The Bipolar Treadmill

After my last two rants, I thought I would be feeling much better than I am. But I'm quickly learning how deep-seated my anger really is. Tonight when I was Skyping with my sister, I started to fall apart all over again. Thankfully I had nothing to hide or be embarrassed about doing that in front of her. Everything that came out of my mind was aggressive and mad and that's when I decided to take another look at my anger. What am I angry about? I'm not entirely sure. Sure, there's the actual illness itself to be mad at. And believe me when I tell you I'm aware that I'm pretty pissed about it. But also I feel like stewing in my anger over it isn't going to get me anywhere. I mean, what's it going to change? Nothing.

So what else is making me so mad? Honestly, I think it's my meds. I've been on aggressive medications for almost 6 month now and I feel like I've been spinning my wheels; like I'm no better off than I was 6 months ago when I first parked myself on my psychiatrist's couch. It's like for 6 months now I've been running the bipolar II medication treadmill. Running my ass off and going absolutely no where. And I'm no skinnier either, despite all that running. So what is the point of this then? Like I said previously, I have to believe that people can go on to be successful, high-functioning people who manage their bipolar. And in this case, their bipolar II. And I am hell bent on being one of those people. Hence I'm still on that damn treadmill. Because I have to believe that eventually there will be a point to it. That these last 6 months have actually been taking me somewhere down the road. Even though, like I said, it feels less like a road and more like a revolving track.

My younger, very wise sister, reminded me that despite how things look, I have indeed made some strides. And that as much as I feel like I've gotten nowhere in the last 6 months, I really am not that same person who first sat down on my psych's couch. What have I accomplished? Well, not much, But some. Firstly there has been the diagnosis itself. Which changed the entire game up until that point. Until I was actually diagnosed I may as well have been playing baseball in shoulder pads and a helmut, looking for the goal post. Kind of pointless. So yes, we made a large stride with my diagnosis. Then there are the medications. We know that Seroquel. at a certain dose, just made me feel all funky and my muscles seriously hurt. And at a higher dose we learned that I wanted to kill myself. And at an even higher dose, we learned that I was actually starting to stabilize only to also gain about 15 pounds in 1 month. Yikes! Really no results from that treadmill. Oh wait, that was just a metaphor. So then we tried Abilify. Again, it helped maintain my mood stability and I only had one hypo-manic state while on it, but the dang medication made me vomit almost daily. And so I subsequently lost the 15 pounds, but... vomiting is no bueno for the teeth, and I'm totally a teeth person. Then we moved to Geodon. It was just okay at the dose they started me on. I didn't have any more hypo-manic episodes (not saying one couldn't have happened) but I did feel myself slipping a little more and more back into my depression. And then all this anger came about. I found out that I was really snippy and easily lost my cool. The solution for the next month? A higher dose. Now we are at the present and I've learned that Geodon at the higher dose makes me so fricken tired! So tired that I feel my eyes go crossed-eyed and then roll into the back of my head because my body is literally checking out. Not cool. I've got a life I need to live and I can't just check out whenever the hell I want to. Or when my body thinks is a good time. So now I'm trying my hardest to take it a little earlier each night, as to hopefully not have the lingering side-effects in the morning while I need to be getting my kids out the door and myself to work. Oh, and in there somewhere I also discovered that I can't take the Geodon with my lunch. I'll be passed out by dinnertime if I do that. So yes, my sister was right, I have accomplished some things. And to be honest, listing them does help. It shows me what I'm not feeling so much. It puts in front of me in black and white the real progress. If only it were progress that I felt. Because right now I still feel a lot like I'm on that treadmill, just hoping to catch a break.

Maybe what I'm mad at is really the lack of progress. I mean, after fighting and trying so hard for 6 months, I guess I was kind of hoping I'd be in a better place. Boy was I only kidding myself. But at least right now I have a better idea of what is making me angry. And to be honest, I kind of feel like I have a right to be. And sometimes knowing it's okay to simply be angry is half the battle. Yes, I have been busting my ass for 6 months so that I can be in a better place in my life, and you know what? I'm still not there yet. So yes, it's okay to be mad about that. Just so long as I don't let my anger hold me back from progress. It's about learning to keep on taking those punches all while being ticked. And sometimes, I find, that anger can be part of the driving force behind those punches. Now I realize that I have little control over the momentum of those punches when it comes to whether or not my meds work, but at the same time, I can control my attitude and my openness. And those two things can go a long way in terms of progress. So here's to letting myself be pissed but still holding my head high!