Bipolar Disorder

Some people know that I have Bipolar disorder, some do not. I hope to be able to give a little insight into my life. My reasons are mostly selfish, I would imagine, but I suppose that it gives me a tiny bit of an outlet. I will warn new readers that I do use "colorful" language so if you are offended by such lower speech, kindly fuck off. Thank you. I was diagnosed at 26 with bipolar disorder and have spent every year since under the treatment directions of various quacks, uninterested soulless zombies, outright assholes, and certified nut jobs. I have been on a lot of medications.....a LOT of meds, none of which I care for with side effects ranging from loss of time/memory to loss of penis/interest in sex ( by loss of penis I mean simply that an erection was NOT happening! It was like trying to push a wet noodle into the vagina). Needless to say that particular regimen of dick-killing drugs was ceased right quick and in a hurry. It was bad enough to be a fucking nutter, I at least wanted to stay somewhat a man! I have been married twice, neither ended well. I was in total fault with the first marriage as I was coming in to my full psychotic break episode 1 time. Soon after I was hospitalized for a lengthy "break" from society. Then an even lengthier stay after that, then another..... I will give more insight into my past in later posts. For now, I will discuss...well, now. I have since moved from the Great State (Texas), to a rather beautiful region in Central, lower Upstate, NY. Confused? Not surprised, but that is how the area is described. It is also called the Mohawk Valley after the branch of the Iroquois Nation that the settlers decided to drive out, suppress and general be a real dick towards. I live at the beginning of the Southern Adirondack Trail. All in all, a very nice area...if you do not mind the human idiots that dwell here. (More on that subject later also). It is really a beautiful area with four actual seasons as opposed to the two seasons in Texas-Hot and FUCKING HOT!!!! Now for the meat of this post-the symptoms! I have been going through a tad bit of a rough spot as of late. I am finding it difficult to keep my anger in check. Ok, not so much "anger" as unholy nuclear hellfire hurricane RAGE as can only be found in those not solidified in reality. (This is where I begin to piss and moan) I have in my life some people who attempt to micro-manage my life and tell me just what I should and should not be doing....with every little fucking thing. Mind you, these people have NO idea as to what a mental illness truly is other than retardation. (No, not because they are retarded, though I often wonder...). However, these people have the gall to tell ME about being fucking crazy! I hear things such as, and these are quotes: You don't need those meds, God can cure you! (Funny, you sure as hell took a LOT of cancer drugs to get into remission, I guess God took that time to vacation...), You should get out more, stop being so introverted. You can get cured if you want (because mental illness is simply an attitude problem), Why do you think you are that way, who told you that you had that illness, you seem fine to me. I suppose all of those doctors were in agreement on my diagnoses to simply try to piss me off.... Anyway, you get the idea. People who are not "of the same mind" as myself, really should just shut the fuck up unless they are trained professionals or are asking questions in order to learn something about me. This is exactly why I do not often tell people about me having this disorder. I do not like being this way. It has cost me much in my life, chiefly a wife whom I loved and three children, who I will always love. Sure, the manic phases are great fun, unless you think that spending every cent you have is unpleasant! It is a good feeling, those "highs". The lows do suck, a great deal in fact, and death is often on the mind. Not suicide, just death. You know, the whole "I don't want to die, but I ain't keen on living either" stuff. Not that I have refrained from the attempt..a time or three. The times that I was low enough were not little cries for help. No, I did it right, as they say. I was shuttled into the hospital the first time with no pulse and they were unable to get any reading at all for my blood pressure. Yup, I arrived D.O.A. and left all upright-like and alive. I was legally deceased for over three minutes. Whatever, big whoop. Do I regret not dying? Well, I don't really know. I don't give it much thought. I did try it a few more times, all with mixed results. I will not describe what occurred as it is not relevant to this jumbled rambling. The last time, my dog stopped me. really, he knocked a very impressive amount of hard-core narcotics out of my hand as I was attempting to pop them into my mouth. He gave me one of "those" looks. So, we sat up all night in the company of each other. We have not been apart for more than 12 hours since that night and that length of time only once. He goes everywhere I go and I would have it no other way. Well, this crap has gone on long enough and I have accomplished nothing other than to cement that I have ferrets in my head. This is, I guess, the beginning of a description of my symptoms and how ineffectively I deal with them.

Until next time......