Lack of Focus

Today, I find myself in an interesting position. Not bad necessarily, just...interesting.

Over the last few days I've been battling lack of sleep, poor diet and rather rapid mood swings. But in general, I seem to be moving towards "normal" again. Last night, well, this morning around 5, I took 50mg of Seroquel in an attempt to sleep and fortunately, I did. 11 hours in fact. But with all the renewed energy, I find myself unfocused.

I don't know exactly what I'm trying to say, but here's an example:

I was listening to music on my computer and decided to Youtube some Michael Buble. Immediately after the video started I found myself reminiscing of the days back in high school when I did live sound reproduction for musicals, concerts and the like. And immediately I start thinking about the massive sound system that was installed at the Lionel Hampton Jazz Festival in Idaho. I remember all the fun I had setting the systems up, testing and implementing them to good effect. But at the same time, I think about the music that's actually playing on this video, and remember all the amazing fun I had playing lead and solo trumpet in jazz band and think about how a career in music would be a lot of fun. But as soon as that starts, I think about my career so far as a paramedic and how I can't possibly leave all that behind. Is that just me? Am I too stuck on my current career and not focusing enough on what I am capable of?

Unfocused seems to be the right word. I need a change of careers, I'm burnt out beyond belief. I don't like my job anymore. But with all my interests, choices and desires for my life, I don't know how to even start.

Nightmares

I woke suddenly this morning. Drenched in sweat.

We were flying, somewhere. Mom, Dad and I. I'm pretty sure we were flying over the ocean. It was a beautiful sunny day, not a care in the world. Suddenly I remember the plane hitting the water. I swim free of the wreckage and see as Mom's head pokes out of the water. I do a backstroke, watching as the plane rolls to it's side, one wing jutting out of the water. Where is he? My backstroke stops when I feel a hard object between my shoulders and somehow I climb onto the cement. Home. I recognized my new surroundings as home. The bushes in front of the house, the buzzards on the railing. But oddly, instead of my childhood yard and shade tree, there's an ocean and an airplane rolling onto it's top, sinking. I don't see him. Suddenly an arm, and then his head. Dad! I jump into the water and begin swimming to him, I can't lose him. I wrap my arms around his chest and hold his upper body out of the water as I swim backwards. I accidentally spit some salt water into his face, he smiles. We reach the sidewalk and I help push him to the cement. We both climb out of the water and go inside and sit down in the kitchen as if nothing was wrong. Dad opens his favorite Jerry Baker book and the ordeal is over.

Why is this so real? What triggered this? I really, really hope this doesn't become a trend.

Sleep Eludes Me

So, it's been a while since I wrote anything. I moved to El Paso, Texas about two weeks ago. Took a new job, left my friends and family behind, again. I haven't slept more than two hours per night for nearly the entire two weeks.

My medications continue to "work as intended" but I feel that I am rapidly cycling from mania to depression, often multiple times in a day. I've been taking the medications intended to help me sleep during mania but unfortunately, I am not able to take Seroquel with any regularity as it causes the same side effects as Abilify did, dyskinesia. And more specifically it happens in my tongue. Trying to have a conversation with anyone when it sounds as if I'm having a stroke is more than frustrating. One night, alcohol was my drug of choice but yet again, I slept for about 2 hours and then woke, mind racing.

My diet has consisted mainly of fast food, macaroni and cheese, and popcorn chicken. Oh, and don't forget the massive amounts of Mt. Dew. I don't have the energy nor the desire to actually go outside and enjoy the sun. I have completely stopped exercising and spend most of my days playing computer games and generally loathing my existence. The only thing that truly keeps me grounded is my amazing friend N. She always seems to know the right things to say. Tonight, more than ever, she has helped keep me semi-focused on the good.

I'm sorry mom, for being so unreliable these past few days. It takes every ounce of energy I have just to get out of bed every day. Actually presenting myself to the world is nearly impossible. In fact, I don't even care to be around anyone, social contact is a chore. I hate chores.

Responsibility

After I found out I was bipolar I decided that it was a medical problem. I liked that idea, it made me innocent of any wrongdoings. After all, it wasn't my fault if I didn't go to work or skipped meeting someone or lapsed on work I was supposed to be doing. As part of my coping strategy, I stopped trying to compensate as much as I used to and my anxiety level and general frustration fell dramatically. But because I stopped taking as much responsibility as I used to when things went wrong, I also stopped being as effective in gathering the pieces and moving on. In some ways, I became less effective in managing my life after I was diagnosed as being bipolar.

The reality is becoming more complicated. I am innocent of being bipolar - that is beyond my control. And there will be days when I am helpless to do anything, to get on with my life. But my life is my life and I am responsible for that. If I think that the lack of responsibility for being bipolar means a lack of responsibility for my life, I will never really succeed. I dare not afford to think that I am ever helpless, even when I am depressed.

To be responsible means doing everything I can to keep my life moving along. When things are failing and when I am picking up the pieces I have to try as hard as I can. And then try a little harder than that. And just keep on trying.

"Just a little farther. It's just to the mailbox, you can do that." Somehow, I always do.

Up and Down

The last few days have been rough. I sense myself slowly winding down into depression. I seem to have moments of upward mobility and start feeling better but it is only fleeting. Tonight I find myself in pain and unsure of where to go from here. My friends don't know...and many of them wouldn't understand if they did know. They just think I'm being antisocial.

The medications don't seem to be making much of a difference. If anything, they seem to make me cycle rapidly. These ups and downs have to stop soon...right?

My sleep patterns have changed drastically. I sleep for most of the day and continue to find myself exhausted and unable to do anything without great effort. It feels as if I spend all of my energy just convincing myself to do the daily activities that are required of me. Socializing just isn't happening. Does more sleep help? I have no idea.

Home, A Blessing?

I'm back to being out of control. Definitely depressed. Just as I thought things were going to work out. My mom is worried that that things have taken a turn for the worse, but I have been here before, it's all familiar territory. I am annoyed though, and upset that stabilising over the long term is apparently going to take much longer than I had hoped.

I would call this classic mild depression. It's a damned nuisance. Frankly if I were my boss I would fire me.
 
My mood cycles are confused, no longer the one week up / one week down. I think the medication is upsetting the regular rhythm. I can't say I like the unpredictability of what might happen next and I fear that my depression may last for far more than the usual week. I'm not sure if the medications are still working. I've been really unreliable when it comes to taking them.
 
I moved home recently and I have a feeling that the large move and sudden change in surroundings has had the opposite effect from what I expected. I find my moods extrememly unstable and even less predictable than usual. I suppose it will get better once I get settled in with a new psychiatrist and psychologist...right? I don't know anymore.
 
I don't feel guilty about all the things not getting done at the moment. Some part of me is able to say - "This is a medical problem, not a personal problem, and should be sorted out as such." But it does disturb me that two years down the line from when I started treating my my manic depressive episodes, I am still having weeks where I can barely function.
 
I think that ever since I was diagnosed, I held the quiet hope that it was just a matter of time before I came on the right combination of medicines that would stabilise me and I would be cured. I would reach a stage where I could say I have stabilized - the medication is finally working - and I could just take the medication and not worry about being bipolar anymore. But this is apparently not going to happen.
 
I am only now getting used to the idea that perhaps I will have to live with medication as the foundation for my stability, but also I will need a substantial and careful change in my lifestyle and in the things I do in order to remain stable as well. I am not sure I want to do this. Sounds like I will be having to change an awful lot.

Stability comes with a cost

After more than a week of being out of touch, I am now in reasonable shape to talk. However, emotionally I am in a peculiar state - depressed with no symptoms of depression. 

I am worried about the state but I don't know what to do. I'm going to chronicle what I have been feeling and doing. Except for the inability to do things I feel fine. I am clear headed and without anxiety.

I also have a larger fear. Suppose my current meds (400 mg/day Stavzor (Depakote), 600 mg/day Lithium, 50 mg/day Lamictal) don't actually stabilize me at normal. Suppose they stop the cycling and stabilize me at this point below normal. Suppose this is as good as it gets. It's a scary thought.

There is a practical problem associated with this. In the past, motivating myself was not something I did, motivation was something I had when I was hypomanic. In a way, I never had to work hard in my life, all I had to do was to wait for my hypomania to kick in and then ride the crest of all the energy. For most of my life this was quite enough.

Now that I don't have my manic push, how am I supposed to to move forward. Motivation and discipline are learned things and I never had to learn them before. I am finding it nearly impossible to do the basic things to get my life in order. I know what I should be doing to get my life in order. I just am not doing it.

This is not depression. I am clear thinking and I have none of the other symptoms associated with depression. This is being stuck in one place and not being able to move forward.

How does one learn to be motivated anyway? Motivation and discipline are learned things and learning takes time. I keep on expecting to bounce right back into things because my world is stable, but it is a wrong expectation. I now have to spend time learning how to live a normal life.