The Blind Spot of the Highs: Hypomanic and Manic Behaviors (a.k.a. symptoms)

So what's the big deal? Well, the big deal is that when anyone is in or having what is called a hypo-manic (think of them as hyperactive adults) or manic episode (time plus a state of being), we are unaware of it. Usually, we are feeling wonderful, joyful, excited if not euphoric. Our mind is racing with one creative idea or thought after another. If we could but capture them all, they would be treasures beyond belief. We are super productive, social, sensual and generous. What's not to like about this mood or these behaviors? Why is everyone being so stand-offish?


During this phase, we do not seek or continue with medical treatment because we are frequently relieved of feeling depressed. However, it's prime time for an intervention. It won't be easy but it's proof of love and devotion in action.



The saddest part of this equation is hypo-mania and mania are easily, instantly treatable.

The elites took "the waters" of mineral springs or went on extended vacations. Physicians developed various methods of bringing an individual down from an elevated mood. We are a bit more civilized today as the researchers and chemists have been developing better drugs to treat epilepsy and psychiatric drugs to treat various mental illnesses. If you're unable to bring yourself down, they have "chemical straight jackets" that are most effective without the Big Crash.



We, the consumers of these products and services, come prepared having learned to developed coping skills and strategies over time. But during a real manic episode, there is limited personal restraint. It's when life-long health, religious, social and financial values prove ineffective. You've heard people say, "I couldn't help myself." I understand this statement as a fact and without judgment. I've been there. They're telling the truth whether you believe it or not.



So the next blog will be s a laundry list of behaviors associated with an elevated mood. Yes, I understand this is just your personality and that everyone has days like this. But YOU and I can go on like this for days, weeks and months. Yes, Doctors, there are individuals who can be "up" for months at a time though you tell me that's impossible. In retrospect, my fondest memories of fun, my greatest achievements, my most intimate and spiritual experiences took place at these times. Why would any one want to come down?



Mania is messy. What goes up, must come down. It's a law of physics applied to the playground of our mind.


CAN YOU? WILL YOU FACE THE TRUTH?

Emancipation

He was a mensch of a man despite of, maybe because of, the mental illness that consumed him and his beloved family. There will be no service, no notice in the newspaper of his death, no gathering of friends and family, no one to throw the first mound of earth on a casket, no flowers, no one to cry for their loss or to celebrate his life. Rest peacefully. You deserve it. We shall meet again, Brother. Of this, I am certain.

The autopsy is complete. His body is to be cremated for $1,300 dollars and another $500 for the rabbi. Thankfully, he has a mother-in-law with the means who loved him, too. Thank YOU, Father Almighty God. There are spirits and souls we meet on this journey who are simply kin. Love, it's there in a flash, and it can not be undone. There is no judgment. It doesn't matter about choices, appearances, lifestyle or station. So it is between him and her and me.

His wife, a long time girlfriend, is now desperately, hideously, and ridiculously beyond the reach of reason. It is she who calls with the news. She is in an almost "forever" manic episode or state.  Her story about the end of his life, his death, her inappropriate response and attitude startle.There is the ever present over-talk in conversation and the need for street drugs is reflected in her voice's volume, tone and intonation. The friends, if she has any left, just overlook the affairs and promiscuity. She breaks hearts and provides fodder for the gossip mongers.

These are the hallmarks of a manic episode and behavior. Everyone has an opinion but few understand what is really going on.

For Whom Does the Bell Toll?

This came along from a Christmas distribution list with a note stating the anonymous author - designer had a lot of time on their hands. That is clearly true but this is beautifully crafted from references from the "New Testament".

Peace

THE BELL

I KNOW WHO I AM
I am God's child (John 1:12)
I am Christ's friend (John 15:15 )
I am united with the Lord (1 Cor. 6:17)
I am bought with a price (1 Cor 6:19-20)
I am a saint (set apart for God). (Eph. 1:1)
I am a personal witness of Christ.  (Acts 1:8)
   I am the salt & light of the earth (Matt 5:13-14)
I am a member of the body of Christ (1 Cor 12:27)
I am free forever from condemnation ( Rom. 8: 1-2)
I am a citizen of Heaven. I am significant (Phil 3 :20)
I am free from any charge against me (Rom. 8:31 -34)
I am a minister of reconciliation for God (2 Cor 5:17-21)
I have access to God through the Holy Spirit (Eph. 2:18)
I am seated with Christ in the heavenly realms (Eph. 2:6)
I cannot be separated from the love of God (Rom 8:35-39)
I am established, anointed, sealed by God  (2 Cor 1:21-22 )
I am assured all things work together for good  (Rom. 8:28 )
I have been chosen and appointed to bear fruit (John 15:16 )
I may approach God with freedom and confidence (Eph.. 3: 12 )
I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me (Phil. 4:13 )
I am the branch of the true vine, a channel of His life (John 15: 1-5)
I am God's temple (1 Cor. 3: 16).   I am complete in Christ (Col. 2: 10)
I am hidden with Christ in God (Col. 3:3).. I have been justified (Romans 5:1)
I am God's co-worker (1 Cor. 3:9; 2 Cor 6:1). I am God's workmanship (Eph. 2:10)
I am confident that the good works God has begun in me will be perfected. (Phil. 1: 5)
I have been redeemed and forgiven ( Col 1:14). I have been adopted as God's child (Eph 1:5)
I belong to God
To Whom Do
You Belong?

'The LORD bless you and keep you;
The LORD make His face shine upon you
And be gracious to you;
The LORD turn His face toward you
And give you peace...
Numbers 6:24-26

Inside Immigration

I feel it's quite ironic to find myself today employed professionally as a person with a psychiatric disability. I now am counted among people who are employed part-time. Before this economic depression, I was one of the "uncounted", that class of people disabled, permanently unemployed or "Those who have given up". Interesting choice of words and perspective. As if there was a choice involved.

I am an ESOL (ESL) teacher of adult immigrants within the poorest city in the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. Regrettably, it is also one of the poorest cities in the United States. In Lawrence, Massachusetts, where I teach English, the unemployment rate is a dismal 25%. It's most likely more. The 'poor' here reflect a wave of immigration from the Dominican Republic. Being in Lawrence, one feels after crossing the mighty Merrimack River, as if they are indeed in a different world. Here Spanish and poverty dominates. It's a convenient mask because it under-estimates the faith, the courage and the perseverance of the human spirit against the worse possible odds.

In this self-proclaimed "Immigrant City", the citizens have elected the first Hispanic mayor in Massachusetts history. He has inherited a financial, an educational, a social services and infrastructure mess. It is also the site of a new Federal Immigration and Naturalization complex. No one gives a damn about Lawrence because it's surrounded by affluent and middle-class towns. Those residents seek their entertainment elsewhere. Even the educated and prosperous immigrants flee the city as soon as possible making the economic and citizenship base even shakier.

Saratoga Springs

Back in the days when there was no treatment for depression, the wealthy "took to the waters". In fact, the healing properties of the minerals springs of Saratoga had been well established by the Native Americans. Today Saratoga is a resort and college town renowned for its summer horse racing and cultural arts season that attracts people from around the world. A certain gentility resonates there even when the population dwindles in the off-season.

The springs of Saratoga still exist, pouring out their healing waters at a consistent 59 degrees Fahrenheit. (Is any one else but me annoyed by the peculiarity that the USA as the only country in the world not using the Metric and Celsius systems?) Now 59 degrees may be refreshing on a hot summer day but it's a bit chilly for the first weekend in December. The solution is hot water. The town and the turn-of-the-century mansions of the elite lining Broadway are all decked out in their Christmas finery. It is a wonder to behold. Eye candy.

It's not until entering the Saratoga Springs Park does the magnitude of the draw of the springs become apparent. My eyes are drawn to an empty, in the process of being refurbished building as the car enters the park. The faded beauty of the building on my right, is sensational, majestic, and inspiring. It's known as the Lincoln Spa. We know that both the President and Mrs. Mary Todd Lincoln both suffered with Depression and migraine headaches.

A curving paved roadway takes us over what once must have been a carriage road, through woods of pine. In the heart of the park is the exclusive Gideon Putnam Inn. Just beyond is our destination, the Roosevelt Spa. You just have to love being a Yankee, to understand it's our culture that binds us together. It has nothing to do with state boundaries. All these Yankee names amuse me.

Saratoga Springs Spa is festooned with flags celebrating 100 years of the infrastructure that was developed around healing/bathing spas. Healing for all kinds illnesses were prescribed and improvements were attributed to the waters. Here the prosperous had established a therapeutic retreat for the mind, the body and the spirit.

Nature or Nurture?

This is an ageless question. Does one or can one choose? I suspect I will come back to this question frequently.

All I feel today is the overwhelm of being endlessly crummy most of the time, being brave and putting a smile on my face. Some days are better than others. The weather outside now is dreary and rainy but I was up at 5:30 AM and out the door at 6:05 to deliver my parents to the airport by 6:30 AM on their return trip to Florida. They'll be back in 2 1/2 weeks for Christmas. I'm envious of the fact they have more energy than me and they're in their 80's! Go figure!

At 6 AM it was mild with no rain. Despite how I feel, I finally make the trip to visit my girlfriend in Gloucester who's moving. We took a long walk along a magical trail linking the older mansions of the back shore. There were boulders of enormous size strewn about a winding solitary path someone blazed long ago. It was a peek into a magical pocket of nature left undeveloped after the glaciers retreated to the Atlantic. It was an unexpectedly healthy walk in a place I have never been before. The shushing sound of walking through dried leaves accompanied us at various points as we wound our way through a thicket of bare bushes, then a glen of trees, carefully side-stepping a patch of wetlands. Who doesn't love the sound of kicking piles of leaves?

By 10:30 we'd gone out to breakfast at a place called The Two Sisters and I was on my way back home. Normally this would be "calling it a day" for me. My body is not used to watching the sunrise and all this early morning activity.

Nature nurtures. Nurturing is natural.

The Talk

My grandmother use to say "There is nothing in the world that a cup of tea can't solve." This was as much her philosophy as a dialog approach to problem solving. A steaming teapot is to me a meaningful reminder to listen, to see through the human dilemma with kindness, compassion, generosity and wisdom. I received a special ceramic teapot from my eldest nephew that he made himself when he was a young boy. It is among the most treasured gifts I've ever received. It was a soft pink, single serving teapot adorn with the child-like printing "TEA WITH DEE". For me, it was a functional and symbolic connection of our love. Having tea is a ritual passed from one generation to another. I introduced my nieces and nephews to tea when they were very young. I served it to them Irish-style with milk and sugar. I can even recall adding sippy-cup tops after cooling the hot water down. Eventually they've each grown into adult-sized mugs. There are critics who may say tea is unhealthy for young children and not an acceptable beverage. Their parents, however, had no reason to object at the time. Sharing a cup of tea makes for an interesting conversation between equals. I've never talked down to children feeling they understood more than adults ever give them credit for. I was never disappointed about the quality of our conversations. My job was to listen, letting them take the lead, ask questions or just be. Innocence was their hallmark. They had not learned to be guarded in their thoughts and opinions yet. I carefully packed that teapot for transport to Sarasota wrapping it round and round with bubble wrap. When I moved, it arrived safely to my destination. However, when I safely returned to Massachusetts, I opened the UPS box and the teapot was broken beyond repair. I was devastated by its loss for it was a special reminder of the precious joy of giving and receiving the perfect gift. Some gifts are fragile. These young children are now young adults either in college or rounding the corner of that destination. Any desire on my part for conversation with them exceeds their ability to create time for one of their greatest admirers. This is exactly the way it should be. They are after all busy young adults capable of making their own decisions and choosing how to spend their time. When my siblings and I became the legal age to drink and vote, at the age of 18, it coincided with our attendance to college. Our grandmother sat us down with a cup of tea and had "the talk" with us. No this wasn't the sex talk. It was the talk about the demon alcohol. She was very forthright telling me (and the others) that "no good ever comes from alcohol". Alcoholism ran in our blood and it was a disease that destroyed individuals and families. She worried about us. She had every reason to be concerned. So this blog is "my talk" to a new generation. Yes, alcoholism can be in the genes. This is a fact that cannot be ignored. However, I've learned that drinking or drugging is really a symptom. It's a behavior closely related and often times indicative of Depression and Mental Illness. Everyone knows about self-medicating but so few educated people understand anything about mental illness. Some forms, like bipolar depression, run in families. So I know. I observe. I wait. There is a 100% chance one or more of my beloved ones will develop this horrifying condition. Someone may already know they are different or have hints that their inner world and outer world are at odds with each other. Someone may already be suffering in silence having learned to smile through the pain or distress. Someone may be identified as moody or temperamental. Someone lives in fear of discovery of their secret. Someone is spooked by sudden threats of suicide. Someone is developing courage that will sustain them for a lifetime. I believe my purpose is to educate by sharing my stories and knowledge. It's my belief that early intervention and treatment may prevent someone from becoming permanently disabled because they were allowed to suffer for years (decades) with the unimaginable pain of depression, of Bipolar Disorder.

About Having Bipolar Depression

I know what I should be doing. It's 1 pm on the Saturday after Thanksgiving Day. It's sunny and on the milder side for a late November day in New England. I should get away from this computer, take a shower and go help a friend who's in the process of implementing a major move in her life. Her's is a life affirming transformational move to Edinburgh.

However, my emotional state verges on tears and I'm trained not to burden others. I feel like a dam about to burst in an explosion of tears and that my tears of grief will find no comforting arms. This is what it is like for me as a middle-aged single woman with a psychiatric disability. Yes, I'm an individual diagnosed with bipolar disorder. Often euphemistically called mood swings it is more accurately a medical condition more akin to a system of pulleys shifting its load of deep, sensitive emotions.

Today I feel overwhelmed by grief and unable to muster the energy required to do what needs to be done. Torn asunder, I am. I feel the ache of an opening heart, unsure whether I can heal another round of depression. It has been a very difficult and challenging year health-wise in every major domain; physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually. I'm in mourning. That's what is happening within me and I wonder if it will ever end.

I already know the answer. It will pass and then randomly it will return in spite of the medication. There are predictable triggers and then there are the unexpected ones. Why? What happened? How do you reach individuals who are unable or too stubborn to ask for help? Depression has it's own voice. The trick is to be able to separate and/or distinguish the voice of the disease from the real me or the real you. You do not need to believe this is true for it to be so.

Part of the resolution calls for authentic kindness and compassion. While some individuals delude themselves into believing they hold these values to be true and there are "the Others" who live and share these values with friends and strangers and families.

What do you do when a friend is sick or hospitalized or sent to rehab? You visit, bring food, send flowers or chocolates (always appreciated), buy them a new nightie or bathrobe. You email or Facebook them. You take them out for walks, go out for lunch or to the movies. You distract them by bringing them back into the community from which they've been separated. Slowly, gently without an personal agenda.

Naturally, as a sensitive, I have a distinct point of view culled from a myriad of experiences advocating, battling, and negotiating through an overburdened, impoverished psychiatric and social services system. It is now faced with a flood of new patients returning from war to a dysfunctional health-care system with it's own prejudices, an increasing number of disenfranchised, unemployed and the displaced, amid a Depression (not recession) since the Great Depression. Is an explosion or implosion possible?

The ever growing number of American-born families added to the poverty class is a major national mental health crisis as both health-care and social services funding are cut. The new wave of immigrants are better able to cope than the native-born of the United States. What is it really is like "Out Here" as an educated, middle-class, "high-functioning" individual who was initially unprepared to live alone with a disabling condition, in poverty, as a marginalized citizen, interacting with immigrants during the worse economic crisis? Who cares any way?

In the health-care, legal, media and social services systems the prejudice against the mentally-ill is pervasive. Changes in attitudes takes generations. So I'm drawn to the underdog because I am an underdog myself. It has always been this way for me. I, also, believe the pen or in this era, word processing software, is mightier than the sword. I write myself out of dilemmas. I am one of the Others. I give a damn.