Utter Contempt

This post was never meant to be. Late last night, with full resolve, I put into place my deeply rooted desire to carry out my intended plan so foolishly done with exacting ineptitude only five  weeks earlier. However, quite obviously, this did not transpire.

Instead, I have been up all night, in my castle without a drawbridge, inspecting and taking inventory of how fucking miserable my life really is. I am fuming, livid if you will that, I have been unable to carry forth my intent. I sat there looking at everything and just wailed at my utter, incompetent nature to go through this and curled up in fetal position and cried all this whole time, getting even more enraged at the stupid lack of action (spinelessness, my Achilles' heel) which only proliferated my feeling of being a total failure. Despite the fact that I actually carried out my intent 5 weeks ago, I am fuming that I was unable to go through this in view of the knowledge of the abject uselessness of my desolate life. I am quite numb at the moment, steeling myself from all other emotion. I cannot understand why the fuck I cannot go through with my actions now—so easily attainable such a short time before. I take back the feeling of being numb—I am enraged beyond all comparison. All I heard was this loud voice that kept yelling over, “Go ahead, kill yourself, I dare you to have the balls to do this, you inept asshole,” over and over, covering my ears and yelling at it to shut the fuck up as if covering my ears would make such a difference. I cannot believe, nor do I have the words, to describe the contempt in which I hold myself. My utter failure at my most piercing desire only proves to myself how stupid, miserable and useless I am.©2009

Despair of Loneliness

Today is another off day for me. I actually set a goal last night. Laundry. Well, I’ve done that, along with moving all my summer clothes to my armoire. Winter, what a dreary thought. I hate the fact that we go back to standard time zone on 01 November. Crap, that’s this Sunday. Sunshine is important to me. There are periods of time when I will spend huge gaps of time on my front porch. Before I started working for my current company, I also worked from home. I can’t tell you the advantages of being able to work from home. Think about it: dress code (I am always in a tee w/sweatpants and barefoot), I can smoke (which probably explains why I am up to two packs a day), and talk about multitasking— I can pop in a load of laundry during the day, etc.. Anyway, at my old job, I did not have a company-paid business landline coming into my home. So, I snaked a patch cable under my office window that looks out onto my porch. I’d take my laptop, cordless phone and cell and just sit out there all day. It was wonderful. Whenever I had to unmute my phone during a conference call, the damn birds or a siren passing by would always give me away, but no one ever made a big deal about it. Hell, the birds were a pale intrusion compared to some assholes who worked from home and had constant barking dogs or a damn baby shrieking in the background.

I digress. I don’t even want to talk about work while I am on medical disability leave (for how long has yet to be determined). Getting back to today. It’s absolutely beautiful outside. Do I go anywhere? No. I can’t think of any place to go. I have no friends I can call up with whom I can make plans. I had one friend with whom I thought I could be upfront about my mood swings and I made the huge mistake of admitting to her during my last crisis earlier that afternoon that I was so depressed that I was feeling suicidal. BIG MISTAKE. She started crying and going on and on about how she couldn’t bear to lose me; think about all the people I’d be leaving behind who love me and care about me (I had no idea who she was talking about); how could I possibly do that to everyone. She never got it that she was my only friend). Then she told me that she wasn’t leaving me alone that day. Boy did that piss me off. As I got out of her car I told her that she could sit in my driveway all damn day, but she sure as fuck wasn’t coming into my house. Ultimately she calmed down and I finally got her to leave. (She was the one I thought had called 911 later that night). Then, not too much later she texted me and wanted to make sure that I was still OK, followed by a phone call which I did not answer. I texted her in all caps to leave me the fuck alone and not call back. Needless to say, I ended up with a bunch of texts and missed call entries that I had to delete.

I have quit going to my church (I’ve now missed three services in a row—something I’ve never done). One person had called and left a vm the other week that I just deleted. (What is nice about having an actual answering machine at home vs having your vm as part of your landline package is that you can screen your calls.) But, no one ever calls me. I’m serious. I have no friends. I had to use that one friend as part of my “safety list” upon discharge from the psych hospital to indicate that I had a support system. I actually used her and one person I knew at the church. I had to put in at least two names and phone numbers (no, they didn’t bother to call them to verify it; otherwise, I imagine one or both would have tried to contact me specifically about receiving that type of call). It’s ironic that, after three weeks now, she pinged me on my cell only twice (which I ignored) and hit my facebook account once (and I immediately blocked her). She actually hasn’t tried to call me. I hope she got the message finally. I don’t want someone around who feels they have to "fix" me.

So I am sitting on my couch once again (now listening to U2, the Stones and Jethro Tull) and there is absolutely no one I can call with whom I can talk. No one. I never understood just how much loneliness could hurt. I don’t have to worry about intentionally isolating myself. There is no one from which to isolate. And the most desolate part of all of this is that I have been like this for so long. Even looking at my past blog entries, I can see going back to April 2007 I made this entry.  So here I sit. All alone. Why bother?©2009

Unimagined Sense of Loss

I sit here, unable to sleep even though I need to get up at the crack of dawn because I am so far behind in my work. And all of sudden I am hit by such a profound sense of loss... At the end of the day, I can take stock in my life and it really adds up to one big zero. I guess I’m not getting to experience the manic phase after all. Seems as though I am sliding right into the pits. It’s actually a mixed-phase for me. I can’t sleep, yet the wholly encompassing envelope of loneliness engulfs me, while at the same time of fighting off all these racing thoughts that never amount to anything. It’s as if my brain has been stuck in 11th gear with nowhere to go. The utter randomness of the racing thoughts are probably most disconcerting. It’s absolutely amazing that I can be in a room filled with people I know and still feel so estranged.

I feel that when I am in a room of people, especially those with whom I have a relationship of sorts, I am always on the outside looking in. I feel invisible. This is the beginning of my downward spiral, and I never know each time just how bad it will get. Suffice it to say, that now I am in this space, I will do nothing to extricate myself from it. I will only continue to burrow further down, keeping everyone at arm’s length. My rather cognizant brain has the capacity to tell myself that I can remove myself from this environment by choosing to engage with those around me. But, the sad fact is that there just isn’t anyone out there with whom I can engage. I really do not have a real friendship base.

The walls slowly begin to close in; my options slowly cease. I am left with nothing but the four walls of my house. Is this what I really have to look forward to as my life as I know it? I don’t know if I can survive my life like this one more time. I’ve been in this spot before and the solutions presented then to help me crawl up to the land of the living really didn’t offer me much hope. The majority of me is quite content to just sit in my four walls and never venture outside or interact with anyone else. And, at the same time, that realization causes me so much emotional pain. To feel all alone can be the most frightening feeling. Every day I find myself just slipping a little further from reality. My reality is what is inside these four walls and nothing else.

I feel myself slowly shutting down—distancing myself from everything. My answering machine is off; my cell phone vm is disabled. I have effectively begun to build my walls where I can keep everyone out. I have completely cut myself off from my family of origin to even include my son. I just simply want to be left alone. I find it to be quite an oxymoron. When there are those who are hurting at church, it’s all I can do to just want to take them into my arms and show them God’s love. In those moments, I want to give of myself to help someone else.

But my disease is invisible. No one can perceive the profound loss and sadness I feel. No one understands bipolar for all its implications and trappings. I just want so much for someone to see the pain I feel and reach out to me, but part of the façade is to never let anyone in. Catch-22. Damned if I do, damned if I don’t.

Maybe I’m just a phony. Maybe I really don’t have anything to offer someone who is hurting. I want to, but would it ever be received? As I sit here tonight, I feel hopeless, unable to help myself, unable to help anyone else, and most importantly, totally unable and unwilling to receive anything from someone else. What can they offer me? No one knows the dark corners of my mind, and the room dims with every growing minute.©2009

A Token of Sadness

Melancholy has set in
Its source is unknown
Its not depression, I think
Just a passage of sadness

Happy thoughts remembered
Gives pause for thought today
Where is that elusive entity
That makes me feel alive

There is much to be thankful
I must always reflect upon that
I am continually grateful
At the blessing received from above

Those thoughts alone
Help me rise to the occasion
They give me hope
For better things, indeed, to come

I am learning to separate
The depression from the sadness
A necessary lesson to manage bipolar
It’s OK to be sad when its presence is temporary

In this gloomy space I can see the light
And know that this is just a transient moment
That lightens the burden in itself
The rainbow up above brings a smile to my face
©2007

Depression & the Spirit of God

As a result of my bipolar disorder I have written extensively about how I have battled the depression side of the equation. You have also noticed how richly I speak of the Lord in many of my posts. I’ve had people challenge me by saying that if I really did believe in God, that he would heal me of this disorder and I wouldn’t have to take all of these medications.

Granted, I will be the first to tell you that I believe in divine intervention and the healing of the sick when all else has proved impossible. Why some are cured and others are not is not my place to say. But I also do not believe in fleecing God (there is a passage in the Old Testament—Judges 7:36-40—where Gideon is to be used by God to rescue Israel as He promised, he decided to test God twice. The first time he set out a layer of fleece and told God if it was wet with dew the following morning and the surrounding land was dry, he would surely know that God was going to help Gideon rescue Israel. The next morning, that is exactly what happened. But then Gideon had to see one more sign from God, despite the numerous miracles he had already seen to date, before he was willing to commit to battle and have the assurance that God would be with him. This time he requested that the fleece remain dry while the countryside was covered in dew, and this occurred as well the following morning.). I believe that if it is God’s intentions to heal me of my bipolar disorder, I will discern that within my Spirit. I am not simply going off my medications to prove anything at all. I also realize that God works mightily through doctors and medicines. So, for the time being I continue my better living through chemistry.

I believe that God has quite a lot to say in the Bible about depression, passages that I have read, but ones that I should re-read and become intimately aware of, and to assign ownership of that knowledge. Too often, I have entertained myself in a pity party, yet there have been many times when I have been in very dark spaces that were quite a dangerous playground in which to be playing. As I have postulated before, depression for me is not about having a bad hair day, but a state in which there is utter hopelessness.

It almost seems like an oxymoron to have such strong beliefs in God, yet at the same time experience this hopelessness. However, I don’t believe that, when I am in this state, I am fully aware and cognizant of the power I behold through the name of Jesus. I know that the enemy has used this state of mind to confound me and put me in very dangerous positions, positions that nearly ended my life--some fairly recently.

I believe very strongly in the words of God found in the Bible. I believe that each and every word is from God. So I should, during these moments of clarity, take advantage and see exactly what God's promises are to me in regard to my depression.

Psalm 34:17 states that “The Lord hears his people when they call to him for help. He rescues them from all their troubles”

I believe in this passage that when I cry out to the Lord, He hears me and understands exactly how I am feeling. During the years that Jesus spent on this earth as a man, he suffered the same plights that each of us must endure every day and knows intuitively what we are going through. As a result, God feels exactly what our own hearts feel. He is a tender, loving Father that wishes nothing but the best for His children. I should take joy in these words as they tell me that I am not all alone.

Isaiah 43:2 says “When you go through deep waters, I will be with you. When you go through rivers of difficulty you will not drown, when you walk through the fire of oppression, you will not be burned up; the flames will not consume you.”

This leads me to believe once again that I am not alone. There is nothing more disheartening when I am depressed to feel so alone in this world. It only compounds the emotional pain. This passage also reminds us that God may not necessarily remove us from the storm we are weathering, but He does promise to steadfastly be with us. With God on our side, who can be against us?

1 Peter 4:12-13 says “Dear friends, don’t be surprised at the fiery trials that you are going through, as if something strange were happening to you. Instead, be very glad—for these trials make you partners with Christ in his suffering, so that you will have the wonderful joy of seeing his glory when it is revealed to all the world.”

This isn’t to say or indicate that we should be glad for our sorrows and tribulations, but, face it, what on earth could we ever go through that could even come close to the tribulations that Christ went through just for us. I am overwhelmed at the enormity of the suffering that He allowed himself to withstand because He knew it was His Father’s will. That puts my own suffering a quite a different perspective. To be able to sing of God’s praises in the midst of the storm is perhaps one of the most moving of all testimonies

Isaiah 40:31 “But those who trust in the Lord will find new strength. They will soar high like wings on eagles. They will run and not grow weary. They will walk and not faint."

This one is a little harder for me to wrap my hands around. When I am in the pits of my depression, waiting is not something I am very good at doing, but knowing what I have to look forward to on the other side is what gives me the hope to sustain that faith. This speaks directly to the strength that faith brings to each of us.

2 Cor 1:3,4: “All praise to God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. God is our merciful Father and the source of all comfort. He comforts us in our troubles so that we can comfort others. When they are troubled, we will be able to give them the same comfort that God has given us.”

What a testimony we have for others when we have walked through the fire and have been delivered by God’s own mercy and grace. Sometimes, the only way to witness to someone else is to let them know you have walked in the very same shoes they are walking in now. Sometimes the only people we will listen to are the ones who truly do understand what we are going through because we have been there ourselves. It’s not enough to preach the Good News when people are in this space, but to get down on their level and reach out with a comforting hand is like offering a sip of cold water to someone who is parched in the desert.

Romans 8:38, 39: “And I am convinced that nothing can ever separate us from God’s love. Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow—not even the powers of hell can separate us from God’s love. No power in the sky above or in the earth below—indeed, nothing in all creation will ever be able to separate us from the love of God that is revealed in Christ Jesus our Lord."

The image I have in my head when I read this scripture above is of a person hanging onto a pole for dear life while the wind is whipping all over the place and being battered by the force of the wind. I may feel battered, in fact, I may feel beat up quite badly, but knowing that nothing can ever separate me from God gives me that solace I need when everything else seems to be blowing away.

Phil 4:8: “And now, dear brothers and sisters, one final thing. Fix your thoughts on what is true, and honourable, and right, and pure, and lovely, and admirable. Think about things that are excellent and worthy of praise.”

In other words, regardless of what our circumstances appear to be at any given moment in the depths of our despair, we know we have walked upright and righteously with the Lord at one point prior to this fall into depression and we have to hold onto those moments until we can navigate through the quicksand

Being bipolar and a mighty soldier of Christ can bring on a mixed bag of events. While we can, we have the ability to move mountains and lay claim to our heritage as being one of God’s precious children. However, as pointed out previously, there is nothing better that the enemy wants to do but divide you from your relationship with Christ. I do believe the enemy uses our own weaknesses to his own advantage, which is why we must be vigilant at all times. One of the scriptures in the Bible exhorts us to pray without ceasing. And, it is in these darkest of moments when I have to be able to reach out to God and grab on and not let go, knowing He is right there by my side.

I have to decide now whether I have the spiritual courage to be that mature Soldier of Christ and take ownership of all of God’s promises, or do I stay in this safe little corner hiding until the next round of depression comes upon me and become a spineless creature susceptible to all of the enemy’s efforts at weakening my defenses? A lot of this is easy for me to say these things right now as I am not in the pits of despair, but all the more reason for writing this down so I have this to go back to and read when I need it the most.

Do I wish I could be cured of my bipolar disorder? Of course I do. I hate the thought of knowing I have to depend upon medications for the rest of my life in order to maintain my sanity. However, I look to what I have been given as a child of God which makes all things of this world pale in comparison. None of us are promised a burden-free life. It is our responsibility to handle what is thrown our way. So, which path will you walk down where the rubber meets the road? I would like to think that I have matured in my walk with the Lord, even if only a little bit, that will give me so much more strength for when the times come for me to draw upon that strength.©2007

Sadness vs. Depression?

For many of you following my blog, be it by reading my prose or my poetry, you can see the battle I am waging with my bipolar disorder. For financial reasons I decided to do the unthinkable for a bipolar patient—wean myself off all my medications. I understood all of the implications and ramifications of this decision yet I felt I had no choice.

Within two weeks of my careful and conservative weaning protocol I did a crash and burn. I was more motivated to commit suicide than at any other time in my life. In fact, in the middle of that two-week window, when I saw my shrink, even he said that he did not recognize the person who walked through his door. My crash also resulted in hearing voices in my head dictating to me to break off all my relationships with my immediate family whom, for the most part, have been very close to me. What I said was harsh, mean-spirited and angry, all of which were on the eve of my phone being disconnected. I never bothered to wait for any response; I simply hung up when I finished my invective.

The break that hurts me the most is the fracture I created between me and my son—my son whom I love with all of my heart, who has always been there for me no matter what, and has made sacrificial decisions in his past to meet my needs. My whole being aches for that action. This morning I finally mustered up the courage to call the ones I hurt and ask for forgiveness. The only person I could not get in touch with was my son and my heartfelt voicemail will have to suffice until repeated attempts can be made that will result in a real-time conversation.

I am still not in a space where I want to have a regular dialog with anyone except my son mostly because of the emotional energy that it requires of me. I don’t want to put on a façade with my family, yet at the same time, they do not deserve my dark ramblings when I am in this space. The only exception is my son because I feel I can be myself and still be loved unconditionally and without judgment. I feel loved by most of the rest of my family, but judged by some.

The dynamics of my family of origin is a strange one and proves the point that blood is not necessarily thicker than water. I have three siblings only one to whom I am particularly close. One I never talk to because she won’t initiate or sustain a relationship with me (for some unknown reason—I’m always told by other family members to simply accept it because that is how she is with everyone). Another I rarely talk to and it is always brief spurts of email, dry and inconsequential. At best, I am an enigma to him, one he will never understand, but has no trouble repeating the sins of the father—nothing I do is ever good enough. At best, what it is that I do is always considered suspect as if there was a better way to accomplish the same thing with the attitude that I wasn’t smart enough in the first place to have already thought and considered any suggestion he might have had, but I had already rejected it for sound reasons. I am treated as a child that, for some reason, needs to be approached in a cautious and questioning manner. Nothing I do or any decisions I make are simply accepted at face value; everything always has to be questioned.

Now, mind you, to be fair, being one of the middle kids, I was a pain in the ass to be around and was always considered to be the black sheep of the family. I know my behavior and actions surely colored my relationships as we were growing up, but for goodness sakes, my youngest sister will be 46 this year. Are we not all adults at this stage of the game? Even I eventually grew out of my need to show my ass as frequently as I did.

Do you want to know what my mother’s biggest fear is? She is afraid that once she dies none of the rest of us will keep in touch, and I think she has a very real reason for thinking that. I happen to agree with her. With the exception of my oldest sister, the other two apparently have no need for me; that is quite obvious in our current state of relations (or lack thereof). Perhaps the oldest two might stay in touch as they are the closest in age, but I doubt it would be a substantive relationship. The fact that my brother and I do not live in the same part of the country as my sisters will probably have some bearing on the future of any relationships.

I guess I went into some detail about these dynamics because it only further points out to me just how alone I really am in this world. Since leaving the gay community I do not have any close friends here in the same town I live in (I do have two that live away). I have some relationships with individuals that fall into the acquaintance category, and one budding relationship that has all of the earmarkings of turning into a fine, durable friendship as I am taken at face value, respected for who I am (and who I am not) and we both give what we get. But that doesn’t really leave me with much as a whole. Truth be told, seriously, with the exception of my family (and I will be honest about that), if I were to drop dead tonight, there would be no one in this world to miss me. Oh, sure, my death would have an immediate impact on a couple of people as death always does, but after the initial shock, life goes on and I will never be thought of again. I guess it boils down to the fact that I have never really done anything in this world that has had any measurable impact on someone else. And that is my own doing as I have always kept everyone at arms length, never letting them see the real me, and always having whatever face I needed to put on depending upon the situation I was in. Imagine being in a room filled with 100 people and feeling all alone.

I have said all of this to preface the title of this discourse: when one is bipolar, how can one tell the difference between true sadness or the madness of depression? I have yet to determine where that fine line lies. I am a very binary individual. By that, I mean that everything either is or it isn’t; it’s on or it’s off—very black and white. My life is a series of ones and zeros (trust me, the zero column is stacked a bit higher). Certainly, I should have the capacity to be able to experience the normal emotion of sadness without all of the trappings of depression. I think I felt that once when I close friend of mine died. I was able to feel the pain of the loss and mourned him for quite some time, but it was of a different caliber than how I feel when I am depressed which is a cold, calculating numbness.

Being bipolar has robbed me of the normal ranges of emotions that most people experience. For me, I have two: mania or depression. There is no middle ground (again, think binary). Well, no, I take that back. There are two other emotions that I can be honest enough to say that I feel. One is a level of love so overwhelming that sometimes it catches my breath. That is what my son means to me. The other emotion that I am bridled with, that I do think is a consequence of bipolar, is abject anger. Not feeling a tad pissed off about something, but true black anger. I think I have always had this anger even as a child. They say that bipolar is most likely hereditary. I am constantly trying to figure out which gene pool mine comes from. Some in the family would say without a doubt that it is from my father—someone that I really never knew well. Yet, sometimes I think it could be my mom because of so many of the traits I see of her in myself (mom was always the master at The Façade). For me, there is nothing so disquieting than looking in the mirror and have absolutely no idea who is looking back. And the eyes—always these deep, black pools of emptiness.

After I saw my shrink the other day, I agreed, mostly because I had enough meds to do this for a little while longer, to go off of my weaning protocol while he tries to see what kind of volume samples he might be able to get to help me along. I hate what my bipolar has taken from me. It’s not enough just to be bipolar, but to be so treatment resistant that two weeks of dropping the dosage of one of the six meds I am on caused me to go into a tailspin that truly scared even me. I know that at some point soon my finances are going to preclude the ability to continue my meds schedule. I am not eligible for any financial assistance. Believe me I have tried everything under the sun. The sad part is that I look great on paper if you just look at the gross income. But no one ever considers the outgo. When the meds are gone for good, what will happen then?©2007