So I've been gone for the past 4 months. Im sorry about that. Apart from tackling a very active bipolar brain, I also suffer from scoliosis. I went for surgery, to correct a 50 degree curve in my spine. What was life like before my surgery? Hard. To be in constant pain just because your not sitting correctly on a chair or a sofa, or to stand weird to suit the nature of your curve to avoid pain. What was my current status shortly after I found out about having surgery? Agitated depression. I couldnt hold the thought of being cut open down half the length of my back and singing "I am titanium" for the rest of my life. At this point, I was scared for my recovery, physically and mentally. I had never experienced intense racing thoughts for as long as 2 months. I was prepping myself for July to undergo surgery. For the first time I went to an appointment with my mum to see my psychiatrist and it was then we informed her and my care co-ordinator about the surgery I was about to have. 

Dear Friend,

I remember years ago, someone told me I should take caution when it comes to life, I did. And so can you. To hear about how much you have suffered, all this time really hurt me and now things make sense. I'm here to help you and guide you. Don't be afraid. Something like Depression is a tough thing to handle, especially by yourself and I thank God you can through this hurdle with support from your family, because I never had the chance of family support myself. iRecoverBipolar is my support. This is my self-therapy, my safe haven, my addiction, my bipolar world, and I want to let you in and share it with you. I promise to be there for you whenever you need me or any of our other friends in our place of education, I'll do my best to answer your questions to the best of my ability and experience and let you know that you're not alone. 

Take charge of your life, think happiness, and always speak what's on your mind. Never bottle things up, I learned that the hard way. I want you to visit this site because through my experiences, it may give you something more clear to focus on, to understand what's in your mind, the way your brain thinks and why it appears so. Don't worry, you won't figure everything out overnight, it took me three years. Just be patient, and things will begin to shape up.

I love you, I'm here to support you all the way so keep holding on :)

So I'm sitting in the 4 walls of the theory room in college. Silence. Peaceful. A bit too peaceful. The bipolar wave has attacked me, and I'm drowning in a sea of depression. So, people tend to ask: "Are you okay?" Well...

Today is a bad day. Really bad. DOnt get me wrong I do have bad days some days, but there's something about today. Life hurts. Despite being one of those fast running bipolar people, I have done and achieved something rather specatular, I survived and kept of going. And I will keep on going, there really isnt any time to stop. Although the pressure of fast thoughts isnt trying to penetrate my skull in a bid for freedom, the visuals and slowness of my lobes are visually evident on my face. You can't see the tears, but they are there, on standby.

I will say this in the best simplified way possible: Living + mental illness =out of control. I felt, unable to control my moods. It was alien to me that I should at least try to recover my mood. Trying to do that is like trying to shake hands with a lion. The time I spent within the four walls of my bedroom surrounded around me the terror I felt–I used and still use alcohol to medicate these feelings. I say 'still use' because the last time I touched alcohol was last night, at a party. The flashbacks I experienced as a result are haunting me.

The unheard stories about suicide attempts of a friend who lives with depression, woke me up to the reality that bipolar disorder would not go away. I would never heard of these stories if it weren't for her being absolutely smashed out of head just to feel something. Bipolar will always be part of me, and at this time in my life, still young as I am writing these words, I want to be free. Free from the illness. Alcohol allowed me to adopt another identity: I am an addict. And that seemed better than being bipolar.

After much deliberation over the past 3 days, today’s post will be one of the best posts I’ve written to date, and the reason is simple. The soon-to-be bestselling book Truth Be Told by Lucinda Bassett, has been told.

It’s amazing how a mother can just sit down, and share a story, a story you hardly ever hear from anyone because of how personal the subject is. In her book she describes the pain, heartbreak and desperation she felt to help the man she loves unconditionally, and she explains how so much effort into making something right, can hurt.

Lucinda’s story explains how the professionals within the medical community had tried so desperately to provide David the diagnosis he needed to get through his turmoil, but even they could not stop what had turned out to be inevitable. The death of her husband David didn’t just change her life, it changed the lives of her children who coped with their father’s death in a much different way as she says herself: “My kids have decided to ignore it or disown it, all in an attempt to forget it. Right.” This left her no one to share the grieving process with. Also Lucinda says: “When I called my daughter to remind her what day it was, she broke into tears, got angry with me, and said, “Don’t ever bring it up again.”  As you can see, suicide is heavy subject to discuss, but at some point it has to be discussed.

It has been discussed in the book how Lucinda began to accept recent events, and the first thing she did in order to move on with life was to leave the grief behind, and find a way back to life she left, and offer her services to help others. “I believe, as demonstrated to me universally and by divine intervention, I am supposed to share what I have learned with others.”

And because of this incredible woman’s story to the world, “Truth Be Told: A Memoir of Success, Suicide and Survival” will be a best seller and will touch and open our hearts to those who have been exposed to despair and pain. Watch out, this book will take international hearts by storm.

The emotional pressure, temptation to spend too much, drink too much, other peoples’ expectations of us (or our distorted perceptions of them) is upon us- the list of triggers and stressors just go on and on.  Welcome to the Christmas Holdiays. One of the worst times for a bipolar person to be dealing with right now.

This is the holiday us bipolars dread the most and thats because the mood shifts challenge the struggle to stay sane. It’s holiday time, and this is my guide on how you can stay focused and not end up being sectioned by New Years Eve.

The hardest part of depression is finding a way to tell people. It is like you are hiding a terrible secret. I think I felt ashamed of myself for getting depressed, like somehow I had failed. That’s what depression does to you: it makes you feel like a terrible failure and worthless. There are still those quite close to me who don’t know or i've told but werent willing to listen that I’ve suffered from crippling depression. I remember that people didn’t know what to say in response, because I am usually the most hyped person in college with a long stretch of friends and no social problems. What happens when mania starts slipping from my grasp? The complete opposite. Welcome to Depression.

Can you believe the nonsense that mixed states in bipolar bring upon you? After 8 weeks of getting a decent job that pays pretty well for a person who doesn’t have to budget on anything, it slipped through my fingers. This evening I got a call:

Employer: Hello, I was just wondering if you were coming into work tomorrow?

Me: Erm, no (Im trying to take control of my life, i have no time for you)

Employer: Because you missed work last week, and i am very disappointed that you didnt even bother to call in.

Me: (Look, stuff you and your poxy job!) Okay then…And your point is?

Employer: You should have called.

Me: Well my contract is ending next Saturday, so I’ll come in when I feel like it.

*Hung up the phone*

Yeah, I most certainly got fired after that, I missed 3 days of work in a row. I got an email later saying that the keys need to be returned and the uniform also.

Ah, here we are. It’s now time for me to introduce the special circle of hell reserved for the manic depressive: the Mixed Episode. Somewhere, it’s become all serious!

A mixed episode (also known as dysphoric mania or, for depression with hypomania, agitated depression) bears a little explanation. It is literally a mix of manic and depressive symptoms at the same time. It’s generally considered as the most dangerous of mood states, being that if you want to kill yourself, you have all the energy and frantic invention necessary at your disposal with which realise that particular dream.

However, few people with bipolar disorder experience these episodes. The reason? It is strictly defined as mania and depression for a week; leaving out hypomania, thus nobody with bipolar II or cyclothymia has ever had a mixed episode. Take it from me, that the DSM-IV needs updating. But lucky me, eh, bipolar I, so, by the DSM-IV rules, anything goes.

Today I have found myself sitting on my bed with my laptop keeping my legs warm and I thought- What better day to sit down and push out a blog out about rest.

I think I started realizing (from the push of others' opinions) there was something not right about me (I mean seriously not right) when I was aged 15/16/17... - Yes, 3 years in denial was strongly strife- Immediately after this discovery, only this year, I let it swallow me whole.
When you suffer all time highs (what you guys call mania) and you DON'T acknowledge it, a lot of very strange things happen to you.

Addiction becomes a pretty little friend, along with promiscuity, and zero ability to sleep.. but you won't realize ANY of this at the time, convincing yourself it's a normal thing...Later you will feel like poop, and most likely hate yourself for the plunge you just took, if you remember it. I call it a plunge because when it all crashes into you and explodes.. everything plunges in one direction, down. At least that's how it felt for me. Now I have a whole new appreciation for the  expression "What goes up, must come down" It felt like I was trying to piece together the events of someone else's life, because there was no way in hell any of that could have really been me. And boy, did I refuse to believe so.