Sunday, 16 March 2008
Sunday, 2 March 2008
bipolar hangover
I am about to shoot-off on a massive tangent and totally ruin all chronology and fluidity in this blog. I'm annoyed about this, I don't want to do it, it just has to be done. I have my reasons, you'll have to bare with me.
Last year I was diagnosed with 'bipolar II disorder'; in a mixed state of hypo-mania and chronic depression. This is medical jagan for what most of us know as 'manic depression'. The form of the illness I suffered from is perceived to be less serious than 'bipolar I disorder', as someone with my condition can function in the day to day world at a much higher level. Although, it is also a far more erratic state of mind.
Someone who suffers from b1p will go through a long period of mania, lasting a few months, followed by a long period of major depression. In the manic episode, the sufferer experiences delusions of grandeur, believing themselves to be special, chosen or invincible. When depression kicks in they will fatigue, harbour feelings of isolation and partake in morbid ideation. In severe cases the person may also develop psychosis.
My experience was wholly different. B2p is characterised by hypo-mania, which in many ways could be seen as a positive mind-frame. It is often associated with increased-levels of productivity, creativity, energy and confidence. Making it rather difficult to diagnose.
Hypo-manics often try 'to carve a perfect thought'; they have extremely complex analytical processes and the mind races constantly. This can lead to pressured speech, obsessive tendencies and paranoia.
There is also an inability to control impulses (for example, I'd often jab the person sat next to me in the arm) and a total lack of fear. To be devoid of fear is not a strong or positive thing, it is dangerous. You have no regard for consequences and therefore, no respect for yourself. It is an irrational, emotional state.
I also had chronic depressive mood-swings, these are similar to those someone might experience with b1p, except in their shorter-duration and far reduced risk of psychosis.
Crucially, I was in a 'mixed-state', this means I would not experience 'episodes' of hypo-mania and depression; they instead came in rapid-cycles or, more often, simultaneously. I could be seemingly fine for a week, then crash into a deep depressive mood. I wouldn't eat, wash or barely even leave my bed for three-days. Then I'd go through an intense period of creativity and feel happy again. I couldn't define emotions clearly, I would associate aggression with euphoria and get angry, quickly, if slightly confused.
As someone in a mixed-state's mood can be triggered easily; and shifts quickly, it is common for them to indulge in self-harm. Whether this be self-mutilation, substance abuse or suicide.
The thought of killing myself never entered my head. Many people have risen above much greater adversity than I will ever suffer; and I could never break the hearts of my family and the people I love.
Although I never indulged in self-mutilation, the thought did enter my mind once or twice. However, I was never in a state of sadness at the time. These were more sado-masochistic urges, that I repressed.
My vice, was substance abuse. Ecstasy, alcohol and cannabis in particular and almost daily. I had my moments with cocaine, speed and once, accidentally, with heroin (I took some pills that were laced with the stuff and didn't find out until a few days later), but these were not my drugs of choice. The addiction's I did have amplified my mood-swings, increased their frequency and plunged me into serious weight-loss.
This is the first-time I have ever divulged any details of my mental illness to anyone. The most anyone ever knew was that I had 'manic depression'; and these people were a tiny minority. I am opening up now, not for sympathy, but for a greater understanding; from myself more than anyone else.
I hope by confronting and challenging the bipolar disorder I once had, I can shake myself free of its last, lingering, negative affects on my personality; that intermittently flicker within me, like a faulty fluorescent tube.
I have spent nine-months of will-power, discipline and concentration, on aiming to free myself from drug addiction and mental obscurity; and I have succeeded. I wanted to improve myself mentally, physically and artistically; and these have become my vices now. I have even been celibate throughout this time, to remain focused on these priorities.
All I now need to do, is shake off those last few parasitic demons b2p has left behind, that aim to handicap my progression; when they occassionally choke my confidence, or trip me up from behind.
I think this is the way to do it. If I stop letting them hide in the shadows, if I chase them out and knock them off, then maybe I will rediscover the social-intelligence I used to have. The final piece missing from the mental jigsaw, I have been tirelessly evolving and reconstructing for much time.
At the moment, I am lacking consistency. One-day I will be who I perceive myself to be: happy and confident, talking freely and making jokes; hopefully adding my presence to a group situation, in a positive way. I will go home triumphant, feeling like I have finally slain the last few remnants of b2p.
Then, the next-day, I will fall flat on my face. Confidence will slowly drain from my system, as paranoia creeps in. I won't be able to carry a conversation, I'll just laugh in the appropriate places and make the odd statement; my mind whirs as incoherent thoughts race through for a split-second and I try to fight my growing discomfort.
It's frustrating, I can't seem to make new friendship's find those steps up to the next level; therefore I seek comfort in more familiar faces. However, I find repetition claustrophobic and I will feel just as uneasy here in the end.
I do think my personal revolution is secure, I will not falter in the pursuit of my goals; and I will achieve my full potential in time.
But, right now, I want to start having fun again; and I want to create some new memories. I'm optimistic that I will, it's all in my own hand's.
This may have been the therapy I needed.
Glosoli.
Last year I was diagnosed with 'bipolar II disorder'; in a mixed state of hypo-mania and chronic depression. This is medical jagan for what most of us know as 'manic depression'. The form of the illness I suffered from is perceived to be less serious than 'bipolar I disorder', as someone with my condition can function in the day to day world at a much higher level. Although, it is also a far more erratic state of mind.
Someone who suffers from b1p will go through a long period of mania, lasting a few months, followed by a long period of major depression. In the manic episode, the sufferer experiences delusions of grandeur, believing themselves to be special, chosen or invincible. When depression kicks in they will fatigue, harbour feelings of isolation and partake in morbid ideation. In severe cases the person may also develop psychosis.
My experience was wholly different. B2p is characterised by hypo-mania, which in many ways could be seen as a positive mind-frame. It is often associated with increased-levels of productivity, creativity, energy and confidence. Making it rather difficult to diagnose.
Hypo-manics often try 'to carve a perfect thought'; they have extremely complex analytical processes and the mind races constantly. This can lead to pressured speech, obsessive tendencies and paranoia.
There is also an inability to control impulses (for example, I'd often jab the person sat next to me in the arm) and a total lack of fear. To be devoid of fear is not a strong or positive thing, it is dangerous. You have no regard for consequences and therefore, no respect for yourself. It is an irrational, emotional state.
I also had chronic depressive mood-swings, these are similar to those someone might experience with b1p, except in their shorter-duration and far reduced risk of psychosis.
Crucially, I was in a 'mixed-state', this means I would not experience 'episodes' of hypo-mania and depression; they instead came in rapid-cycles or, more often, simultaneously. I could be seemingly fine for a week, then crash into a deep depressive mood. I wouldn't eat, wash or barely even leave my bed for three-days. Then I'd go through an intense period of creativity and feel happy again. I couldn't define emotions clearly, I would associate aggression with euphoria and get angry, quickly, if slightly confused.
As someone in a mixed-state's mood can be triggered easily; and shifts quickly, it is common for them to indulge in self-harm. Whether this be self-mutilation, substance abuse or suicide.
The thought of killing myself never entered my head. Many people have risen above much greater adversity than I will ever suffer; and I could never break the hearts of my family and the people I love.
Although I never indulged in self-mutilation, the thought did enter my mind once or twice. However, I was never in a state of sadness at the time. These were more sado-masochistic urges, that I repressed.
My vice, was substance abuse. Ecstasy, alcohol and cannabis in particular and almost daily. I had my moments with cocaine, speed and once, accidentally, with heroin (I took some pills that were laced with the stuff and didn't find out until a few days later), but these were not my drugs of choice. The addiction's I did have amplified my mood-swings, increased their frequency and plunged me into serious weight-loss.
This is the first-time I have ever divulged any details of my mental illness to anyone. The most anyone ever knew was that I had 'manic depression'; and these people were a tiny minority. I am opening up now, not for sympathy, but for a greater understanding; from myself more than anyone else.
I hope by confronting and challenging the bipolar disorder I once had, I can shake myself free of its last, lingering, negative affects on my personality; that intermittently flicker within me, like a faulty fluorescent tube.
I have spent nine-months of will-power, discipline and concentration, on aiming to free myself from drug addiction and mental obscurity; and I have succeeded. I wanted to improve myself mentally, physically and artistically; and these have become my vices now. I have even been celibate throughout this time, to remain focused on these priorities.
All I now need to do, is shake off those last few parasitic demons b2p has left behind, that aim to handicap my progression; when they occassionally choke my confidence, or trip me up from behind.
I think this is the way to do it. If I stop letting them hide in the shadows, if I chase them out and knock them off, then maybe I will rediscover the social-intelligence I used to have. The final piece missing from the mental jigsaw, I have been tirelessly evolving and reconstructing for much time.
At the moment, I am lacking consistency. One-day I will be who I perceive myself to be: happy and confident, talking freely and making jokes; hopefully adding my presence to a group situation, in a positive way. I will go home triumphant, feeling like I have finally slain the last few remnants of b2p.
Then, the next-day, I will fall flat on my face. Confidence will slowly drain from my system, as paranoia creeps in. I won't be able to carry a conversation, I'll just laugh in the appropriate places and make the odd statement; my mind whirs as incoherent thoughts race through for a split-second and I try to fight my growing discomfort.
It's frustrating, I can't seem to make new friendship's find those steps up to the next level; therefore I seek comfort in more familiar faces. However, I find repetition claustrophobic and I will feel just as uneasy here in the end.
I do think my personal revolution is secure, I will not falter in the pursuit of my goals; and I will achieve my full potential in time.
But, right now, I want to start having fun again; and I want to create some new memories. I'm optimistic that I will, it's all in my own hand's.
This may have been the therapy I needed.
Glosoli.
Friday, 29 February 2008
China Doll
Sad glass eyes
and porcelain skin,
dissolve the walls of my ice prison.
I see the sun,
the first time in so long.
In shock
I stagger round blind.
In those few seconds…I lost sight of those eyes.
Her blass* skin
blended in with the snow.
Sweet china doll, be my marionette.
I wanna play
wanna take you away;
but I never want you to forget.
She doesn’t want saving.
I know.
But it’s hard to let her ghost just go.
Must I leave this place alone?
So now I’m free
but I’m afraid.
The wind is screaming,
but his voice soon fades.
I’ll pick myself up,
and I’ll jump;
off this mountain.
Sweet china doll, be my marionette.
I wanna play
wanna take you away;
but I never want you to forget.
Sweet china doll.
Nyfodd Von
*pale of colour/watery (German) also colourless (Norwegian)
Tuesday, 26 February 2008
Broken Mirrors
Written March '05
The mirror is broken, once again.
The smell sweat, sex, smoke and shame.
The drink and drugs...
they warm inside.
The symptoms don't lie and yet we all still hide.
A hard earned reputation, it kicks me in the face.
A deceitful liar,
he drapes himself in lace.
My stomach churns and my knuckles ache,
for the greatest of us lose to those cheats
and those fakes.
I'm afraid to lose...once bitten is twice shy.
I hide in melodies, for they:
they cannot lie.
I need to help myself and so do all of you.
At least we've got our pride
to help us see it through.
We've all been shot in the back; or stabbed in the heart.
For some, it makes us stronger.
The rest?
They're torn apart.
The mirror is broken, once again.
The smell sweat, sex, smoke and shame.
The drink and drugs...
they warm inside.
The symptoms don't lie and yet we all still hide.
A hard earned reputation, it kicks me in the face.
A deceitful liar,
he drapes himself in lace.
My stomach churns and my knuckles ache,
for the greatest of us lose to those cheats
and those fakes.
I'm afraid to lose...once bitten is twice shy.
I hide in melodies, for they:
they cannot lie.
I need to help myself and so do all of you.
At least we've got our pride
to help us see it through.
We've all been shot in the back; or stabbed in the heart.
For some, it makes us stronger.
The rest?
They're torn apart.
Wednesday, 13 February 2008
tipping the first domino
I feel as though you have caught me at the wrong time.
These last few months have felt like a sluggish trudge up a muddy bank. Although, I believe, this route is the right direction for me to go; I can't help but find it terribly boring.
My life has been lacking those electric moments that make you feel alive.
The mountainous highs and cavernous lows, that shape your own personal landscape.
I have patience and productivity, but no passion. I have no battles to fight, no solutions to find and no meaningful flings to speak of.
However, I am not pessimistic.
It's as if I'm crossing a desert, with every dune I climb I expect there to be an oasis on the other side. Although I've not seen one in a while, I know I'll find one in the end. And it will be worth the wait.
All this said therefore, the here and now does not feel like the proper place to start this blog. If I find an oasis, I'll let you know. But in the mean time, without meaning to sound ostentatious, there are better stories to tell than my current slow march across imaginary sands.
It is my intention then, to dedicate large parts of this blog to a more intriguing period of my life. One that I have often wanted to write about:
February '05
I had to make a decision, not an unusual one. One I expect many seventeen year-old boys have had to make. My choice, however, would lock me into a roller-coaster seat for the next two and half years or so. Although I didn't know it, this was a pivotal moment. I had tipped the first domino, now they were all about to fall.
These last few months have felt like a sluggish trudge up a muddy bank. Although, I believe, this route is the right direction for me to go; I can't help but find it terribly boring.
My life has been lacking those electric moments that make you feel alive.
The mountainous highs and cavernous lows, that shape your own personal landscape.
I have patience and productivity, but no passion. I have no battles to fight, no solutions to find and no meaningful flings to speak of.
However, I am not pessimistic.
It's as if I'm crossing a desert, with every dune I climb I expect there to be an oasis on the other side. Although I've not seen one in a while, I know I'll find one in the end. And it will be worth the wait.
All this said therefore, the here and now does not feel like the proper place to start this blog. If I find an oasis, I'll let you know. But in the mean time, without meaning to sound ostentatious, there are better stories to tell than my current slow march across imaginary sands.
It is my intention then, to dedicate large parts of this blog to a more intriguing period of my life. One that I have often wanted to write about:
February '05
I had to make a decision, not an unusual one. One I expect many seventeen year-old boys have had to make. My choice, however, would lock me into a roller-coaster seat for the next two and half years or so. Although I didn't know it, this was a pivotal moment. I had tipped the first domino, now they were all about to fall.
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