Twitter, Facebook and Social Networking….Or Why is there a Voice in my Head?

Today’s post will be brief, mainly its my self-promotion post (regular posting will resume tomorrow if I can overcome my anxiety and defeat the voice in my head that has been trying to destroy my sanity. At the moment we are in a stalemate, but I am hoping I can defeat it. Actually my next post might be on this subject. I am not hearing multiple voices, rather its the  voice of my brain. Since high school I have been struggling with anxiety….I am going to stop right there and continue this discussion in tomorrow’s post ).

In an effort to grow my social networking presence (because this seems to be what everyone one is doing) I wanted to share my twitter and facebook name, and I  was wondering if you could pass this on to your friends or do you have suggestions for other social networking sites that could help in my growth?

twitter.com/david_a_stein

http://www.facebook.com/thedavidastein

Also I  want to encourage my readers to participate in commenting on my blog posts, I  know in the past  I haven’t responded as much, but I am working my hardest to change this. I really want to create an open community where we can share, teach, relate and help each other out. Everyone deserves a voice and I would love  to hear your stories.  So again, I want to encourage my readers to comment and participate in future discussions (please forgive the pushy nature of this post, I just wanted to try something new. If you have any suggestions, or comments,  or questions please feel free to email me at manicdepressiveblog [at] yahoo.com

To end this post, I wanted to provide you with a list of blogs that I really like, because they have all helped me with my mental health struggles (this list is in random order because they are all top blogs to me):

If You are Going Through Hell Keep Going

Prozac Withdrawal

Bipolar Burble

The Daily Bipolar

Prozac Blogger

Soulful Sepulcher

I hope you are all doing well,

Stay Strong!

Dave.

Ps. Also, if  you have not done so yet please subscribe to my blog, you can find the link at top of this page. Thank you.

The Day I was Diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder and Why It Was a Horrible Experience

When I first started this blog, I wrote a post about the problem with accurate diagnosis (I was originally diagnosed with ADD at the age of seven. I have been re-diagnosed a half dozen times over my life, with each new diagnosis worse than the previous one). It was a detailed look at the day I was diagnosed with Manic Depressive Illness (or Bipolar Disorder)- a very stressful and unnerving day, that caused me a tremendous amount of pain and emotional suffering. My psychiatrist was horrible, he treated me like crap and laughed at me for being manic-depressive. I am re-posting this story so that if someone is in the same situation they can see that they are not alone. Unfortunately, there are a lot of bad doctors out there that care more about money then the wellbeing of their patients. I’m going to stop writing this introduction and present you with my story:

“A little over a year ago my life changed. After going through numerous mental breakdowns (please see my previous post, for a detailed description of my various mental breakdowns, that led me to quit all of my jobs and give up on life) I finally decided it was time to seek medical/professional help. With the support of my parents I began looking for a psychiatrist as well as a therapist. It didn’t take long for me to find a psych who would accept my insurance and before I knew it I had an appointment (At the time I did not realize how bad/shoddy/ignorant this psychiatrist was. Had I done some research, I would have avoided the pain I was about to go through. The problem was that I was very manic and obsessively determined to fix my “problem.” In doing so, I hastily found a psychiatrist without the proper due diligence).

About a week later I went to my first psychiatrist appointment. The office building was located in an upscale area of Long Beach. The lounge was large- filled with numerous patients, desks covered in magazines, cheap art  and worn-out chairs. I signed in and took a seat in the back of the lounge. Thirty minutes passed and still had not  been called. Impatient I walked over to the receptionist  desk and asked if the psych was still in. I was informed that Dr. A was still in a session with another patient and would be with me shortly.

Two hours later I was finally allowed to see the psych. His office was in the back of the building and it was filled with artifacts from around the world. Dr. A sat behind a large mahogany desk and he was covered in gold and platinum jewelry. He told me to sit down and informed me that he was the only psych in the area who could diagnose a patient in less than five minutes. (I know this might sound ludicrous, but this actually happened to me. He was a very sleazy man. Not only did he have a large platinum and diamond cross around his neck, but he also wore a rolex and numerous gem rings. On top of that he was ignorant and made numerous comments that degraded people with Bipolar Disorder). And he was right, he diagnosed me with Bipolar Disorder the moment I began describing my symptoms. I was put on depakote, however, that did not work as it made me insanly depressed. Then I was put on Abilify which lasted all of three days, but those three days were hell as I could not sit still or concentrate as I was constantly overcome with tremors. Next I was put on tegretol (oh and another thing, he was never available when I called his office. I always had to leave a message with his secretary. And it was always his secretary who would call back with an answer, as Dr. A was too busy to call me personally) and that seemed to work. However, as the week progressed I started to become very manic and very depressed. I began to realize that Dr. A was not the best psychiatrist for me, so I stopped seeing him. This was a very hard decision for me, as I am usually very scared of change as well as mortified by other people’s response to my actions (will I offend the psych if I no longer see him).

I am glad that I was able to break free from this psych and move on to someone new. It was around this time that I had started seeing a therapist and he suggested a psych that was highly regarded in the area. My therapist was right, the psych was amazing and within two weeks we both were able to workout a med cocktail that balanced my mind. I am still seeing this psych, as he is very empathetic and knowledgeable.”

Stay Strong!

Dave.

Manic Depressive Illness- My Fear of Sanity-Why I tried to Create an Episode

It’s been an odd few days.  As I noted in my previous post, my toilet broke again, causing a flood of emotions and stress. But through all the mess, my mind was stable and I didn’t fall apart. It’s been like this for about a week. Most people would be happy with stability but I’m scared of it. I have been unstable for so many years that I fear stability, because it doesn’t feel normal. It’s odd, it’s scary, it’s unnerving and it makes me sick to my stomach. I feel weird writing about this because I have made so much progress in the last month, that I should be happy I’m stable. But I’m not.  Ever since I was diagnosed with manic depressive illness (I was diagnosed about two years ago as Bipolar I, Mixed Episodes, OCD and a mild form Agoraphobia. I also suffer from an un-diagnosed anxiety disorder), I have been fighting a battle with my mind and my surroundings. It hasn’t been easy, in fact I have hit rock bottom so many times that I’m comfortable with failure and pain.

So the other day when my toilet broke, I freaked out because I was calm. I didn’t know what to do. I called my mom and tried to act “crazy,” hoping that if I kept pushing myself towards insanity I would have a mental breakdown. Nothing happened. I hung up on my mom and tried to walk around my apartment, telling myself I was worthless, crazy and ill. I tried to force my mind to race but it refused to function. In fact, the voice that has haunted me for almost a decade was silent, making me even angrier. By that time I was running around my apartment- yelling at the walls, ignoring my phone and hoping that I would breakdown. Eventually I answered the phone, talked with my mom and walked over to the manager’s apartment. He wasn’t home. Maybe this is how I can create panic in my mind! The manager isn’t home, he doesn’t care about me, in fact he is going to ignore me so that my problem grows!  No one wants to help me because I am a lost cause. My mind is fucked.

Again nothing happened.

About ten minutes later, the apartment manager walked through the front gate and greeted me. I told him that the toilet had broken again, which caused my bathroom to flood. He wasn’t mad, in fact he was very supportive and frustrated that my toilet had backed up again.  M (the manager) immediately called a plumber. About two hours later the plumber arrived, entered my apartment and began working on my toilet. Unfortunately, my mind was still stable…

I still can’t believe I tried to force myself to fall apart. It’s been a few days since my toilet broke and I’m still stable. I don’t know why.  I can’t believe I’m thinking like this- like is said in the above paragraphs, I should be happy that I’m stable instead trying to destroy my mental health.

I’m going to stop writing about this and open up this discussion to my readers: do any of you struggle with your sanity and/or sobriety? If so what have you done to overcome these feelings?

I hope you are all doing well!

Dave.

Saturday Afternoon Update- My Toilet Broke, but I’m Mentally Stable

To all my readers, I want to apologize for not posting the last few days. My life has been going up and down and every time I try to sit down and write, my life crumbles. My toilet broke again the other day, flooding the bathroom with water and urine (I know that is a little too much information, but I want to show you what I have been dealing with), causing my somewhat stable mind to crack. Well not completely crack, but I was teetering on the edge. The toilet was eventually fixed, but the problem was I had to let other people into my apartment, which is one of my biggest fears/paranoia. It’s completely irrational, I get scared when other people are in my apartment, so how am I supposed to meet someone and allow them in my life? Maybe that is why I have no friends, I’m scared to let my guard down and allow someone into my world-then again would I even want to let someone get close to me or into my head, its pretty fucked up, the thoughts,  the negative feelings and the voice that never seems to go away- I’m going to be honest here, this is something I’ve never really talked about, I’m 25 and I’ve never had a girlfriend, I’ve never had a relationship with anyone. Honestly this shouldn’t be a problem, there are a lot of people out there that are single and happy. But it gets lonely. I realize that I need to work on myself before I can start a relationship, so I’m going to move onto the next topic.

I made it through the week and although my toilet broke and other people were in my house, I didn’t have a huge mental breakdown. I’m proud of myself, because this means I’m making a lot of progress. A month ago I would never have survived this, in fact I would have most likely ended up back in the hospital.

I’m finally making progress! My mind is stable and I’m happy for the first time in months. I know this won’t last, but for now I will enjoy the mental stability. Hopefully I will get to the point where I can start working again (I want to write professionally, it is a dream of mine and I hope that I can make this real one day. I know I was born to write and even if it takes years, I will become a professional writer!!) and possibly go back to school (again I want to attend a creative writing/non-fiction program).

I hope you are all doing well!

Dave.

Thursday Afternoon Update

Good afternoon, I hope you are all doing well.  Today’s post is going to be really small. I finally have a move-out date (next Friday), but I am starting to become really stressed out. My apartment needs to be cleaned, the books and movies need to be boxed-up and I need to finally return my library books. I’m excited to finally have the chance to move and hopefully this is a step in the right direction.

Hopefully, I will get myself back on a regular posting schedule in the next couple of days, until then I must tend to my crumbling psyche.

Stay strong!

Dave.

Manic Depressive Illness- Will Seroquel be the Death of Me? (Horrible Side-Effects, but Positive Outcome)

Today’s post is an examination of my relationship with Seroquel (it’s a follow up/sequel to my last post). About six months after I was diagnosed with manic depressive illness, my new psychiatrist decided it was time to put me on a “miracle d\rug.” He was convinced that this particular medication was a cure-all for most mental disorders. In fact, he had a backroom filled with samples- he later told me that AstraZeneca would take him out to lunch once a month and provide him with an infinite amount of Seroquel samples.

It was my first visit to the new psychiatrist (My previous psychiatrist was horrible, he treated me like shit and he constantly put me on different meds to see how I would react, I felt like a lab rat) and I was nervous. The receptionist greeted me, took my credit card and told me to take a seat in the lobby. The office was a refurbished house- it was comfortable, with leather chairs and oil paintings hanging on the walls. This was not a typical doctor’s office. A few minutes later, a tall elderly man walked through the front door. He looked in pain; his neck was covered in a brace and hands were shaking. I thought he was another patient. Instead of sitting down in the lobby, he unlocked an office door, walked and slammed it shut. It was all very confusing…

…To save you from the boring details of my first psych visit, I’m going to fast forward a bit:

(http://www.real-selfhelp.org)

We talked for almost an hour, with Dr. M making various comments and observations about my life story. Unlike my previous psych, who prescribed me a med cocktail within the first five minutes of our session, Dr. M genuinely cared about my mental health. When it came time to change my meds, I was confident in Dr. M’s ability as a psych. At that time I was only taking 150mg of Zoloft, unfortunately I was extremely paranoid (I would later find out that one of the side-effects of Zoloft is increased mania and paranoia). Instead of taking me off Zoloft, D.r M decided to add a new drug: Tegretol. The sole purpose of the Tegretol was to combat the Zoloft created paranoia. We ended our session…

The next few days were hell. Although the paranoia decreased, I was unable to sleep and I had this feeling that a depressive episode was about to begin. I was scared. I called Dr. M’s office and demanded that I get an appointment.

At 1pm the next day, I found myself back in Dr. M’s office. He asked me how I was doing and I started to fall apart- I was frustrated, depressed, manic and scared (I suffer from mixed episodes). But more importantly I was vulnerable. Dr. M started telling me about this miracle drug that most of patients were on. It was called Seroquel. There was a caveat- patients who took Seroquel had the potential to develop various side-effects (according to Dr. M, Seroquel had not been on the market long enough to determine its side-effects. He furthered this by stated that  it might be a few decades before we know the total impact Seroquel has on a patient’s life).

I was so desperate to improve my mental health, that I agreed to start taking Seroquel. Dr. M provided me with a brown bag of samples and instructed me to take 50mg each night before I go to bed. At first, I didn’t feel different. However, as the week progressed, the mania and the depression began to dissipate. In fact, I started enjoying life again. Dr. M was right.

A few weeks past and my mental health continued to improve. The only downside was that my weight started to increase…another month went by and I started to get depressed again. What was happening, I thought everything was finally working out? Oh man, I really don’t want to be depressed, I hate being depressed. Why does life have to fuck me over sometimes?  I made a new appointment with Dr. M. Instead of taking me off Seroquel, Dr. M increased my dosage to 100mg…

Present Day:

I’m currently taking 900mg of Seroquel a night (when I was first put on Seroquel, Dr. M explained that dosage limit for Seroquel was around 1400mg. I’m really scared that one day I will be at that dosage level). It still is an amazing drug, as it’s the only thing keeping my mind stable. However, I’ve gained almost 70 pounds since starting Seroquel. On top of that I have a high risk of developing Tardive Dyskinesia, Diabetes as well as other unknown side-effects.

The question is why am I  still taking Seroquel? Why would I willingly take a drug that has so many horrible side-effects? Because it’s the only thing keeping me sane at the moment. Although I still have manic/depressive episodes, they are not as severe as they were 3 years ago. I’m also able to sleep, as my thoughts have stopped racing.

You might think I’m crazy to do this; however, I want to try and enjoy my life…

I hope everyone is having a great Monday Evening.

Stay Strong.

Dave.

Manic Depressive Illness: When Withdrawal and Paranoia Combine-Or, Why It’s Impossible to Quit Zoloft

My hands were shaking, my face was pale and I could feel the bile coming up my throat. It was my first day on the job as a limo driver and I was suffering from withdrawals. I looked like a complete mess and I could barely concentrate- it took all of my energy to keep myself from vomiting all over the place. The reason I was going through withdrawals, was that my GP decided I needed to reduce my Zoloft intake by 100mg (at the time I was taking 250mg of Zoloft a day). Unfortunately, I was never informed that Zoloft was addictive. In fact, when the GP first prescribed me Zoloft (for depression, OCD and agoraphobia-this was way before I was diagnosed with Manic Depressive Illness, so instead of seeking help from psychologist, I turned to my family’s doctor for help) she adamantly stated that it was not addictive. I was desperate for help, so I blindly accepted the doctor’s claim.

That was a mistake.

Instead of spending a few minutes researching the side-effects of Zoloft, I relied on a family doctor to determine what was best for my mental health. It’s been over three years since I started Zoloft- I’ve tried to quit a couple of times, however, the withdrawals are too intense (I was addicted to oxycodone for awhile, and that withdrawal paled in comparison to the Zoloft withdrawal).

I’m stuck.

That is all I can write at the moment. I want to end this post with a question and possible discussion: How many of you have experienced medication withdrawals (or other potentially harmful medication experiences) and how has that impacted your life?

Stay Strong!

Dave.

Manic Depressive Illness-The Three Cousins, A Book Idea

This post will serve as a starting point for a story/book/memoir (I have yet to decide if I want to make it explicitly non-fiction) I am planning on writing. This “idea” has been floating around my head for the last year and I have finally decided to start working on it. My goal is to intertwine the story with my blog, so as to create an immersive experience. As you all know I suffer from Manic Depressive Illness, and as I pointed out in a previous post I have really fucked up extended family- filled with drug addicts, alcoholics and nut-cases.

However, this project is not about my entire extended family, instead its about three cousins who were all diagnosed with manic-depression. Although we share a common diagnosis, our lives have taken extremely different paths. And that is what I am fascinated in- examining how different people deal with mental illness. Sometimes, it works out and the person in question is able to deal with being diagnosed as mentally ill. However, that is not the case with this story as there is no happy ending. Instead we are left with a tragic example of how damaging mental illness can be for a family.

Sorry for making this sound so depressing, however, I am interested in depicting the actual feelings and emotions each cousin experienced. I don’t know how this story will progress and I am still not convinced it will work out, however, I love to experiment with writing (I have always been fascinated with stream of consciousness writing and how it impacts the reader’s emotional state).

Would you all be interested in a story like this? Or should I just scrap the idea and move onto something else?

My hands are hurting and my brain is tired, so this is where the post will end.

Dave.

Forgotten Childhood- The Downside of Cognitive Behavior Modification Therapy

Most of my childhood is a blur; only a few fragments of my memory remain. I didn’t have a bad childhood, in fact my parents worked hard to ensure that it was stable. Rather, it was the trauma of going through intense psychological therapy that damaged my childhood memories. My parents and I decided against the use of medication (although I was not completely aware of what was going on, I did not want to go on medication. I had seen the negative reactions in some of my fellow classmates), so our only alternative was Cognitive Behavior Modification Therapy.

We met Dr. E through a child psychiatrist and I started seeing her three times a week. The goal was to completely breakdown and rebuild my psyche. My parents were told that my emotional level was years behind, and that intense therapy was needed to ensure my future stability. I spent almost a decade in therapy, and although I was able graduate from both high school and college (when I was originally diagnosed with ADD my parents were told that I would never graduate from high school. So when I did graduate, it was a huge moment for my family), I was left with some debilitating problems.

After years of intense therapy, I developed a nasty co-dependency problem with my parents. By the time I was 19 I couldn’t leave the house  (I was working during this time., but my mind works in weird ways, it was able to rationalize leaving the house for work, but nothing else). I was too scared to walk outside. All I wanted to do was live with my parents, watch TV and pretend the world around me did not exist. There were instances when I did leave my parent’s home, but most of them ended up in disaster. I still remember this party/get-together I went too. I had finally made some friends and they forced me to go out.  It was a coworker’s birthday party and instead of enjoying myself, I sat alone and sulked. My mind was filled with negative thoughts and it would not stop racing- Why did I allow them to drag me to this party? I don’t know anyone. I am just a loner, a loser and fuck-up. I am going to die alone. Life would be better if I was just in front of the TV watching cartoons. The reality is that no one wanted to invite me, I was just there because they felt sorry for me….for fucksake I better leave soon, they are starting to dance. I got so paranoid that I almost vomited.

At the time I did not realize I was suffering from agoraphobia, instead I just ignored the problem. It would take me almost a year to realize that my mind was unstable and I needed to find a help.  So I called up Dr. E and set up an appointment (I don’t remember the exact date, all I know is that I was between 19 and 20). I told her about my anti-social problems and growing paranoia. After awhile, Dr. E stopped the session. She told me that I had developed agoraphobia (which had evolved from the co-dependency) as well as OCD and that the source of my problem was the Cognitive Behavior Modification therapy I had gone through a child.

I was confused.

Dr. E explained to me that she knew I wold develop a co-dependency problem when I started therapy. I felt betrayed and hurt. The one person who was supposed to help me, lied to me. I was never told that I would develop more problems if I went through intense therapy. So I walked out of Dr. E’s office and never saw her again. To this day, I blame Dr. E for a lot of my mental issues and as such, I have a hard time seeing a therapist.

Sorry for the rambling post, this was really hard to write, it has taken me two days to produce this piece and I have been tempted to delete it.

*Just to be clear I am not against Cognitive Behavior Modification Therapy, I would never have gotten this far without it. However, like most “cures,” it has its darkside.

Dave.

Manic Depressive Illness- The Problem with Ignoring Your Own Thoughts

Today was a good day. I woke up and it was sunny. I was not depressed or manic, just content. I met with my graduate advisor this morning and we went over my mental state. He asked numerous questions, trying to determine if my good mood was real, or just a wall that I was putting up. I guess that is the problem with having a spiritual counselor (he is not a liscened therapist, but has experience with spiritual care and chaplaincy) as your mentor, each meeting feels like a cross-examination. I explained that I really was in a good mood, that my mind was finally stable and I was able to enjoy life (I am not used to this feeling, in fact, I have become so used to being depressed/manic that stability scares me). We then talked a bit about my plans for leaving school and how that impacted my life. The meeting ended with a discussion about my family and how their visit on Saturday broke up my depression.

That was the highlight of my day. After the meeting I returned to my apartment, smoked and tried to forget everything that was going. I was afraid that my good mood would soon disappear leading me to a horrible episode.

My mind fell into Oblivion.

Hours past as sat in front of my computer watching random shows, waiting for the day to end. As I began to regain control of my mind, I started to wonder what I was afraid of. Why did I get myself so high that I could barley function? Why do I spend so much time and effort avoiding my memories, my thoughts and my brain’s voice (at times I feel like my brain is a living creature, with the ability to talk and comprehend its surroundings)? Why am I afraid of myself? I couldn’t answers these questions.Even now, with a clear mind, I am struggling to understand why I work so hard avoid my thoughts. Maybe I really do need to start seeing a therapist or at least talk with my psych.

Today has been confusing and frustrating.

Well that is all for today. I need to make myself some dinner and try to study for a test.

Dave.