Monday, August 19, 2013

I cried

As I was wrapping up my chapters about my life before my first major episode in 2001, I was reminded of some serious lack of judgments I had before my dad committed suicide. I self medicated way too much before Greg was born and I did things like bringing home a new sports car without telling Cheri. At the time she had an older used car. There was more, but I'm not willing to share them.

Later on, just before Greg, I decided it would be a good idea to supplement our income by modeling. I took expensive classes, paid for a new portfolio, literally starved myself and bought many new clothes that I never even wore. Of course we couldn't afford any of this. I was doing well at modeling, but I quickly found out that male models don't really make money and agencies treated you like a piece of meat. The real bad thing is that I did all of this when I was having great success as a graveyard warehouse manager. I already had a good job.

I was super hyper-sexual. My moods were everywhere. Even through I knew my grandmother and uncle had committed suicide while in a bipolar depressive dip. Even though my dad had told me he was on and off lithium and was a raging alcoholic, hyper-sexual, bad with money, occasionally seeing a psychiatrist, and a huge drug user. And yet they were all brilliant. I didn't make the connections.

I didn't know anything about manic-depressive disorder. If we had had the Internet or if I had a clue, I would have realized that I was bipolar to an extent that I don't know how my wife put up with me. I would have divorced me. I also would have committed suicide when I was in my early 20's. I wanted to. Cheri was my rock, but she was scared. Scared of what I would do next. Scared when we had children. Just scared. I didn't know.

All of it didn't register until I started writing this book; my autobiography. My conversations with Cheri, a book I'm reading, and writing my book all worked together to blow me out this weekend. I followed backwards in time and saw myself for the first time. I saw the truth. I'm still looking back and I am ashamed. I could be massively successful at work and school, but I was a mess on the inside. The more I remember, the more I cry. Cheri won't tell me more. She says maybe a little bit at a time. I should have known. I should have known.

Thursday, August 15, 2013

Writing second book

Hello. I know I said I would write more often and I will. It's just that now it takes away from writing my second book which is an autobiography. I was awarded Social Security Disability for my bipolar disorder in July and I want to run through my life before my first major bipolar episode in 2001. I had all the bipolar symptoms before that breakdown, but I didn't recognize them as symptoms. I certainly didn't see a therapist or psychologist before then, but I did feel that something was wrong with me. I was smart enough and figured it was just something else. my example of manic depressive disorder was my dad and he was an alcoholic.

While I occasionally self-medicate to escape the feelings of the disorder I am not an alcoholic nor a regular user of illicit drugs. I do take hand fulls of prescription drugs each day to keep me from going up too far and down to the point of suicidal tenancies. I should correct that. This winter I was suicidal and very depressed. I feel better now, but I do have the feeling of a manic episode coming on. I am properly taken care of and I still feel these things. I can't seem to control them. I can only imagine how hard it would be without care. I'm sure... positive that I would have killed myself by now. The disorder is progressive and it frankly scares me.

I am receiving disability because I told the straight up truth to my therapist, psychologist, the State of Colorado appointed psychologist, someone who reviewed my case from the State, the vocational adviser in the court room, my  lawyers, and the Judge. They all came to the same conclusion. Even though I am medicated and controlled I am not able to work with people in general. If I am manic I will argue and fight with anyone. If I am depressed and you are able to get me out of my room, I feel trapped and I want to run. In those cases I also feel the need to protect myself behind my intellect and I am always ready for a show down. I seem to maintain these urges at home with my family to a point, but definitely not at work. I guess that's why I went thorough seven or eight jobs in six years. I even took a year long break in there. I was fired several times. I was hospitalized for both physical reasons and mental breakdowns several times from July 2007 to now. When I get really bad like I did this winter, my wife and psychologist both choose putting me into a sleepy existence instead of a mental ward. I just slept through my suicidal thoughts and added more medication to moderate my panic attacks. I still get them and that makes me sad, but I'm feeling better. Diving my nose into the new book helps.