#10

My Key Worker came 'avisitin' yesterday. I'd spent two days cleaning the house from top to bottom. It wasn't dirty! But I'm from the olde schoole. If you are to have visitors, you prepare your home in a way that shows your respect for them, whoever they are. We recently visited friends for the first time, in Bristol, and it was obvious that they had gone to much time and effort to make their home inviting and welcoming. I appreciate that sort of care when I'm on the receiving end.

Anyway, I was knackered, in pain, very tired, and happy with my domestic efforts. Being a house-husband, father, partner, carer, cook, shopper, washer et al, is taken for granted by far too many men in this society of ours. I have always insisted on doing anything I can to share the load. I take pride in not being a burden, but 'there's the rub.' Depression makes one a burden. I have to live with a family, who have to live with someone with a mental illness. A sort of double whammy. I've got it, I make their lives difficult, they mirror that difficulty in the ways they approach me. It ain't easy for them. We all do a balancing act and each day requires a different form of balancing. Relationships are tested and trust holds us all together. I trust them to give me silence when I'm really low, and they trust me to behave in a civilised way.

I have an elephant that emerges at all times of the night and day. It fills the room I'm in. Other people can sense it, but I'm the only one who can herd it. Herding elephants is harder than knitting fog or herding cats. The shear size of it, demands attention, which is distracting, diverting, debilitating and eventually destructive. I've been to the edge of destruction (cue a song) and I know the signs. Hiding the signs from oneself must be similar to alcoholics being in denial. The comfort derived from staring at four walls is much underated. Better to lose oneself in the oblivion of four walls than total oblivion? Yes.

How and when to change my drugs from the treatment of Clinical Depression, to the treatment for Bipolar Disorder, is taxing our brains. If I have OSA (Obstructive Sleep Apnoea) it will make an enormous difference to me, once I have my own CPAP or APAP machine. (Continuous Positive Airway Pressure, or Automatic Positive Airway Pressure) The mood improvement brought about by continual nights of proper sleep, will have considerable relevence upon how we tackle my BAD (Bipolar Affective Disorder).

I do have BAD and I cannot avoid acknowledging its existence. How we approach it is still up for grabs at the moment. I'm told that it may be another two or three weeks before I get the results of my Full Sleep Study. All the relevent medical staff are now aware of my situation and conditions. J was a great help in achieving this. I no longer have the patience to cope with authority figures and I could easily go off like a bottle of pop, if I met a brick wall. I know that walls can be walked around, but I'm too close to situations to be mentally able or fit enough to negotiate an outcome. My job involved constant negotiations, but I can no longer decide what shirt to wear some mornings.

I had a course of counselling to help me get through my days, but I'm too tired, too often, at the moment, to summon up the stamina to take one step at a time.

I've avoided SH for several months and that is a good thing. It is addictive and it does help me cope with severe pains. However, I'm aware of the temptations to indulge in the crimson tide and I've managed (correct word there) my moods with some discipline. But it isn't easy. Extra painkillers do help. They mask the pain though. The trick is to avoid doing anything that will aggravate the pain while it's masked, which would create even more pain later. Been there, done that, got the T shirt.

It's late, I'm heading for bed, or the recliner or the dining table, or the sofa. Or all four.

#9

A link of some interest. Varying views from people about a statue depicting Winston Churchill in a straightjacket, to illustrate Bipolar Affective Disorder in a great leader, who managed so much whilst carrying the 'condition.'


http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/uk/4795832.stm

#8

I decreased the Mirtazapine, (Zispin) and I paid for it. So I have had to increase the Mirtazapine again. It means that my brain is slowly improving my mood. Seratonin is the key to mood enhancement.

I chatted today with a friend whose husband has descended into depression. He only wants the four walls around him. I know this feeling only too well. He has no appetite. I know this feeling too. He's lost a lot of weight. He's had one session with a psychologist. It was a great help to him to know that "she got it." He's found someone who knows what he's talking about.

I warned my friend that her husband will be a lot worse before he gets better. The talking cure is good, but it requires one to lay bare, everything. He will have to look deep within himself and see all the gunge, crap, guilt, burdensome feelings, lost self-esteem and self-confidence that is him, at the moment.

He can only build himself up by digging right down to his foundations. Happily, she fully understood what I was saying. Her husband is going through the 'man' issues that accompany depression. I told her that the mantra, 'big boys don't cry,' is a load of bollocks. Her husband has to let go of his reserve and let the flood gates open.

We were in a small group and discussing various 'conditions,' including cancers. Out of five people in the room four have some form of cancer. The enclosed room allowed us the freedom to speak openly, and without fear, of being 'told' by others, what to do. Empathy is in short supply in this world and an empathetic oasis is a real 'find.' My friend felt relaxed enough to open up to the group and to me especially, about her worries and concerns for her husband. So much so that, she sat back and asked questions outright, without any gentle preamble, or waltzing round the bushes. However, I needed to talk to her privately about one particular aspect of depression, which can cause alarm for family members. She was concerned to hear of it, but accepted that it is actually a good indication of the level of depression being suffered. I cannot mention it here, yet, but #4, Cuts and Tears, grew from it.

There is still a stigma surrounding mental illness. If people have a problem with my illness, then it's their problem. I couldn't give a toss about their embarrasment. They ain't been there and they ain't got a clue.

#7

I am suddenly in a hyper phase. Hence, the proliferation of postings of my poems below this posting. They are but a tiny part of my literary output. I have episodes of intense creativity, during which, I cannot keep up with the amount of words tumbling out of my mind, as they demand to be put on a page, any bloody page!! And then, suddenly, nothing...........for weeks, months, hours, days, whatever.
I am not creating right now, but I can feel the surge below, as words and ideas begin to swirl beneath my consciouness. What will they bring to the table? desk? screen? page? I've no idea.
Alas, my elephant has returned. He spent the day with me and left for a while, but the bugger's come back.

I Searched For You

I Searched For You

I searched for you till you found me
I wept for you till you saw me
I crawled to you till you left me

I lied for you till you scorned me
I spun for you till you cast me
I tried for you till you threw me

I toiled for you till you ditched me
I stole for you till you stitched me
I pleaded for you till you used me

I lived for you

Lately Small Birds

Lately Small Birds

Lately small birds follow my steps
Dropping to my knees
I hear their hearts beating
I fall to their knees hearing their steps
Earthy essences drift through my senses
No one told me they had such beauty
Please send a poet
I cannot do them justice
I’ll start with small steps

Cuts And Tears

Cuts and Tears

Torn thoughtlessly leaving a heart swept away in crimson screams
Tears amalgamating into open veins crossed in love
Whitened mask lost in pleadings
These you created with looks and no sight
I leave you my heartbeats
I need them no more

A cutter's lament.

To My Prison Psychiatrists

To My Prison Psychiatrists


They’ve read the books
And done the tests
They’ve looked inside my emptiness
They’ve turned each page
And scanned the lines
To weigh my worth
Compared my crimes
They know me well
Their eyes unseen
Do they dream the dreams I dream?
Have they screamed the screams I scream?
I think not
I think not
Take your tomes
On brains and bones
Take your texts
And write abstracts
This soul is not for learning.

#2

I've been cutting down on the Zispin in readiness to start on the new drug, but after 6 days I'm feeling really low again. Changing drugs is always like this. Revisiting those places that the drugs have kept in check. I could describe what it's like, but not just now. I cannot face opening old wounds.

#1

I intend to try and tell my bipolar tale by using the facilities within this blog.