Post by Super Awesome on Oct 17, 2007 21:18:34 GMT -5
Bipolar disorder-- any of several psychological disorders of mood characterized usually by alternating episodes of depression and mania —called also manic depression manic-depressive illness
Depression-- a psychoneurotic or psychotic disorder marked especially by sadness, inactivity, difficulty with thinking and concentration, a significant increase or decrease in appetite and time spent sleeping, feelings of dejection and hopelessness, and sometimes suicidal thoughts or an attempt to commit suicide
Mania-- an abnormally elated mental state, typically characterized by feelings of euphoria, lack of inhibitions, racing thoughts, diminished need for sleep, talkativeness, risk taking, and irritability. In extreme cases, mania can induce hallucinations and other psychotic symptoms.
Today, I was asked what exactly bipolar disorder is. Most people JUST think it is mood swings. It is so much more, or at least in extreme cases. Above is the meaning of bipolar disorder and the two things most closely associated with them.
Being bipolar is part of me. I have always been bipolar, or at least as long as I can really remember. Even at five or six I remember coming home from school and crying for nothing. Or at times, staying up for days on end. My teachers commented on how smart I was but how I was always jumping around, or how loud I was. Naps were non-existent.
But my first stage of mania came years later. I think I was about ten. It was wonderful. That's exactly how it was. EVERYTHING made since. I spent at least two days writing and reading. I don't really remember talking to anyone, or if I did, I don't remember saying anything that would make sense. If you've ever been in mania then you would understand, if you haven't then you will never understand the extreme high you get from it.
Soon after, I went into the supreme depression that quickly follows the mania stage. My high was replaced with crying, and nothing absolutely nothing ment a thing. My mom was so disturbed she took me to a child psychiatrist. The one I still have now. I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, but at the time, it wasn't fully understood, so I got a cocktail of medication that worked agianst the hyper part and the depressive part. The medicine was carefully balanced, and it took years to get it right. Still now I have to change it around.
I was fine about three years. At thirteen I swore I was in love with a boy I met online. Yes, it was stupid. I know that now. I fought with my mom over him. I started throwing away my pills to spite my mother. The highs and lows started agian. My mom didn't notice, because I was usually yelling at her, and the crying she took as my response to her telling me I couldn't talk to him. I was so mad all the time. Finally, it got so bad I tried to kill myself.
I was crying on my bed, my pillow pushed over my face to cover my crys. I found I couldn't breathe. When I turned my face to get air, the idea that I could just make it stop popped into my head. I do believe it was the first time that I thought about it. So, I just turned my head back over and pushed the pillow into my face hard. I remember the extreme movement of my chest in the beginning and then the slowing of it as my mouth opened and I tasted cloth in my mouth. Colors started in my black feild of vision. I felt like I was floating. It felt good. I almost made it. Almost. Somehow, my pillow was removed from my face, and I found myself sitting up. My head spun hard to the left and right, and I couldn't see worth crap. The headache lasted for days.
Mom swore she was going to put me in a mental institute. She didn't. I started my medicine agian and felt better. A few months later, I was forbade to speak to James agian. I got a dog this time. I was good for years. Years. Starting High school was hard, but I really didn't think about killing myself agian.
Although now, when I look back, I sometimes wonder if things would have been better if I had actually died. But I really don't think killing myself now would help anything, just cause my parents more work. Killing yourself is an easy way out. I don't want to go easily. I want to die fighting.
I do still have those highs and lows. Just not extrememly. They understand bipolar diesease better now. I have a pill specifically for it now. Yet, it still makes me mad when people say, "People just make that up to have people feel sorry for them." or "Parents just want an easy way out for their bad parenting skills." or "I don't believe in medication. You should be able to pull yourself out by youself." I get extremely upset. It's like telling me. "You just want attention. There's nothing wrong with you. You're a weak, stupid person who can't deal with your life."
Depression-- a psychoneurotic or psychotic disorder marked especially by sadness, inactivity, difficulty with thinking and concentration, a significant increase or decrease in appetite and time spent sleeping, feelings of dejection and hopelessness, and sometimes suicidal thoughts or an attempt to commit suicide
Mania-- an abnormally elated mental state, typically characterized by feelings of euphoria, lack of inhibitions, racing thoughts, diminished need for sleep, talkativeness, risk taking, and irritability. In extreme cases, mania can induce hallucinations and other psychotic symptoms.
Today, I was asked what exactly bipolar disorder is. Most people JUST think it is mood swings. It is so much more, or at least in extreme cases. Above is the meaning of bipolar disorder and the two things most closely associated with them.
Being bipolar is part of me. I have always been bipolar, or at least as long as I can really remember. Even at five or six I remember coming home from school and crying for nothing. Or at times, staying up for days on end. My teachers commented on how smart I was but how I was always jumping around, or how loud I was. Naps were non-existent.
But my first stage of mania came years later. I think I was about ten. It was wonderful. That's exactly how it was. EVERYTHING made since. I spent at least two days writing and reading. I don't really remember talking to anyone, or if I did, I don't remember saying anything that would make sense. If you've ever been in mania then you would understand, if you haven't then you will never understand the extreme high you get from it.
Soon after, I went into the supreme depression that quickly follows the mania stage. My high was replaced with crying, and nothing absolutely nothing ment a thing. My mom was so disturbed she took me to a child psychiatrist. The one I still have now. I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, but at the time, it wasn't fully understood, so I got a cocktail of medication that worked agianst the hyper part and the depressive part. The medicine was carefully balanced, and it took years to get it right. Still now I have to change it around.
I was fine about three years. At thirteen I swore I was in love with a boy I met online. Yes, it was stupid. I know that now. I fought with my mom over him. I started throwing away my pills to spite my mother. The highs and lows started agian. My mom didn't notice, because I was usually yelling at her, and the crying she took as my response to her telling me I couldn't talk to him. I was so mad all the time. Finally, it got so bad I tried to kill myself.
I was crying on my bed, my pillow pushed over my face to cover my crys. I found I couldn't breathe. When I turned my face to get air, the idea that I could just make it stop popped into my head. I do believe it was the first time that I thought about it. So, I just turned my head back over and pushed the pillow into my face hard. I remember the extreme movement of my chest in the beginning and then the slowing of it as my mouth opened and I tasted cloth in my mouth. Colors started in my black feild of vision. I felt like I was floating. It felt good. I almost made it. Almost. Somehow, my pillow was removed from my face, and I found myself sitting up. My head spun hard to the left and right, and I couldn't see worth crap. The headache lasted for days.
Mom swore she was going to put me in a mental institute. She didn't. I started my medicine agian and felt better. A few months later, I was forbade to speak to James agian. I got a dog this time. I was good for years. Years. Starting High school was hard, but I really didn't think about killing myself agian.
Although now, when I look back, I sometimes wonder if things would have been better if I had actually died. But I really don't think killing myself now would help anything, just cause my parents more work. Killing yourself is an easy way out. I don't want to go easily. I want to die fighting.
I do still have those highs and lows. Just not extrememly. They understand bipolar diesease better now. I have a pill specifically for it now. Yet, it still makes me mad when people say, "People just make that up to have people feel sorry for them." or "Parents just want an easy way out for their bad parenting skills." or "I don't believe in medication. You should be able to pull yourself out by youself." I get extremely upset. It's like telling me. "You just want attention. There's nothing wrong with you. You're a weak, stupid person who can't deal with your life."