.  The ring was. well, you know...

And mania has left me broken and hospitalized twice.

So, how does one walk the path of everyday life, when you've raised your arms on the mountaintop and crawled out of the pits in the valley?

Perspective.

I remember the bad parts of mania, and how a ride up the hill MUST come down below, equal and opposite.  You cannot have one without the other.

The Bible says "be angry and sin not."  I'm still working on this one.  While I don't look it, I am a very angry person, similar to Adam Sandler's character in "Anger Management."  I'm still looking for the healthy ways to let angry out without being explosive, but more so without turning it inward.

I kept tokens of strength.  You only have to add an S to my middle to get Aslan.  And, yes, I can take this whole Lion metaphor a bit far sometimes, but it's a reminder that, Yes, there is strength within me, even if I can't feel it.  That I can walk tall, because there is Honor and Nobility within me.  I can carry myself with a bit of swagger, because I have weight to my personal deeds.


I can Roar, but I don't need to.



~Thanks for reading~

Mood Management

Our decisions shape us. My biological makeup contributed to my rise and fall in August, but it was my decisions that had the repercussions.

About a month ago, I decided I could handle drinking again. First one beer, then another. Nothing extreme, but it became more regular. It came to a head two weeks ago when I got drunk for the first time since August. During that night, I had a fight with someone I cared about and put a knife into that relationship. My guilt and remorse over that mistake sent me to a strange place. It was like I was an insecure 8th grader again. Needy, depressed, jealous, obsessive thoughts. It was like I had lost all autonomy.

To keep from sinking deeper, I began meditating and through myself into a book about the life journey of becoming a "peaceful warrior". It was a story of lifestyle change, meditation, personal challenge. Without even realizing it, I began practicing mindfulness again. When thoughts would occur, they were acknowledging and my mind gently returned to center. I was becoming whole again.

Sunday, I had a peaceful morning. Walked the dog, made breakfast which I ate at my table, watched Austin City Limits and picked up my guitar for the first time in months. The service at my new church was good, but after church at coffee hour, was special. The church seemed to acknowledge and take an interest in me that hadn't happened the Sunday before. I had very deep conversations about life and faith and experience with several members, seemingly one right after the other. It was like they could feel I'd be hurting and were tending to my wounds.

I talked until the hour was over and people had either left or broken up into discussion groups. I asked someone for help and was led into a group called Spiritual Autobiography. Just me and 3 women, all from very different backgrounds. We shared stories of pain and enlightenment that seemed to fall on top of each other, ripe with synchronicity. The time flew by.

I left church with a fire burning in my chest. I'd been shown Love, Light and Enlightenment. And I was riding high off of it! Thankfully, I was aware. Mania was upon me. The wave was cresting, but I'd been paddling. I was on my feet.

I was smiling.

I felt very little pain that day. As a Leo, I'd be shown love and attention and was made to feel special. My mane was fluffed, my chest out. I purred.

For every up, there is a down. Monday some insecurities reappeared. I was in withdrawal from the emotional high of Sunday.

Let it go, let it flow. back to center. here and now

I have been wondering why I haven't found some work yet. I think I have more lessons to learn during this sabbatical.

I am seeking. Let me find.

Blessed be...

Baby, you're a Firework!

So, since poking my head above the waves, and shaking the saltwater off my mane, the last few weeks have been a delicate balancing game, like I'm standing on my board in the midst of some nice waves. In between sets, I'm stretching upward, looking towards land when I shood be resting from the last waves.

Life's been good, but touchy. I've had to bail a few times and take some anxiety pills occasionally when the waves have just looked too dicey.

Last night was a firework! A glassy set of waves that caught me completely by suprise.

I talked with a relative who really gets me and doesn't judge me. Not that my family does, but she is special. I haven't laughed that hard in a really long time. Plus we discussed some new directions I've been exploring spiritually.

Literally, as I relayed the stories of the past 5 months to her, I could feel the energy building, as well as the anxiety.

Sidenote: The pot of Jasmine tea I'd just drank probably didn't help. But I've given up alcohol. Don't touch my beloved caffeine!

The wave was upon me. Some deep breathing, a little meditation, lighting a candle to focus the energy, and, gentle reader, I road that baby for all it was worth! A delightful, 2 hour conversation, worked more on a song I've been writing, played guitar on my stoop, and...

closeout.


A great ride. Not a tsunami like the summer. Just a clean, nice wave. Took a while to get to sleep, but hey, I've got nothing but time right now.

And nothing brings joy to the heart like a good wave, or a dark sky alluminated by

Fireworks!

head above water

It was like I woke up from a long, gray dream.

I really can't explain what made today different. I dropped my tree-injured car off at the body shop and had a long walk home, contemplating being a pedestrian for a month.

Made corn beef hash and eggs

visited my clubhouse, but didn't stay long.

Jim Rome and Nap.

It was 55 degrees in Baltimore today, so I took my pipe, Chelsea Handler book and Pomeranian to the park.

Smoked and read for an hour and a half!

walked 5 blocks to purchase a 25 lb bag of rice and huffed it home.

talked to Mom while cooking a fabulous dinner.

This is the first time I've felt "normal" since late July! I have a decent feeling of motivation, cleaned a bit today.

It may be seasonal affective. Froze my butt off Sunday at the Ravens, laid low on MLK. It could be the warmer weather simply brightened my mood.

I'm not running away with this. Mania kills. But I will enjoy this small victory of normalcy.

tomorrow is not now.

and today rocks!

Detoxicity and the Middle

I didn't realize how much of a hold alcohol had on my life until I had to give it up. I went years drinking regularly on my meds, and wondered why I wasn't seeing results. Now I've learned how much more powerful booze is than my pills, and how preciously fragile the Middle is.

It has a fancy name called Euthymia, or something like that.

But seeing as I love Jimmy Eat World, and their song The Middle, let's roll with that.

The Middle, going back to my cute little surfing metaphor, is like Waikiki in summer. Gentle, even sets of waves, slightly boring, but not glassy. People are with me in the lineup. Some light conversation can be had. People come in and out of my life without drama. Or at least I can deal with the drama now.

I don't have to force a smile, but it's not plastered on my face like a joker during mania, either.

Ripping booze from my life was like kicking out a big social crutch. I was left feeling like

"Now what?"

What do I do to be with people now? Am I fun without it?

The first month was hard. I actually was detoxing a bit, even though I don't get drunk. It was more of a social detox- that crutch I was talking about. What would I do without my beloved beer and my vast surplus knowledge thereof?

The fact remains I must love the Middle more. It's so fragile, so delicate. Mania, as fun as it is, is not my friend. Depression is my enemy. I need to associate the lows will immediately follow the highs in my life. It is, kind of like church taught me, a straight and narrow path.

So, after a month of intensive outpatient therapy that pulled me out of the lows, I am in the Middle.

Maybe slightly lower, but that's ok.

I'm going to a transitional program to help me stay here in the Middle. No booze since November 19. I have amazing friends that don't pressure me at all to drink. They have been so supportive! Leaving me so thankful.

"It just takes some time/little [boy] you're in the middle of the ride/everything, eveything will be just fine/everything, everything will be alright, alright."

Requiem for a beverage.

I'm into my second week of a partial hospitalization program to help me deal with my illness. Yes, I called it an illness.

Maybe I've been listening to the staff too long, but I really want some normalcy back in my life. This last manic wave was too much. To use my surfing analogy again, I want a glassy sea with some.even sets of waves. Granted I don't want to be normal.

Normal is boring.

So during treatment, no booze. Zero. Zilch. Turns out alcohol and bipolarity make for a frothy mix of blech. Now if you know Jim, Jim hearts beer. I blame my friend Andy, but I love the variety, the flavors, the people who also love beer, everything about it.

And now I need to give it up for my own sanity.

Sad Jim. But being stuck in the dungeon of depression  with a few burning man bouts of mania is not life. It's a bad dream  
So goodbye my frothy friend. I'll miss thee.

Raising a glass of peach tea crystal light to a different, but hopefully better life.

A touch of the Divine

So there has been some further adjustments in my meds, which has been extremely helpful. Today I was very close to visiting a place that had proved quite harmful for me, but my mom's advice a few weeks ago echoed in my big ole head. "Just read even a Scripture or two a day, so you won't feel alone.
 
So I did.
 
Did my standard reading for the first time in a long time: 14th day of the month= psalm 14 and proverbs 14.
 
It was ok.
 
But when I skipped back to Psalm 13, it grabbed me by the throat:


1 Long enough, God-you've ignored me long enough. I've looked at the back of your head2 Long enough I've carried this ton of trouble, lived with a stomach full of pain. Long enough my arrogant enemies have looked down their noses at me.


3 Take a good look at me, God, my God; I want to look life in the eye,4 So no enemy can get the best of me or laugh when I fall on my face.


5 I've thrown myself headlong into your arms-I'm celebrating your rescue.6 I'm singing at the top of my lungs, I'm so full of answered prayers.


Copyright, The Message


I'm not quoting to be preachy. I hate preachy. But it's short, so deal with it.
David was sick of God ignoring him, in his view "Look me in the Face!" Which, sidebar, would equal death. just saying.
He falls on his face, then can celebrate his rescue. He is screaming praise, and has lots of prayers answered.
A few months back I tried going it alone and my life went to Hell in a handbasket. I got really selfish and thought being so would get me what I wanted.
Didn't think that one through too well.
I'm still pretty proud right now, so we'll see how long it gets me to get on my face. Hopefully sooner than later.
 
For now, I'm making better choices. And I'll take that.

Anxiety: my evil twin

Depression would be nice if it was just depression. However, when in a depressed cycle, I also have great bouts of specific and/or generalized anxiety. Some of it is rational, so isn't.

Once again, this isn't something I can just "snap" out of or "Get over."

I typically sleep much more during this cycle. Because, sometimes, being conscious can be too much for me. Today, however, I did what my therapist would have told me to do.

1. Woke up. Very important.

2. Walk/Feed animals. I have a kitten now. Probably should have thought that one through a bit more but Frankie is working out good.

3. Exercise. I typically enjoy swimming, but missed that window, so I bounced around from machine to machine, getting in some decent workout, plus the sauna/steam combo, which for me is sheer zen.

4. Food: Hot dog omlette. protein is crucial.

5. Since I'm not working right now, constructive use of time. Avoiding expensive things, since, well, Manic Jim blew the bank a bit. Which can be hard when one lacks motivation. My choice today: Red Emma's CoffeeHouse/Bookstore/Functional Collective. Love it here. Coffee's a Buck Fifty with 75 cent refills and good wifi. Collective members are typically up for conversation, which leads me to the final and most crucial point:

6. Don't be alone. I must conversate. I must be with people. Alone is bad. very bad. I'm a true extrovert. I draw my energy from others and give it back in beautiful ways (i.e. friendship, music, art, being really nice).

And one way I've found to not be alone is this blog. It's a chance to put myself out there, at my most vulnerable, and have found love and acceptance. Thanks for reading. Thanks more for caring. And Thanks in advance for not leaving me alone.

Love Y'all!

Time Apart

A change of scenery does me good.

Especially when it involves old friends, good fellowship, and, sadly, not being in Baltimore.

I really wish I could relax more in Bmore, but there is a crazy, dark vibe in the city that keeps me perpetually on edge.

And I'm not the only one who notices.

But here in Minnesota, which still isn't Detroit, my home, I feel rejuvenated on this, the very first day.

Don't be mad, Baltimore. It's not you, it's me.

And you. Sorta

Even some momentary anxiety on the plane wasn't bad.

So, loved ones, Jim has found a nice den with dear friends to lick his wounds.

And while I know you all love me in your own ways, and know I love you for it...


This Lion must sleep.

And he will.

Tonight.

Depression: the other shoe has dropped

So, using my surfing analogy, the waves have subsided, its  cloudy, all my friends have paddled in, and I'm alone. Very, very alone. Some might say "snap out of it" or "just paddle in to shore."

Therein lies the problem.

For the bipolar mind, there is no shore. There is no land. We know our board, the waves, and sometimes, ourselves. But remember: I've never really liked myself. I'm a lousy surfer, both in metaphor and reality.

And I absolutely hate being alone.

Especially when there are no waves.

Things I need when I'm depressed:

1. Love.  Hugs especially. I'm physical, touch oriented. A hug I dont have to ask for heals me more than any word.

2. Understanding.  Don't try and fix me. It makes it worse. I already feel broken. "Just walk beside me and be my friend."

3. Don't leave me alone. I don't need time to think about it or deal with it. I know how to deal with it. Hence this blog.

So, if you consider me a friend or loved one, hop on your board, and paddle into the storm. In its eye you'll find a lion: mane askew, on his longboard, licking his wounds.

I won't bite

Hope you'll stay awhile.

The problem with clarity

Clarity. Something that we all desire, but when you have it, shit happens. 

Quickly, and drastically.

I had to end a relationship due to clarity, and it sucked.

But I knew it was for the best.

For both of us.

And now, my life is simpler.

Still hard, but simpler.

Meds are working great.

Need to keep life simple.

And clear.

A Tsunami of Mania

So, I have been fully manic for almost 3 weeks now. Last Thursday, during a rain storm, I actually went psychotic. I thought I was the physical embodiment of the actual Aslan. I thought I was a real lion.

It was bad.

Thankfully, this stay impatient to regulate meds was short and effective. Now I'm on Lithium and Resprodal. And even though it seemed like the whole city of Baltimore was after me, I'm still here.

Granted, I'm in Frederick right now, but I'm still alive. I didn't break any laws, and I haven't spent all my money.

Score 1 for the Jimster!

I'm learning that, when manic, and especially when I'm angry during mania, I must slow myself down, and do one thing at a time.

Score 2!

Please know bipolar meds DO NOT cure my condition. They help me cope with my insane highs and deadly lows. They create homeostasis-- or at least help me attempt to stay even.

The psychosis I've experienced happened WHILE medicated.

I just have a new and more effective support system: Meds, Friends, Music, Art

These are my Anti-Drug

So to say.

Thanks for being patient with me.

Love Y'all

Personal Case Study

Bipolarity: also known as Manic Depression, is a disorder where an individual, AKA me, lives his life moving back and forth between two extremes: Mania and Depression.

Seeing as this is the second blog I've created tonight, which pole is my ass swinging from?

I'm Jim. Musician, Educator, Concierge. Those are jobs.

However, after my 3rd complete life breakdown (not kidding), my ass spent time in Sheppard Pratt getting to know someone I completely hated...

Me

The first doctor suggested I was manic! Really? me? The guy who's talking way too fast and lost 60 lbs in 3 months.

couldn't be

The second doctor in outpatient therapy (I'd been off the Adderall for a few weeks now. slightly more patient) explained that Cycles of Mania and Depression can last weeks, months or years.

holy shit

At age 29, my life finally made sense.

FYI: I cuss when I think. Fucking TV

Literally all my emotional ups and downs fit neatly into several cycles.

And here they are:

1. Birth-3rd grade: not manic, but happy, innocent, fun kid

2. 4th-10th grade: Depressed.

3. 10th-Sophomore year of College: Manic

4. Bible College-1st year teaching: Depressed

5. 2004-2006: Manic

6. 2006-2008: Depressed

7. Dad dies, Marriage breaks up, car accident in same week: 2 months of sheer ID mania fuck the world, I'm taking no prisoners, MANIC

8. Quit Teaching: Depressed

9. New Special Ed job: MANIC

10: That Christmas, flat broke: Depressed

11. This summer, great job, good life, lots of possibilities.....MANIC!

And here we are.

32 years of life in 11 cycles. Granted, that is the cliff notes version of my life. It's a funny story, but I hate typing and reading fluff

I learned how to surf in San Diego and continued in Hawaii.

Bipolarity is so much like surfing it's scary.

Mania is like a 20 foot wave baring down hard on you. Paddle your ass off, and ride it out, take a breath and duck under, or get dragged down into the wash.

Depression is sitting on your board, alone, dreaming about that last wave.