Diagnosis

I don’t remember much of my own childhood.

What I do remember is how difficult it was to live with my mother.

She has Bipolar I with psychotic symptoms. She has never stuck to her meds, and has never been in therapy.

She was mostly emotionally and verbally abusive. Sometimes physically.

A few years ago, when a therapist referred me to a psychiatrist to be evaluated for Bipolar Disorder, I never made an appointment.

I was terrified of being diagnosed, even though I felt like it was probably true.

I didn’t want to be like my mother.

For the same reason I ignored my problems, I finally made an appointment with a psychiatrist to begin treatment.

I didn’t want to be like my mother.

I have been on meds and seeing a therapist for about two months. I feel a lot more stable now, but have a lot of work to do.

Water

I have a strong aversion to water on my skin. I wrote a bit about this on my first post on this site, Shower.

I especially do not like getting my face wet. As far back as I can remember, I have never liked my face getting wet, or air blowing directly on my face.

One of my many diagnoses is OCD. My therapist suspects that many of my obsessive-compulsive tendencies are a result of my chaotic childhood.

My mother has Bipolar I, but does not stay on her meds, and has never had a therapist. Growing up with her was difficult, to say the least. She was emotionally abusive, and sometimes physically abusive.

I do not know why I don’t like having wet skin or water on my face. I can wash my hands without too much of a problem, as long as I immediately dry them thoroughly with a clean cloth.

My therapist suggested that I slowly start exposing myself to water on my face. I am going to start with with wetting my hand and lightly touching my face, while being mindful of the thoughts that come up, sensations on my skin, and my emotions.

Hopefully this exposure therapy will help resolve some of my aversion to water and wetness.

Lithium

I had an appointment with my psychiatrist today.

He kept my Seroquel at the same dosage, increased my Lamictal a bit, and added Lithium to the cocktail.

He wanted me to start this tomorrow, but I couldn’t get an appointment with my PCP for the bloodwork until Thursday, three days from now.

I have pretty decent insurance, but all of these copays are really adding up. Better than going untreated, but damn, Bipolar Disorder is expensive to treat.

Seroquel

Living with the side effects of bipolar medications is better than living with untreated bipolar disorder. But that doesn’t mean that it’s all that great either.

I take Lamictal in the morning for depression, and I don’t notice any side effects from that.

I take Seroquel at bedtime, and it makes me sleep forever. And then when I finally wake up, I am still exhausted.

Sometimes I miss the energy from manic episodes. I feel like I sleep so often now that I have no time to get anything done around the house.

A few days ago I slept until 4:00 in the afternoon, and wanted to go back to sleep. Is it the Seroquel or depression? It’s hard to tell sometimes.

It’s also difficult to feel my own feelings now. They went from extremes into what feels like a flatline, no ups or downs. Not sure if this is just what a normal range of emotions feels like when you are used to the highest highs and lowest lows.

Or maybe I really don’t feel anything while taking my meds. But I keep taking them, because my own illness terrifies me.

Workflow

I am several different people at work and in life.

I don’t have dissociative identity disorder (neé multiple personality disorder). But I do suffer from bipolar disorder, which affects my personality greatly.

When I am manic, I feel like I am moving in super speed. My confidence soars. I feel like I am the very best at everything I do. I work every possible hour.

These are delusions of grandeur. But some of it is real. I do my work better and more quickly than normal. And my heightened confidence allows me to try things new ways.

But madness also leads me to arrogance. I become a complete asshole at work. And sometimes miss work because I feel the need to be the life of every party once I clock out

When I am depressed, it is difficult to even get out of bed, and I work like a zombie (if zombies worked instead of eating brains). Supervisors wonder what happened to the star employee.

Depression, and the crippling anxiety that comes out of the shadows when I am down, leaves me wondering if I am a fraud. Am I even good at my job at all? Can I even make it through this shift?

I feel there is some middle ground, when I feel like I am good at my job and kind of like it. But I also feel that this is rare.

Shower

I spend so much time depressed that I don’t always notice the depression has taken hold.

Didn’t shower for a couple of months. Was I depressed the entire time, or had I simply grown accustomed to the lack of personal hygiene that depression affords?

I showered today. I hate the way the water feels on my skin. It’s too wet. Too hot. Too cold. I just want to be dry and clothed.

I certainly felt better after showering. Is the dark, cold, isolating depression over? Probably not.

Sometimes I can’t tell if there is anything between the soaring highs of mania and the standstill lows of depression, but a void chasm of nothingness.

Do I have a “normal self” anymore, or am I just acting out the character I think everyone remembers from before the madness began to cycle in with the depression. Was there a time before that? I certainly cannot remember.
And now, what is me, and what is the medicine? A line cannot be drawn. The pills that keep the madness mild and the depression dull, they don’t make me myself again, whoever that may have been. I am a shell of who I thought I was.

I now live in fear of losing all that isn’t already lost.