I've been meaning to post about this, but keep doing other things instead. I had a psychotic episode about a month ago and was suffering from "transient alternating blindness" aka. totally off my rocker. It ended as abruptly as it began and then the mania set in. It's been building and building, but I have not been psychotic at all and am feeling great.

Current projects include: investigating the lying, condescending commercial real estate agent that my landlord sent over to my apartment. Posting the results of my detailed research on the tenant's group website (along with shout outs to everyone who's helped me), writing a short story called "Of Bullets and Butterflies," creating a business plan for an environmentally friendly product (it's still a secret), learning about energy efficiency upgrades that could be done to my building, learning all about the NYC rent stabilization code, proposing a new way of charitable giving (I think I might write my buddy Obama a letter about it), dreaming of what the ideal corporation would be like, putting a profile on linkedin and posting my pathetic resume complete with philosophical interpretations of my experiences, writing letters to my high-school prom date who used to be Jeff but is now Jen (one of the most wonderful, caring people I've ever met, btw), and mulling over an idea for consulting business.

Naturally, I haven't been sleeping much, but I feel fine. Once every week, I end up sleeping 5 or 6 hrs, but then revert to the no more than 2 hrs. of sleep routine for another week or so. I have been taking my meds, but they don't do anything (which I'm kind of happy about). Well, my fiance gets home from work and tells me I am getting dangerously manic. I found this to be very strange as I thought I was calming down. Apparently not. He said he had a bad feeling and that I needed to go to the psychiatrist. Maybe this sounds delusional, but I feel as if I'm doing great. I pointed out to him that nothing I'm doing can be construed as psychotic in any way and everything that I'm doing is perfectly harmless with respect to myself and others. I just don't understand what the problem is?

The only time I've gotten close to getting myself in trouble was 2 weekends ago when we went to Florida. We had to go to a bunch of billionaire social functions and I felt as if I was crawling out of my skin. I couldn't sleep at all and was pacing frantically around the hotel all night. All I wanted to do was smash up a whole bunch of vases in the lobby. The only reason for this desire was that I just thought they were a pointless demonstration of the materialism and consumerism that pervades this society. It was so distressing that I yearned to smash them all up so that I could make a statement to the world. Fortunately, I didn't do it, but I was darn close.

Aside from that lone incident, I feel fine.

Anyway, I just wanted to share this with you as I'm not sure what to do. I don't think I need to see my psychiatrist because of it, but people keep telling me that I should. I just don't understand what the problem is?

Ok, sorry for the long post, I just felt compelled to share.

Carol

Hi Carol,

I know you said you're feeling fine. But maybe go see your psychiatrist... just to put their minds at ease.

What could it hurt? Just a thought.

I ended up making an appointment for next week, mainly because I'm going to run out of Lamictal and need to get it refilled.

My fiance goes to the same psychiatrist as I do and he said he's going to go this week for an appointment and tell him how manic I am. What a mess. I had a spell this winter when I had to go every single week because I was extremely agitated, depressed and suicidal-- wicked mixed episode.

Last time I went, my psychiatrist told me that the next option was Zyprexa since I've had bad reactions to Abilify, Risperdal, and Seroquel. I still take a little Seroquel but it doesn't really do anything. I want to avoid the Zyprexa for as long as possible due to the metabolic effects and the potential for weight gain (if I gain one ounce, I'm not taking it ever again).

I just feel like my fiance keeps trying to tell me what to do. I just don't see the harm in being manic for a while. Once I crash and devolve into spewing gibberish and ranting about nonsensical things, then I'll worry about it. For now, I just want to continue on as I am. Most of having this illness sucks, but sometimes I feel that the good spells are worth it. I'm having a huge problem trying to give that up and I don't feel as if I should have to.

Carol --

I joked with my pdoc a while back when she diagnosed me with bipolar that I wouldn't mind having a few more of the "upswings" of the manic spells, considering I'm primarily down in the dumps -- BUT my manic spells are few and far between and exceedingly disastrous when they go bad.

Gosh, I know it must be great to feel good after feeling like such crap. I know I wouldn't mind a dose of happy juice . . . but we know the best judge of our moods is usually not ourselves. I know you know this intellectually -- one of the primary signs of mania is thinking you're not manic and everybody is just trying to pee on your parade.

I wouldn't want to take Zyprexa either.

I'm just concerned because sliding from feeling good to ruinous chaos can happen so quickly. I'm glad you're considering going to your pdoc.

Hi Amie,

Thanks. I spent all last night, post forum-posting, writing a letter to my friend Timothy who's also bipolar. We met in college 10 yrs. ago and he is one of my dearest friends in the world. Anyhow, I wrote him a long, philosophical letter and in the middle of it told him that I had decided to stop taking my meds. I wasn't really thinking of that, but then, as I wrote, I just decided to stop. I suppose that I feel as if they're going to take my self away and I will lose my sense of who I am if I keep taking them. I've never been stable, so I'm not sure if I would even want to be that way. Maybe that sounds funny, but I'm just not ready to let go.

Interlude-- I am so freakin' ****ed off right now. My fiance keeps nagging me and now he's spying on me. I thought it was a little funny that when I opened this site I had last visited at 3:14pm. I was out walking dogs in the park then. I have not looked at it since last night at whatever hour I decided to stop posting and do other things. So, he just got up to go to work and I asked if he had been looking at it. He said yes. A%%!!! I am livid, beyond livid. I told him that if I wanted to share what I wrote with him, I would. I view what I write, even if it's on a public site as private. He is not invited to this party. I am an intensely private person and always have been. I feel free to express myself on this forum bcs a) people understand in ways that someone without this diagnosis can not and b) bcs. there is a certain level of anonymity. I feel completely violated right now. He said he did it because he is concerned and he thinks that I'm unhinged. I wasn't unhinged before but now I am. I do not need a parent and I do not need someone to tell me how I feel or worry about me. He needs to worry about himself. I equate this with something as grave as looking in my journal. It is a total violation of my privacy. I would never do that to him or another person, ever. I wish that he could understand my boundaries and not infringe upon them. It's all I can do to restrain myself from inserting a giant trail of expletives right now. I am so furious. Ok, I'll stop, I'm going to harangue him some more because I'm angry. He says he thinks I'm on my way to the mental hospital. Who the f&&& made him the authority. I have done nothing wrong, I'm just writing. What harm is that? and why does he think he needs to be privy to everything that I do. I'm not cheating, lying, or hurting anyone. He just needs to leave me alone. I am so, so mad, I could scream.

Finally went to bed at 4, up at 7. I had a big argument with my fiance after the post last night. I'm feeling kind of witchy still. He called this am to apologize. He works in TV and said the show had a piece on when it's ethical to snoop on your children. He claimed that what he did was okay as he was concerned about me. Umm- I AM NOT A CHILD!!!! I do not need his help, I am totally self-sufficient financially and otherwise. UGH- we always have this argument. I am trying to let it go, but I am aggravated beyond belief over this. I wish he could just leave me alone and let me live my own life. Just because we're together doesn't mean I have to share every thought with him. I have never lied, cheated or been dishonest in any way with him. Nor am I doing anything "wrong." So what's the problem? He was threatening a few days ago to call my psychiatrist. I told him go ahead, wtf does he think that's going to do. I'm not in danger nor am I endangering anyone else. No one can force me to take my meds, and they sure can't hospitalize me. Point being?

Okay, sorry to rant. Feel free to ignore. I am going to try to stop being so annoyed. Just had to vent a little.

Okay, Carol, I'm going to write you some things that you "may" not want to hear -- but remember it's from caring and nothing else.

"IF" your boyfriend loves you . . . he's probably freaking out right now about thinking you are going to end up going to the hospital -- or worse. He knows this illness does not often end well. I'm not "on his side," at all, but there are really only two options here.

1) He is a jerk who is insidiously trying to infringe on your freedom and is stomping on your boundaries because he's controlling.

2) He really believes that you are spinning out of control and is terrified that you are going to end up suicidal, in the hospital, doing something to ruin your life -- etc., and he is at a loss for what he is supposed to do.

In your logical brain, you know you are manic. You are high on your own brain chemicals right now and you do not want to come down. Having walked this path I am also concerned for you . . .

because the irritability is part of the mania.

Going off your meds is such a bad, bad idea for a million reasons.

I enjoy your posts so much and I don't want anything to happen to you and I am really, really, gravely concerned.

You may not be in danger yet, or endangering anyone else, but you and I both know that the unraveling happens at a lightning speed as our ability to truly grasp the magnitude of our circumstances dissolves.

Carol,

Earlier in this post you mentioned Zyprexa, so I'll tell you about my experience with it. 1) It will knock you out big time, so if you're looking to get some sleep it will do the trick. 2) It makes you hungry as a mofo.

And that really sucks that he read your posts. I had a problem with my wife reading my journal and then calling my psychiatrist to report on me. I've been diagnosed Bipolar as well. And as well as you I'm tired of the ****ty drugs. I've stopped taking mine but I haven't told my doctor yet.

Thank you, amiegrace! I know that you are correct, I'm just having a hard time listening to reason. I feel like I'm fighting a war with myself, and the rational side is losing. It is just so hard for me to give up this way of living. I am going to the psychiatrist next Friday-- I think the only reason I haven't cancelled the appointment is because I get along really well with him and like talking to him. Thank goodness!

I realize this episode has been going on for a while, it started immediately after the psychotic episode I had (almost a month ago, I think). That is probably what freaked John out. He didn't even know for a few days, because I am super secretive and won't talk when this is happening. He knew something was profoundly wrong, but he didn't know what. I just said my eye was bothering me and kept going to the emergency room and to the ophthamologist. I was also texting my psychiatrist to tell him that I thought I needed eye removal surgery. I even left him a message with the receptionist, I had to repeat the whole thing a few times to her so she could get it straight. In hindsight, this is really funny, because she managed not to laugh at me while I was telling her this. I was all freaked out because I didn't want John to know I was blind in one eye and that my eye was dead. What happened was I could see out of each eye individually, but when both my eyes were open, I knew that only the right eye was seeing and that the left eye was blind. Then I thought that my eye was missing completely, and that no one could see it because they were so used to seeing me with two eyes that their brains were lying to them and they didn't know that I was missing an eye. Meanwhile, I was super paranoid, but I didn't know of what. There was a bit when I thought I had to go into hiding and needed police protection. Then I realized that the police are useless, so this was no good. I just took my crazy jack russell everywhere with me because I knew that he would protect me if I were in danger. Then people kept walking by me and screaming things in my ear, I chased one of them down, asking why he said that, only to find out that he did not speak a word of English. I knew that people were staring at me, because I made a huge scene, and I was so upset that no one believed me. Fortunately, after about 5 days of this, the episode ended just as quickly as it had begun. Afterwards, I felt like I was flying.

I have been writing a lot in my mind, and my thoughts are extremely clear and focused-- this is what I do all day long while I walk the dogs. I'm alone most of the day except when I go to the dogpark at noon and hang out with my dogwalking buddies Leroy and Pablo. I am okay writing stuff like basic posts, but when I write in my journal, stream of consciousness, everything is completely disjointed. I just write pages and pages of words, all with alliteration and rhyme. I'm not sure why, but they just come to me that way. I have no idea what I'm doing, I just keep going. I suppose I'll use some of these ideas later when I write something more polished, but I just wish I could focus on something. I really can't focus at all.

So back to the fiance thing, I think he probably is worried. I probably over react at times because he is 23 years older than I am. The age difference doesn't bother either of us; however, when he gets over protective, as in this snooping incident, I flip out. I would do this with anyone, regardless of age, but I immediately assume he is trying to "parent" me as opposed to expressing concern. I was this way, even as a child, so if anyone tells me what to do, I go nuts automatically.

The other thing that's driving me crazy, is that he keeps asking me if I'm "hypersexual." I told him that if I were, he wouldn't have to ask me that question. He read a bunch of stuff about bipolar, and of course it mentions this as a feature of manic episodes. I have some when that happens, but not all of them. I have the "sex and shopping" ones, or I have the ten-zillion projects at once ones. I think he is worried that I will go do something crazy. I won't, at least not now, as that's not what I'm thinking about or interested in. I think his therapist mentioned something about the hypersexuality thing and I'm sure that's contributing to his fear. I know that it's a reasonable fear, but it just aggravates the heck out of me when he has to mention it. All in all, he is a wonderful person, we are just clashing a little bit right now because I'm manic (at least I can recognize that right now).

As for this weekend, I'm not sure what to do. I think I'll go talk to my downstairs neighbor and ask her. She's a clinical psychologist and specializes in bipolar. Funny thing is, I've been friends with her and her husband for the 3 1/2 years I've lived in my building and I never asked her what her specialty was. It wasn't until this fall that the subject even came up. Anyhow, we have very interesting conversations about bipolar. I never want to bug her when I'm freaking out, but I think I will ask her what she thinks. I'm sure she knows I'm manic as we've had a few tenants meetings lately about our scum landlord. I've been talking away at all of them, spewing out info. that I've learned (legal stuff, etc.) and posting a whole bunch on our tenant website.

Sorry these posts are so long. . .

Valhalla- I am really reticent to try Zyprexa for the weight gain issue. I was taking 500mg. of Seroquel and didn't gain weight. However, all meds are different, so who knows. I am tiny and thin, so I would flip if I gained weight.

Wow, the journal thing. I would flip even more than I did over the website snooping. I have stacks and stacks of journals. I am constantly hiding them. If someone so much as lays a hand on them, I go crazy. If someone opened my diary and read it, I would feel as if it were the ultimate violation. I always tell myself that I hope I know the moment when I'm going to die so I can burn all of my journals so no one will ever read them. Of course, this is totally unrealistic. However, if I'm terminally ill, I'm destroying all of my journals. I know it doesn't matter what happens when I'm dead, but I just can't stand the thought of anyone being privy to something so sacred.

Thanks again to everyone for reading and posting. It means a lot to me.

I have to say it sounds like you're already devolving from useful and benign mania, into angry trouble and emotional instability. just my objective and distant opinion.

Carol,

I checked the forum this morning just so I could see how you are doing.

Psychosis seems so sane at the time. In my worst episode I thought that my a-hole boss had injected LSD into my spine when I wasn't looking (because, after all, that would be easy to miss, right?) because I knew that my brain was wrong but I was absolutely convinced that there were these different groups of people (the Masons always figure prominently) who were trying to steal my baby (I was convinced I was pregnant even though I wasn't) and I had to flee for my life. For some reason it was very important that I go to Surf City because there was an important mission for me there.

Then I was convinced that I was dead and no one else knew it, because I could walk between the veil of the living and the dead. It was all so interesting, I was going to write a novel about it, because I just knew it would be the best thing anyone had ever read.

That part was sorta fun, until all the trains on the tracks in my brain started crashing and burning.

Well, that couldn't end well.

I also had the internal war raging about whether or not there was really something wrong with me, or if I finally had a vision into an unseen and underground world that no one else had access to because they were on a different level.

And this may sound REALLY crazy, but regular life can be so BORING, psychosis can be SORT of interesting for a while, until you're terrorized by it.

It sounds like you still have the capability to be coherent (but, ya know, we smart people can hide our "crazies" pretty well, can't we? :)

and I'm glad you'll be going to your appt. on Friday. :)

Now I have to get back to folding laundry . . . the horror.

Can you come fold my laundry? It's taking over my entire apartment. So much so that I decided to just go buy some clothes to wear so I don't have to deal with the laundry crisis.

Better yet, I can send my grandmother over. She used to have "laundry folding parties" when we were kids. She would give us Sprite and cookies and we all had to fold all of our own laundry (there are 3 of us), plus all of our parents' laundry. Thank goodness she made it a party-- my parents' approach to laundry is even worse than mine!

Everyone posting means a lot. Writing here, even though I've been ranting, is the only way I'm holding onto what little sanity I have left.

That is so funny what you said, Amiegrace! Once my psychotic episode was waning, I had some big artistic interpretation of it and I was going to write all about it because I thought everyone would want to read it! It is so funny that when we are psychotic we think we are so original, yet we do the same stupid stuff over and over again. I was obsessed over Don Quixote a few weeks ago (he's a recurrent theme) and I realized I am not unlike him. A cool aside, my middle of the night actor friend has a tattoo of Don Quixote on his arm. I always run into him when I wander around the park in the middle of the night and we have fascinating conversations about whatever is on our minds.

I have themes for mania/psychosis also-- surrealism, winning the Nobel prize for literature, psychic powers, tarot cards. When I lived in Paris (and dropped out of school bcs. a) I was too crazy to do school and b) I had no $), I kept writing bizarre things all over myself in purple ink and wandering the streets. I thought that everyone was a tarot card and that they were all psychic and sending me signs. There was something about Joan of Arc as well, but I can't remember. It's a bit of a blur to say the least. It ended in mixed episode he&&. I remember talking to my friend Timothy on the phone and him freaking out and calling his psychiatrist and having him call me. I can't remember what happened next.

This is a funny one-- I went to the store once and for some reason, I thought that I was being stalked by yellow cabs (there are way, way more yellow cabs here than any other type of vehicle) and it took me 3 hrs. to go 2 blocks because I had to keep hiding from the cabs. I was so petrified at the time, but every time I think of it, I laugh.

I am okay at hiding the craziness until I devolve into the ranting stage. This happened this summer over the rotting corpse in my building. Long story for another day, but I didn't sleep the entire month of August and then the dead body happened, so that didn't help. I was walking around my neighborhood ranting incessantly to everyone about the whole situation. Fortunately, I spend most of my time alone walking the dogs, so people don't always know when I'm off my rocker. I have all of my clients trained to text message me, so when I'm depressed I don't have to talk to anyone, and nobody ever knows that anything is wrong (except for my fiance).

I think I'm okay so far today, but sometimes I'm okayish in the earlier part of the day and as it get dark out, I get more and more manic. Maybe I'm manicky right now and I don't know. I think I'm calm and everyone tells me that I most definitely am not. I called Timothy after the blindness incident and he told me I sounded really manic. I thought I was fine, completely peaceful, actually. He told me to take my meds and I actually listened to him. I was taking them for a bit and then I just decided not to because I thought they might be hindering my "fun."

Thanks again, everyone.