How To Live With Bipolar Disorder

2024 Author: Harry Day | [email protected]. Last modified: 2023-12-17 15:43

Manic-depressive syndrome is familiar to many from the Homeland TV series - the main character, Carrie Matheson, suffered from it. Vera Reiner, a Buro 24/7 observer, told Afisha how to live with such a diagnosis in Moscow

When exactly it started, it is difficult to say now. The first manic attack that let me know that something was wrong happened about four years ago. It was in the summer when I was still in university. I then lived in a hostel, in a large room with three or four other girls. And it so happened that at some point all the neighbors went home and I was left alone in it. And just after a long break I started painting again. I drew all night long, ran to smoke, went to bed around 10-11 am, woke up a few hours later, went to the center of my friends, drank wine with them, came back - and again sat down at the table, to my paints and magazine clippings. And after a few days, in such a rhythm, all this enthusiasm began to take on unhealthy forms. The energy that was seething in me turned into a real psychosis. I felt scared to be in this empty room even in the light, scared to close my eyes even for a second, any rustle frightened me to incredible horror. The salvation was the exits to the balcony, where we always went to smoke, but after that it was even more scary to return to the room: it seemed to me that the characters I had drawn could come to life at any moment - and that they, descended from paper sheets, could wait for me outside the door. They looked at me when I was doing something in the room. It was no longer possible to fall asleep, even if I wanted to sleep, and I just shook while sitting on the bed and sobbed. I thought only about one thing: let it end, let it end … Then, when it really ended, I tried to tell my friends about it. But when he lets you go, everything that happened begins to seem no longer scary, but stupid. And everything, it is worth talking about it, turns into some kind of joke, and you gain a reputation as such a crazy artist: well, you give, just don't start cutting your ears, ha-ha.

Bipolar disorder (bipolar disorder) is, in short, an alternation of manic and depressive stages. They can replace each other almost on schedule, regularly, or they can come and go as they please. They can drag on for a long time, or they can appear for several days and disappear. Manias, like depression, can be mild - these are called hypomania, or they can be severe, even with delusions and hallucinations. And sometimes, mania and depression generally develop at the same time, and such mixed states are worst of all. Because you are in deep despair, and your brain continues to work to its fullest, generating all new ideas, one more terrible than the other - and if in the usual depressive stage you, for example, simply do not have the strength to take a decisive step like suicide, which you constantly think about, then in mixed problems with a lack of strength may not arise.

Manic stages always last shorter than depressive ones, although they (if they remain hypomania) are much more pleasant - and I always liked them. These uplifting moods, when it seems that you can do everything, do not seem scary at all - on the contrary, they are pleasing, and you think that everything is finally in order, and you want them to come more often. You start sleeping four hours a day, but still full of energy. Thoughts are spinning in my head at a breakneck speed, ideas arise one after another. At 4 am, for example, I wrote work letters in the spirit of: "Hello, here is my list of super ideas, let me write these 15 materials!" All people seem wonderful, you want to communicate with everyone, write and call everyone, and you seriously become the most cheerful, witty, talented and sociable person on earth - you know, in your own eyes. Feeling like a vanderwomen is great. True, the longer you are in this easy and pleasant stage, the more chances that it will soon develop into a real mania. With dangerous adventures, fits of rage and so on. Well, after you, in any case, a cold shower awaits.

During periods of depression, it seemed to me that I was not capable of anything. For example, I agreed that I would do some work by a certain date, because I was full of energy, but then everything ended, and instead of handing it over, I lay like a stone at home, not answering calls. I didn't have the strength to talk to those who were waiting, and I was also ashamed that I just couldn't bring myself to do something. They scold you, they expect something from you again, and you already feel like the most insignificant person on earth, who is unable to keep even such small promises. At some point, you can't do anything at all. Only endlessly lying, staring at the ceiling, without even going up to the toilet - at first you think that you go a little later, you endure, and then you stop wanting at all. I could cry for any reason. Sometimes dullness just attacked, which deprived of all emotions, except despair and the feeling of what kind of unsuccessful person you are.

During such periods, I could sleep all day long. Once I slept for two days in a row: I woke up, realized that nothing had changed, and fell asleep again. When you are depressed, it seems that you have no friends - and in general there is no one around who would save you when saving yourself is no longer possible. You start to think that those who still communicate with you do it out of habit, but the rest abandoned you a long time ago, ran away to other, easier and nicer people (how things really are is not so important - you already living in your altered reality). And you clearly understand that your friends seem to be much better off without you, and you begin to withdraw from their society. This is easy to do. Once our mutual friends came to my neighbors for a party. Having heard the sounds, I went out to look, and one of them said: "Oh, but we did not know that you were at home." And that's it, there is only one thought in my head at once: “Of course, I’m an invisible man,” and you just go back to yourself. You lie down, listen to their laughter and hate yourself for not being able to have fun with them. This feeling of one's own invisibility, insignificance was a constant companion of each depressive stage. And, of course, total hopelessness, hopelessness.

There was a period when I drank at every opportunity: just to have fun, just to stop being myself, this awful sad person. But then you drink, do some strange and creepy things - and in the end you only hate yourself even more. It lasted quite a long time, but then I put an end to it myself, because I realized that alcohol (by the way, a proven depressant) does not help. I didn’t need doping for self-loathing - I did it myself. The feeling of guilt, in fact, accompanied me for many years. Guilt for this changeable character, for "quarrelsomeness", as others sometimes called her, for constant ups and downs, for periods of madness. I've asked myself a million times: why should you just stop being this way and be normal? But it didn't work out.

Being side by side with other people during depression is a real hell (in manias, you yourself become hell for others - for example, you turn into a persecutor). Living according to the work schedule and going to the office is also unbearably difficult, although until a certain moment you can force yourself, even if it takes a lot of energy. And then the strength simply ends. I remember there was a period when I started crying as soon as I left the office and just hated my job. Although she was doing one of her favorite things, surrounded by nice people. And at some point, when it became unbearable to live like that, I quit. As soon as I left, a wonderful life began: I fluttered like a bird, and it seemed that a great future for Russian Koons was waiting for me, life became happy and free. But then the ascent ended and a boring reality began. Friends were busy with work, I had fun spending money, sometimes earned money - and gradually rolled down again. I could no longer blame the harsh schedule or the perpetual busyness - which means that now it could only be in me. All the hatred that had previously pervaded some aspects of my work came down on me with renewed vigor. I hounded myself for the fact that, already being conditionally free, I still could not enjoy life. This, of course, returned the depression.

Well, in August I finally went crazy - that's exactly what I wrote in notes on my iPad. I went to the end. The first week was amazing. I wanted to fly, a new important person appeared in my life, I drew again and finally completed all the texts that I promised to do during the past weeks - everything was fine. But the longer you are in this light state, the sooner you will break down. And my wonderful light mania gradually developed into a hysterical state. I could laugh for an hour at something unfunny, break down over every little thing, quarrel with people, throwing things. One word was enough for my beloved friends to become in my mind vile traitors, who in no case can be trusted. The new important man, horrified by the new me, fled. And then, one evening, after a friend of mine accidentally said words, everything flew. And my states began to change at a deadly speed: from self-hatred to feeling my own superpowers, from hatred for people to holy love for everyone around, from an irresistible desire to destroy and break to a desire to do beautiful things … And, of course, this uncontrolled and inexplicable fear. I was literally torn apart by everything that was going on in my head. And by the end of the month, I was so exhausted that I realized: it seems to be the point of no return. I can't handle it anymore. I have no control over my life. I need help.

What's good about both depressions and bipolar manias is that they always end. True, in two ways. Either the phase simply fizzles out and leaves, leaving behind a variety of consequences in the form of a broken relationship, a broken phone or a lost job, or you do not live to see the end of it. The latter is especially true for mixed phases and is generally not uncommon. Therefore, the sooner you see your doctor, the better it will be for everyone. Trying to heal yourself from manic-depressive psychosis or get out of depression is the same as cutting out appendicitis for yourself. That is, sheer stupidity. Do not buy pills on the advice of friends. Do not prescribe antidepressants on your own - in people with bipolar disorder, they can exacerbate mania

“Find a Psychiatrist Moscow” was the main hit of my google-queries in August. I often looked at the pages of doctors, but I could not bring myself to sign up - but after another attack I made up my mind. I went to a psychiatrist because it was clear to me that just talking about my childhood, relationships with people and self-esteem would no longer help me. Although the idea that someone can be paid to finally talk to you about your problems, listen to you, and not just laugh it off, I have long liked. But at that moment, I just wanted someone to prescribe me some pills and it would all stop.

The doctor had a box with paper handkerchiefs on his desk. As soon as I entered the office, I immediately thought: "If only I did not have to use it." It seemed to me that this would already be the final admission of his own squalor and weakness. I never used the handkerchiefs, although all these thoughts, as I understand now, were completely stupid. The psychiatrist, a friendly young woman, asked me questions: she asked me why I was getting scared, how these periods change, what kind of roller coaster I am talking about. And then she asked how I myself think, what happened to me. I carefully said that I had read the text about depression. And there I saw the term "cyclothymia". I read about it in Wikipedia and saw the term bipolar disorder there. I remembered that the main character of the series "Motherland" had this disease, but I immediately said to myself that I couldn't have it. I didn’t look at “Motherland”, but I remotely remembered something: for example, that Carrie at some point decided to undergo electroshock treatment or something similar. And I just could not try on something like that. But the doctor said that I didn't have cyclothymia, but just bipolar disorder. I immediately told her: “No, it is not. I don't have it. " It was spinning in my head that she was wrong with the diagnosis, and for some reason I was paying her money for it. I was shaking. But she began to tell me about BAR, said something about Pushkin and the Boldin autumn, gave some other examples. I could no longer concentrate on what she was saying. I didn't want to recognize myself as a person bound for life by some kind of disease. And I was not ready to admit that I, who had been considered "eccentric" or "eccentric" all my life, had actually been mentally ill for the past few years.

But, on the other hand, at this moment I also felt relief: for so many years I lived with it, hiding all the frightening symptoms, so as not to give others the opportunity to guess that something is wrong with me, that I am "abnormal" … I hated myself for so many years. And I realized that I can no longer and do not want to live like this any longer - now that I know that all this was not my fault. Therefore, I decided to write about my diagnosis on Facebook. And many - unexpectedly many - supported me. Although, of course, I have listened to a bunch of "useful" advice in the spirit of "attach the plantain." This is a typical attitude towards depressed people who cannot get out of bed, and they are told: "Stop being selfish" or "Just leave the house more often" - such advice not only does not help, it is offensive. These words even more alienate the person who is feeling bad from other people, make him feel like some kind of ugly: for everyone it is normal and simple, but you cannot. You just can't. And only you are to blame for this, because other people succeed!

Why do others give such advice at all? Some of them are probably driven by fear. As long as you are sure that only weak people have problems, only those who cannot pull themselves together, force themselves to go in for sports, and so on, you are not afraid. After all, you know that you cannot have something like that. But if you admit to yourself that this can happen to anyone - strong, weak, smart or stupid - then you will become afraid. After all, this can happen to you. Well, someone is probably just cruel.

Some people left my life when I became an uncomfortable person. Not fun, not easy. Nobody likes sad, "problem" people, I was convinced of this. One friend said to me: "You are too heavy a person, it's hard to be with you." Then we, however, began to communicate again, but the residue remained. I still remember these words and feel like a kind of stone on the neck of those with whom I am trying to start communicating. I am heavy and I drag them along with me - into my sad life and into my madness. If you cannot live with yourself, how can you live with other people? I do not know yet. I'm trying to.

Writing that post was scary. It was scary to agree to this conversation. You see, this is the same as coming to an interview for a new job and saying: "Hi, I am Vera, and I have a manic-depressive psychosis." Or repeat this by meeting the young man's parents. Well, or start a date with these words. People don't know anything about bipolar disorder, and "manic-depressive psychosis" sounds hellish at all. But the main thing for me is that no one has yet told me: “You are not yourself, and we better not communicate with you,” I was afraid of such a reaction. I was afraid that people would see some kind of monster in me - and that he might really wake up if I did not heal. And now you need to be treated constantly. And while you can't drink: everyone goes to "Armu", and I can't even drink! It's a shame. You also need to try to live on schedule. In other words, no fun.

Now I drink "Finlepsin", from which the first days I constantly wanted to sleep. You eat, write the text, wake up, wash your head - and all this time you just want to close your eyes and fall asleep. Also in the first days I simply could not think - my head seemed to be stuffed with cotton wool. It was hard to remember what happened yesterday. Things were falling out of my hands. You take a cigarette - it is already on the ground. A friend asks to hold the bag - the bag falls to the floor. But now everything seems to be back to normal. And soon I have a new appointment with the doctor - maybe she will change the treatment and prescribe new pills.

I returned to my previous job - colleagues reacted normally to my post on Facebook, someone even wrote me letters of support. Someone, however, now constantly asks me how I feel, as if afraid that my mouth will now foam. I see my future very differently. At first everything was very sad - I saw myself as a person who would spend his whole life on pills. The next day it seemed to me that it was not scary. When everything is back to normal, everything stops looking scary at all. But when you are depressed or in mania, you simply cannot think adequately - you live in an altered reality, and there is no other for you at this moment. So please don't tell me that this is all nonsense, that I need to relax and forget about it: I am absolutely relaxed until the next attack. But if they come back, I'm sorry, I won't be able to relax.

How to know if something is wrong with you or your friend

If your friend is constantly joking about suicide, you don't need to push him in the side and say "well, you're a joker." Even if he says something like: “I am so weak-willed that I cannot commit suicide; sometimes I leave the house and think - maybe I will be hit by a bus today? " (this was my favorite joke; funny, right?) is already one of the signals.

If your friend does not leave the house for a week, you do not need to discuss with other friends how unsociable he has become - it is worth trying to find out what is the matter.

If a person stops behaving as usual, if he has strange fits of fun, if he starts drinking a lot, this is also a reason to think about why this is happening to him.

If your friend is trying to talk to you about something serious that you can see is difficult for him to start a conversation about, don't joke. Don't wind up this conversation. And you certainly never say, “Come on, you take everything too seriously,” because it's okay to take your life seriously.

If a friend quits his job and asks you to join Amway, it may be mania. Such foolish, completely thoughtless and irrational undertakings are in her spirit.

If you clearly see that something is wrong with your friend, and he answers the question "How are you?" answers "Yes, okay", this does not mean that everything is really normal with him. Just try to talk to him. Perhaps he was simply already desperate to find a person who would be ready to listen to him.

Don't be afraid to go to the doctor. This is not a sign of weakness.