Jump to content
CrazyBoards.org

Cleverly disguised


Recommended Posts

OK, so I've been around here long enough to be sure that I'm not being tracked, or my real identity could be discovered, so I guess it's time to introduce myself...

My family is/was pretty dysfunctional and my parents were somewhat screwed up. My father is dead now, but never saw my mother naked in their entire married life (40+ years). So I suppose I should think myself lucky to be here at all. The 'uptight' theme continued, really. We didn't do 'emotions' at home, I just got given 'stuff' instead by way of a substitute for affection.

After I was eventually dx'd as bipolar and I told my mother, she calmly announced that my father had been so crippled by anxiety that he had to quit work 10 years early. She'd hidden this from everyone for 40 years. He never had a relationship with me because he was terrified I'd reject him. He burned my favourite fire engine when I was about 5, because he didn't think I played with it and it was taking up room in the garden shed. I played with stuff in private (as an only child), and they never had any idea what I did or what I played with.

But you don't miss what you never had, so my early childhood was OK. When I turned 11, I went to senior school. It was 30 miles away: a bus ride, train ride and another bus each day to get there. I left at 7.15 am, got home at 5.45 pm each day. Not surprisingly, being 30 miles from school, I had no friends I could see outside of school. Oh, and I was bullied.

By the time I was 13 I was getting episodes of depression, but as we didn't do emotion at home, I just hid it. By 16 I was getting suicidal and started serious ideation. I came close to going under a train several times, and shooting myself on one occasion.

Eventually I went to university, and the sudden freedom of being away from home and with girls (my school was all boys) sent me slightly nuts. After three years, I was well and truly bipolar: finishing an entire year's assignement in 4 weeks, screwing anything that stayed still long enough, deep alcohol fuelled depressions.

More to follow.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Good to hear more about you...

As also an only child from a family who kept things *buried* I can relate to a lot of what you describe...and, yes, I was bullied too...and my depressions started in my teens....

Link to comment
Share on other sites

And now, Chapter 2.

Did I mention the bipolar part at university? In my final year, I'd had so many other things to do, I hadn't got around to working. So I faced an automatic fail if I didn't hand in my year's assignment before the exams. I wrote it in less than 4 weeks, but that destroyed all my revision time. So I did all my revision on the day of each exam, and drank scotch through the exams themselves to keep me from flying off into space or stalling through anxiety. End result: first class honours degree, university prize for outstanding results, rocket trip to Hypo Central for 4 months.

Work/Life/Relationships.

Couldn't hold a relationship down for several years. Life was partying, burn out, occasional deep depressions, suicudal ideation again. Fast forward to now for a while. 19 jobs in 22 years, including two that I managed to hold down for nearly three years each (I left one out of nothing other than boredom during a long mania).

OK, skip back 20 years. I start dating a girl who seems far more sensible than I am. Very odd choice for me (I used to select girlfriends on the basis of the length of their fingers). Things go well for a while, we marry, then after about three years it starts getting strained. Then it's OK. Then it's strained. My damn wife is getting really moody in 4-6 month cycles. She gets withdrawn and seems really slow. I'm buzzing at work, and on a roll. It doesn't matter what I do to try and liven her up, get her back up to speed, it just seems to backfire on me. She drags me down, and I get angry and vicious. Eventually, it burns out. And the sex is crap: I need it at least once a day, preferably twice a day. And the more I need, the less I get as she gets more and more withdrawn and slow.

Eventually, after a couple of bad job changes, I find one that works out, and things at home seem to stabilise. We have a child. I'm now in second place, and I start getting antsy. The job gets chucked in favour of something riskier, and it turns out to be a crock of shit. Things are rocky at home, the more I want of anything, the less I get. I'm running around like crazy. Another kid is born, proving that there was at least some sex. Another job goes down the shitter, wife and two kids, no job. Get job, get on a roll again, home life gets more and more strained.

Have an affair. Now there's a sensible play. Just to prove to myself that I still had it in me. Whatever it is. Confession time, major emotional blow out, repercussions that last for years. Six or seven years of walking on eggshells, with massive flare-ups when I can't hold it in any longer. Always following a pattern: something pops into my mind. Then it becomes an obsession. For days or weeks. Quite often, whatever it is will be the answer to all the problems of my life, problems that I have to bear alone, because theer's no point in talking about them. I'll just get accused of being selfish. Bottle it up, bottle it up.

Sometimes, the plans, the obsessions would get acted out. Crazy, risky stuff done. Useless stuff bought, and a disappointment almost before it's taken out of the box. Spending sprees. Soemtimes it just gets suppressed, and then the resentment and bitterness starts to build up. I want to talk about it but I can't. CLICK! The switch got thrown and now it's depression and vicious anger.

These events cycle faster and faster. I come across the phrase 'manic depression' somewhere and find out what the word 'manic' means. I chuckle to my self rather ironically and think that it could be me, if only I weren't so perfectly normal.

Eventually, I realise what the problem is: my wife is suffereing from a major lack of confidence. She's been out of circulation for 10 years with the kids, wants to start thinking about going back to work, but there's no way she'll cut it back in the industry. She's lacking in self confidence because of her small boobs. Now, I know that if I raise this directly, she'll go apeshit at me. I can't arrange a boob job without her knowing, obviously. Well, maybe a car crash could be staged, and while she's on the operating table...

No. That'll never fly. Herbal extracts seem like a good plan, but how to sneak them into her diet? Eventually, anger, frustration and depression take over, and the plan is shelved. Now the whole family is depressed and slow. Answer: buy anti-depressants with a forged prescription from an online pharmacy and put them in everyone's breakfast. Add viagra to the wife's diet to pep up her libido.

No. That'll never fly. How long can I keep making breakfast for everyone before they start to get suspicious? What if they notice the taste?

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Part four. Because there is no part three.

Things come to a head. We're going to split up, it's got so bad. For fuck's sake, why can't she see that she needs help because she's so obviously depressed? Fuck it! I'll prove it! I'll go to the fucking doctors and they'll say there's nothing wrong with me, so then we'll know it's her fault.

Baaaad move. I fall apart at the doctor's and she gives me prozac, "just to help me cope for 6-9 months." Two weeks in, and I can clearly see that life is a crock, but I'm strangely content and it doesn't bother me. And I'm fascinated by the fact that I can't get it up, and that doesn't bother me either. I find crazymeds and read up on fluoxetine...

Now I'm not sleeping, and due to fly to the US. I don't want to be jetlagged and having sleeping problems. "Here," says a different GP, "have some zopiclone, see me when you get back." I am followed back by the CIA. I start cancelling appointments at work to stay at home. I can't get an appointment to see the GP, so we arrange a phone appointment. I'm crawling in my skin, anxious and paranoid. "Come and see me tomorrow - emergency appointment."

I see the GP, I'm jumpy. She asks me a load of questions, including, "Have I felt suicidal?" Of course I fucking have! I explain patiently that I have, and I know how and where. I clearly and rationally explain why it's such a good location, and I can make it look like an accident, so the family will get the insurance money.

Very calmly, she says that she thinks she knows what to prescribe, gets dfown a big book and looks it up. She's not allowed to prescribe it, so she dictates a letter to someone. She gives me xanax.

Next day I get a phone call from a private clinic. Christ, I know the place - it's a private nut house. I have an emergency appointment with someone for the following day. He turns out to be a fucking psychiatrist, of all things! WTF, do they think I'm mad or something?

"No," he says, "Bipolar."

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Part 4 (a)

Well, the rest is a fairly typical tale from the med-go-round. The shrink is a 'proper' shrink, complete with big leather chair and half moon glasses he can look over the top of. He's so stereotypical, I find it hard not to giggle. He even has a slight accent. "Zo, last time you said zat your moods had been pretty stable, apart from ze time when you hid under ze stairs for a week, yes?"

Scary rapid ramp-up of lamotrigine: 50mg week one, 100mg week 2, 150mg week three, then 200mg. No side effects to speak of. Oh, except the mood swings. Violent, like manic, bursting out of my skin to suicidal three times a day. Every time I upped the dose. So about six weeks of bipolar hell, then it started to stabilise. Amitriptyline to knock me out at night, and finally I'm sleeping at night, for th efirst time in maybe a year or more.

So that's it. 30 years of steadily worsening MI, three months of pills and I'm 'cured'. Just like that. So I take a deep breath and look around at the chaos and carnage of my life. A year on, and after a breakthrough mania six months ago I'm still on lamotrigine, but now with added Zyprexa! And stable, except when bleak despair at the prospect of trying to rebuild a life gets the better of me.

And my daughter talks about me taking my 'mad pills'...

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Part 5. Or maybe 4 {b}, I'm unsure.

I thought couple therapy would be a good idea, but three or four sessions and it looked like we'd be getting a divorce, so we canned that. This means that this board is my tdoc and general MI support resource. Other than that, I have my shrink to hand out pills and a wife who can't empathise with MI at all, it's just too alien.

I then thought I'd try hypnosis, as I was having major self confidence issues: how to deal with the fact that:

a} a bunch of your 'most productive' times may have been a delusion

b} if they weren't a delusion, they were mania fueled, and I can't go back there again

Bugger! Most hypnotherapists wouldn't go near me, one had had a bipolar patient go full on psychotic under hypnosis, and was eventually diagnosed schizophrenic, triggered by hypnosis. Found one in the end, but a waste of time.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Part three. OK, OK, so I lied earlier when I said there was no part three.

Why 'cleverly disguised'? I've made it through 30 years as a highly functional, highly successful person. I have a nice house, good job, nice car, motorbike, big boat; all the trappings.

And no-one ever suspected I was an official, paid up, card carrying fruit loop. Mmmwwahahahaha

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Part 6. OK so this is turning into a stream of consciousness thing. Today is a good day. Yesterday was a bit odd. I was driving on the motorway (freeway) at about 85-90mph and I saw a guy half sitting, half standing on the outside of the rail on an overbridge. He was in the process of climbing out ready to jump. The guy in front of me changed lanes, but I was so transfixed I stayed put, and if the guy had jumped then, I'd have got him through the windscreen at 90mph.

Kinda sobering. They never think of the impact (no pun intended) they might have. I had two kids in the back, never mind the fact that the impact could have killed me and DW in the front. Asshole.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Part 6. OK so this is turning into a stream of consciousness thing. Today is a good day. Yesterday was a bit odd. I was driving on the motorway (freeway) at about 85-90mph and I saw a guy half sitting, half standing on the outside of the rail on an overbridge. He was in the process of climbing out ready to jump. The guy in front of me changed lanes, but I was so transfixed I stayed put, and if the guy had jumped then, I'd have got him through the windscreen at 90mph.

Kinda sobering. They never think of the impact (no pun intended) they might have. I had two kids in the back, never mind the fact that the impact could have killed me and DW in the front. Asshole.

CRap, I stopped at part four. you write well, but I'll wait for the movie.

Good to have you here. And, really, based on all the stuff I read, you're a pretty normal guy. Well, not the real normal, but the kind we have.

Welcome aboard.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Guest espressogrrl

I vote with Nick.

Call spielberg immediately.

I am super ADD girl. This med change of mine nullifies my ADD meds. So I have forgotten that I had taken my meds and taken double two times in the last two weeks. Scared of not having ADD meds at the end of the month for two days, I tried to go today without it.

And unmedicated, read transfixed through the whole thing. love it. want the movie.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Good to have you here. And, really, based on all the stuff I read, you're a pretty normal guy. Well, not the real normal, but the kind we have.

Welcome aboard.

Now, I'm not at all sure how to take that ;-)

I'm begining to think that I'm normal by CB standards, which in itself is worrying. There was TV documentary on a couple nights ago, following a BP guy for a year. It was crap documentary, but my mum watched it and commented that it was waaay OTT, and the guy was completely out of control. I thought he was quite restrained by my previous standards.

Oh well.

Day 5 without Zyprexa, and still holding it together...

Link to comment
Share on other sites

So here's a little twist. A year or more back, I was being followed by the CIA. They were deliberately doing it badly, so I could tell I was being followed (that's how I knew). They were doing it to make me paranoid.

Self fulfilling, or just the weirdest circular argument ever?

Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • 3 weeks later...

OK, meant to add. No rules, all posts welcome, however weird. Threadjacks, personal attacks, WTF. Bring it on.

Tried to quit Zyprexa four times now, as it was making my weight and blood pressure (see, I have a thing with BP!) creep up.

Every time, a week to 10 days and the countdown was on for lift-off to Loopyville. So back on the Z, and return to earth in a day or three.

Vent to see ze shrink earlier in ze veek, and he vos dizappointed zat I vos still losing it vizout Z, but says to stay on 5mg (rather than 10mg prn), and see if it holds things together. Anyone else tried this low a dose? Anyone else have strange lapses into German?

Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • 3 months later...

Thread bump and long overdue update. I took a holiday from the zyprexa as despite diet and exercise I couldn't lose weight. I started taking amitriptyline again from my little stash to help me sleep and not flip out completely. It's like riding the edge of a knife.

But gradually, I got hooked on the gym. A few weeks ago, they started a fitness competition - fastest time to burn X calories (three different groups). I wans't going to enter, but I checked my time anyway. Suddenly, it seemed worth entering. That was the start of the obsession. Now i'm 5th overall, only beaten by 4 guys less than half my age (I'd already beaten one 20 year old and I'm an old crock of 43). I thought that was pretty cool. Yesterday I found out that the four ahead of me are all professional gym instructors, and my time has one of them worried. I am back on the big Z again, but my weight is still falling and my fitness is still improving.

Damn, I'm good! I just hope the Z stops me from slowly looping off back to la-la land.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Hey, I used to have a German psychiatrist! At a place called Ticehurst, also a private nut house. We used to discuss the soothing powers of Bach (we are both 'cellists) and he gave me a sea-shell.....

Holy crap, it could be the same place! The Cardinal Clinic? Actually, my pdoc isn't German, he's Iranian (I think) - Dr Partovi-Tabar, but that's the best I could do with the accent ;-)

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Archived

This topic is now archived and is closed to further replies.

×
×
  • Create New...