A Tale of Two Minds

A collection of writings about my struggle with bipolar disorder.

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A Few Metaphors to Better Understand Depression | Psych Central

Depression is a difficult illness to understand. It's hard to understand for the people suffering from it, but it's downright impossible to know everything that a person who deals with depression on a daily basis goes through if you have never experienced it personally. For this reason, I have come up with a few real-life examples to help those who may not fully understand what depression is or how it functions. Of course, this will be the simplistic version. Depression is an extremely complex disease. As a person with depression myself, I have learned that it is very difficult to understand even for those who have the best intentions and the most empathy, love and support. If a person has not had personal experience, it is almost impossible to know what depression feels like. I am writing these examples with the knowledge that some of these may strike a chord with people. They are meant to. Depression is a devastating disease, just like many of these very real examples can be

MY FIRST PUBLISHED ARTICLE ON PSYCHCENTRAL!! #psychcentral #mentalhealthlibrary #depression #metaphors #mentalhealthawareness #advocacy

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The Flawed Mental Healthcare Industry

I’ve spent the bulk of my life living with depression and anxiety. This means that I’ve spent most of my life in and out of doctor’s offices, with different counselor’s, telling my history to different professionals, and seeking out different treatment methods for myself. Sometimes, and unfortunately quite often, things can go awry when you are trying to get quality treatment for yourself.

I started my journey with depression and anxiety treatment when I was just 14 years old. My first experience with medication was when a primary care physician prescribed an antidepressant to me. It wasn’t the best experience, as psychiatry wasn’t her specialty and things weren’t fully explained to me. I ended up quitting the medication cold turkey and things ended up being worse for me after that for a few months. This experience didn’t come close to being my worst with the mental health industry, however.

Sadly, when you are someone with a mental illness, finding the right medication can be tumultuous and quite daunting to say the least. With psychiatric medications, finding the right medication is a trial and error process, since there is no way to know exactly which medicine will work for each person and there are so many to choose from. 

It can also be difficult to find the right fit in a counselor. In my 12 year journey since starting counseling I have had around ten different counselors. These counselors have different treatment styles and they all need to know your history. It can be exhausting to recall your history to each person you see for treatment. It can also be exhausting when someone is not the right fit for you. This is not to say that it is not worth it to seek out and find someone who IS the right fit for you and your illness.

Sometimes things can get just downright ridiculous with the mental healthcare industry. I once had a therapist I was seeing tell me she didn’t think the “stigma around mental illness” exists, because she had never experienced it in her own group of friends and peers. Another time, I had to change doctors because of a change in colleges. This doctor asked for my health records so he knew what to prescribe me and what I was currently taking. He actually REFUSED to prescribe one of my medications, and I went through one of the worst withdrawals of my life. I had suicidal thoughts, locked myself in my room for days, missed classes, missed work, and had physical symptoms, the works. Most recently, I moved home because of a terrible episode of depression that knocked me off my feet and I sought out the help of a local treatment center. I had been seeing a psychiatrist for a couple of weeks when my mother decided to Google her name online only to find out that she was not even registered as a psychiatrist, but as an OBGYN. I had been seeing an OBGYN, who was prescribing psychiatric medications because this place could not find a certified psychiatrist. This kind of thing can be dangerous. I really do believe, from my experience especially, that ONLY a specialist in the mental health field should be prescribing psychiatric medications. Yes, she was a trained doctor, but It is so hard to pinpoint what’s right for an individual as it is. You really need to be an expert in your field of choice.

After leaving this doctor, I started seeing a psychiatric nurse practitioner. My first appointment with her was amazing and I was on a high after leaving her office. I thought she was going to change my life. However, I was gravely wrong. She was only in town once a week, and she started regularly canceling appointments, so I had not seen her for over a month during a time of crisis. I was so desperate that I had to reach out to my primary care physician for help. Luckily, she was able to help with some insomnia.

When I was at my lowest point with my depression, I started looking into holistic treatment centers. I found one in another state that seemed too good to be true, but also said they took my insurance. It was a miracle. They offered treatments such as Ketamine, Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation, Equine therapy, massage, CBT, DBT, and an entire list of other things. Unfortunately, when we started the process of getting the insurance approved, this place wanted a $4,000 down payment and refused to give a rundown of the expenses. The insurance company would have paid, but there were expenses that this place refused to be up front about, added on after you arrived, and it was very sketchy in general.  If holistic treatment centers for mental illness were more regulated and easier to access financially, maybe we could all be a bit better off.

Something I think is a pressing issue in mental healthcare is insurance coverage. I have been admitted to psychiatric units a few times over the years. Insurance companies don’t always want to pay the full cost, especially if you stay more than a few days. I have had a couple of instances where I have stayed up to two weeks in a hospital for depression. When the bill came from the insurance company the first time it was a whopping $24,000. The reason that the insurance company refused was because the stay was “not medically necessary.” In other words I was not depressed enough, according to the insurance company. The insurance company, who did not see me, did not diagnose me, did not treat me or spend any time with me. Even after we appealed their decision, it was rejected and we still had to find a way to pay the bill. Luckily, a wonderful organization called “Charity Care” paid the entire bill for us.

There are so many flaws with the mental healthcare industry and just the healthcare industry as a whole. We have a long way to go to make things better for people with mental illnesses, but this doesn’t mean you should be discouraged from making every effort to advocate for yourself and your treatment. Finding the right providers and medications for you is well worth it.

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This dude really knows how to get comfy #comfypup

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OH MY GOD ITS HAPPENING. Something good is actually coming out of this hell. #advocate @themightysite (at Oswegatchie, New York)

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Depression Reflection

So I've had an unusually good week. I slept one night and woke up with energy and I started PT. It could be the drugs (prescrip) kicking in or it could be the movement or it could be the sleep cycle adjustment. Maybe it's everything. Maybe it's having a small sense of purpose from planning a garage sale and a party for Taylor G all in the same week. Maybe it's the small boost of accomplishment from getting an amateur personal article published online. The interesting thing is that you don't ever know what causes a shift in mood when you are a person who struggles with mental illness. There is no one thing. Its not like pain medicine. It's always a cocktail of things and any small gust of wind could throw off your balance and send you into a downward spiral again. I had two exceptionally good days about 2-3 weeks ago, but what followed was a hurricane of insomnia, unsought suicidal thoughts, tears, and confusion. What keeps me going and fighting off the seemingly constant suicidal ideation and existential crises is the incredible sensation of relief that comes when I wake up one day and the fog is lifted, for however long that may last.

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Aftermath - Adam Lambert (Cover) by Caiti Gearsbeck on #SoundCloud

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From Depression to Physical Therapy

When you are depressed, you are mostly consumed by the effects that it has on your mind. Afterall it is classified as a mental illness. Common symptoms can range from guilt, hopelessness, suicidal ideation, to increased or decreased sleep and appetite, concentration problems and brain fog and so much more. It’s rare that the physical symptoms of depression are discussed at length. I have experienced some typical physical problems that come with depression like headaches, weight gain, insomnia, and digestive issues. But In the past year, I  experienced something I had never considered would happen to me with my depression.

I have tried for five or six years to earn a bachelor’s degree, but my mental health has always gotten in the way, causing me to take semesters off here and there. I have spent a couple of weeks at a time in psychiatric units, a few times throughout the years to find balance, which has caused me to miss school as well. About seven to eight months back, I was feeling extremely overwhelmed with trying to maintain my mental health, maintain good grades, and pay bills, so I checked myself into a hospital for a final time. This also marked the last time I withdrew from college and still haven’t finished that degree. The feeling of loss, guilt, and shame from moving back home and giving up my dream of getting a degree and a fulfilling career alongside my peers and friends weighed me down and felt like the final straw.

It was from then on that I started my six-month journey of sitting at home doing nothing but sleeping until at least 2 PM, over eating and sitting in the same chair, in the same position, day after day binge watching shows on Netflix. I have been depressed, hopeless and even had fleeting suicidal thoughts before but nothing as soul crushing and defeating as this. I let the negativity and pain linger, take over every thought and fester inside of me until it became toxic to me and those around me. Depression is a soul sucking disease and often times it can be a mystery as to how to go about treating it. Unfortunately, sitting for six months straight had more painful effects on my body than my foggy, depressed brain had taken into account. By the end of these six months my muscles had become weak and deconditioned (lost muscle tone through lack of exercise), my lower back pain had become excruciating, I had almost no flexibility in my legs and back and my knees were so weak that it was almost impossible to squat down to pet my dog for longer than a few seconds and jump from even a couple of feet off the ground. When it finally clicked what I had done to myself I panicked. Of course, my brain was in turmoil, but I never imagined that it would result in the destruction of my body. My best option in my mind was to start a weekly regimen of physical therapy. It was unclear to me whether a doctor would approve someone like me for physical therapy. I had depression; I didn’t have a physical injury or disorder. I looked into it and asked some questions and I found out that people who are on bed rest get PT all the time and I was essentially on bed rest, even if it was unofficial. My doctor approved me for PT for my back pain and leg flexibility and I am now working twice a week with a physical therapist. I am already seeing small improvements. The effects from the movement I am getting from PT are even helping to lift my depression a small amount.

I still have negative thoughts, I still have a daily existential crisis and I still sit in my chair most of the day mainly due to the lack of motivation and energy, but I am making small improvements and that’s more than I could say even a month ago.  

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[twloha]

“Let go of the belief that they’d be better off without you.” - Ashleigh Campora, “A Response to the Suicide Note I Wrote 15 Years Ago”

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Bipolar, Negative Emotion and Guilt

When you are feeling particularly emotional, tread lightly. 

What I have noticed from myself, is that negative emotion is almost impossible to snap out of. It is harder to control, and it is extremely difficult to bounce back from after you act on it. 

I ask myself why I cannot control my emotions, and why it is so hard for me not to act out. Why is it that some days, something so small as being told ‘no’ sends me spiraling into a fit of despair? Now let me be clear. It’s not every single time something goes wrong that I react this way. Sometimes it happens out of the blue. A passerby could look at me the wrong way and the world will be ending tomorrow. But at the same time, I could endure something on an actually terrible scale with maturity. 

Guilt is another aspect that is confusing. I have heard about guilt being part of depression. Hopelessness, emptiness...guilt. But I always questioned what that meant. What did they mean by feelings of ‘guilt’? 

I was laying in bed the other night, and I identified a feeling that I understood to be my own personal form of guilt. It comes and goes, and I never understood it until now. But it is just there. i feel guilty for no reason. I can’t even explain the feeling myself. I identify it with a feeling I get when I recall a time I hurt my father as a child. - I was about 12 years old and eating lunch. He came to me and gave me a glass of milk in a scooby doo cup. I snapped at him for no reason and told him I didn’t want it. He told me I should drink it because it’s good for me. Me, being in the mood that I was, snapped at him again and said I didn’t want the milk. So he took the cup and drank it himself. To this day, I remember that moment and feel a pang of guilt. 

Is the guilt associated with the fact that I’m alive and I shouldn’t be? 

Is it the fact that I am not fulfilling my goals..or becoming who I am supposed to? 

Maybe there is no answer for why I sometimes feel guilty. I just do. Maybe there is no reason that people who are depressed feel those feelings of guilt. Maybe someone else has a better answer. 

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Bipolar and Medication Withdrawal

One of the downsides of having a mood disorder is that you will most likely need to control it with some sort of medication. There are antidepressants, antipsychotics, anti anxiety, and other drugs that are used to help alleviate the symptoms of depression, bipolar disorder and other mental illnesses.

The most important thing that I’ve learned through my years of taking psychotropic drugs, is to not forget a dose. It’s not as if you’re taking your birth control and you forget it, so you just take an extra dose the next day. Some of these medications can really mess with your brain chemistry if you forget them.

Of course, some medications have more significant withdrawal symptoms than others, so you need to be careful and research what they are so you can be prepared.

Currently, one medication that I am taking strictly because I started and I cannot get off from it, is Effexor XR. This drug is incredibly physically addicting. I used to ONLY take this medication, so the withdrawal symptoms were 100X worse. I would experience aches and pains, dizziness, nausea, and on top of that, suicidal ideation would come into the mix (badly), I would sit in bed and cry all day until I was sufficiently back onto a dose that I needed to be.

I recently took a fall at work, and I believe it’s because I missed a couple of doses of this medication. Sadly, sometimes it’s not possible to get your meds on time every month and this kind of thing happens. Whether you just don’t have the money for the copayments, or you don’t have the transportation to get to the pharmacy, or your doctor is late calling in the script. . . it can be dangerous. However, every effort really should be made to prevent these things from happening.

I’m not saying all psychotropic drugs have these terrible side effects, and of course they all affect every person differently. BUT as a final word of advice: If you’re going to take a medication, commit to it! And don’t dare be ashamed of it! We all need medication for something at some point, whether it’s for physical pain, or to help us get by mentally.

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Bipolar and Friendship

Bipolar and Friendship

When you have bipolar disorder, a lot of things are a struggle. One of the biggest struggles I have come to face, is holding onto friendships.

Over the years, I have come to learn that people come and go, and it’s not my fault. However, this illness does not make it any easier.

I have gone through many friends since my diagnosis, some who just didn’t understand, and others who couldn’t take it anymore. I don’t blame any of them.

At this point, I take it in stride. It is painful losing a close friend. Even more painful when it is because of something you just cannot control. I have had groups of people tell me that they could not deal with my ups and downs anymore, and shut me out completely. I have had BEST FRIENDS walk out of my life because of my unpredictable moods, unreliability, and inability to control my depression.

Some of the most painful friendships lost in my life were two of my best friends. They went through everything with me. Hospital stays, depression, mania, good times and bad. They supported me through everything without a complaint. But suddenly they grew tired. I couldn’t blame them either. I was tired. I was worn out. You tend to rely too much on others when your own life is chaos. That’s what I did…and it backfired.

Even harder than maintaining old friendships with a mental illness, is making new friends. Sure, you can make friends, but they may not be as understanding of the shifts in mood or the sudden constant need to isolate ones self and be alone as old friends who know you better may be.

I have been lucky to keep at least a couple of really great friends, and one in particular who has been by my side through it all. He doesn’t live close anymore, but we talk every day and he’s the closest to my heart of anyone.

Family is another subject, but I’m lucky to have a supportive one. At least when my friendships falter, I have my family to lean on.

It gets very lonely without strong friendships in your life. It also takes work to maintain them, which I think is why it gets tough when your mental health is not where it should be. If you’re lucky enough to have friends who will stick by you and your illness, and support you no matter what, keep them. They are few and far between.

[thedapperproject]

I’ve survived a lot of things, and I’ll probably survive this.

I repost this every time it comes up on my dash. Because I need this reminder several times a day. (via amandaq62)

For all those who need the reminder today.

(via twloha)

[twloha]

“Be thankful for what you are now, and keep fighting for what you want to be tomorrow.” 

(image via fit-personality)

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Mental Hospital Living

My visit to the Mental Health Unit at Strong Memorial in Rochester didn’t really do much for me, except open my eyes to the world I was living in. I chose to stay in my room and not participate in group activities. At the time I was shy and reserved, and despite the nurses’ efforts, I stayed in the room around the clock even for my meals. 

What was it like in a mental hospital? Well. You can’t have your shoes. For the first few days, you’re on suicide watch, which means you can’t wear real clothes and are forced to wear scrubs. But who likes wearing real clothes when they’re depressed anyway? Your showers are not totally private. The door is opened a crack and you’re checked on every minute or so by an aide. You can’t have sheets on your bed while you’re on suicide watch just in case you decide to hurt yourself. You also don’t have a bathroom door that closes all the way, and have to ask permission to use items such as your toothbrush, hair brush, and the shower. Of course there are no cell phones or any sort of technology, except for the shared TV in the group room.

There were positives however. It was sort of like an uninterrupted break away from life for a few days. I wasn’t allowed to leave by law, so I didn’t have the stress of being away from life’s responsibilities, (not that I had any at the time anyway - but if I had..) and there were tons of books available to read, so I wasn’t completely cut off from entertainment. I was allowed to color, which was therapeutic, and at this particular hospital, each weeknight a recreational therapist came and did activities with the patients in the hospital. This included listening to music, playing games, puzzles, and just talking. I was actually able to connect on one of my last nights there, with the rec therapist about the fact that I went to school for music therapy which is a similar degree. Having a common connection with someone made things seem normal again and was refreshing. They also brought dogs in on one of the days - one of the only things I got out of bed for willingly - for pet therapy. It was amazing to see the change in the faces of each person when the animals came into the room. 

I remember I was upset because I was not able to vote for Obama. This would have been his first election term. Of course he won. We were able to watch it on the television in the group room. 

When I was leaving the hospital after seven days, I was told that my health insurance would only pay for two of them because they decided that It was not ‘medically necessary’ that I was there. The insurance company decided this. After I was taken by the police, triaged by multiple nurses, and seen by a doctor and admitted by a psychiatrist, and later treated by another psychiatrist...the people who had never even met me decided that I was not depressed enough to have received treatment so It was not going to be paid for . This led us to a lengthy process of trying to appeal, with doctors on our side and we still could not get the insurance to pay. My mother even wrote a heartfelt letter in support. Eventually, we were given the number to a place called Charity Care that supports people who cannot pay their large hospital bills and supports based on income. The entire 10,000 dollar bill was covered! It was a miracle. It was safe to say that this trip caused me more stress than relief in the long run. 

After all was said and done, within a few months, I moved out of my apartment in Rochester and parted ways with my first love. (Not previously mentioned...but he was someone I met during my time in Rochester). While I was at home, I spent most of my time on the couch, staying up until five in the morning and sleeping until five in the afternoon. I lost a lot of weight and somehow made it to summer. 

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This needs to be said more often. Suicide is not just black or white.

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What is bipolar to me?

Bipolar To Me What’s Bipolar to me? It’s waking up in the morning and struggling to find the courage to face the day. It’s lying to everyone including yourself about why you missed the exam. You were “sick with a fever”. You know that’s not true but they can’t know the truth. It’s feeling instant relief one day after months or weeks of sleeping until 2 PM. That relief fills you with elation, energy, and the ability to go on and on about random subjects that no one but you cares about. You can spend 300 dollars in a night without a single guilty thought. Clothes.Shoes. Alcohol. Find a boy, any boy. Have sex. Do it again the next night. You are the best of the best, look at you, you’re going to change the world. Then you crash. Regret everything. Where are the tears coming from? Why can’t I summon enough energy to get out of bed for class? I need to get to work but I can’t do that without four espresso shots in my coffee and that just causes an even worse crash later. What’s the point of this life? Why am I here? All I can do is sleep and cry anyway. Change my meds. Maybe if you increase a dose of this one, I’ll feel more energetic tomorrow. Maybe if you decrease a dose of that one, I’ll be able to sleep better tonight. I’m so sick of being controlled by drugs. When is the last time I was truly myself and not a brain run by medications? But what if the meds are making me more of ‘myself’? How is any of this logical? Maybe I don’t know who I am at all. I’m so tired.

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