Filed under: Mental Health, Real Life | Tags: bipolar disorder, depression, manic depression, Mental Health, mental illness, seasonal affective disorder, winter
Of all my family members, I am the only one to be born in winter. Winter suits my personality, which is exactly the problem. It was so cold this morning that I swear I could taste snow in my mouth. It was the type of cold that freezes your ears and waters your eyes; the type of chill that numbs your face and rips your lips. I don’t blame the sun for hiding. I would too. I am, actually. This is not a day for sunshine.
Winter is wild and unpredictable in Ohio. It spits sleet and howls at the windows. I can understand why the ancients thought a howling wind is an omen of death. It sounds like the sky itself is screaming. I can picture an angry Norse giantess or a mourning Demeter tearing the sky like a mourner ripping her clothes. But this is Ohio, and Winter is as bipolar as I am. I am as likely to see the sun as I am a snowstorm. I’ve said before that Ohio’s weather needs lithium and I stand by that statement. However, no amount of psychotherapy will change the soul of Winter. She is what she is.
But a windy bitter day does not completely capture the darkness of depression. Depression is not necessarily cold. Sometimes it’s like a warm dark sludge, like quicksand. You feel it grab your feet and before you realize what is happening you are up to your neck in choking mud. Sometimes, though, it’s like a black wave that sweeps you off your feet. A rip tide carries you out to sea and there is no Coast Guard for the depressed. And sometimes, it’s like a wet gray blanket that covers everything around you. It’s so heavy that you can’t push it off yourself and eventually you stop trying, and let it smother you.
So I’ll say this much for Winter: she is not passive or still. A storm is sometimes better than the calm. At least there’s activity; at least you can feel the cold. If you’re becalmed long enough the entire world becomes a silhouette. Every year, this is what my world becomes. Medication delays it, keeps things clearer longer. But it still happens. It will always happen. Winter and I are Siamese twins. We entered the world together and I strongly suspect that we will leave it the same way, no matter what shape that ending takes.
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: bipolar disorder, Mental Health, mental illness, obsessive-compulsive disorder, tourette's, trichotillomania
First, the good news: I’m done with the semester. Second piece of good news: My eyes aren’t as dry anymore.
Now the bad news: I have a 2.8 GPA. Second piece of bad news: My psychiatrist thinks I have Tourette’s Syndrome.
Yes, that’s right. According to my psychiatrist, my facial and vocal tics aren’t due to my medication. I have a mild form of Tourette’s that only rears its ugly head when I am stressed. Since entering college, I’m stressed most of the time. Hence the sudden appearance of twitchy symptoms. Now, before you get excited let me clarify: I am not like Tourette’s Guy. When I say vocal tics, I mean change in tone or pitch. Every now and then I’ll make a sound, kind of like a hiccup, only I don’t have hiccups. I don’t scream obscenities. Thanks to my OCD, I do get the urge to do this. Thanks to my medication and some old-fashioned willpower, I don’t act on the urge. Anyway, I now have to go see a neurologist. I don’t want to see a neurologist and I will flip a shit if they put me in MRI tube thingy. However, a neurologist might be able to give me suggestions for dealing with this. It takes months to get an appointment with one, so even with my psychiatrist pulling strings for me I probably won’t get to see one until May.
So. Let’s take stock. I have Bipolar Disorder II, rapid cycling; Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder with Trichotillomania, and mild Tourette’s Syndrome. I take Trileptal, Wellbutrin and Luvox. Ladies and gentlemen, I am beginning to understand why I am still single.
