Caught in my Bipolar Burble.Being called brilliant is enough to make an unstable girl cry. Again, thank-you.
She’s been blogging since 2003 and is consistently brilliant. Intimate and raw, very descriptive and at times hard to read. She’s been through a lot and her treatment-resistant disorder is still not responding to treatments, including a recent failed attempt at ECT (which led to the spin-off blog ECT: Electro-Convulsive Terror). Harrowing.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
They Liked Me, Again!
The kind people at PsychCentral have voted me one of the top ten bipolar blogs again this year. I'm honored. Thanks. Here's what they have to say:
Calcium Channel Blockers (Verapamil) and Bipolar
For anyone who is wondering, I am currently trying a calcium channel blocker to control my mood. This is a last-line treatment really as there are conflicting reports as to whether it works at all, but when you're me, last-line treatments are really all you have left. However, some studies say that calcium channel blockers DO work and the upside is that woman can even take them during pregnancy which typically isn't true of psychotropic medications. I'm copying information on this directly from psycheducation.org which I link to frequently. If you're bipolar, and you haven't checked out that site, you need to. It has the most comprehensive treatment information I have ever seen. (There is a book with most of the information as well, which is handy because it's much better laid out.) So, as Dr. Phelps says:
A long time ago several randomized trials were done which confirmed that verapamil had "mood stabilizing" properties. This may be related to it's action on calcium channels, the small pores in cells that allow calcium to move in and out. Calcium seems to be part of the story of what causes bipolar disorder (for more on that subject, go to that heading from the Diagnosis Details page). However, there were two "negative" trials later, meaning that the data did not show verapamil had mood stabilizing effects.
As a result of this "mixed" evidence, interest in verapamil has been very limited (in addition, because it is available in multiple generics, there is no manufacturer willing to pump money into research and advertising for this medication, so it "looks" less attractive than it really is). I tried it with several patients and was not particularly impressed myself.
Then I met Dr. Steve Dubovsky, an eminent researcher from University of Colorado, who had done much of the original work on this medication. He said "you have to use the non-slow-release version!" So, I've since tried it again in that form, and sure enough, I'm pretty sure I've seen people respond to it, as with other recognized mood stabilizers. Then, a recent surge in interest has come along from several researchers concerned about the effects of conventional mood stabilizers on women's hormones. They point out that verapamil may also be safe to use in pregnancy, which is not true for any of the "big three" (lithium, Depakote, Tegretol/Trileptal). And they have just published a study showing further support (although in "open trial" design, there were actually quite a few more patients in this study than in Dubovsky's original workDubovsky; not conclusive, but strongly supportive evidence) for verapamil's effectiveness in women with bipolar disorder. Some of these women were pregnant.Wisner et al They used the non-slow-release form, if I am interpreting their methods correctly.
There is some concern about immediate-release versions of verapamil having a negative effect on heart function. American Academy... But this issue is still being studied (e.g. Hilleman) and does not appear to be an issue in terms of the use of this medication as a bipolar disorder treatment. For a patient who has known heart disease, or for a patient who is already on a blood pressure medication, a discussion with her/his doctor prior to starting verapamil in either form would probably be wise.
Where verapamil fits in the list of mood stabilizers is unclear because we have so little information on it, and that which we have is conflicting (e.g. see a review by Janicak, 2000). However, it carries relatively few risks compared to other commonly used mood stabilizers and must be kept in mind for cases in which the better-studied medications have not been effective or tolerable. It is also a consideration for a woman contemplating pregnancy, if it can be established before the pregnancy that this is an effective agent, which can take months or even years depending on the woman's usual course of bipolar symptoms.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
A Girl With No Home
My life usually sucks. I have bipolar, I'm depressed most of the time, I harm myself, I don't really have a lot of friends, I don't have a significant other, I got laid off, and so on, and so forth. It's kind of a clusterfuck.
But I don't really consider it that bad. I live in a nice place, I have two adorable little cats, I have (or, you know, had) money, and I know some great people. Basically, I feel like it's manageable. Yes, when you line the fact up, it sucks, but I try to look at it like it's pretty good. There are a lot worse things out there.
But considering how sick I am, how depressed I am, how unstable I am, in a stable, decent life, I've often wondered, or rather dreaded what would happen if something really bad DID happen to me. Now it's true, that getting laid off was pretty bad. I didn't enjoy that experience and it's fucked me ever since. That's true. But I didn't think it was the end of the world. And I didn't think it was the end of the world because there are other jobs out there. Lots of them. And now I have a pretty decent resume and a pretty decent chance of finding one of them.
Now, it's true, I didn't handle getting laid off all that well. In fact, it resulted in me becoming suicidal and going through an ECT index series (that of course, didn't work). I logically could tell you that being laid off wasn't the end of the world, but my body sure acted like it was. This is something that happens to me. I can't control the way my brain reacts to stuff. My mind seems fine, but my brain just goes haywire.
But OK, you have that mess. I'm trying to get through it. It's horrible, but it happens.
But now. But unfortunately now something really bad actually has happened. I got kicked out of the States. Or, more specifically, I was rejected from entering the United States. Apparently I shouldn't have been there in the first place post 30 days after being laid off. No one mentioned this to me. As Canadians are allowed in the US at any time, I didn't realize I was doing anything wrong.
But I was. So now, everything I own, including my cats, are in the US, while I am in Canada. And I can't go back for 6 months, or until I get a job in the US. Which is difficult to do. When I'm not there.
And now I have found out how horrible I am when something bad actually happens. I just fall apart. I cry uncontrollably every day. I find everything overwhelming. And I really, really, really want it all to be done already. It was bad enough having been laid off, but now not having a home. I can't do this. It's too much for me. My breaking point has been surpassed. You'll find me under a rock.
But I don't really consider it that bad. I live in a nice place, I have two adorable little cats, I have (or, you know, had) money, and I know some great people. Basically, I feel like it's manageable. Yes, when you line the fact up, it sucks, but I try to look at it like it's pretty good. There are a lot worse things out there.
But considering how sick I am, how depressed I am, how unstable I am, in a stable, decent life, I've often wondered, or rather dreaded what would happen if something really bad DID happen to me. Now it's true, that getting laid off was pretty bad. I didn't enjoy that experience and it's fucked me ever since. That's true. But I didn't think it was the end of the world. And I didn't think it was the end of the world because there are other jobs out there. Lots of them. And now I have a pretty decent resume and a pretty decent chance of finding one of them.
Now, it's true, I didn't handle getting laid off all that well. In fact, it resulted in me becoming suicidal and going through an ECT index series (that of course, didn't work). I logically could tell you that being laid off wasn't the end of the world, but my body sure acted like it was. This is something that happens to me. I can't control the way my brain reacts to stuff. My mind seems fine, but my brain just goes haywire.
But OK, you have that mess. I'm trying to get through it. It's horrible, but it happens.
But now. But unfortunately now something really bad actually has happened. I got kicked out of the States. Or, more specifically, I was rejected from entering the United States. Apparently I shouldn't have been there in the first place post 30 days after being laid off. No one mentioned this to me. As Canadians are allowed in the US at any time, I didn't realize I was doing anything wrong.
But I was. So now, everything I own, including my cats, are in the US, while I am in Canada. And I can't go back for 6 months, or until I get a job in the US. Which is difficult to do. When I'm not there.
And now I have found out how horrible I am when something bad actually happens. I just fall apart. I cry uncontrollably every day. I find everything overwhelming. And I really, really, really want it all to be done already. It was bad enough having been laid off, but now not having a home. I can't do this. It's too much for me. My breaking point has been surpassed. You'll find me under a rock.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Failing Anger
For those of you not keeping up with this blog, or this blog, I'll catch you up, I have undergone 9 ECT (electro-convulsive therapy, AKA, shock therapy) treatment with no response. It's the worst treatment I've ever done, and the side-effects have been far worse than predicted. In short, it has been a nightmare.
And I am finding myself very angry. It's not the fault of the doctor or the nurses or even the physical treatment. I'm angry that I have given up so much and received so little. I gave up over three week of pain, memory, and hospital time, for the treatment, not to mention the fact that I had to have people cart me around due to my inability to drive during the treatment window. The whole time I was slow and stupid, and forgetful, and in physical pain. They give you oxycodone. It's no minor thing.
And since the index has ceased thanks to lack of response my body has been completely fucked up. It took weeks to get back my sense of balance, only just occurring now, and my body continues to be in physical pain even since. It feels like every muscle in my body is half as effective and every moment hurts for no reason at all. Particularly nasty was my neck and shoulder on the side where the electrodes were placed that had to be helped by chiropractic. Since the treatment I would say I have been at least as depressed as before, if not possible more particularly due to the pain and fatigue since the treatment. Oh, and I still don't remember a lot of what happened during the weeks of treatment.
Sigh. In all honesty, all that would be worth it if I felt better. I can withstand a lot of pain and suffering if in the end I feel better, and I think most sick people feel the same way. But to sacrifice all of that, and to get nothing, is so unbelievably disheartening, and frustrating, angering.
I'm angry to have failed. I'm angry that the treatment failed. I'm angry that everything I was told before the treatment turned out not to be true. I'm angry that I'm still in pain. I'm angry that my brain was compromised. I'm angry that this is the most effective treatment there is, and it didn't work. And I'm angry that I feel like it's my fault. It feels like there is something so entirely defective about me that even the most effective treatment won't work. And I'm angry that it feels like this means that nothing will ever work. I'm angry that it feels like this means that I will always be in pain. And I'm angry that this made the pain worse. And I'm angry that I allowed it to be done. I'm angry that I allowed this failure. I'm angry that allowed this pain. And I'm angry that I got my hopes up on another treatment that failed. I'm angry at the crushing of that hope. And I'm just feeling so angry that I asked for all of it.
People never believe me when I tell them something won't work. People never believe me when I tell them not to get their hopes up. People never believe me when I tell them how terrible it is after a failure. They just have this human sun-shiny view of things of "I think I can I think I can". It takes them living through a catastrophic failure to see the pain. And their pain is never as bad as my pain. I was sick and depressed to begin with so what do you think happens when you add more pain to that? What do you think happens when you add physical pain to that? Everyone else can afford to be sun-shiny because they don't experience the huge bug squash that I do when there is yet another failure.
And this one more than any other, really feels like my fault. I'm not sure why. Maybe just the statistics. Maybe it's just knowing that everyone else gets better but me. I'm not sure. But it feels like it's my fault. My fault, my fault, my fault. And I'm being punished. Still. My fault.
Yes, I'm aware, this isn't actually my fault. Yes, I'm aware that it's not that there's anything wrong with me. Yes, I'm aware that I'm not being punished. Yes, I'm aware that I simply have fallen into the unfortunate category of people who don't respond to unilateral ECT. Yes, I know this.
Yes, I know this.
But this doesn't make me feel any better. This doesn't tale away the pain. This doesn't take away the anger.
And I know that anger is really just an emotion that covers up less pleasant emotions like hurt and pain and sadness and loss, but I don't really feel like dwelling on that at the moment. Those less pleasant emotions can just sit in the back of my mind where they belong.
And I am finding myself very angry. It's not the fault of the doctor or the nurses or even the physical treatment. I'm angry that I have given up so much and received so little. I gave up over three week of pain, memory, and hospital time, for the treatment, not to mention the fact that I had to have people cart me around due to my inability to drive during the treatment window. The whole time I was slow and stupid, and forgetful, and in physical pain. They give you oxycodone. It's no minor thing.
And since the index has ceased thanks to lack of response my body has been completely fucked up. It took weeks to get back my sense of balance, only just occurring now, and my body continues to be in physical pain even since. It feels like every muscle in my body is half as effective and every moment hurts for no reason at all. Particularly nasty was my neck and shoulder on the side where the electrodes were placed that had to be helped by chiropractic. Since the treatment I would say I have been at least as depressed as before, if not possible more particularly due to the pain and fatigue since the treatment. Oh, and I still don't remember a lot of what happened during the weeks of treatment.
Sigh. In all honesty, all that would be worth it if I felt better. I can withstand a lot of pain and suffering if in the end I feel better, and I think most sick people feel the same way. But to sacrifice all of that, and to get nothing, is so unbelievably disheartening, and frustrating, angering.
I'm angry to have failed. I'm angry that the treatment failed. I'm angry that everything I was told before the treatment turned out not to be true. I'm angry that I'm still in pain. I'm angry that my brain was compromised. I'm angry that this is the most effective treatment there is, and it didn't work. And I'm angry that I feel like it's my fault. It feels like there is something so entirely defective about me that even the most effective treatment won't work. And I'm angry that it feels like this means that nothing will ever work. I'm angry that it feels like this means that I will always be in pain. And I'm angry that this made the pain worse. And I'm angry that I allowed it to be done. I'm angry that I allowed this failure. I'm angry that allowed this pain. And I'm angry that I got my hopes up on another treatment that failed. I'm angry at the crushing of that hope. And I'm just feeling so angry that I asked for all of it.
People never believe me when I tell them something won't work. People never believe me when I tell them not to get their hopes up. People never believe me when I tell them how terrible it is after a failure. They just have this human sun-shiny view of things of "I think I can I think I can". It takes them living through a catastrophic failure to see the pain. And their pain is never as bad as my pain. I was sick and depressed to begin with so what do you think happens when you add more pain to that? What do you think happens when you add physical pain to that? Everyone else can afford to be sun-shiny because they don't experience the huge bug squash that I do when there is yet another failure.
And this one more than any other, really feels like my fault. I'm not sure why. Maybe just the statistics. Maybe it's just knowing that everyone else gets better but me. I'm not sure. But it feels like it's my fault. My fault, my fault, my fault. And I'm being punished. Still. My fault.
Yes, I'm aware, this isn't actually my fault. Yes, I'm aware that it's not that there's anything wrong with me. Yes, I'm aware that I'm not being punished. Yes, I'm aware that I simply have fallen into the unfortunate category of people who don't respond to unilateral ECT. Yes, I know this.
Yes, I know this.
But this doesn't make me feel any better. This doesn't tale away the pain. This doesn't take away the anger.
And I know that anger is really just an emotion that covers up less pleasant emotions like hurt and pain and sadness and loss, but I don't really feel like dwelling on that at the moment. Those less pleasant emotions can just sit in the back of my mind where they belong.
Friday, October 16, 2009
The Better Days Make The Worse Days Worse
I'm having not as terrible a day. I woke up this morning and I didn't want to kill myself. I wanted to hurt myself. I wanted to slit my wrists, but I didn't actually want to die. The change is slight, but meaningful. Meaningful in the way I can handle the world. Meaningful in the way I can fake it through the day.
But there's something to know about better days; they make the worse days, worse. Right now, I feel slightly more human, Human's don't want to die, and by not wanting to die I actually make that basic human criterion. I don't make many of the others, but I make that one. Human. Like the others on the planet. There is suddenly some sort of kinship with the humans. I dearly miss that kinship most days. I dearly miss even the basics of humanity most days.
But these days make the worst days so much worse. Getting a glimpse of humanity feels just like a cruel joke when it is so frequently pulled away. It's worse to fall from a higher place. It's worse to have your humanity taken away from you after you've felt it.
I know that this day isn't going to last. Maybe not even a day. And instead of enjoying it, which is what a normal person would do, I just feel terrified about what comes next. I'm just so scared about what will happen, what I'll feel, and what I'll do. I don't feel relief. I just feel terror.
But there's something to know about better days; they make the worse days, worse. Right now, I feel slightly more human, Human's don't want to die, and by not wanting to die I actually make that basic human criterion. I don't make many of the others, but I make that one. Human. Like the others on the planet. There is suddenly some sort of kinship with the humans. I dearly miss that kinship most days. I dearly miss even the basics of humanity most days.
But these days make the worst days so much worse. Getting a glimpse of humanity feels just like a cruel joke when it is so frequently pulled away. It's worse to fall from a higher place. It's worse to have your humanity taken away from you after you've felt it.
I know that this day isn't going to last. Maybe not even a day. And instead of enjoying it, which is what a normal person would do, I just feel terrified about what comes next. I'm just so scared about what will happen, what I'll feel, and what I'll do. I don't feel relief. I just feel terror.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
What Meds Have I Been On?
Curious? Here is the list, as best I recall. I'm putting the list down the right-hand column too and will update it as I remember more or as I try new things.
1. Abilify
2. Amatriptaline
3. Ambien
4. CBT
5. Celexa
6. Clonazepam
7. Cymbalta
8. Depakote
9. ECT (unilateral)
10. Gabapentin
11. Geodon
12. L-Methylfolate
13. Lamictal
14. Levoxyl
15. Lexapro
16. Light Therapy
17. Lithium
18. Lunesta
19. Melatonin
20. Mirtazapine
21. Omega-3
22. Parnate
23. Pristiq
24. Provigil
25. Prozac
26. Risperidone
27. Seroquel
28. Serzone
29. Tegretol
30. Trileptal
31. Trazadone
32. VNS
33. Welbutrin
34. Zoloft
35. Zyprexa
1. Abilify
2. Amatriptaline
3. Ambien
4. CBT
5. Celexa
6. Clonazepam
7. Cymbalta
8. Depakote
9. ECT (unilateral)
10. Gabapentin
11. Geodon
12. L-Methylfolate
13. Lamictal
14. Levoxyl
15. Lexapro
16. Light Therapy
17. Lithium
18. Lunesta
19. Melatonin
20. Mirtazapine
21. Omega-3
22. Parnate
23. Pristiq
24. Provigil
25. Prozac
26. Risperidone
27. Seroquel
28. Serzone
29. Tegretol
30. Trileptal
31. Trazadone
32. VNS
33. Welbutrin
34. Zoloft
35. Zyprexa
Monday, October 12, 2009
Unconscious Possibility
Tonight I go back to the hospital, but not to be electrocuted. Tonight I go in for a sleep study. Apparently I have breathing issues - I don't always like to do it.
When they were putting me under anesthetic for the ECT they noticed a major deficit in my oxygen levels and that generally indicates apnea (not breathing) of some sort so the doctor recommended I see a specialist. The specialist then recommended we do a study, and the study is tonight.
A sleep study is a simple bit of business (for the participant, anyway). It just involves going into the hospital, getting hooked up to some wires, and spending the night sleeping in a hospital bed. Your stats, brainwaves, and movement are recorded by computer, video camera, and there are actual lab techs that sit there and watch you sleep all night. The worst thing that happens is that gross neuro-transmission goo is put in your hair. I know, upsets my fashion sense, but I'll get over it.
I'm going because the doctor recommended it. I'm so depressed I don't care about it. Not at all. I'd rather just sleep now and not bother waking up ever. Stop breathing? I should be so fucking lucky.
But I should care.
I should care because it could impact my mood. Theoretically, if I haven't been breathing properly at night, that may also mean that I'm not sleeping properly. If I haven't been sleeping properly, I may not have been achieving deep sleep. If I haven't been achieving deep sleep I may be constantly sleep-deprived, and this, in turn could be making my mood disorder much worse. I should definitely care about that.
So depressed. So tired. So much pain. So little care.
It doesn't matter what they do, it doesn't matter what they find, it won't be good, and it won't help. Yeah, I know, that's a glass half empty perspective. Actually, I have a glass is shattered and shards are sticking through my hand perspective. It's a depression thing. And boy am I depressed.
Looking at the scenario, what's going to happen is that either they find a problem, and they can address it by making me wear some awful machine when I sleep, they don't find a problem, in which case it's just a waste of time, or they find a problem and they can't do anything about it. Only the first scenario could, possibly, maybe, help me. And it won't. Because nothing ever does. And more likely, is scenario three. Everything about me it wrong, and they can never fix any of it.
Again with the negativity. I know. Somewhere in there I can logically say that there is hope that it could help me, but in my conscious mind all I can think about is when I get to die. Get to. Like when do I get to eat Ben and Jerry's ice cream. I'm living a life when all I can think about is getting out of it. I don't think a sleep study is going to fix that.
When they were putting me under anesthetic for the ECT they noticed a major deficit in my oxygen levels and that generally indicates apnea (not breathing) of some sort so the doctor recommended I see a specialist. The specialist then recommended we do a study, and the study is tonight.
A sleep study is a simple bit of business (for the participant, anyway). It just involves going into the hospital, getting hooked up to some wires, and spending the night sleeping in a hospital bed. Your stats, brainwaves, and movement are recorded by computer, video camera, and there are actual lab techs that sit there and watch you sleep all night. The worst thing that happens is that gross neuro-transmission goo is put in your hair. I know, upsets my fashion sense, but I'll get over it.
I'm going because the doctor recommended it. I'm so depressed I don't care about it. Not at all. I'd rather just sleep now and not bother waking up ever. Stop breathing? I should be so fucking lucky.
But I should care.
I should care because it could impact my mood. Theoretically, if I haven't been breathing properly at night, that may also mean that I'm not sleeping properly. If I haven't been sleeping properly, I may not have been achieving deep sleep. If I haven't been achieving deep sleep I may be constantly sleep-deprived, and this, in turn could be making my mood disorder much worse. I should definitely care about that.
So depressed. So tired. So much pain. So little care.
It doesn't matter what they do, it doesn't matter what they find, it won't be good, and it won't help. Yeah, I know, that's a glass half empty perspective. Actually, I have a glass is shattered and shards are sticking through my hand perspective. It's a depression thing. And boy am I depressed.
Looking at the scenario, what's going to happen is that either they find a problem, and they can address it by making me wear some awful machine when I sleep, they don't find a problem, in which case it's just a waste of time, or they find a problem and they can't do anything about it. Only the first scenario could, possibly, maybe, help me. And it won't. Because nothing ever does. And more likely, is scenario three. Everything about me it wrong, and they can never fix any of it.
Again with the negativity. I know. Somewhere in there I can logically say that there is hope that it could help me, but in my conscious mind all I can think about is when I get to die. Get to. Like when do I get to eat Ben and Jerry's ice cream. I'm living a life when all I can think about is getting out of it. I don't think a sleep study is going to fix that.
Profile Update
I updated my profile, just in case you're curious. I'm pretty sure it's just full of embarrassing tidbits. And it make me realize, I have no hobbies. Turns out, being bipolar is a full-time gig.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Monday, October 05, 2009
ECT Update
One week after nine ECT treatments: http://throughect.blogspot.com/2009/10/one-week-after-last-treatment.html
Sunday, October 04, 2009
Recovery is Possible
I beg people not to give up on me even if I give up on myself.
Recovery is Possible
“People, no matter how sick they are, can fully, fully recover at any age and have full, rich, productive lives,” she said. “I believe it. I see it. I live it.”I beg others not to give up on themselves either.
Recovery is Possible
Saturday, October 03, 2009
Shearing Forces
Shearing moods. It's not a technical term, it's a personal one. Shearing moods. Moods that cut each other. One mood carving another. Both left bloody and raw.
It's everything I have. Everything in my body. Everything in my mind. To not let the moods carve my flesh. There is a razor blade an arm's length away and if I use it there will be blood everywhere. Every time is worse. The moods are blades and weapons and bludgeoning devices. I can't tell you the pain and the saline on my floor.
It's everything I have. Everything in my body. Everything in my mind. To not let the moods carve my flesh. There is a razor blade an arm's length away and if I use it there will be blood everywhere. Every time is worse. The moods are blades and weapons and bludgeoning devices. I can't tell you the pain and the saline on my floor.
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