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Same old struggle.

“I told you to be patient
I told you to be fine
I told you to be balanced
I told you to be kind”

“Skinny love” – Bon Iver

I haven’t posted in over a week. I haven’t felt like it. That youthful burst of enthusiasm I enjoyed when first I left hospital has vanished. The adrenaline is spent. Depression is in the air again, but then, it never went too far. Life is a drudge.

But just to be clear, I’m not that bad either. My thoughts are negative, my mood is low but I am still functioning. I’m still fighting. But I’m getting a little tired of fighting all the time. I’d like to visit “easy street” for a while.

Anhedonia is the word which best describes how I feel – a lack of pleasure in normally pleasurable activities. It’s a fancy way of saying that I feel like shit. There is no joy, no fun.

And believe me I’m trying! I’m doing all the right things. I drag myself out of bed every morning and wash and shave even though I’m moping around an empty house and no one sees my face. I take my medication, I play my guitar and I’ve been to see my therapist every week. I’ve been cycling and I spend as much time with my wife as I can but even that doesn’t give me a lift. And when did it become her responsibility to cheer me up all the time?

Sometimes I think depression is just something that has to be suffered. Something that has to be survived and out-lived. External factors won’t necessarily give me immediate satisfaction but they will prevent me from getting worse. The day I start to isolate myself, avoid daily activities, simply don’t bother to shave is when I take a step towards severe depression and the damaging negative thoughts it brings.

I’m due to see my psychiatrist in a week. I already spoke to him on the phone in recent days. Maybe we can alter my medication to help but in reality we probably can’t. I don’t respond well to antidepressants. They make me hypomanic which is only replacing one problem with another. We are unlikely to reduce my current medication so soon after being hospitalised. So in essence, I just have to put up with it until it burns itself out.

It’s important to remember that it is self-limiting. I’ve been here before and it always gets better. I will have good times again and they will last longer than the bad. I will be happy again and I have many happy memories to support me on the way. I have people in my life who will help me get there and simple though it seems, the recent spate of good weather will do me the world of good.

The negative voice in my head reminds that when I overcome this time of depression, I will earn a period of balance followed by hypomania and then depression. The cycle will repeat for the rest of my life. It sounds demoralising. Thankfully that voice is small. Every last remaining cell in my body strives to be happy. That’s where the real strength lies. Therein lies the future.

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Discharged.

“Take these broken wings
And learn to fly again
Learn to live so free”

“Broken Wings” – Mr. Mister

—–

Today I was finally discharged from hospital. I was an in-patient for five weeks. I feel stronger but not back to peak condition yet. I tire easily and nap repeatedly during the day. To be able to sleep so easily is a pleasure. It is in stark contrast to the insomnia that accompanies hypomania. I am simply working on the considerable “sleep debt” accrued in recent months. It is pay-back time.

My mood is balanced, euthymic. It has been a difficult period. A lot has happened and recovery is slow. The process is on-going and the aim is to prevent any further admissions for the foreseeable future. If I do not learn from my time in hospital then it is all for naught. So what did I learn?

Once more, I have proven my resilience. When my back was to the wall, I came out fighting and beat bipolar disorder once more. I have proven that it is a smaller part of my personality than I sometimes care to think. I have proven that there is always light at the end of the tunnel and that the bad times will pass. It is hard to remember this especially when looking up from the depths of depression. But this essential fact can give me hope in the future and guide the inevitable recovery. I have proven, that against great odds, I can succeed. And so can every individual who struggles with mental illness.

I have learned that I am not alone. There are more people who support me, who care for me, than I can easily count. My wife and family are to the forefront but among my allies are my sisters, work colleagues, my in-laws and college friends. I have rekindled old friendships and strengthened some others. In my time as an in-patient, I never had time to get lonely. There was always someone in contact with me and for that I am deeply grateful.

In addition, this blog went public during my time in hospital and the response has been overwhelming. The messages of support and good-will have been humbling. I hope I can continue to share my experiences with you for some time to come.

The most important lesson I have learned is at once most simple to understand and most difficult to correct. It has become obvious to me that I do not have the luxury of allowing myself to get lonely. Some people are introvert and enjoy their own company. I am obviously extrovert in nature. Any more that one to two hours alone and I start to crave human company, human contact.

I work three days a week. This certainly allows me to recover from the stresses of my job, recharge the batteries and get ready to start again. Once a week, I volunteer with Childline. It’s my way of giving something back and I enjoy doing it. That leaves one day a week when I have a lot of time on my hands. It is important that I find something to do to fill in that time. It might be cycling, playing guitar, reading or some other activity I haven’t considered yet.

The key is distraction. When I get bored and ultimately lonely, my thoughts become negative, I catastrophise, believing the worst possible outcome for any given situation and finally, I get paranoid. I believe that the solution is to keep active, to meet with people, to keep in contact with my friends. I must prevent myself from just sitting and ruminating. The challenge is finding the motivation to do these activities especially when my mood is low. No one said it was easy.

So, my time in hospital is behind me for now. The future looks bright. It’s time to get busy living or get busy dying. I choose life!

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Weekend leave.

“Well, I hear the music
Close my eyes, feel the rhythm
Wrap around, take a hold of my heart”

“Flashdance” – Irene Cara

—–

I haven’t written in my blog for a few days. I didn’t think I had anything much to say. Then I remembered that I met my psychiatrist on Thursday and we decided that I would be discharged from hospital this week. Isn’t that good news and cause for celebration?

My discharge is dependent on how I manage while at home for the weekend. Weekend leave from a psychiatric hospital is more than just a break from the hum-drum of the institution. It is a test. It is officially called “Therapeutic leave”. It is an opportunity to determine how well you deal with the stresses of everyday life when you come home. If you manage well, then maybe you are ready to go home for good. If you find it difficult, an extension in your hospital stay may be necessary.

I’m glad to be able to report that I have been fine, I’m doing well in fact. I feel decidedly “normal”, balanced, euthymic. It is particularly boring.

As I suffer from Bipolar Type 1, my mood swings tend to the hypomanic. This recent admission is an exception as depressive symptoms were a key feature. But mostly, I lean towards excessive energy, grandiose ideas and impulsive spending. The early days of a hypomanic episode can be great fun. It can be exhilarating and euphoric. But the inevitable crash always comes and hypomania is closely followed by depression. Fortunately, my depressions don’t last too long and are relieved by the calm and peace of balanced state, euthymia. Again, this recent admission was unusual, with an extended period of depression. But i feel calm again. Its a blessing.

Sometimes when I am balanced, I miss the energy of hypomania. I miss the excitement and I yearn for it’s return. This is only wishful thinking. It’s easy to forget just how destructive I can become when elated.

So, I have been immersed in the banal this weekend. I brought my youngest son for a haircut yesterday. This was imperative as he attended a teenage disco last night. I collected a suit for my oldest son in town. He is preparing for his graduation from secondary school. It’s hard to remember where all the years have gone. I’ve hardly seen my middle son. He’s a typical teenager and out with his friends all day. He barely talks to me at the best of times. I played guitar quite a bit and I went for a cycle to Howth with my wife. It was invigorating but cold. Last night the two of use had a meal in a local restaurant and we thoroughly enjoyed it.

So that’s it. Nothing special. I have rejoined the world of “normal” people and it feels good. I will be discharged from hospital this week and I must take time to build the defences, to try and prevent a repeat of this episode. It will take time and it won’t be easy but I’ve done it before. And I won’t be alone.

I can feel something new creeping in. Something bright and beautiful. Something I had forgotten about. I can feel healing. I can feel hope.

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Day 28.

“I don’t ever want to feel
Like I did that day”

“Under the  Bridge” – Red Hot Chilli Peppers

——

Four weeks have passed since I was admitted to hospital. A lot has happened. It has been a rough ride.

I’ve had to deal with depression, dysphoria, mania, hallucinations and paranoia. It has been a hell of a fight and I wasn’t able to battle without help. So many people have been with me on the journey. Foremost of course is my family. Their support has been unerring. The medical team that care for me have been exemplary. The nursing staff superb. And with all their help, I have survived yet again. I am still alive. I am victorious.

I have rekindled friendships along the way. I’ve made contact with old college friends to whom I hadn’t spoken in years. There have been encouraging words from work colleagues and the successful public launch of this blog. My parents have helped enormously in minding my children while they were on school holidays at Easter. My sisters have helped to keep me going, my oldest sister and her husband are stalwarts in particular and regular visitors. They kept me supplied with Pringles and sparkling water. In short, I have not been alone and I am truly grateful.

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One of the nicest side effects of my stay in hospital is that I got to know my youngest sister better than I ever had before. There is an age gap of nearly two decades between us. I was away in college when she was born and she grew up without me sharing any life experiences with her. As she grew older, I became like a distant uncle who would visit intermittently and offer a few quid as a treat. I really had a weak relationship with her. She is in her twenties now and I have been delighted to discover that she is a beautiful, intelligent, spiritual and empathic young woman. She is happy and well balanced and sends me humorous messages on a daily basis and I have come to depend on them to brighten my day. I look forward to them. I hope she has enjoyed coming to know me better too.

I have learned a great deal during this admission. I have learned to appreciate what I have. I went for a walk in Phoenix Park at the start of the week and was struck by the beauty of the blooming flowers and I attach a few photos to share the experience.

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I hope I have learned to ask for help a bit sooner and not let my health deteriorate to the extent that I need to come to hospital. I’ve learned that sometimes a man needs to cry and that’s okay. The tears will stop when I need them no longer. I think that will be a while coming.

I like to think that my sons can learn from me. I hope they understand that all men have demons, have worries, have suffering. I hope they see that the mark of a man is in how he faces them. I hope they comprehend that you can not easily face them on your own. Maybe they see me kiss my wife, hold her hand, give her a hug and know that as a couple, we are strong. We have been together twenty years now and we have defeated bipolar disorder many times. We beat it every day. I hope they know we can deal with whatever life has to offer. I really hope they understand the power of love!

I am feeling much better. I am sleeping longer at night. The black ball is quiescent but I’m aware of it in the background. I feel calm and peaceful, something I haven’t been blessed with in a long time. I’m on the mend and I feel a renewed vigour. Today I have a date to go shopping with my eldest son and I’m looking forward to it. I’m proud that he asked me to join him.

I’ll be discharged in a few weeks. I can feel it. Look out. I’m coming home!

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Codependent.

“Life is an ocean and love is a boat
In troubled water that keeps us afloat”

“The Voyage” – Christy Moore.

——

I had a good weekend out of hospital. I tried to keep active. I went to town on Saturday and bought a jewellery box for my wife. It was a nice gift and she really likes it. I am trying to show my appreciation for all she has done for me, for how much I value her support. It is my lifeline.

I walked the dogs and played my guitar. I read and watched TV. Thankfully, my concentration is improving and completely gone are the hallucinations and paranoid delusions. I’m on the mend. I slept better than I have for weeks. The only negative is that I have gained about 5kg in weight since my admission. All I do is eat and I get little exercise. I find that demoralising.

But my wife was working over the weekend and I spent long periods of time alone. I’m not good in my own company. I tend to get lonely and depressed. This is a big problem for me.IMG_0612

Since I came into hospital, I have been taking a course which in essence asks you to focus on how to keep well when discharged and to consider what “triggers” can lead to relapse. Triggers are the events or situations which can destabilise your mood. Everybody can identify a few.

Christmas is one such trigger for me. I am always elated in the months leading up to Christmas and the associated hyperactivity usually allows me to have all my shopping done by early November. But this is in contrast to the depression which inevitably strikes during the Christmas holiday itself. That sense of depression persists into the new year and, on this occasion, was the reason for my admission to hospital.

But a more common trigger for me is loneliness. When I spend too much time on my own I get very maudlin. I’m not sure whether depression makes me feel lonely or the loneliness makes me feel depressed. I think it is the latter but the end result is the same. I know this is something I need to work on.

I believe I am codependent on my wife. I am too reliant on my wife for companionship, approval and sense of identity. When I am with her, everything is rosy in the garden. When we are apart, I start to feel low. We spend a lot of our time in each others company. We eat together, we watch TV together, we even exercise together. She is more than just my companion, she is my best friend.

Not a day goes by when I don’t contact her at least twice looking for reassurance. My evenings revolve around her arrival home. I am envious of her giving her time to other people when she could be concentrating on me.

It is an unhealthy state of affairs and one that will put a strain on our marriage. There is no magic tablet to cure this. I need to work on it with my psychotherapist. I need to expand my circle of friends and find ways to occupy my free time. I need to end this reliance on my wife for making me feel happy. I need to give her a break!

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Day 23.

“Oh the sisters of mercy, they are not departed or gone.
They were waiting for me when I thought that I just can’t go on.”

“Sisters of Mercy” – Leonard Cohen.

—–

Yesterday was one of peaks and troughs. I slept through until 7.00am and awoke feeling refreshed and that was a bonus. But during the morning, my mood was low and my head felt heavy, fuzzy. I felt like I was overly-sedated from my medication. I tried to attend a presentation for the course I am now enrolled – the Psychosis Programme. I made my excuses and left after fifteen minutes. I left partly because I was uninterested and partly because I couldn’t concentrate on the content.

When I am hypomanic, I become restless and find it hard to concentrate for any length of time. It is one of the more irritating effects of my illness. Sitting quietly in front of a television, to enjoy a single episode of any programme, becomes difficult. Reading a book beyond a few pages become impossible. However, my span of concentration becomes an indicator of progress. In time, I will be better able to watch TV and read, play guitar or watch a movie in one sitting. Then I will be ever closer to discharge fro hospital. IMG_0609

In the afternoon, I met with my consultant psychiatrist’s Registrar. My consultant is on leave this week. It was a very useful review. I was able to attest to the facts that the auditory hallucinations and the paranoid delusions had resolved. My sleeping pattern had improved. He agreed with me that I was probably over-medicated and was feeling a residual hangover during the day. So, he reduced my regular medication slightly. This is of huge significance. The smallest reduction in medication is an admission of inching ever so slowly closer to going home for good. It is a step in the right direction.

I addition to altering my prescription, the Registrar also granted me leave to go home at the weekend as expected, but even more importantly, granted me day leave to wander about town unaccompanied. This is a huge advance on my current state of enforced incarceration.

I took advantage of my new key to freedom almost immediately. I strolled from St. Patrick’s Hospital to the Irish Museum of Modern Art (IMMA) in Kilmainham and had a look at an exhibit by Irish Artist, Patrick Hennessy. The feeling of the sun and crisp air on my face was exhilarating . I was light-headed with excitement.IMG_0611

I know very little about art but I appreciate bright colours and distinctive styles. Apparently, Hennessy was a Realist. That doesn’t mean a whole lot to me but I know I enjoyed perusing his work. It was all the sweeter because admission was free. I returned from the gallery tired but considerably satisfied.

Today is another day. I’m up early but I don’t feel tired. This evening, my wife will collect me and take me home for the weekend. I’m looking forward to it already. I must make every effort to ensure it goes well. No arguments.

I have definitely turned a corner in the last few days. Let’s hope it continues.