LIVING WITH BI-POLAR

I frequently receive emails from people who read my blog telling me their stories and how much solace they get from what I write. I have recently had a couple that address the subject of bipolar disorder.

Most of the time I completely forget that I have bipolar disorder. I am quite certain I forget this  because it suits me to.

I stopped taking medication for bipolar disorder about 10 years ago if not a little longer. One of the things that I hated about the medication was how flat it made me feel.

Most importantly having done the work I needed to do with regard to my life of abuse my mood swings became much less extreme. I say my life of abuse because to say that I was abused only as a child is not at all true. I consider my time spent in psych wards as abuse. Yes, the stories you hear about abusive staff are certainly true.  Back in the 80s I was called to give evidence about one of the hospitals I was in and the questioning psychiatrist asked me why I said nothing at the time. I looked at him squarely in the eye and I said to him: I was locked up in a mental hospital. I was being abused by the staff in that hospital. Why do you think I did not complain? Honestly what a stupid question to have asked me!

I still have the mood swings. It is just that they are not very noticeable now. However in times of stress they do become much more volatile. Last year was a good example of this. With all the stress of the house remodelling and our wedding I started to become really quite hyper and then the Jimmy Savile affair hit the news and I crashed but I kept this all to myself and I did not go to my GP. My illness had really taken over at this point and I had become paranoid. I was frightened that if I said anything to her that I would be locked up again. In the end I had no choice but call a locum in the middle of the night. I knew of course that this would be reported to my GP although I was not conscious of the fact at that particular time. I realise now that I called the locum knowing full well that he would have to tell my GP and that was my way of letting her know that I was in trouble. As a result of this we had a very good conversation and she made me a solemn promise that she would never ever do anything without my consent and she also did not think that I needed such treatment anyway. She made me feel very much better by letting me know that I was not the only person so badly affected by the Jimmy Savile affair and she had also told me several times previously that the house alterations and our wedding were very stressful occasions for people in general not just to me but given my added complications she is surprised I handled it all so well.

I guess the whole point of this is to remind myself of how far I really have come but also to remind myself that it has not gone away completely and it is never likely to. Everything that I write about myself and my disease and how I have coped is purely personal and if it helps other people I am very glad. I have no intention of getting involved in the argument of whether this is a purely biological disease. I personally do not think it is or at least if it is, it does not mean that therapy cannot help it. I can only speak from my own experience which has seen a huge lessening of the bipolar effects as I came to terms with myself and my past.

Who knows what the future may hold.  Considering just how stressful last year was, the bipolar affective disorder could have been very much stronger in reaction to all that stress. The fact that it was not I believe is down to be years of work I put in upon myself. However the way that it still presented itself and took hold of me is still frightening particularly the paranoia that I felt which kept me from seeking help or at least telling somebody.

I know that I am quite hard upon myself and yet when I write a post like this I amaze myself. I am truly astonished at the journey I have taken and if the feelings were not so clear I would find it hard to believe that the man writing this is the same man who went through all this. If I have a regret about my writing it's that I do not have talent enough to convey the sheer horror of it all so that people can really see what I used to be like compared to what I am like now. I so want to convey the message that healing is possible that no matter how bad the situation is it really can be bettered. Yes, there are a lot of battles to be fought along the way not least of which will be against loved ones and medicos who will wrongly feel that they know best. At least that was so in my case. I was very lucky that I always had John on my side and after his first experiences with the medicos in relation to my treatment he very quickly learned what I was up against and he supported me in searching out alternate avenues for my recovery.

These alternate avenues did involve a lot of new-age hokey pokey and treatments but I soon saw through those as well.

In the end the two things that really set me on the road to real recovery were this; reading books by a woman called Dorothy Rowe and finding a therapist who was a survivor of abuse himself and therefore knew what I was going through. He also never once told me there was something wrong with me and he never once diagnosed me. He never once let me down either. Even when I went into a full-blown mania as was likely to happen when I started to deal with the pain of sexual abuse. He did not leave my side.  He kept his word.

Some of you will have read my comments regarding my memories and how I can't look back over my life and see anything other than blackness and pain. Perhaps the above goes some way to explaining what I mean.

The last seven years have truly been the best of my life. They have not been without their difficulties and as I have already described last year was challenging to say the least but the good of the last seven years far outweighs the bad. For the first time in my life I am able to look back over a period longer than a few weeks and say that it was good.

ALL A JUMBLE

I saw a photograph of a person who was easily recognisable in an article about success they have had in their chosen field.  I was suddenly overwhelmed by a feeling that I found very difficult to put into words or at least into one word.

When I look at my life I often feel that I have contributed nothing. This bothers me.

Don’t misunderstand me.  On a very personal level I have been a huge success in overcoming against all odds.  When you know that I used to self harm, that I used to starve myself and binge and vomit and take laxatives, that I spent long periods of time indoors too afraid to go out, that even when I was able to go out was very difficult to do so because I would have to check everything over and over and over until in the end I didn’t bother going out, or if I did I would only have to return to make sure that I had indeed turned off the gas and locked the doors and unplugged this that or the other. I did not used to stick up for myself, I did not value myself and I have far too many people in my life that just increased my sense of not being good enough.  Okay so this sentence grew too long but you get the idea what I’m trying to say.  I do not do any of this stuff any more.  I even deal very well with my physical disabilities now.

This is all that I have had time for in my life; recovering from the first 16 years of it.  This seems to me to be such a waste and I wonder what I could have become had I not had all these obstacles to overcome.  I know of other people who have had far worse starts than I did who have still become successful and productive adults.

This does not mean that I do not feel very fortunate to have the life that I have.  It amazes me on a daily basis.  I would never have believed that the good life I have today would have been possible.  In fact I did not believe it was possible.  The way my life has turned out has been a total surprise to me.  I never ever forget where I came from and on those days that I am tempted to feel sorry for myself I remember how bad things used to be.

Yet I still feel as though I did not blossom.  I am not sure if this lack I feel is purely an ego driven thing in that I would want other people to see me as a success. For example, John is a world-renowned expert in his field and recognised as such.  Is this what makes me feel like something is missing?  I am not recognised as an expert in anything because I am not!

Or is it me who holds the attitude that I cannot be a success unless I have a job or career or talent that shows that I am?  I guess I do think that the success I have had personally in gaining sanity is not enough.  I think that many other people have done the same and also become a success in a given field.  I have been told that whilst other people have indeed done this most of them did not have all of the obstacles that I had. I remember being shown a list of seven things that a child required in order to become a stable adult.  I scored one.  Is it really that simple?

There is also this point; perhaps I feel resentful that my energy was all used up in the fight for sanity and I had no time or strength for anything else. Imagine if I had and I was pulling in a salary similar to John’s.  If that were so I might feel that I gave as much as I took.

Although I know that I am very fortunate it is not easy to just accept being on the receiving end all of the time.  This sounds jolly ungrateful but those who read me often enough know that ingratitude is not one of my problems.

It is also about freedom.  Knowing that the quality of my life is dependent upon another is both humbling and frightening.  By humbling I do not mean humiliating. I mean that my situation prevents me from looking down upon those who are not as fortunate as me and always remembering that fact. Frightening because my lifestyle very much depends upon somebody else.

This post seems like it is a bit of a mess and whilst it has brought vague feelings together into a more solidified group, I am not aware of any conclusion.

Perhaps this is just one of those things that I have to accept; that my life will always be about receiving especially as my physical needs grow.  I have to say that if my needs grow to such an extent that I need to be in a care home then that will be when I check out.  I have been in such totally dependent and vulnerable situations before and I can assure you that those situations were Hell-like and I will never allow that to happen again.  I was persuaded at the end of 1994 to go into a private clinic.  I was told that my experiences in the late 70s in public funded care would not be repeated in a private clinic.  That was a lie.  My experiences were precisely the same; the general ignorance about what I needed and a blind eye turned toward abusive staff and out of control clients.  I have since found out that they even tried to stop John’s daily visits.  No, I will never let this happen again.

Well I wasn’t at all sure about what I would write about when I started and as I have already said I don’t feel like I have come to any conclusions.  However, I feel a reinforced gratitude for the life that I have.  I think remembering what it was like to be “in care” has brought me back to today and how grateful I am that my life today is very very different.  Perhaps this other lack of success that I feel is just an illusion and maybe, outward success is not what it is about. 

Perhaps everything I have achieved on a personal level IS what it is about?  Maybe. I still think I could have had more.  Like a career. Or a proper outlet for my talents, ones that would have shown one way or the other if I was talented or just proficient. I’ll never know.

One of my big disappointments happen as a result of moving out here.  When I lived in London I was a sought after medium with both private clients and public speaking engagements coming out of my ears.  However, in the area in which I now live I am not liked.  As a result of this my work ground to a halt.  I know that it has nothing to do with the quality of my evidence as that is sound and much sounder than most I see.  I have had more than one booking secretary tell me to my face that I was not considered acceptable because the example I give of somebody who’s life was pulled out of the gutter by the principles I was imparting, was not what people wanted to hear.  One even suggested it was offensive.  I feel as though all of the work I did on developing and of overcoming my fear of other people and public speaking was all a waste.  Yes, because of my physical problems, my work would have been restricted but it would not have been demolished as it now has been.

Now that I have got to this point in my writing I realise that this is the one area that I am deeply upset about.  It makes me wonder what the point of it all was.  Why would I go through so much in order to better use my gift and impart my knowledge and experience to only have the rug pulled out from under my feet?  I have not used my gift for a long time.  I have not even been to listen to anybody else.  All seems to me like it amounts to nothing.  What is the point of being very good evidentially if I have no outlet for it? The only thing I have done simply is describe the pick of litter remotely for a friend! That was not asked for it just came unbidden but it is hardly… Well I’m not sure but it doesn’t seem like a big deal.

Right, I now think I am rambling so I am going to sign off today.  (The whole time I have been writing this my program keeps telling me that it is receiving poor voice yet it has written everything I have spoken almost 100% perfectly! Normally, I am having to stop and correct and it does not go on about receiving poor voice!)

DIE FOR FREE

I settled on a design for my next pair. It took a few frogs before I settled on this and kept it in my head. It turned out to be a simple pattern, different from what I started with, but more in keeping with the image I had of what I wanted. The needle is a Knit Pro (Picks) 2.25mm. The yarn is by Lana Grossa and it is part of the Meilenweit (Uni) range.
These two pictures are my drugs, two months worth. I get all of these for free. they alleviate suffering and keep me alive or ratehr lessen the risk of sudden death. If I have understood correctly, the majority of Americans would rather see me suffer and die than provide medical care for all.
I was up at 5.30am today. I am off to a dog show tomorrow morning and need to be up at 2 am so I always get up early the day before to help me be tired by the 7am bed time.

There is a possibility that we won't be going to the show. There are weather warnings out for today of high winds. It is already very windy. Tomorrow is supposed to be settled and cold. We will wait and see.

I have another show on Thursday deep in the wilds of Wales and then the 40th Anniversary show of The Lhasa Apso Club (the first UK club). Then I have a couple of weeks off till the last show of this month.I have one more in November. There is another November show and two more in December but I am probably going to stay at home.

The dogs amuse me. They each have their own cage. They are kept in them when I ma out or in bed or any time I need them to be safe and out of the way. Mostly, they do as they please. When I came up here to the pc, I was closing gates so that none could get at my knitting. I noticed all was quiet and took a peak and there each dog was, in their own cage, sleeping with their heads hanging out. to them, their cage is their den. At dinner time, they all go rushing into their beds. Any time I say 'bed' they do the same. It is quite a thing to see. Seven dogs each going to the right bed. It's like watching a Red Arrow display team.

I am reading the new Dan Brown novel, The Lost Symbol. We have it in hardback because John had to read it for work. I am enjoying the book. I think he knows hoe to write a thriller.

I used to read a couple of books a week. Now, no matter how much I am enjoying the book, I don't read more than a few pages each night before I fall asleep. I go to be bed early to give me at least an hour's reading time but it doesn't work. I fall asleep!

Speaking, (okay writing) of sleep, I am sleeping better recently. Waking up less, getting up less often and not had any spasms since last weekend. That weekend was rough. Very little sleep and no matter what I did, I awoke all over again with my rib cage in spasm. My usual trick of propping myself up on the horseshoe shaped pillow didn't help.

It has been a much better week with regard to fatigue. I have changed my swimming routine. I know get to the pool for the last half hour of the Early Bird session which finishes at 9am. This gives me enough time to do half the amount of laps I am used to. I have done it 4 times this week. I feel satisfied with this. I have at last stopped fighting and accepted that my days of 1mile a day, 7 days a week have gone. I don't know why other than my illness is progressive and I guess this is what that means. I think if it was just a blip, I'd have been able to go back to that ages ago. instead I have struggled with this issue for a year. no matter how much I forced myself, went to bed earlier, made other adjustments, I just could not get back to that amount of swimming. As a result I put on 7lbs in weight. Not from lack of swimming but because I made myself weak and miserable and exhausted and thus how I ate took a turn for the worse. I am back on track now.

SIMONE AND DONALD SWAN

These are the pairs I am working on now. The top one is 4ply / Fingering 75% wool 25% Nylon. I have devised a travelling type rib for these. It goes form 2 x2 to 4x4 to 2x2 again and so on. The needle is a Hiya Hiya 1.75mm. 92 sts total. Unfortunately, I could not get the yarn to do something more interesting with it's colours. The gauge is 11spi x 14.5 rpi.

The bottom one is the Schafer Anne yarn which is being knitted on a 1.5 mm Hiya Hiya as it is really thin at 560 yds to 100gms or something like that. It is a wool mohair nylon mix. This is an ordinary 2 x2 garter rib. 100sts total. As with the above, the colour distribution isn't thrilling but it is nice and feels good too. The gauge is 12spi by 16spi.

I altered the recipe for both of these socks. When looking at my foot, I realised that my instep started to rise abotu half way along my foot, yet I wasn't increasing for it till much later. On these socks I started to increase at half the length of the foot before heel. My total foot is 10" so I knit a foot 9" before I turn heel. I start to increase for instep at 4.5". I increase both side of sole by 1st every 6th row.

The paper clips I stick in every 10 rounds. This is how I keep count and do not lose my count as I do when using a round counter as I forget to turn the bloody thing.

Today has been a good day. I put more stuff up on EBAY. I am quite getting into the swing of it now. I am just about managing to be ruthless and only keeping the colours John or I will wear, more or less.

I did my normal swim. As I did yesterday. I had Wednesday off and will have tomorrow off. I think if I stick to this, 3 on, 1 off, 2 on, 1 off and make at least two of those days 'rest' days, meaning staying out indoors, I think i have a routine that satisfies my needs for my body and for my mind.

Being Friday, I'll pick John up, get Daniel in the car, and go and take him for a spin around Tesco's. I quite like that.

It has been a sunny day although it took till the afternoon before I felt warm. I stopped arguing with myself and put the heating on. I argue with myself about that the same a is do about taking the drugs. Shall I? Shan't I? Round and round. I feel guilty for both. Heating in June? Do I really need pain killers? I spent some time around people who were very anti mood altering substances to the point one twat even had an op without meds! This is a long story and I have no time to go into now nor the inclination really, but I have hang overs from that period of my life and it has stuck with me enough so that I feel guilt for medicating myself. The only way I have noticed it change my mood is that I become less crabby once I stop hurting!

SIMONE and DONALD SWAN - I see them most mornings on the way to the pool. I noticed a while ago that they were nesting. Now they have 5 cygnets. Very cute.