"What Happens in Crazy Does Not Stay in Crazy"

Photo by Liz Kearsley

For over a year I have been writing very openly about my life living with mental illness, and when I began little did I know the impact that it would have on me. My decision to blog openly, discussing my life's dirty secrets, fears, neurosis and other mental minefields was at the time a easy one. Hoping that by doing so I could just maybe make a difference in the way people view, people living with a mental illness as well as helping myself.

   I never really carried any shame with my Bipolar Disorder, I came to a personal place where it was not something to be ashamed of. Blogging all the while I was a inpatient in the Psych Ward and undergoing what some see as a controversial treatment of ECT was I no brainer as the treatment worked for me and I felt it should be talked about in the open. Yet I carried the shame and stigma of my other disorder, Borderline Personality Disorder, as it carries much heavier stigma than Mood Disorders do. You  see people can understand the chemical medical reasons for Mood Disorders, but not their uglier step sibling Personality Disorders. Just saying it says, "Damn there must be something really fucked up with him, he has a Personality Disorder", which has no biological reason it is behavioral in nature and little understood.

  I admit that I do carry shame with my BPD, it makes me fear being around people as it might and has caused interpersonal relationships to fail. I can explain Bipolar in a reasonable manner. It for all it's craziness is predictable and fairly easy to control. But I cannot explain why I do the things I do that are attached to my BPD, and when asked by others I am at a complete loss, it baffles me and rides me deeper into my already existent depression. It is like gas on my depressive fire.

 Blogging about myself in a personal manner has put me out there exposed for everyone to see, the good and the brutally ugly. But I cannot put the cat back in it's bag that is the reality of personal blogging, the self exposure. While I may been seen as a crazy asshole to many, I hope that some still can see the decent man that is intertwined with his illness. A man that is yes on one side very ill and tortured by said illness, yet still tries to be kind.

 I am not sure if I still have a audience for my words or friendship, or if my blog make any difference in anyone's life or moves to assist in breaking down some of the walls of Mental Health stigma? I am battling with ending my public fight with my mind and returning to the safe world of anonymity. I am well aware that I am a polarizing personality that some find me to be pest upon the social media community. I also know that I have some friends who still despite myself are still my friends and support me. But I am scared to continue blogging and that is the rub. That if I continue to write so openly and personally I will do more harm than good.

  On Tuesday I will undergo my first spinal surgery and this is scaring the crap out of me. Why? Not because of the surgery it's self. I have little fear of dying or my chances of paralysis. I am scared because I know I am doing this pretty much alone. Much of my support system is either dead, out of town, or I have driven away. In a final act of "Fuck You Steve" my brain is having the last word, saying that I do not deserve the support I so greatly wish for, that this is the price I will pay this Holiday season for my shitty disorder that  I do not understand or did anything to bring on myself.

 Living so openly with mental illness can at the same moment be destructively painful and the ultimate in freedom. I have and am experiencing both and battling with effects of being crazy and out. I wish I was a better role model for mental health. But I am just trying to be a role model to myself because that is all I have right now.

"My Second Coming Out"

 I have done it again, I lied to a friend after I promised not to lie again. I have in a previous blog talked about the fact that I have a problem with lying. Through out my life I have hurt people close to me and have made it difficult and painful to be close to me.  I am also aware that by admitting this I am at risk of loosing whatever friends I may left or am beginning to develop as trust is a issue that once breeched is almost impossible to regain.

 I have openly discussed my bipolar disorder, and while it carries a stigma of it's own The other disorder I have carries a larger one. I also have Borderline Personality Disorder. I have lived in denial of this for many many years because of image that is attached to it. Coming out with this is not easy nor is it some kind of excuse or erasure of my actions.

 I accept full responsibility for my actions I am aware that it is damaging and hurtful and that the many will seek to distance themselves from me because of it. I am not seeking sympathy, I am writing this out of complete shame, I am in my heart a good person, but lying is barrier that destroys every relationship it touches so I am unable to be the good person that lies beneath.

 I have known about my Borderline Personality Disorder since I was a teen but rejected it. I did not want this label, because with it comes a great social stigma. denying it for so many years has caused so much damage and turmoil in my life, yet I was never at a point where I could admit this to myself or others and in doing so created great pain for those around me and myself.

 Coming out publicly on this blog for all the world to see may just be my bottom, like a alcoholic or addict, only once a person reaches their bottom can they get help. I may very well loose many more people in my life now and that is a fact I must accept. But I am tired of living like this, welcoming and celebrating one side of my mental health, while ignoring and denying another.

 I will seek help for this and will until I am on some kind of path to recovery, distance myself further from most people, until I am sure that the chances of me emotionally hurting others has lessened. I will still take care of my other medical needs and will face my upcoming surgery on Friday and in the New Year ahead. While my continued physical battles will probably be faced alone, I am prepared for that as well as that may just be for the best.

 To all I have hurt, I am deeply sorry and I am aware that my word means little, if you so choose to revisit a friendship with me in the future, thank you, if not, I fully understand.

  .   

"What Nightmares May Come"

I have always dreamed vivid realistic dreams. I am also quite frequently able to awake and return to my dreams where I left off. This is great when it is a good dream but not when I am having a nightmare.  Last night was one of those nightmare nights.

 Restless sleep mixed with a vivid never ending nightmare, which transfered into my awake state enough to leave me confused about my surroundings are bad enough. But Mix that with a nightmare of being committed to mental hospital by my father with the help of my friends only to be told they would never see me again, no one would, made last night's experience brutal. In my dream I was wandering the hospital looking for a way home in my gown, only to get turned around and returned to my bed. Then I would wake up and think I was in my dream.

 My mind was caught in circle of thought, asleep I was back in the asylum, awake I was dreading returning the asylum and had panic attacks every time I awoke. As I am writing this hours later it is still fresh in my mind and have been mildly traumatized all day. I am off my emotional game today big time.

 Psychotropic drugs used to treat mental illness can cause intense dreams and nightmares. It is  just something you have to live with. But every once and awhile the perfect storm of restless sleep and nightmares strikes and I am still surprised at the emotional toll it can take on me. Part of it is the subject of my evening, a fear of a lot of people living with mental illness is being committed to a hospital, mix this will trippy confusing visuals and the sleep - consciousness crossing and it becomes a micro mental health event.  Lets hope tonight is all rainbows and fucking unicorns or just a plain of no dream sleep.

"1985, The Xmas That Started My Holiday Crazies"

 I don't usually write much about my past especially the painful parts, the family parts. The parts that have very slow healing wounds and leave long lasting scars. But I will write about one such event, that is one of the triggers of my holiday season crazies.

 I was a older young person and It was my freshman year in university, and my battle with BiPolar Disorder was in it's relative infancy. My family had planned a huge get together in Vermont so the Canadian & American families could all be together at the same time. They had rented a lodge, planned a cool trip to a maple syrup factory and skiing in nearby New Hampshire. I was excited, I love the country in the winter, that crisp clean feeling, the smell of a fireplace. Which to this day is one of my favorite things.

 The problem was, I was not well entering the holiday season. My Mania was running wild and soon I was living in the land of rapid cycling. I spent my semester's money on booze, and side trips. Living a life larger than I could afford. I was loud and treated my family with verbal barbs when they tried to rein me in for my own good. I soon crashed and was again suicidal. I attempted to hang myself only to fail and found myself in hospital in NYC.

 You can imagine the scene in a NYC psch ward, it was a zoo, and me going from 100mph to 0 at a days notice. But for me it was about to get worse. My family convinced my parents to leave me in hospital and come on vacation. They said, "Steven is sick and does not need you right now, what you need is time away from him". This was told to me at a later time by my Mum. My parents caved into the request and soon left for Vermont.

 I was locked in a ward at xmas, they decorated with paper only. Because anything else could be used as a weapon. The xmas lights and tree were hidden behind that glass that has the wire in it and we could watch holiday movies from behind the TV's plexiglass cover. The whole xmas season, I received no visits, no calls, no contact from my family. They were all off in the place I had hoped to be, but my mind would not allow.

 My parents on return apologized for leaving me saying they had no choice and later my aunt told me to stop whining my parents needed a break from the shit I was starting. After that experience I always grasped onto the holidays, holding them as a important barometer to my social, family health my belonging.

 I was lucky for many years my holidays with my wife were always great, filled with friends and family, yet I was always worried I would be left out. Jay would have to comfort me in the weeks leading to them, reassuring me that I would not be left alone.

  Family can make mistakes, they are allowed, and it is only human. I forgave my parents and understand they made a bad choice when they were also not in the right frame off mind. Mental Illness, stresses families into tough places. It strips them of control. I may never feel comfortable or settled this time of the year. My holiday in hospital, alone may stay will me forever. But I am not totally alone. I do have many people who care for me as I do them. I just get a little nuts this time of year.

"A Season of Loneliness"

As we enter the beginning of the holiday season and people , friends, family all hunker down with each other to feel the love and the safety that comes with this love, I stand alone.

 I once had these kind of holiday seasons, full of friendship, family and love, but they have been slowly stripped from me one brick at a time till my emotional foundation was like the end game piece of a Jenga game. Some of my friends and family are lost to me through natural reasons, people come in your life and people go. I think about a lot of them but they do not hold heavy on my soul. There are the friends and family that have passed away, many of them to were not bricks that held part of my emotional life together.

 The ones that hurt, the losses that rip out my soul are those of my close family and friends. This is my first holiday season without any real family or circle of friends. This year it was the loss of my father, before that my mother and before that my best friend, my wife Jay. I have lost friends due to my mental illness and the damage that it causes, some where family but most are friends.

 So I sit and watch commercials, shows, news stories, tweets and facebook messages all beginning to talk about the holidays. And they are killing my soul, stealing what is left of my humanity and ability to love. I am dying and there may not be many holiday seasons left for me. But I fear they will all be alone. This is not the time of year to develop new friends and to be welcomed inside from the cold because all are already nesting, planning for the season.

 The most difficult thing in my mental illness is the loneliness, that hollow helpless soul crushing loneliness. It forces people to keep a distance but let them close enough for me to see. My best friends, either live to far away, or have a family of their own. There is no blame to be given, I was just the odd one out. I should be grateful ,blah, blah, blah, for what I once had. I am and I miss it.

 The one time a year that you know you have and are not a have not is when someone says, "You are welcome here, you for this season are family". I am not alone in this feeling thousands feel it every year, and thousands more will next year.

 I am facing my rabbit hole of depression, questioning everything in my life, wondering what I have done wrong and what I can do, if anything to salvage a life out of what I have. A life without people to share it with, the tears, the laughter, the quiet normalcy, is little of a life. For some this is ok, for me years ago this may have been fine. But to me now, after I have tasted the wine of companionship it is not. This season may be a watermark for me. I may get the answer to my pain. The pain and human void that this disease, this horrifically isolating disease has brought me.

"It's Me Behind This Wall, Please Stay Tuned"

My depression is holding steady still good that I am not jumping down the rabbit hole that I have been down so many times. This is probably due to me getting the right meds and actually taking them. Yet I am fighting my demon, my emotional wall.

   I tend to force my wall up when I feel fragile or vulnerable. I hate it because I will keep people at a distance and I have been working hard to not due this and have made some strides. Still my mind tells me that I am better off protected. The problem is that I do not want to be alone, I hate it. I try and tell myself that I can have my walls up and still not be alone, I will just go back to surface relationships with people other than the ones I emotionally trust. See I have major abandonment issues.

   My abandonment issues started with the sexual abuse that my uncle victimized me with. For year I did not stand up for myself and once I did, half of my family chose sides and sided with my Uncle rather than crazy Steven. I grew up with half a family, crappy holidays, less of a family support system because of me defending myself. My next sense of abandonment came with my discovering that I was adopted. I was a teen, dealing with the usual teen search for a sense of self identity and poof, all I thought of who I was, was gone. I was soon losing friends as my Bipolar Disorder became apparent, more real and imagined abandonment,

I did ok for awhile til my wife got sick and died. She was the first person in my adult life to accept me for what and who I was, did not judge me and loved me until the end. After she was gone I learned that her side of the family left me as well. I was just beginning to love the holidays and now they were gone. I learned to build my walls keeping all but a few people completly out. and letting them in only as close as my heart could be comfortable in.

 This fear of abandonment has done me no good, it has caused me to loose more people who cared for me than I at most times willing to admit. I have left a path of emotional damage behind me. Ironically my fear of hurting others with my fucked up issues has also played a huge part in my wall building.

 Now days I do not want to live this way, I want a full life with the amazing people in my life, but I fear that I cannnot heal, cannot learn to be a friend. I sleep with my fear and depression wondering if I am too broken for anyone who already has a life to want to stick around.

 I am working to not be this, working to be a better person who is not controlled by his fears and abandonment both real and imagined. I hope by writing about this both me and others will great understand who I am.

 I love my friends they are the only family I have left. I am just not sure that I show it enough or at all.

Depression is a Evil Little Lurker

 My doctor has seemed to get my meds right since my last meltdown and for the most part I have been feeling pretty balanced and generally happy. My life is nowhere near perfect and I am not running around shitting rainbows and unicorns but my lows are not as low and thank the Flying Spaghetti Monster my highs are not as high or prolonged.
 Still though I live with a pretty serious level med resistant BiPolar Disorder and what may seem balanced to me will seem pretty nuts for others especially folks who do not know me well. The hardest thing I fight of late is not my manic highs they are pretty well tied up in my emotional basement in the time out corner. It is my depression that is always lurking just under covers. It makes me want to isolate, and not take proper care of myself. I am currently battling a minor depressive episode which seems to like my company a little too much. My self awareness allows me to see the symptoms, like my current desire to hide in my apt, yet unable to fully make the feelings go away. This is how depression tortures people, it is like a bully sitting across from you always reminding you that you are not in full control of your emotions and there is little you can do about it.
 These depressions for my seem to cycle and my rational brain knows that soon it will fade. But for the time being I may isolate more and feel like crap some days.
 I am fighting a life long battle that will never stop it is the part of living with a mental illness that is exhausting to the person living with it and to the people close to the person living with it. I am grateful though in a odd way that I am depressed and not manic because my mania tends to leave me with lots of emotional wreckage within my personal life and my little lurking depression is less offensive.

"I Just Never Knew, You Seemed So Happy."

 Can there be darkness in the light? Yes just check the shadows and there you will find darkness even in the bright tropical sun there will be pockets of darkness. To most people the image of depression is the sad person who never leaves the house or rarely baths. The person for whom no stimulus what so ever can lift them to any joy and the visually witnessed depression covers them and smothers their souls.

  I have had the aforementioned depression the dark rabbit hole kind of way suffering the feelings of just wanting to disappear into the warm dark hole it offers. This is not my only form of depression, I also churn with what some have called and what may be in the new DSM manual "Smiling Depression".

 Walk and interact with most people and they would never know that I was depressed, I can for the most part function publicly like all is ok, when inside I am an emotional train wreck choo chooing my way down my mental health tracks. Some professional are torn if this is a different form of depression that camouflages it's self in public as emotional protection, or a learned behavior that one uses to mingle in the world without drawing attention to yourself.

  Smiling depression is a silent killer, how many times have we overheard, " I never knew she or he was depressed". they showed no outwards signs. It is a emotional shape sifter keeping it's darkness a secret. How do we fight this thief of souls, well it is not easy. I suffer from it and the only way for me to really fight it is now that I am so open with a few close friends whom I trust emotionally, I can tell them when my unwanted sidekick "Smiley the fucked up depression" comes over to play. It also is important for loved ones and friends who can see thru it when they want to see it to talk to the persona about it.

 This "Smiling Depression" is slippery and dangerous and I fear is more common than we give it credit to. So if you suffer your depression alone when no one is looking, please go ask for help. You can and should be able to smile when you are alone too.

"Strength...WTF? Where Did That Come From"

  
   As I live with my Bipolar disorder and am working towards a better state of Mental Health I doubt my strength. This doubt is a feeling that I alone do not ruminate in, it is as common as eating a bag of Kettle Chips a hour after taking your meds. Often when we are overwhelmed by our own illness or fear of our own illness sneaking back up on us and we feel weak and helpless.

  I discovered that the inner strength that I thought had hitched a ride on my sanity to Vegas had gone and I was now week and unable to rise up to be the person I knew I was. Recently I discovered that my inner strength was still there, all be it somewhat shaky and not perfect it was there, and I was able to get out of my own head long enough to help another when they needed me. It was not a big thing that I had done, or one especially amazing. Yet I was able to find my inner strength and that is the important message for Mental Health Awareness Week.

 Allow yourselves to be strong, to allow that strength to work when you or others need it. Inner strength does not mean you have to be perfect, nor does it mean you cant be emotional. Life makes us feel and our emotions are one of our most honest strengths. Take this day all and exhale knowing when the ass of life starts to fall off your strength might just be there to pick it up for you or others.

"The Drugs Tell Me, Hey Why Not Eat That" " Psych Meds & Weight Gain"

yup this is my belly

 This mental Health week I am going to talk about another aspect of Stigma facing people living with mental illness. This is a topic most people can relate to weight gain, and this weight gain is a direct effect of a lot of the medications we take.

  Estimates are that 20% of North Americans are on some form of Psychoactive medication for a mental illness. Ranging from depression to severe schizophrenia these meds do a couple of insidious things surrounding our metabolism and eating. One of the worst culprits is Seroquel a atypical antipsycotic that is used for the above mentioned disorders and more as a mood stabilizer. A lot of us will trade in mental wellbeing for some weight gain. But in women it is the number one reason why they go off their meds and return to being ill. So why do the TV shows like Oprah, The Doctors, Dr Sanja Gupta etc not talk about this? This is a major compoent for 20% of North America's Obesity problem yet their is silence. And will not sell diet books, or other shilled bullshit.

  When you walk and stare at a fat person on the street it just may be meds they are taking so they can lead a productive and healthy life. So this is a indirect stigma facing those of us living with mental illness. If you are living with mental illness and have or are gaining weight try to understand that the meds are keeping you healthy.

 Discuss  drug caused midnight carb loading, with your doctor and friends, try to know it is not your or my fault. I was once on a drug that put 70lbs on me in 3 months. Now I am on meds that have added some girth to my already girthy body , yet I would rather be wider than crazier.