How do you cope with anniversaries?

Tomorrow is, historically, a bad day for me.  Those that know my medical history will know exactly what I’m talking about – though, for those of you that don’t, it’s been over ten years since I nearly died.  And then, if that wasn’t enough, something else happened, and lead me to tomorrow.
It’s colored my perspective of everything since.  And left me bereft and confused in many ways.

So, how do you deal with an anniversary that consumes you to the point of pain and never ending grief?  As dramatic and *hand* – *staple* – *forehead* that it sounds, how do you move on?

In one word, you probably don’t.  Ok, that was more than one word.
The problem with moving on is unless you’re actually looking at your life from the perspective of a never ending learning cycle, it’s difficult to relegate or process the feelings on anniversaries without picking up more guilt.  Or, at least, that’s what I’ve found.

Your milage may vary, but I think it’s ok to take a few minutes to sensibly mark the really bad days.  Don’t wallow, but if it’s a major anniversary (and I would suggest that these only come up a few times a year, at most, unless you’ve been really unlucky), then do.

My major milestone is a decade on.  It’s a horrible thing for the mind to do, but I’d been getting meloncholy, but I wasn’t really thinking about why.  And then my partner asked if I was ok, and that was it – everything tumbled down.  It’s a medical thing mostly, and was out of my control, but it still doesn’t leave me feeling any less horrible.

But life goes on.  And in some ways it has.  I live in a new house, in a new city, with a new partner.  But I’m tied into the old.  And while there are some bonds I won’t break – there are some – like the guilt that I felt helpless, instead of actually acknowledging I *was* helpless, has to stop.  Control is a funny thing, and that’s why I think some anniversaries fade with time.  And others remain as raw as ever, years on.

How do you cope with anniversaries?

As it’s the end of an era tomorrow – I’m going to hand in a dissertation that’s been where I’ve been for the last four years.

As this is the case, I’d love to know what you guys would like to see?  Bi-polarbears is one of the few sites that I’ve consistently ran for the last eight years, on and off.  But we’ve changed direction so often that I thought I’d ask the community.

What are you interested in seeing?  More or less on what you’d like to see?

Thoughts on articles and thoughtful op-eds you’d like to see?  Conversations about (x)?  Samples of the book?

Let me know

We now have our OWN Facebook Page.  Like us at Bi-polarbears!

One of the few things that tends to inspire a lot of smiles in our house is success stories – especially if those success stories are writers or other artists that live with bipolar.  As many of you know, I’m at Uni right now – and I graduate (finally) with what I hope to be a 2:1.  Also of note is the fact that Glass Block, my first novel, is finally coming out in the next few weeks.

One of the things that I’ve learned is that if you don’t fight for your dreams, you won’t get them.  Often I’ve been told, especially by people that I thought would support me, that  I should just surrender to the inevitable – allow them to hospitalise me, and stop writing.  I’ve refused on several notable occassions, though I try not to dwell too much.

I’d love to encourage anyone that’s thinking of chasing anything to do so – our dreams are what powers our happiness after all.  There are scams out there, but if you’re careful and listen to your freinds and family, they’ll probably help you to protect yourself.

And without further ado, I thought I’d show off Glass Block and let you know where you can ‘fan’ me on Facebook, if it’s your cup of tea.

Glass Block

When Big Brother fell out of popularity in the early part of the 21st century  it was replaced with ever more ‘realistic’ reality TV shows, till the need for this was replaced with a need for fantasy.  In an attempt to resurrect the old format some die hard fans filmed themselves locked in with a recently released murderer.  The person to get out got the money from the stream sales at the end.  Needless to say they were slaughtered.

Word of this spread on the internet and a ‘sanctioned’ version by the UCPS (United coalition of Prison Services) was established.  Brought in from Darkness, one of the cities providing most of the prisoners, most of which he’d been responsible for collaring, Elliot Peters is forced into a nightmare world where the walls are made of glass and people vote as to whether you survive.

You can see more details and sign up for the mailing list at Glass Block@DarknessPD, or ‘fan’ me on D Kai Wilson-Viola’s Facebook page.

I know who you are – you’ve just been diagnosed, and you’re thinking that your life is about to end, either metaphorically, or (please don’t do it), literally.

I know who you are, because I’ve been there.  Been there several times.
So, the first thing I want you to do is go grab a soothing cup of *whatever* you love.  You can even have a tiny shot of liqueur in it if it helps, but only a tiny bit.  Don’t drive after, you’ve had bad news anyway, so you shouldn’t be driving.  You’re in shock, and we’re going to fix that.
I’ll wait right here.

You good?  Huggin’ the mug?  I know I was.  For me it was hot, sweet, as strong as I could get it, tea.
Firstly.  Your diagnosis isn’t a death sentence.  It’s not even a commuted death sentence.  Take my word for it when I say that there are some incredibly successful bipolars out there in the world.  Dare I say ‘HI!!!’ now and wave enthusiastically.
Your meds are possibly going to feel like a death sentence for a while – but there is no medical treatment out there that exists that we take that won’t make you feel a bit lousy, at least some of the time.  Unfortunately, the majority of treatments for mental health contain something that makes us dopey.  It might be a receptor inhibitor, it might be a flat-out sedative – whatever it is, go with it for a while.  Be that zombie.  Don’t embrace it because you’ll need to start proactively fighting it soon enough, but it’s perfectly ok to regroup.
Please, remember to drink your comforting drink.  Shock’s a nasty thing.
See, still not dead.
I wanted to tell you something though.  It’s a secret so lean in close.

There is an up side to bipolar disorder – and it’s not the manic phase.  it’s not the fact that we’re treatable and we’re slowly being accepted into society. It’s the fact that….you ready for this….?
This is who YOU are.  Bipolar disorder may not seem like it to many, but it’s possibly part of your personality, and it’s definitively part of the way you see the world – good and bad.  There’s a reason for feeling the way you do, and it’s not that you’re a dick, a douche, or don’t belong. 
More tea ALWAYS makes it better by the way.
Look at it this way – you’ve discovered that you are this *person* living a kind of  lie, trying to remain as ‘normal’ as you can, in a world that doesn’t slow down one iota for people who don’t adjust well.  You could have felt like your world is out of control.  Your world could BE out of control, but it’s not all your fault.  I’m not saying some of it isn’t, but you know, sometimes common sense isn’t what we have when we’re going off the rails.

So – no pity parties – not for long anyway – they have a habit of turning into a national day/week/month of mourning if you’re not careful – and don’t mark today as a negative.  Be kind to yourself, grab another soothing drink – have that cry if you need it, and then – start learning about the ‘new’ you and how to be kind to yourself.
You’ll thank me – and yourself – for it later.

I’ve been on a break from everything – unsurprisingly, in my family, there’s more than one special needs member, and we’ve been spending a lot of time dealing with my daughter.  And then, by the time I discovered I had the time to get on with the stuff that I should, including this blog, I felt demotivated, tired, and a little bewildered.

A year ago yesterday, I banged my head hard enough to cause lasting damage (that they can’t see on an MRI, but has caused problems from memory and sleep disturbances, to decreased creativity, worse depression and beyond).  It’s taken nearly a year to accept that this ‘change’ has caused issues that I can’t simply laugh off, and yesterday was an odd, pensive day.

Things have been changing for me for the last year – I’ve been adjusting to finding it harder to work, or focus on much for periods of time longer than a couple of hours, I’m in my third year at Uni, starting in two weeks time, and I’ve got a lot of thinking to do about how to repair the damage that an errant hacker did around here.  But we’re back, hopefully this time for good.

And to kick off, we’re looking for new writers, to inject fresh voices, either as guest posts, or as regular writers, to the site.  If you’re interested, drop me a line.

Bi-polarbears has a manifesto, that we use to guide our information sharing.  I’ve been asked recently how I created the manifesto, and what it means to people around me, and you, my readers.

The Manifesto

It’s very easy to look at the list of things we talk about and wonder what we mean, and easier still to misconstrue them (as some comments have highlighted ) so I thought I’d explain what I mean.

Bi-polarbears aims to:

Offer support, and honest, open views on the current state of the global view on mental health.

(we share information that isn’t ‘controlled’ or ‘influenced’ by sponsorship and can be readily translated into slightly more understandable language where possible, and are not geographically limited to what we talk about)

We aim to encourage and empower people to understand that mental health is not a stigma, just another way of relating to people, and that variety is an integral part of being human.

(Not a stigma = there is no shame in the diagnosis we all have – and if you’re doing everything you can to support yourself, no shame in letting others know.  Variety is integral part of humanity = genetically speaking, we can’t all be perfect, and personally speaking, it’s not any-one’s fault )

Offer the understanding and knowledge of when to get help

(A lot of the people I encounter expect to have to cope alone and don’t seek help when they need it – or worse, hide because they think accepting help is a form of weakness – on the flip-side, there are people out there that ‘use’ mental health as an excuse and self diagnose.  Neither is a great way to live, so we offer support for both)
Offer the experiences of others on and off of all forms of medication

Offer a venue of interactivity through essays and posts (blog) and an informal meeting place to discuss anything about mental health (forum)

(the forums are gone now and may never be back because we took so long looking after them that we couldn’t write articles – but we intend to share what we learn in accessible ways and hopefully promote discussion)

Above all though, we’re here for you.

(so, if there’s something you want me to write about or explain, let me know!)

Image by Shutterhack via Flickr

Steps to happiness

Connect
Developing relationships with family, friends, colleagues and neighbours will enrich your life and bring you support

Be active
Sports, hobbies such as gardening or dancing, or just a daily stroll will make you feel good and maintain mobility and fitness

Be curious
Noting the beauty of everyday moments as well as the unusual and reflecting on them helps you to appreciate what matters to you

Learn
Fixing a bike, learning an instrument, cooking – the challenge and satisfaction brings fun and confidence

Give
Helping friends and strangers links your happiness to a wider community and is very rewarding.

Does this sound like anything familiar?  This is my list every day.

Stress, at any time, is a bad thing, but during economic downturns, when things are looking grim, it’s harder to remain positive, especially when you have money worries.

Though we rarely talk about ‘the real world’ and real world solutions on Bi-polarbears, I thought it would be a good time to address things.

Panic is not productive

Panic is one of the few things you should NOT do. Unless you really need the money, because you’ll be making a loss, don’t sell anything – your house or shares, if you have them. Sit tight.
Panic also doesn’t help your mental health either – stress isn’t good for anyone, but those with mental health concerns are usually far more susceptible to worries.

Budget and stick to it

Budgeting and sticking to plans you’re making will put you in control, but you can also ‘budget’ your mental health in some ways. If you have a predictable patter, if you can, keep treats for when you’re feeling low – if you’re saving them for occassions you really need them, they’ll last better, and make YOU feel better.

(author’s note – this was written in response to a lecturer questioning why I couldn’t move my appointment for councelling. I think I really upset her, but at least she knew that I could document appropriately – I thought it was worth sharing)

Xposted to Kai@LJ and bi-polarbears
Written, 10th October 2007.

I wrote this entry because I’m of the opinion that people (in general) don’t understand how it feels to be like me. And though this is mainly complaint, I’m going to start with the positive.

Being bipolar is awesome in many ways. It’s something I’ll never change – never remove, because to remove it is to alter, at the core, what I am. I was asked a while back what I’d do if there was a cure for bipolar disorder – and I answered that I liked being bipolar. It sucks when I’m depressed, but I guess that’s my price for being brilliant occasionally. Dave said to me once, that I’m as awe inspiring and bright as a star when I’m at my best. I don’t know if he’s right, but I do know that I see things differently. Colours are, whole experiences for me. Trees are an amazing juxtaposition of terror and wonder for me – I’m scared of the world, on the whole, but incredibly at peace in the heart of nature. Despite the fact that though I see beauty everywhere, it’s incredibly difficult NOT to see danger too.
I think differently too – I tell stories that others just don’t think of – like merry-go-rounds full of corpses, and being shot in the head by one of my characters, cause he didn’t like ‘Mary sues’ – he thought, it turned out, that I was IAB (he’s a police man). And there, I betray my other oddity. I think of my characters as real people, living in my head. It gets slightly schizophrenic in there sometimes – when I’m arguing with my pen names, and my characters. I’ve likened it to a ‘green room’ – and mostly, they wait their turn.

There’s more good to being bipolar than that – my memory doesn’t work well, but I have an unerring ability to see the conclusion of most stories. I’m not always good for that, but most of the time, I see twists coming. I don’t think in straight lines either – I’ve got ‘intuitive’ down to a fine art. One of my counsellors said it was something like parallel processing – I just think I consider things differently.

It’s an unenviable position to be in – knowing, with crystal clarity, exactly how dark things get. How much it hurts, till every breath literally paralyzes me because it’s all I can do without crying. Sitting up in bed makes me cry. Texting a friend and begging them to help me before I do something stupid fills me with shame. Crying in public is about the ‘worst’ of the sins I can commit. I was always told not to make a fuss, not to cry. People aren’t used to seeing others crying in public. We cry in private – just as we hurt ourselves where others can’t see. We do it because we’re already hurting others with our sadness, our inability to interact and be the people they need, so we stay home.

I don’t choose to be bipolar – its part of my genetic code. Therapy – the one that I go to anyway – is designed to teach me ways – not to live with it myself, but to cope with the fact that there are people that don’t understand, or choose not to. Invariably ‘normal’ people think that they won’t ever hit the stage that I’m at. And I sometimes look at them and hope they don’t. It takes a very strong person to survive as a bipolar, and even in my broken state, I’m stronger than most.

And at the same time, I’m weak. I can’t deal with people fussing over me. I can’t stand it for my friends to be put out, but at the same time, I deeply need them. I can’t be alone, but I don’t want company. It’s like having something inside your head throwing a hissy fit no matter what choice you make. Dammed if you do.

The worst of it is the feeling that it’s screaming in there, constantly. There’s this, glassy, numb feeling in my head – like it’s full of ice. Slide down a bit, and my cheeks are burning – it’s either hot, stinging, painful tears, or because I’m mortally embarrassed and trying not to cry. I wish myself dead frequently when that hits me, not because I want to hurt others – but because I want to STOP hurting them.

I’m competitive at the best of times, but when I start falling out of ‘favour’ – either in reality, or because I just don’t understand, that hurts me too. I can’t laugh it off and bounce back now – and I misunderstand and second guess so often it’s hard to get people to actually talk to me. I question everything – from whether the kids are mine, to sometimes, whether life is real. I’ve been known to deliberately do something stupid just to test it – like cut myself. I’m mortally ashamed of that too – perversely though the scars remind me I’ve survived again. Each notch though gets that little bit deeper. I’ve nicked an artery twice doing that and it’s so hard to explain to doctors, cause that’s one of the few cardinal sins of mental health. We don’t hurt others, and if we can help it, we don’t start self harming.
And that’s the thing. It’s not exactly a compulsion. I’m incredibly lucky. I don’t like drawing my own blood, but if it comes down to it, I need some reason for the amount of pain I’m in. If I know there’s something physical there, I can live with it – or at least hang on till I can breathe again without thinking about it.

I’m paranoid too. I get scared that I’m going to burn down the house – or that someone’s coming to get me. I’m highly suggestive – if someone says something to me often enough, even if it directly competes with my beliefs, it’ll stay with me. This means I can be influenced to another point of view, eventually. Worse than that, I actually believe in ghosts and axe murderers and other stuff that, to be honest, is fairly unlikely, but still possible. When the nuclear threat starts ramping up, or they talk about terrorists, I start working out how to get back to David and my children. As far as I’ve worked out, I’ll get about halfway home, if I’m lucky, if it happened at Uni. I’m terrified by that, but I have no control over it, so it’s a fairly moot point. When I’m really having trouble with other stuff though, that starts really bothering me.
Things like leaving the gas fire on – or the cooker – or the boiler randomly exploding, a fire in the garage – a fire next door – a fire in the attic cause of the electrics. Those things I know about and I check for. I wake up about 10 times a night and check the house. Sometimes I just see if I can smell anything in the air. Other times I’ll check the whole house. Where we used to live, I couldn’t hear the rain.
Here, I hear it, and the first time I woke up and it was raining that hard, I thought someone was in the bathroom washing off knives. I couldn’t move for four hours.

That’s called sleep paralysis. It’s also called ‘night terrors’ – something most psychologists think we outgrow as children. It’s got many names – though the most poetic is the Japanese description, kanashibari, which, roughly translated means, bound in metal. I also get the other half of that aspect, hallucinations. Sometimes I forget, but most of the time I remember.

When I’m very depressed, or incredibly stressed, I disassociate. It’s like flicking a switch. One minute I’ll be stammering along – and the next I’ll be gone, completely. I think my nose is bleeding, or at least I’ve been told that I act as if it is, and wipe it, usually till it does. I don’t talk, and certainly don’t recognize people talking to me. And I’m usually inconsolable coming out of it – to the degree that the only way Dave’s found of shaking me out of it – something that a psychologist in Edinburgh corroborated, is getting me to respond to something tactile. It’s a bit difficult to carry my furry blanket around with me during the day, but that’s what worked last time.

The sum of all of this that sometimes I can’t cope with the real world. Not because I don’t want to, but because I don’t want to put people in the position of needing to work out how to handle me. It’s really unfair, but I’ve never met a group of people, on the whole that knows what to do with me. More importantly, I don’t interact well with the bits of the ‘world’ I should, and that distresses my friends. Which is disruptive, which, in turn, triggers yet more guilt in me. So, I usually choose not to put myself in that position willingly – there’s no promising I won’t go there, occasionally, unwillingly, but if I can avoid it, I don’t go out at all when I’m having a bad time, and head home if I know I’m going to be triggered into it. Therapy triggers me a lot. Not always, but often enough to make me cautious.

I’m going back to univeristy this Autumn.  I’m going back to study Creative writing and Criminology (which has lots of Psych and sociology mixed in!).  I’m so excited, but it means I may be a little more scarce than usual.  I will, of course, try to do as muc as I can, and if you’d like to help, we’ll be sticking up an Amazon wishlist for my course books and other stuff – I’ve never done this before, so its an experiment of sorts.

IF you do though, and you leave your name and URL – I’ll put you up, credited.   I’ll post more later though.

Anyway, laters gators!