Manic Depressive Illness- The Problem with Blacking Out During a Manic Episode

One of my biggest triggers is coffee and if I drink more than three cups I usually fall into a crippling manic episode (although I was diagnosed with manic depressive illness over two years ago, I am just now realizing that caffeine is a major trigger for me. I wish I had realized that earlier, it would have saved me a lot of frustration and grief). Most days I can control myself; however, there have been a handful of times, over the last six months, that I have forced myself into a manic episode by ingesting too much caffeine.  The following is an account of one of these episodes (warning: the following is very graphic and could potentially be a trigger):

I was sitting in front of my laptop, playing a video game and drinking my fifth cup of coffee. Sweat was pouring down my face and my mind was racing. In an effort to curb the racing thoughts, I turned the volume up and hyper-focused on the game. It worked for a few minutes, until I realized my cup was empty and I needed more coffee. After refilling my cup, I started playing half life 2 again. Unfortunately, I didn’t realize my anxiety was rapidly increasing, forcing me closer and closer to a manic episode. I ignored all of the warning signs and continued playing half life 2.

About twenty minutes later I hit rough a rough point in the game.  Without thinking, I picked up my coffee cup and slammed it on the table in frustration.  Coffee went everywhere- splattering the walls, ceiling, table, chair and floor. Then I realized my laptop (it was a new macbook pro) was covered in coffee. I fucking lost it. My mind was racing- Why the fuck does this keep happening to me? Why does this keep happening to me? Why does this keep happening to me? Why do I keep fucking everything up? Oh my god,  oh my god, oh my god. My life is fucking falling apart, how do I keep fucking everything up?? Instead of cleaning up the mess, I started pacing around the room, screaming at nothing.

You have really fucked up this time. You destroyed the present your parents gave you, you don’t give a shit about anything. All you care about is yourself. Your fucking pathetic.  The voice in my head that had tortured me for most of my life was screaming- it filled my mind until I no longer could control my sanity.

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I blacked out. The next twenty minutes was a blur. I don’t know how I regained my consciousness, but when I did I was scared at what I had done. Blood was dripping off right hand, my ankles were swollen and my apartment was a complete mess.  Walking around, I found a wall that had various indentations covered in blood-I had punched it until the skin on my knuckles had completely ripped off. Various metal chairs were scattered around the apartment and I realized I had kicked them across the room (I was lucky I didn’t break my ankles). I walked into my bedroom and found one the closet doors on the floor. When I looked inside the closet I found a massive hole. Picking up the door, I realized I had ripped it off the track and slammed it against the wall.

I didn’t know what to do, so I called my dad in a panic and told him that I had spilled coffee on my macbook (I wasn’t ready to tell him about the damage I had done to my apartment, I would save that for another day)-I begged him to tell me what to do and eventually he calmed me down. After the call, I went back to the table and cleaned up the mess. Later that evening I went to a local apple store and I had one of the technicians examine the macbook. Unfortunately, it was completely fried…

~

Blacking out during a manic episode is a very real and serious problem that needs to be addressed and understood (as well as triggers). As such, I want to open this discussion up to my readers:

Have any of you ever blacked out during a manic episode?

How many of you know what your triggers are? Is coffee one of them, or something completely different? And what do you do to avoid your triggers?

I hope you are all doing well

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.

An In-Depth Look into Self-Harm (Guest Blog)

Today’s post is from Jess, author of the amazing and must read-blog Thoughts of Jess (this is the first in a series of guest blogs/submissions). It delves deep into the world of self-harm, providing both personal stories as well as various observations on the subject:

WARNING: This post contains graphic material regarding cutting.  If cutting or self-harm is a trigger for you, please do not read any further. Self harm is always an interesting subject to discuss.  There are the aspects of self-harm as they relate to suicidiality, and suicidal ideation, but there is also the non-suicidal self injurious behavior.  In fact, the American Mental Health Counseling Association wrote an entire journal volume on Non Suicidal Self Injurious (NSSI) behavior.  I have yet to read all of the articles (as I have a backlog of journals to read!), but I plan on reading them soon.  There is so much misinformation regarding SI, that I hope to dispel some of that today, and add more personal anecdotes of SI behavior.

Unfortunately, a lot of popular misconceptions center around people’s beliefs that SI behavior whether it is cutting, burning, picking, beating or banging oneself (the list goes on), is only done for attention.  While there is a small percentage of people who do self harm for attention (and most of the general public attributes this to borderline personality disorder), the majority of self harmers do NOT do it  for attention.  Even those with borderline personality disorder, may not have a primary motive of attention-seeking.  The classic example is Glen Close in Fatal Attraction where she cuts herself to get him to stay with her.  This is not normally the case.  Most people self-harm as a way to establish control.  In the midst of depression or any other mental illness, some people self-harm in order to release pent up energy, to feel like they have some control over themselves when they are in the throes of spiraling mental and emotional instability, or any other personal reason.

For me, when I first self-harmed (via cutting), I was upset at the person I was dating because he continued to stay at a party, while drunk, during which, in the future, I learned that he cheated on me during that time.  I was already upset and slightly depressed, so it was not solely based on attention-seeking, but I imagine a small part of my reasons could come from that.  However, I was upset, antsy, and feeling out of control, so I did self-harm.  Using scissors was a bad idea, as they are blunt objects and didn’t work too well.  Also, since I had to go over and over with them, they left scars for a few years.  However, I noticed yesterday (as I was formulating this entry) that they are gone.  I cut on my thighs, so they would not be visible to others.  Side note: that is another thing.  Most cutters or SI people do not do it in places that people can easily see; therefore, it’s not usually about attention.  Sometime we are embarrassed about it afterward.  Anyway, after I cut, the person I was dating came back down to my room and helped me treat the area affected.

The second time I self-harmed was after a bad breakup (pattern anyone) in which I was completely out of control emotionally and mentally.  I was freaking out, going to therapy, because the woman I had dated was going apeshit.  Her friend put her on suicide watch.  I know it wasn’t my fault, and not to blame myself, but still, it’s hard!  My therapist told me that she had some borderline characteristics, but truthfully, how could she say that without having ever met my ex?  It’s odd.  So, I actually self harmed over the previous scars.  I didn’t want to give myself new scars, as I was afraid my parents or someone would see.  (I managed to keep them from seeing when we went on a cruise,  by putting shorts on immediately after getting out of the swimming pool.  I was so nervous!  I’d even come up with the idea of telling them that I did it in high school during my deep depression instead of a few months before).  The second time, I used a razor on my arm, because I knew scissors were not the way to go!  I accidentally cut deeper than I meant to, but it was still a superficial cut.  There is a faint scar, and no one would know it’s there unless I pointed it out.

The third (and last time) I self-harmed was also when I was an emotional wreck after the person I was dating accused me of cheating (or wanting to cheat).  I had responded to an email in which a person propositioned meeting him.  I answered saying I was available, but afterwards, I decided I wasn’t actually going to do it.  I was hypomanic at the time, but that’s not an excuse; I’m just explaining that because sometimes judgment is impaired.  Anyway, the guy I was dating read my email and Facebook accounts, so he found out about it.  This began a long spiral of bullshit, that led to abuse (emotionally and mentally; once physically, where he choked me hard), but that’s another story.

Anyway, for those that know me, they would never guess that I would self-harm.  Even if they know that I have BP, it wouldn’t cross their minds.  I have vowed never to self-harm again, and I will always stand by that.  It’s a bad coping mechanism, and I’ve learned better, more productive ones over the past few years.  For those that do self-harm, I know saying “that’s bad” and “don’t do that” are not good because they hear it all the time, but know that you can get help if you want, and there are people who care.

~

I want to end this post by providing you with Jess’ url again: http://thoughtsofjess.wordpress.com/

Dave.

Manic Depressive Illness-Why Self-Harm can Happen to Anyone

(Warning, there is graphic content in this post that could potentially become a trigger) I never thought I would cut myself. I never thought I would resort to self-harm as a way to escape my emotional pain. I never thought my wrists would be covered in scars or that my favorite knife would become my only friend. But life takes its toll, causing us to do things we normally would not do. I was 22 when I first cut myself and I still remember it vividly. It was the middle of the week and I had just come home from work. Tired, I spent a few minutes talking with my parents before I retreated to my room. Closing the door, I walked over to my bookshelf  and examined my collection. My thoughts were racing, dragging me closer to a depressive episode (at the time I did not realize I suffered from Manic Depressive Illness. Although I had spent most of my childhood in therapy, my adult life was the complete opposite. I thought I had been cured. I thought that my mind was finally stable and that I could return to a normal existence. But I was wrong. I spent so much time trying to escape my past, that I did not realize I mentally unstable).

Walking away from my book case, I sat down on my bed and started to worry. Thoughts of death consumed my mind, causing me to further crack. I didn’t know what to do. I had no one to turn to (at the time I did not trust my parents, I had been so wrapped up in my own life that I forgot my parents were there to help me. So instead of walking out of my bedroom and confront my parents, I just sat there in silence). Tears began to trickle down my face as the darkness grew. I tried to tell myself that the thoughts were not real, that my brain was just fucking with me. But nothing was working. I was desperate, so I started to chant “Go away bad thoughts, go away bad thoughts, go away bad thoughts,” hoping that the darkness would recede. Unfortunately I was wrong. The negative thoughts began to grow, telling me that I would never have any friends, that I was ugly, that my co-workers hated me and that my own parents had given up on me.

It was around this time that a knife had found its way into my hands. Opening the blade, I stared at the cerated edge, contemplating my next move. Without realizing what I was doing, I placed the blade on my left wrist and began to cut. At first the blade did break through the skin. I pulled the knife away, stared at my wrist and began to laugh. A smile had formed on my face, as I tried to cut my left wrist again. This time I cut deeper into my wrist, causing blood to form at the cut. Not satisfied, I cut myself again and again and again until I had created a small gash. I dropped the knife and stared at my wrist. I watched as the blood poured out of the cut and fell onto my tile floor. I sat there for twenty minutes, staring at my cuts, watching as more blood left my body. It was a very surreal moment. The darkness had evaporated and I felt happy for the first time that week. I licked the blood off my arm, put my knife away and went to the bathroom to clean up. Unfortunately, that would not be the last time I cut myself (or caused other bodily harm). I refused to think that I was harming myself, instead I viewed it as a way to temporarily eliminate the darkness.

Some of the scars have disappeared, but if you look close enough you can still see where I had cut myself.

Unfortunately, society does not prepare us for self-harm. We are taught that only pre-teens cut themselves, that it usually is a cry for help or a faze one goes through. But that is not the truth. Anyone, at any age can fall victim to self-harm and unless we start to change the stigma surrounding it or create an open dialogue, then the problem will just continue to grow.

I learned the hard way that self-harm can happen to anyone. But like addiction, the problem is not easily fixed. Although I have not cut myself in the last year, I still feel the urge to get my knife and open up old wounds.

That is all for now.

Dave.