Indeed, it has been some time since I’ve written anything here. I have to admit, I didn’t go back and read all my posts but I scanned most, trying to bring myself up to speed on where I was when I left off.
Boy, I was all over the place. And, some things have changed. Sure, I still suffer from depression. I still take Latuda. I’m still Bi-polar. I still love my dogs. But in the interim I’ve added a few more diagnosis to my chart (which in turn starts my love of use for the parenthesis and the need to say I’ll have to change the title of my blog). I still think I’m funny too.
I have made some changes. I don’t suffer as much from the mania like I was. I do think that is partly because after fiddling with a few more mood stabilizers we may have found one that works. Oxcarbazepine (Trileptal would be the brand name). It’s been part of my cocktail (which at one point was 6 different meds and 10 pills a day) for almost two years now and I’m definitely not experiencing the same highs as I was before. There’s that; consider it a good thing I suppose.
I was diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder,BPD for short (I was also diagnosed with PTSD). I know it’s a serious disorder. I know there is no medication proved to be effective in treating BPD. I know that therapy is the real, true way I will work my way through this. I know it’s a scary diagnosis. How is one supposed to handle news like this with just a simple addition of your “conditions” added to your chart? I don’t remember the day but I do remember the feeling. I remember the depression that sunk in that very moment and the smile I wore to pretend that what I just heard wasn’t devastating me inside.
That was about a year ago and I’m still coming to grips with it. I spiraled down, deep. Hard. And fast. I blocked out everyone. The best of my very small group of friends, my family, people at my job (mostly everyone at my job). I’ve gotten to a point now where I’m so alone and I’ve isolated myself so much so that I won’t have to feel. Good or bad. If there’s no one in your life then you can’t have them mixing in with your own emotions and feelings. Which for me, I think I needed for a bit. To breakdown and hit a bottom of some kind. It might not be rock bottom and I may have other bottoms to hit. I still struggle daily with anxiety and suicidal thoughts. I struggled with those thoughts a lot. Suicidal ideation they call it. My “med nurse” as I call him (S) is pretty good at his job I think because he really hit a home run with a med that worked (Saphris). And quickly. And so well. For the first time in close to a year I’ve not thought about suicide at all for the past two days. That took some time and I’m sure one day I’ll think of it here soon but what some good days to be alive. I’m still pretty depressed and except the Latuda (which is for bi-polar depression, different from other forms of depression) don’t take an anti-depressant. I almost wish I could. I think it might help with this emptiness. The last time I was on one (Paxil), it sent me into a mania that lasted for a few months. During which time I was hospitalized for a few days after trying numerous medications (three to my recollection) to no avail and missed about 2 months of work. For the moment now, I’m starting to come out of it.
I’ve started group therapy a few weeks ago and have been doing individual therapy for three years now. First with a psychiatrist and now (due to a change in insurance) a mental health professional and S. I’m finding out I like the latter arrangement better than the psychiatrist. Or at least I feel like I am getting better results. It got to a point with my psychiatrist where it felt like she wasn’t playing an active role in my betterment. The change was a welcomed one and I don’t regret it happening.
DBT (Dialectical Behavioral Therapy) is awesome. Or at least it shows the promise of being awesome. (I call her my therapist. Technically she’s a Licensed Independent Clinical Social Worker [LICSW]. We’ll call her M.) M and I have a good relationship. I’ve been seeing her for just about a year now and our rapport is great. She’s younger, more relatable to me in age which I am finding is kind of important as my last psychiatrist (Dr G for those paying attention) was in her mid 60’s. Different generations maybe. She isn’t afraid to relate some of her life experiences to mine but it’s the lesson she teaches in it, not to be empathetic or caring in an inappropriate way. She swears. Like a dude. Which c’mon; when your therapist throws as many F-bombs as you do (keep in mind the borderline, the bipolar, the depression and PTSD – those tend to fly around pretty casually when expressing your self [not yourself] or feelings to another) it’s pretty relatable. Anyways, M uses DBT as therapy for people with BPD. At first slowly introducing it in individual therapy to make sure it’s a good fit (I think?) and then eventually into a group setting, with a 6-month, once a week commitment on top of regular, individual therapy. After just a couple weeks of group and a few basic skills my days have been happier. More hopeful. Maybe even a little joyful. Days that is when I get out of the house. Usually it’s only days that I work (back down to 3 days a week now) or therapy. Which in a way adding another day to get out isn’t such a bad thing, especially considering the environment on one of those days. I actually like therapy. I look forward to it every week and to my individual appointments like never before. Like I said before, the whole joyful thing.
I look back, through the lens of this blog at how I was and just from what I would type it’s more clear to me now that the symptoms weren’t simply from being bi-polar (yeah, I defined myself by my disorder – it’s just easier that way sometimes) but from being a borderline (did it again!). Looking even farther back into my life, the symptoms were present from a pretty early age. I’ve never had a clear sense of self. I’ve always been prone to outbursts of rage (the kind where you actually see red and can’t stop your words or actions). I once scarred my one of my bosses at work so badly she was afraid to be alone with me and I was reprimanded for it. I’ve never been able to maintain a romantic relationship, or even friendships, very well. There are a few longtime friends but not many. Serious relationships lasted anywhere from a few months to 4 years. In retrospect the longer ones where just to have someone close, someone to call my own – even if that meant hating the very sight of them sometimes. My “cycling” was too fast. Literally I could (and can) go from one extreme to the next within minutes; faster than what you would expect from bi-polar but perfectly symptomatic of borderline. I used sex (for years) as a way to try and fill an empty place in my head and in my heart. It’s only now, with a little perspective, and maybe some maturity, that I’ve been able to see that; to understand how I both yearned for and despised the touch of someone else. I had to let them get close to me. It hurt. But I was doing it to myself in search of something I know now you cannot find that way. It’s been 5 years now into my pledge of not hurting myself in that way and I’m just now yearning for that closeness again. It feels different though. More real. More in touch. Soulful. Is it maturity? Is it one of my criteria for meeting BPD simply falling off? Does that indicate progress somewhere? Or maybe I’m just reverting to old ways because things are starting to get real and part of me doesn’t like it.
Kind of a weird way to end a post but this is where I’m at. I’m getting tired also. It feels great to have written again. And thanks to anyone who reads. It feels good knowing that out there maybe just one other person might relate. If only I knew how to tag these entries better. G’night.
Adam's BPD(x2)+ 