Things have not been nearly what they should be emotionally lately, as I seem to be on a roller coaster again. I will grant though, that it is sort of a small child version, rather than the rather hardcore coaster I was on before getting on meds. In particular I have been getting hit with rather serious depression that is punctuated by rather giddy upswings. Not particularly happy upswings mind, more like my typical form of manic, anxious, sad bemusement.
My doctor upped my dosage of Clonidine last month and increased my supply of Xanax, in the hope that getting more sleep would help level things out. I can't say that getting a little more sleep - not so much in the way of hours, but more in the sense of helping me stay asleep - but it didn't really stabilize things. Today was my one month follow up to changing dosages.
So now I am going to try Lamictal. I am a little nervous about it, because I definitely can't afford to be slowed down too much. At the same time, I really need to be able to focus better on school. I am not getting behind at this point, but I am also not managing to stay ahead. Staying ahead has been critically important to me, because when I do, I don't get caught up too badly at the end of the semester, when things suddenly pile up the way they do in a lot of classes.
When I stopped into WalMart to fill my scripts, I found that Lamictal at this dose would cost $83 a month - and if it works, the dosage will go up. Then I decided to call Costco, where I fill my Welbutrin and like the Welbutrin, they can beat the hell out of WalMart. Mind you, they can't beat WalMart for anything else - the difference for the rest of my scripts is nearly $50. But for the Lamictal they will charge $21 - more than $60 savings and about a quarter of the cost at WalMart. And of course the Welbutrin is more than a $100 cheaper at Costco.
So now I am off to Grand Rapids - the only inconvenience in the process, as it is about an hour away. Given the shit I need to get done today, this will rather fuck up my day a bit - but I suppose I will get there. It has just been rather slow going through this damned book response. Of course, it may well help to get going on this new med, so there it is.
Showing posts with label bipolar. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bipolar. Show all posts
Monday, July 19, 2010
Friday, August 28, 2009
The Stigma of Addiction and other Mental Issues
The topic of stigma and mental problems has been coming up a lot for me lately, especially (of course) in relation to addiction. So it was rather fortuitous to discover another great blog this morning and this post...
Sometimes I find it easy to forget about, because I have a lot of supportive, loving people in my life who just don't go in for stigma. Couple that with having even less of a social life than usual this summer and I found myself in that comfortable place - the place where I just don't have to think about the destructive force of words - words that perpetuate shame. It is that shame that really gets me fucking angry as hell. I get enraged at the notion that a whole lot of people - some of whom I know - are so terribly ashamed of their own fucking brain.
To me, it is so obvious now...Feeling ashamed of the way one's brain works, is a lot like feeling ashamed of having brown eyes instead of blue, or red hair instead of blond. It's obvious enough to me, that I forget sometimes that it is not so obvious to others. It's obvious enough to me now, that I even forget sometimes that it wasn't always so obvious to me. And even as obvious as it is, it is still easy enough to feel shame about who I have been and how I have behaved - because it is impossible to sort out where my neurochemical issues end and just plain old bad decision making begins. It is especially hard, because everything I have done, all the bad decisions that I have made - all of it was at least influenced by the way my brain works.
How then, does one separate what one should be ashamed of, from what they should just accept as part of having neurological issues?
My short answer; one can't. Trying to do so requires sorting through every factor that influences our decision making. As a thought exercise, I would ask you to think for a moment, about the last book you read (or article). I want you to consider everything that went into the decision to read it - don't just scratch the surface - dig deep into your motivations. Follow the chain that brought you to the point where you wanted to read that book or article. Where did your interest in the subject of that piece come from? Where did the interest in whatever influenced you to get into that subject arise? What else did you read, that indicated you might like to read this piece? What influenced you to read that? In short, try to untangle the skein of influences and motivations that brought you to the simple decision to read that book. If it was a friend who recommended it, why do you trust their judgment?
If you just did as I asked, you probably got stuck rather close to the decision you made to read whatever it is you recently read. Unless you took quite a bit of time and really went at it, you barely touched on a small fraction of everything that went into that very basic decision. And even if you did take the time and focused, you quite likely still only scratched the surface - just a little deeper than some people would scratch. Now think about this - we're just talking about the decision to read something. How then does one sort out the decision to wander the country, sleeping outside as often as not? How does one sort out the decisions to use virtually every mind altering substance set in front of them? How does one sort out the decisions to have sex with virtually every woman and some men, who were willing and willing to use protection? How does one sort the decisions that leaves one virtually homeless for more than five fucking years? How does one sort the decisions to sell drugs, so one has drugs and sometimes a little money (and sometimes a lot of money)? How does one sort the decisions to buy dope, instead of buying shoes that aren't literally falling apart at the seems? How does one sort all the decisions that led to losing the roof over not only one's own head, but that of their family?
How does one sort the decisions that paint a picture of a reprehensible excuse for a human being? How can such a person not be brutally ashamed of their own fucking brain - regardless of what actually influenced those decisions and how?
I wish there were a simple answer. I really, really do, because it is hard being that person - hard not to be ashamed to the point of incapacitation. It's hard not to extrapolate thirty some years of bad decisions into an inherent failure. It is hard not to take those stigmas that are attatched to being mentally ill and accepting them as absolute truth. But there is an excellent place to start - a place that not only helps the person who has made these decisions, but helps others as well.
Fighting these vile fucking stigmas is a very important place to start. Being loud and proud of who and what one is, because as reprehensible as many of my decisions have been, I am also a good person on a great many levels. And what makes me a good person, what fosters the positive - these factors are just as influenced by the way my brain works. Just as the bad - the things that can foster shame - are influenced by the way my brain works, so are the positives. The same chemistry that has seen me getting high on all manner of stupidity, has also seen me fostering my children's native intellect - communicating, reading and providing them with the absolute security of my absolute love for them. The same chemistry that has seen me sleeping under bridges and in all manner of flops, has also seen me work feats of extreme beauty and grace in multi-million dollar homes. The same chemistry that sees me lashing out in extremely harsh words, has also seen me develop a love for a wonderful women that transcends anything I ever thought anyone could feel in that context, let alone me.
Stigma is a trap. Stigma is a prison of invisible bars that hold some people far more firmly than steel and concrete could ever manage. Stigma does nothing but destroy and break further, people who are already broken and in need of healing. Not broken because our brains are atypical, but because we haven't the tools to integrate our neurochemistry with the society in which we exist. We are broken, because our society doesn't have a place for us - though that is slowly changing. But regardless of what makes us broken, stigmas just exacerbate the problem - the brokeness - the shame.
Sometimes I find it easy to forget about, because I have a lot of supportive, loving people in my life who just don't go in for stigma. Couple that with having even less of a social life than usual this summer and I found myself in that comfortable place - the place where I just don't have to think about the destructive force of words - words that perpetuate shame. It is that shame that really gets me fucking angry as hell. I get enraged at the notion that a whole lot of people - some of whom I know - are so terribly ashamed of their own fucking brain.
To me, it is so obvious now...Feeling ashamed of the way one's brain works, is a lot like feeling ashamed of having brown eyes instead of blue, or red hair instead of blond. It's obvious enough to me, that I forget sometimes that it is not so obvious to others. It's obvious enough to me now, that I even forget sometimes that it wasn't always so obvious to me. And even as obvious as it is, it is still easy enough to feel shame about who I have been and how I have behaved - because it is impossible to sort out where my neurochemical issues end and just plain old bad decision making begins. It is especially hard, because everything I have done, all the bad decisions that I have made - all of it was at least influenced by the way my brain works.
How then, does one separate what one should be ashamed of, from what they should just accept as part of having neurological issues?
My short answer; one can't. Trying to do so requires sorting through every factor that influences our decision making. As a thought exercise, I would ask you to think for a moment, about the last book you read (or article). I want you to consider everything that went into the decision to read it - don't just scratch the surface - dig deep into your motivations. Follow the chain that brought you to the point where you wanted to read that book or article. Where did your interest in the subject of that piece come from? Where did the interest in whatever influenced you to get into that subject arise? What else did you read, that indicated you might like to read this piece? What influenced you to read that? In short, try to untangle the skein of influences and motivations that brought you to the simple decision to read that book. If it was a friend who recommended it, why do you trust their judgment?
If you just did as I asked, you probably got stuck rather close to the decision you made to read whatever it is you recently read. Unless you took quite a bit of time and really went at it, you barely touched on a small fraction of everything that went into that very basic decision. And even if you did take the time and focused, you quite likely still only scratched the surface - just a little deeper than some people would scratch. Now think about this - we're just talking about the decision to read something. How then does one sort out the decision to wander the country, sleeping outside as often as not? How does one sort out the decisions to use virtually every mind altering substance set in front of them? How does one sort out the decisions to have sex with virtually every woman and some men, who were willing and willing to use protection? How does one sort the decisions that leaves one virtually homeless for more than five fucking years? How does one sort the decisions to sell drugs, so one has drugs and sometimes a little money (and sometimes a lot of money)? How does one sort the decisions to buy dope, instead of buying shoes that aren't literally falling apart at the seems? How does one sort all the decisions that led to losing the roof over not only one's own head, but that of their family?
How does one sort the decisions that paint a picture of a reprehensible excuse for a human being? How can such a person not be brutally ashamed of their own fucking brain - regardless of what actually influenced those decisions and how?
I wish there were a simple answer. I really, really do, because it is hard being that person - hard not to be ashamed to the point of incapacitation. It's hard not to extrapolate thirty some years of bad decisions into an inherent failure. It is hard not to take those stigmas that are attatched to being mentally ill and accepting them as absolute truth. But there is an excellent place to start - a place that not only helps the person who has made these decisions, but helps others as well.
Fighting these vile fucking stigmas is a very important place to start. Being loud and proud of who and what one is, because as reprehensible as many of my decisions have been, I am also a good person on a great many levels. And what makes me a good person, what fosters the positive - these factors are just as influenced by the way my brain works. Just as the bad - the things that can foster shame - are influenced by the way my brain works, so are the positives. The same chemistry that has seen me getting high on all manner of stupidity, has also seen me fostering my children's native intellect - communicating, reading and providing them with the absolute security of my absolute love for them. The same chemistry that has seen me sleeping under bridges and in all manner of flops, has also seen me work feats of extreme beauty and grace in multi-million dollar homes. The same chemistry that sees me lashing out in extremely harsh words, has also seen me develop a love for a wonderful women that transcends anything I ever thought anyone could feel in that context, let alone me.
Stigma is a trap. Stigma is a prison of invisible bars that hold some people far more firmly than steel and concrete could ever manage. Stigma does nothing but destroy and break further, people who are already broken and in need of healing. Not broken because our brains are atypical, but because we haven't the tools to integrate our neurochemistry with the society in which we exist. We are broken, because our society doesn't have a place for us - though that is slowly changing. But regardless of what makes us broken, stigmas just exacerbate the problem - the brokeness - the shame.
Friday, July 24, 2009
Because I love you all, I wanted to mention...
...that I am becoming increasingly busy, as the end of the summer semester approaches. I have a shitton of work to get finished and a week from today, I am picking up my boys from TN. I will still have two finals to take after they are here and lots of important, fun things to do with my kids - whom I only get for a very short, less than two week stretch. Then I will have a few days to take care of non-school type business (Like the job I have managed to somehow basically take over), before the absolute greatest women ever is coming to see me, for about a week.
So blogging is going to be lite - or should be. If it's not, please feel free to naggingly ask me if I have gotten ahead of the mountain of shit I have left to do. Not that I expect you to, it is after all my responsibility to put my work ahead of my infesting conversations with my big blue meanieness (really, really, mean and nasty, big blue meanieness)...But if you have the urge and notice I am being a little more obsessed with a argument than someone who has too many other things should be, feel free to point out my stupidity in being so obsessed right now....
See you all on the other side...
So blogging is going to be lite - or should be. If it's not, please feel free to naggingly ask me if I have gotten ahead of the mountain of shit I have left to do. Not that I expect you to, it is after all my responsibility to put my work ahead of my infesting conversations with my big blue meanieness (really, really, mean and nasty, big blue meanieness)...But if you have the urge and notice I am being a little more obsessed with a argument than someone who has too many other things should be, feel free to point out my stupidity in being so obsessed right now....
See you all on the other side...
Friday, April 24, 2009
Wherein DuWayne Rants About the #$@&ing Drug Laws
Before I start, I would really like to recommend that you take a listen to Gabriela Montero. I recently discovered her whilst listening to one of my Pandora stations and her playing made me weep for the beauty and the passion with which she throws herself into her variations and compositions. Gabriela is a wholly remarkable pianist, a child prodigy who has matured into brilliant and nuanced composer. And she is also great stress relief...
I have had a not so grand day today. It started well enough, though not as productively as I might have wished. And I had a fantastic visit with the doctor, where we discussed my meds and how the new regimen has been working out. We decided to double my dose of Wellbutrin, from 100mg in the morning to 100mg in the morning and another at lunch (something I was going to do a couple weeks ago, but chose to wait because he wanted to see me to add the extra dose). I was actually feeling pretty damned good when I left the doctor's office - almost three and I had only smoked two cigarettes all day.
How quickly things can change. Today I discovered just how fragile a thing, this thing that is my calm and collect self.
More...
The fucking war on drugs put me on the verge of a nervous fucking breakdown today. Though I was heading that way when I went to get my scripts filled in the first place.
My fucking Wellbutrin costs eighty-six fucking dollars as a fucking generic. Eighty-six dollars!!! And the version I am taking is not available much cheaper anywhere - including mail order. I very nearly started crying in the fucking store when they told me that. I'm working on getting help with my scripts through the state, but the wheels turn slowly. My folks are helping out some, but that just stresses me out more, because I don't want to be a fucking burden on them at thirty-two years old. I was frustrated and angry and decided to hold off on that one to see if I could find to cheaper elsewhere, or if there might be another option for finding Bupropion for less, but in the same dose as I've been taking.
No such luck, this time around.
So I decide to get it filled and owe my parents even more. Fucking yeah for me!!! I headed back to Wal-Mart and handed the women at the window the script, having completely forgotten that I had been told earlier (when I dropped off the others) that they were out of that one anyways. The women at the window punched it all into the computer and told me it would be about twenty minutes, so I sat down to wait. After about half an hour, the women who had originally taken my scripts came out to remind me that they were out of that particular dosage of Wellbutrin. Mind you, the women who had taken the script had seen me sitting there several times, while helping other fucking customers - never once occurred to her to let me know that I couldn't get my fucking drug. Nor did they consider just fucking calling me to tell me - if they hadn't noticed (they are usually really good about calling for stuff like that and they weren't very busy).
What the fuck does this have to do with the war in drugs, you ask?
I had a check with me, written for the total cost of all three of my scripts. And even though another Wal-Mart has the Welbutrin, I couldn't pay for it at the one I was in. So I had to transfer the other two to the other fucking pharmacy as well. The only problem being that Clonidine and Ritalin are controlled fucking substances and they can't be called in. They can't be faxed over and apparently, they can't even get them ready in anticipation of the fucking paper script being brought in. Nor can they be refilled - every month, my doctor has to write another script for me.
Of course I had wasted nearly half an hour sitting in fucking Wal-Mart before I became aware that I would have to go to another store - about half an hour across town. And not only would I have to run over there to get them, I would have to fucking wait there while they filled my other two scripts - because we have the most ridiculous fucking drug laws ever. Mind you, it was close to dinner time and a friend of mine was joining us. I was about fifteen minutes late when it was all over with. (Though I did get a text from the most beautiful and brilliant women in the world, who just seems to know when a text from her is going to take the edge off of stressful situations - thanks Juniper)
My problems today and with getting more than thirty days worth of my meds at a time, are far from the only egregious intrusion that our draconian drug laws have thrust into medicine. Because of course, there is also the war on pain management to be considered. You know, the war in which not only patients who doctor shop and fraudulently acquire multiple scripts for the same pain killers (often times to sell them) got to jail, but even doctors who appear to be over prescribing and patients who are engaged in a good faith pain management regimen with their (only) prescribing doctor.
I am so fucking tired of this paternalistic fucking bullshit! This has gotten beyond fucking ridiculous - went beyond that point fucking years ago. The war on drugs interferes with the ability of doctors to care for patients, therapists to freely help drug addicts and substance abusers and patients to have reasonably simple and rather less costly access to their medications.
Fuck You drug warriors - Every MotherFucking One of You!!!
I have had a not so grand day today. It started well enough, though not as productively as I might have wished. And I had a fantastic visit with the doctor, where we discussed my meds and how the new regimen has been working out. We decided to double my dose of Wellbutrin, from 100mg in the morning to 100mg in the morning and another at lunch (something I was going to do a couple weeks ago, but chose to wait because he wanted to see me to add the extra dose). I was actually feeling pretty damned good when I left the doctor's office - almost three and I had only smoked two cigarettes all day.
How quickly things can change. Today I discovered just how fragile a thing, this thing that is my calm and collect self.
More...
The fucking war on drugs put me on the verge of a nervous fucking breakdown today. Though I was heading that way when I went to get my scripts filled in the first place.
My fucking Wellbutrin costs eighty-six fucking dollars as a fucking generic. Eighty-six dollars!!! And the version I am taking is not available much cheaper anywhere - including mail order. I very nearly started crying in the fucking store when they told me that. I'm working on getting help with my scripts through the state, but the wheels turn slowly. My folks are helping out some, but that just stresses me out more, because I don't want to be a fucking burden on them at thirty-two years old. I was frustrated and angry and decided to hold off on that one to see if I could find to cheaper elsewhere, or if there might be another option for finding Bupropion for less, but in the same dose as I've been taking.
No such luck, this time around.
So I decide to get it filled and owe my parents even more. Fucking yeah for me!!! I headed back to Wal-Mart and handed the women at the window the script, having completely forgotten that I had been told earlier (when I dropped off the others) that they were out of that one anyways. The women at the window punched it all into the computer and told me it would be about twenty minutes, so I sat down to wait. After about half an hour, the women who had originally taken my scripts came out to remind me that they were out of that particular dosage of Wellbutrin. Mind you, the women who had taken the script had seen me sitting there several times, while helping other fucking customers - never once occurred to her to let me know that I couldn't get my fucking drug. Nor did they consider just fucking calling me to tell me - if they hadn't noticed (they are usually really good about calling for stuff like that and they weren't very busy).
What the fuck does this have to do with the war in drugs, you ask?
I had a check with me, written for the total cost of all three of my scripts. And even though another Wal-Mart has the Welbutrin, I couldn't pay for it at the one I was in. So I had to transfer the other two to the other fucking pharmacy as well. The only problem being that Clonidine and Ritalin are controlled fucking substances and they can't be called in. They can't be faxed over and apparently, they can't even get them ready in anticipation of the fucking paper script being brought in. Nor can they be refilled - every month, my doctor has to write another script for me.
Of course I had wasted nearly half an hour sitting in fucking Wal-Mart before I became aware that I would have to go to another store - about half an hour across town. And not only would I have to run over there to get them, I would have to fucking wait there while they filled my other two scripts - because we have the most ridiculous fucking drug laws ever. Mind you, it was close to dinner time and a friend of mine was joining us. I was about fifteen minutes late when it was all over with. (Though I did get a text from the most beautiful and brilliant women in the world, who just seems to know when a text from her is going to take the edge off of stressful situations - thanks Juniper)
My problems today and with getting more than thirty days worth of my meds at a time, are far from the only egregious intrusion that our draconian drug laws have thrust into medicine. Because of course, there is also the war on pain management to be considered. You know, the war in which not only patients who doctor shop and fraudulently acquire multiple scripts for the same pain killers (often times to sell them) got to jail, but even doctors who appear to be over prescribing and patients who are engaged in a good faith pain management regimen with their (only) prescribing doctor.
I am so fucking tired of this paternalistic fucking bullshit! This has gotten beyond fucking ridiculous - went beyond that point fucking years ago. The war on drugs interferes with the ability of doctors to care for patients, therapists to freely help drug addicts and substance abusers and patients to have reasonably simple and rather less costly access to their medications.
Fuck You drug warriors - Every MotherFucking One of You!!!
Saturday, April 18, 2009
In Which DuWayne Discusses HisTherapy
This last Friday, was my last session with the therapist I have been seeing. Her internship is up and I am probably going to be out of therapy until June.
I am very grateful for the experience that I had in eleven sessions with Theresa and can state categorically, that she is one hell of a therapist who will serve her clients well. I was rather reticent in the beginning and she admitted yesterday, that she was as well - for some of the same reasons. For my part, I was concerned about her lack of experience and the fact that she's a women. She was concerned because she believes that I am more intelligent than her and that I would find therapy more effective with a male therapist.
I have been trying to figure out how to explain the methods used in my therapy with Theresa and keep running into something of a wall with it. The reason is that the therapy was by needs, rather unconventional - utilizing a great many tools that are not generally used together. The diversity of the problems that I need to deal with make any singular approach simply impossible.
The first thing we did was to define the issues I am dealing with and my goals. This was excruciating, to put it mildly. We discussed a great many, very difficult issues in a very short time and explored issues that I was mostly unaware of. The biggest issues were figuring out where the cognitive problems end and the neurochemical issues begin and helping me recognize my emotions. The former is not something that can be accomplished with absolute accuracy. What we were really trying to do is help define broadly, the parameters of my neurochemical issues. The latter was and is, far more of a problem. When I first walked in the door, I knew that I needed to learn to deal with my emotions more effectively - instead of just shoving them away, into the recesses of my mind. What I understand now, is that I have very little grasp of my emotions.
On top of all this, we were also dealing with the nuts and bolts of managing the situation with my family and my reaction to it. This was in part, the hardest aspect of therapy to deal with - mainly because it really was what caused the realization that I have very little grasp of my emotions. It was also the hardest, because the situation with my family has been so absolutely insane.
In working out the parameters of my neurological issues and their interface with my cognitive issues, Theresa really probed my understanding of managing cognitive issues. Not necessarily in direct context to my own experience, but in a more generalized context. She then probed for how I've been dealing with a lot of my problems - what has helped and what has not. Finally, we delved into my experience as a child - not so much what was happening around me (though that was explored some as well) but what was happening in my head. Through this we were able to make some reasonable assumptions about where this therapy should be focused and also where my discussion with my doctor should be focused.
Exploring my problems with emotion was considerably more complicated. This is also where Theresa's ability as a therapist really shined. It's not that I was purposefully skirting the issue, it was just very hard to bring me to the place that I could actually see what's been going on. She had to ask a lot of questions, sometimes pretty much the same question - restated after we had managed to work out another point. She had a very good grasp of what was going on, but due to a need for me to figure it out myself, we had to get there the hard way.
Like any effective therapy, it was entirely based on asking the right questions and through that leading me to figure out what the hell is going on. When the problems being discussed are as diverse as my own, a baseline difficult task becomes huge issue. And to make it far more difficult for Theresa, I came into therapy with a few beliefs about who and what I am, that turned out to be entirely wrong. I truly believed that I had a pretty solid grasp on my emotions - I just didn't think that I was really capable of many of the emotional responses to various situations, that I saw in most of the people around me. While it the context in which it was said is important, alexithymia came up and I wasn't the one who mentioned it. She was clear that she didn't think this was a perfect descriptive, only that based on our discussions, she saw some alexithymic tendencies in me and the way that I manage my emotions.
One of the very few times she actually pointed something out to me directly, was when I came in and told her that the short-form assessment I had taken at the doctor's office had claimed that I suffer depression. This was certainly news to me and my surprise at this was pretty obvious. She then pointed out that when I was very young, I had desperately wanted to die - that when I got over wanting to die, I then moved to simply not caring if I died. Then she asked me how I felt about dying now, to which I responded that I don't want to. It finally sunk in when she asked me why I no longer wanted to die, which I explained was because of the boys...Not because I had somewhere developed a desire to live, but because I have children who need a dad. Just to make sure, she was clear that most people, even people who aren't really afraid to die, want to live and would really rather put off death - excepting those who get particularly old, or who suffer some debilitating disease or injury.
No, I'm really not a moron. This does however segue well into another important focus of my therapy - my own little world, the world that I built for myself when I was really young and wanted to die so badly. The world that I built as a form of self-medicating. The world that I thought was no longer a factor, after an early version of it shattered when I was thrown out of my church so many years ago. The world that has continued to be a huge aspect of my life since I was nine or ten, though it has seen a great deal of remodeling over the years.
A great deal of my life is spent inside my head. There is a rich and diverse universe to experience there, where I will never run out of ideas to explore, sculptures of words and music to explore and occasionally attempt to express on the outside and completely abstract mindscapes to ride, like a helicopter ride over the most beautiful landscapes this planet of ours has to offer. I have always been pretty capable of occupying myself for extended periods of time, with minimal external stimuli (I basically did just that when I spent a little more than a month in the woods once, completely isolated from human contact).
A side effect of spending this time in my head, has been my presumption of self-awareness and my ability to compartmentalize. Combined with my ability to feel at all, I firmly believed that I really understood my emotions and what I was capable of. I just believed that I wasn't really suited to feeling the way a lot of other people seem to manage.
I am not setting a course to vacate my head though. It is an important aspect of who and what I am. I am working on spending less time there and deconstructing some of the more prohibitive aspects of my own little world. Mostly, I am trying to learn who and what I really am - learn how to feel what I am really feeling and embrace it in all it's glory, horror, pain and ecstasy. I am trying to learn what DuWayne is actually capable of feeling. Thankfully, outside the parameters of therapy, I have found the most remarkable help with that.
One of the earliest discussions that came up, one that's pretty relevant, was about my belief that I am incapable of feeling romantic love, the same way most people do. I believed that I am incapable of loving a women the way women should be loved. I explained that the reason I had been so keen on my children's mom, is because I thought she was pretty much the same. I have since discovered I am very, very wrong. And while there are issues to iron out, Juniper is all about working it out together and loving me, in spite of my rather fucked problems with feeling, which she is aware of.
My therapist was excited when I initially told her about Juniper and was positively thrilled when I told her that I had told Juniper I love her. And while there are definite logistical issues that complicate our relationship, it has it's advantages for a person who is as broken as I am - offering a chance to explore feeling and understanding it, without the pressure of my lover being with me most of the time. At the same time, we both get the support that can only come from someone who loves you so much that it hurts - and both of us need that support.
I am far from done with therapy. I doubt that I will ever not be in therapy, though the focus and needs will change with time and context. I am a firm believer in those who work as psychotherapists should always be seeing a therapist for their own sake. And I am going through a hell of a run with school that is only going to be more challenging - not to mention the situation with my kids is not going to get easier any time soon. I need the help maintaining, above and beyond learning how to be not broken. But I am definitely in a much better place than I was when I first walked through the door and sat down with Theresa to talk.
And I have a supporter and teacher who provides me with something that no amount of therapy could begin to challenge. A remarkable, brilliant woman who accepts my love and beyond reason loves me as desperately as I do her.
I am very grateful for the experience that I had in eleven sessions with Theresa and can state categorically, that she is one hell of a therapist who will serve her clients well. I was rather reticent in the beginning and she admitted yesterday, that she was as well - for some of the same reasons. For my part, I was concerned about her lack of experience and the fact that she's a women. She was concerned because she believes that I am more intelligent than her and that I would find therapy more effective with a male therapist.
I have been trying to figure out how to explain the methods used in my therapy with Theresa and keep running into something of a wall with it. The reason is that the therapy was by needs, rather unconventional - utilizing a great many tools that are not generally used together. The diversity of the problems that I need to deal with make any singular approach simply impossible.
The first thing we did was to define the issues I am dealing with and my goals. This was excruciating, to put it mildly. We discussed a great many, very difficult issues in a very short time and explored issues that I was mostly unaware of. The biggest issues were figuring out where the cognitive problems end and the neurochemical issues begin and helping me recognize my emotions. The former is not something that can be accomplished with absolute accuracy. What we were really trying to do is help define broadly, the parameters of my neurochemical issues. The latter was and is, far more of a problem. When I first walked in the door, I knew that I needed to learn to deal with my emotions more effectively - instead of just shoving them away, into the recesses of my mind. What I understand now, is that I have very little grasp of my emotions.
On top of all this, we were also dealing with the nuts and bolts of managing the situation with my family and my reaction to it. This was in part, the hardest aspect of therapy to deal with - mainly because it really was what caused the realization that I have very little grasp of my emotions. It was also the hardest, because the situation with my family has been so absolutely insane.
In working out the parameters of my neurological issues and their interface with my cognitive issues, Theresa really probed my understanding of managing cognitive issues. Not necessarily in direct context to my own experience, but in a more generalized context. She then probed for how I've been dealing with a lot of my problems - what has helped and what has not. Finally, we delved into my experience as a child - not so much what was happening around me (though that was explored some as well) but what was happening in my head. Through this we were able to make some reasonable assumptions about where this therapy should be focused and also where my discussion with my doctor should be focused.
Exploring my problems with emotion was considerably more complicated. This is also where Theresa's ability as a therapist really shined. It's not that I was purposefully skirting the issue, it was just very hard to bring me to the place that I could actually see what's been going on. She had to ask a lot of questions, sometimes pretty much the same question - restated after we had managed to work out another point. She had a very good grasp of what was going on, but due to a need for me to figure it out myself, we had to get there the hard way.
Like any effective therapy, it was entirely based on asking the right questions and through that leading me to figure out what the hell is going on. When the problems being discussed are as diverse as my own, a baseline difficult task becomes huge issue. And to make it far more difficult for Theresa, I came into therapy with a few beliefs about who and what I am, that turned out to be entirely wrong. I truly believed that I had a pretty solid grasp on my emotions - I just didn't think that I was really capable of many of the emotional responses to various situations, that I saw in most of the people around me. While it the context in which it was said is important, alexithymia came up and I wasn't the one who mentioned it. She was clear that she didn't think this was a perfect descriptive, only that based on our discussions, she saw some alexithymic tendencies in me and the way that I manage my emotions.
One of the very few times she actually pointed something out to me directly, was when I came in and told her that the short-form assessment I had taken at the doctor's office had claimed that I suffer depression. This was certainly news to me and my surprise at this was pretty obvious. She then pointed out that when I was very young, I had desperately wanted to die - that when I got over wanting to die, I then moved to simply not caring if I died. Then she asked me how I felt about dying now, to which I responded that I don't want to. It finally sunk in when she asked me why I no longer wanted to die, which I explained was because of the boys...Not because I had somewhere developed a desire to live, but because I have children who need a dad. Just to make sure, she was clear that most people, even people who aren't really afraid to die, want to live and would really rather put off death - excepting those who get particularly old, or who suffer some debilitating disease or injury.
No, I'm really not a moron. This does however segue well into another important focus of my therapy - my own little world, the world that I built for myself when I was really young and wanted to die so badly. The world that I built as a form of self-medicating. The world that I thought was no longer a factor, after an early version of it shattered when I was thrown out of my church so many years ago. The world that has continued to be a huge aspect of my life since I was nine or ten, though it has seen a great deal of remodeling over the years.
A great deal of my life is spent inside my head. There is a rich and diverse universe to experience there, where I will never run out of ideas to explore, sculptures of words and music to explore and occasionally attempt to express on the outside and completely abstract mindscapes to ride, like a helicopter ride over the most beautiful landscapes this planet of ours has to offer. I have always been pretty capable of occupying myself for extended periods of time, with minimal external stimuli (I basically did just that when I spent a little more than a month in the woods once, completely isolated from human contact).
A side effect of spending this time in my head, has been my presumption of self-awareness and my ability to compartmentalize. Combined with my ability to feel at all, I firmly believed that I really understood my emotions and what I was capable of. I just believed that I wasn't really suited to feeling the way a lot of other people seem to manage.
I am not setting a course to vacate my head though. It is an important aspect of who and what I am. I am working on spending less time there and deconstructing some of the more prohibitive aspects of my own little world. Mostly, I am trying to learn who and what I really am - learn how to feel what I am really feeling and embrace it in all it's glory, horror, pain and ecstasy. I am trying to learn what DuWayne is actually capable of feeling. Thankfully, outside the parameters of therapy, I have found the most remarkable help with that.
One of the earliest discussions that came up, one that's pretty relevant, was about my belief that I am incapable of feeling romantic love, the same way most people do. I believed that I am incapable of loving a women the way women should be loved. I explained that the reason I had been so keen on my children's mom, is because I thought she was pretty much the same. I have since discovered I am very, very wrong. And while there are issues to iron out, Juniper is all about working it out together and loving me, in spite of my rather fucked problems with feeling, which she is aware of.
My therapist was excited when I initially told her about Juniper and was positively thrilled when I told her that I had told Juniper I love her. And while there are definite logistical issues that complicate our relationship, it has it's advantages for a person who is as broken as I am - offering a chance to explore feeling and understanding it, without the pressure of my lover being with me most of the time. At the same time, we both get the support that can only come from someone who loves you so much that it hurts - and both of us need that support.
I am far from done with therapy. I doubt that I will ever not be in therapy, though the focus and needs will change with time and context. I am a firm believer in those who work as psychotherapists should always be seeing a therapist for their own sake. And I am going through a hell of a run with school that is only going to be more challenging - not to mention the situation with my kids is not going to get easier any time soon. I need the help maintaining, above and beyond learning how to be not broken. But I am definitely in a much better place than I was when I first walked through the door and sat down with Theresa to talk.
And I have a supporter and teacher who provides me with something that no amount of therapy could begin to challenge. A remarkable, brilliant woman who accepts my love and beyond reason loves me as desperately as I do her.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Mood Disorders in Men: My New Paper
For the full document, including cover, abstract, references and appendix, click here. The following is the body of the paper.
Mood Disorders in Men 3
Mood Disorders in Men:
Gender Constructs and Diagnostic/Treatment Failures
There is no question that women are diagnosed with affective mood disorders at much higher rates than men. Granted the absolute rates of depression in women are a source of contention, but multiple studies show that women are diagnosed with major depression and dysthemia at rates double those of men. A great deal of study has gone into investigating the reasons for this, from biology to oppression and other social conditions, even certain personality factors. Yet the causes of these higher rates of depression and mood disorders have continued to elude researchers (Blehar & Oren, 1997, p.2). It is not unreasonable to assume, based on these findings, that there simply must be something unique to women, causing this disparity.
Very few psychologists and fewer researchers have considered the idea that rather than being a women's issue, this disparity might just be a men's issue. It would seem rather difficult to figure out just what's fueling this disparity, without looking at why men aren't diagnosed with depression at nearly the rates women are. It would be incredibly hard to find the causal relationship that explains higher rates of depression in women, if the base assumptions driving that research are mistaken in the first place. But given the disparate focus of most gender studies on women and women's issues, it's unsurprising that this seemingly obvious avenue of investigation is mostly lost in the mix.
The Gender Gap Fallacy
The sentiments expressed by Drs. Blehar and Oren are very consistent with the assumptions of mainstream, modern psychology and women's studies. In their 2003 paper, The Depression Gender Gap, Ronald Immerman and Wade Mackey actually claim that there is a consistent evolutionary history at work in these higher rates of depression in women. Because they found that the median ratio of depression between men and women, in several countries was close to 2:1, they claim this is just a part
Mood Disorders in Men 4
of what it means to be human. Yet when we look at their own table, we see that while the figures do come to that median, the ratio is far from consistent.
Figure 1. Site of survey and female to male ratio of prevalence of depression across nations and communities. Note that three communities listed are expatriate communities in the UK. Note. From Immerman, R. S., & Mackey, W. C. (2003, February). The depression gender gap: a view through a biocultural filter. Genetic, Social, and General Psychology Monographs, 129(1), 5-35. Retrieved March 8th, 2009 from the Michigan E-Library, http://mel.org/
Avoiding the obvious logical fallacies that drive the entire notion of evolutionary psychology that Immerman and Mackey dive into, there remains the important question of how men fit into this equation. Because the underlying assumption that women experience depression at such significantly higher rates than men, is called into question by Berger, Levant, McMillan, Kelleher and Sellers (2005), finding that “ men who score higher on measures of gender role conflict and traditional masculinity
Mood Disorders in Men 5
ideology tend to have more negative attitudes toward psychological help seeking.” This is probably due the higher rates of alexythima (difficulty experiencing, thinking about and expressing emotions) in men with high rates of gender role conflict (A. R. Fischer & Good, 1997). When the population of comparison, in this case men, are unlikely to seek help for or even recognize that they have a problem, they are also unlikely to be diagnosed with affective mood disorders. While these papers don't indicate rates of depression in men, they certainly call into question the disparity in the rates of depression between women and men.
The Problem of Help Seeking and Diagnosis
More disturbing than the tangential impact these papers have on the question of gender disparity and mood disorders, are the implications for men and help seeking. The evidence indicates that there is a substantial segment of the population that has serious problems even recognizing they might have psychological problems, much less seeking help. The problem is further complicated by generalized diagnostic criteria which are predicated on the understanding that the patient can identify and describe their various emotional states. Without compensating for undiagnosed alexythima, or gender conflict induced emotional disassociation, patients with potentially serious mood disorders will inevitably be misdiagnosed, undiagnosed or the severity of the diagnosis may be seriously understated.
Mariola Magovcevic and Michael E. Addis , of Clark University have taken the initial steps in the development of a masculine depressive index (appendix) to help diagnose depression in men who tend to adhere closely to masculine norms (2008). The methodology is a significant improvement over that of previous studies because the subjects were screened in for a recent (last three months) depressogenic events, but the authors are also very clear about the limitations of this study. There is a great deal more work to be done to develop a coherent and comprehensive diagnostic criteria for depression in men and this study didn't look at any other affective mood disorders.
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The obvious isn't always so obvious and therein lies a great deal of trouble when it comes to dealing with the problems of encouraging help seeking, improving diagnostic criteria and treatment protocols – this is very new territory. While traditionally the ratio of depression from men to women has been assumed to be about 2:1, the ratio of bipolar diagnosis, for example, has been fairly even ( Blehar & Oren, 1997, p.2). The implications of higher rates of unipolar depression in men than previously thought, would imply that the rates of bipolar disorder are also higher than previously thought. Yet none of the articles cited in this paper and few of the articles read while preparing to write this paper discuss the possibility of higher rates of any affective disorders besides depression.
The Gender Gap in Gender Studies
Though there have been several solid studies that have indicated these higher rates of depression in men, there has been very little popular discussion of the findings. The assumption that women experience significantly higher rates of depression than men is still a fundamental premise of most women's studies programs. Not because the studies indicating otherwise are flawed, or because they are being willfully ignored. Rather, they just haven't been noticed. This really shouldn't come as any surprise to those involved in gender studies, especially men's studies. While virtually every college with a psychology department has a women's studies program, there are very few that have a specific men's studies program and there are no graduate men's studies programs in the U.S. An exhaustive web search for men's studies texts, yields less than a dozen academic journals. In contrast, a cursory web search turns up more than fifty core women's studies journals.
The most important implication of this evidence is the critical need for more focus on men's studies for the sake of the mental health of a large segment of society. But there is a secondary implication here. The findings discussed here have significant relevance to the study of depression in women. First, it provides evidence that the disparity in diagnosis is considerably different than
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traditionally considered. Second, this research points to the importance of gender specific diagnostic and treatment models for depression and other affective mood disorders. It also makes a reasonable argument for investigating whether gender specific approaches might be appropriate for other neurological issues.
Men's Studies and Society
There is a broader social implication to the studies discussed here. Archetypal male gender constructs and gender role conflicts are just as abusive to men, as they often are to women. They foster emotional repression, health care problems, obsession with achievement and power, problems with sexual and affectionate behaviors, and homophobia. GRCs often create an outright fear of anything that could be mistaken as feminine in nature ( Magovcevic & Addis, 2008, p118; Blazina, Settle & Eddins, 2008, p70). Aside from the impact of archetypal male gender constructs and GRCs on the mental health and wellbeing of some men, there is also the impact on the rest of society to consider.
Yet while there are a great number of women studying female gender constructs and developing methods for women to transcend archetypal female gender constructs, very few men are studying masculine gender constructs. There are unfortunately, more women involved in men's studies than there are men. This is not to speak poorly of the women who are working in the fields of men's studies or to disparage their work. It ultimately speaks poorly of men for not stepping up and dealing with problems of masculinity and men.
The same gender conflicts that drive many men to emotional disassociation are probably largely responsible for this gender gap in men's studies. It is important to recognize that the underlying archetypal male gender constructs are a continuum, not a dichotomy (Tremblay & L'Heureux, 2005, p56). Even though most men avoid the extremes of GRCs, most men still fall somewhere along that spectrum and experience to some degree many of the problems discussed above. This means that while
Mood Disorders in Men 8
the manifestation may not be as extreme as those discussed above, they are often prohibitive nonetheless.
Deconstructing Gender
Women's studies are very important and the focus of gender studies on women's studies is understandable – most of the people involved in gender studies are women. But it is important to recognize that the lack of focus on men's studies affects women and even impacts feminine gender constructs and the socialization of women. The ramifications of masculine gender constructs have a profound affect on everyone, as do gender constructs across the spectrum. From the health and mental wellbeing of men, to the impact of GRCs and even the average masculine norms on society as a whole. The time has long since passed for an increased focus on male gender constructs that goes beyond looking at whats wrong and focuses on how to make it right.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Post Wizard and Doctor Update...
It was a very interesting and stressful day yesterday. Therapy was pretty intense for me, as usual and the visit to the doctor was pretty intense too - though I really think that the two on the same day is rather helpful. It helps to deal with both on the same day, because both are hard to deal with and getting them done together is much easier than trying to go through this shit on two different days. And it also puts everything firmly to the forefront, so I can really provide the doctor with solid perspective.
Last night I didn't take the Seroquel. I'm still a little off, but feel better than I have since I started taking it - and that even though I started my new meds right away. Before I talk about those though, I really want to be clear about something. Just because Seroquel didn't work for me, doesn't mean it's not a good drug. It just means it wasn't a good fit for me.
I recently reconnected with an old friend. Back when she was part of the group of friends I spent a lot of time with, nine years ago or so, she was pretty extreme in many of her behaviors. And she was also pretty obsessive. When I ran into her about a week ago, she was really stable - a huge difference. As soon as I mentioned this difference she said that changing the influences in her life and therapy had helped, but that the biggest help was from her meds. When I asked her what she's taking, she said Seroquel.
And that's the thing about psych meds (or most meds really), what works for one person, may not work so well for another.
So now I am continuing on the Ritalin and occasional Xanax, while replacing the Seroquel with Welbutrin and Clonidine - we shall see how it goes...
Last night I didn't take the Seroquel. I'm still a little off, but feel better than I have since I started taking it - and that even though I started my new meds right away. Before I talk about those though, I really want to be clear about something. Just because Seroquel didn't work for me, doesn't mean it's not a good drug. It just means it wasn't a good fit for me.
I recently reconnected with an old friend. Back when she was part of the group of friends I spent a lot of time with, nine years ago or so, she was pretty extreme in many of her behaviors. And she was also pretty obsessive. When I ran into her about a week ago, she was really stable - a huge difference. As soon as I mentioned this difference she said that changing the influences in her life and therapy had helped, but that the biggest help was from her meds. When I asked her what she's taking, she said Seroquel.
And that's the thing about psych meds (or most meds really), what works for one person, may not work so well for another.
So now I am continuing on the Ritalin and occasional Xanax, while replacing the Seroquel with Welbutrin and Clonidine - we shall see how it goes...
Friday, March 20, 2009
Off to see the Wizard and other thoughts...
So I am getting set to see my therapist shortly. I do have a post in the works, hopefully for this afternoon - one that rather steps away from most of my recent posts. I am working on a post about Meaning post Faith. I intend to write several posts over the next few months, detailing some of the issues that helped hold me back from shedding my Faith, we'll see how it goes.
I am definitely thinking that Seroquel is not going to work out real well. I know a couple of my wonderful blog friends are into neurology and/or pharmacology. I have discussed this with one of my pharmacology friends who recommended that I discuss the possibility of switching off Seroquel in favor of Clonidine and Welbutrin. If others have any thoughts on that, I would love to hear them. I have a week before I see the doctor next and would like to have some solid ideas to discuss with him.
The lowdown on my problems with SSRI's is that I had sex drive problems - on steroids. The lack of sex drive really isn't a problem for me - indeed at the moment it would be kind of nice. But mine went beyond mere lack of desire, I actually experienced discomfort in the genital region. A sort of dullness that was accentuated by a prickly feeling. I have been told that I probably wouldn't have the same problems with Welbutrin, but that it is a possibility. It may seem a silly concern, mainly because I just can't really know until I try, but I would prefer to avoid trying anything that is extremely likely to be a problem - I am paying out of pocket for my scripts and on student loans this is not a small concern.
Back to the wizard.
I am going to be discussing the meds of course, but also will be delving into the problem of feeling. I really wanted to write another post on how DuWayne got to where he is, continuing my series from last Thursday, but the damned Seroquel was not making that easy. I am going to try to get on that in the next few days, because it really seems to be useful for me. We'll just have to see.
The big issue that we have been running up against, is my issues with really delving into my feelings. I had this inane notion that I was pretty solidly in touch with my feelings and emotions, but have been realizing that this is not entirely accurate. Rather I have been very keen on dancing around my feelings and focusing an awful lot on others, to the detriment of my own personal connections to me. We'll just have to see how it goes, I'm definitely going to try.
I would also like to apologize to those who have been writing me this week and not gotten a response. I am not ignoring you, I just have not had it in me to write much. Also, I would really appreciate it if folks wouldn't IM me. I really hate to message like that, with very few exceptions. Please feel free to email and I promise I will get to you eventually. Messaging is just a little too much for me.
I am definitely thinking that Seroquel is not going to work out real well. I know a couple of my wonderful blog friends are into neurology and/or pharmacology. I have discussed this with one of my pharmacology friends who recommended that I discuss the possibility of switching off Seroquel in favor of Clonidine and Welbutrin. If others have any thoughts on that, I would love to hear them. I have a week before I see the doctor next and would like to have some solid ideas to discuss with him.
The lowdown on my problems with SSRI's is that I had sex drive problems - on steroids. The lack of sex drive really isn't a problem for me - indeed at the moment it would be kind of nice. But mine went beyond mere lack of desire, I actually experienced discomfort in the genital region. A sort of dullness that was accentuated by a prickly feeling. I have been told that I probably wouldn't have the same problems with Welbutrin, but that it is a possibility. It may seem a silly concern, mainly because I just can't really know until I try, but I would prefer to avoid trying anything that is extremely likely to be a problem - I am paying out of pocket for my scripts and on student loans this is not a small concern.
Back to the wizard.
I am going to be discussing the meds of course, but also will be delving into the problem of feeling. I really wanted to write another post on how DuWayne got to where he is, continuing my series from last Thursday, but the damned Seroquel was not making that easy. I am going to try to get on that in the next few days, because it really seems to be useful for me. We'll just have to see.
The big issue that we have been running up against, is my issues with really delving into my feelings. I had this inane notion that I was pretty solidly in touch with my feelings and emotions, but have been realizing that this is not entirely accurate. Rather I have been very keen on dancing around my feelings and focusing an awful lot on others, to the detriment of my own personal connections to me. We'll just have to see how it goes, I'm definitely going to try.
I would also like to apologize to those who have been writing me this week and not gotten a response. I am not ignoring you, I just have not had it in me to write much. Also, I would really appreciate it if folks wouldn't IM me. I really hate to message like that, with very few exceptions. Please feel free to email and I promise I will get to you eventually. Messaging is just a little too much for me.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Seroquel: Day 2 Night 3 on my new meds
Sorry, there is some cursing going on here and I am not really feeling up to mucking about with the HTML to put it under the fold.
So on Friday, I went not only to my normal Friday therapy appointment, I also went to my doctor. I can not begin to explain how wonderful it is to be seeing the doctor I grew up with (or a doctor at all for that matter). I am not able to see him for general health concerns, because the visits are out of pocket. But to be able to deal with him for my psych meds is just so much easier, than dealing with the sliding scale clinic would be. Dr. T has known me since I was a relatively small child and knows a lot of my proclivities. He is also aware of my substance abuse issues and takes that into consideration.
Above all, it is really great to be dealing with a doctor who exemplifies everything great about family GPs. And who is also a licensed clinical psychotherapist and psychiatrist.
We spent about half an hour discussing my concerns and fears about going on a mood stabilizer. He was very clear that whatever we end up with, I am going to have to accept that some of what I am afraid of losing, is going to be lost. Ultimately, some of what I am afraid of losing is part of what is holding me back. I understand this, but it is not easy to accept - but then there are those beautiful little boys in the last post and it's a little easier to accept. So I am now taking Seroquel.
That said, I almost didn't take my new meds again last night. I don't like this, feeling like this and not feeling like I usually do. I am fucking angry and frustrated and really don't like it. Yesterday was fucking awful. Four or five times I just broke down and cried. I couldn't think straight to save my life. Today was a little better and tomorrow should be even better - we'll see. But I am also supposed to increase my dosage here soon, not as quickly as a lot of people do, but still. I really don't want to have another day like yesterday.
I am coming to understand it, but it boggles my mind that I got through thirty-two fucking years without really accepting or understanding what the hell is happening in my head. I chalked it up to the ADHD and honestly never really bought into the bipolar diagnosis. I mean I accepted that I may well be bipolar, but I never really grasped the actual impact it has had on me. I brought this up to Dr. T, because while there has been a several year hole, he's known me for almost twenty-five years.
He suggested the very thing that I brought up in my first of a series on Thursday, I have been dealing with this since I was born. I have had my entire life to learn ways to compensate. I didn't have a sudden onset as a teen or tweener, I got a leg up on them by working through my childhood on being less atypical. And I had the ADHD to blame for what I couldn't manage.
Fuck! I just took my pill for the evening ten minutes or so ago. And I am just fucking drifting now. I can focus, but I am not able to focus - it's really hard to explain. The bitter irony, there was a time when I would have been thrilled to have this shit. It's a fucking high to be sure. But I don't control it. I would love nothing more than to flush this crap down the fucking toilet and get a bag of weed. It may not be as effective, but at least I have control of my high. And the first half hour to an hour with weed doesn't make me keep getting weepy. Though I have to admit that that too is not as bad tonight, as it was the first night, or even last night, which wasn't as bad as the first.
I am going to give it the week at least, probably more. Even if it doesn't work out, we need to know exactly what kind of problems I am having with it, so we can move on to the next with a higher likelihood of success. And the few nights I've taken it are just not a reasonable assessment period. But this really fucking sucks.
I am, by the way, going to continue writing that series I started on Thursday. But it is going to be in my own time. It's not all that easy for me, though it is extremely valuable to me. And I would also really like to write about the issue of these "conscientious" objecting pharmacists, who don't want to fill scripts for meds that they think are wrong, but honestly, it just makes me so fucking angry that I have a hard time writing about it rationally. I already blew up big time at Abel's TerraSig and started to really lose it at Pal's White Coat Underground. Sorry guys. But I would really appreciate it if you would take a look at their posts and after, take a look at this clearinghouse for proposed and passed state legislation about conscience clauses for pharmacists and other health care pros. I would like to say that I will get around to posting about it, but it's highly unlikely - I have way too much on my plate. Two midterms on Tuesday and homework I haven't touched since Friday, because of these fucking meds. Not to mention home repair projects for a couple of very supportive friends, that are piling up.
So on Friday, I went not only to my normal Friday therapy appointment, I also went to my doctor. I can not begin to explain how wonderful it is to be seeing the doctor I grew up with (or a doctor at all for that matter). I am not able to see him for general health concerns, because the visits are out of pocket. But to be able to deal with him for my psych meds is just so much easier, than dealing with the sliding scale clinic would be. Dr. T has known me since I was a relatively small child and knows a lot of my proclivities. He is also aware of my substance abuse issues and takes that into consideration.
Above all, it is really great to be dealing with a doctor who exemplifies everything great about family GPs. And who is also a licensed clinical psychotherapist and psychiatrist.
We spent about half an hour discussing my concerns and fears about going on a mood stabilizer. He was very clear that whatever we end up with, I am going to have to accept that some of what I am afraid of losing, is going to be lost. Ultimately, some of what I am afraid of losing is part of what is holding me back. I understand this, but it is not easy to accept - but then there are those beautiful little boys in the last post and it's a little easier to accept. So I am now taking Seroquel.
That said, I almost didn't take my new meds again last night. I don't like this, feeling like this and not feeling like I usually do. I am fucking angry and frustrated and really don't like it. Yesterday was fucking awful. Four or five times I just broke down and cried. I couldn't think straight to save my life. Today was a little better and tomorrow should be even better - we'll see. But I am also supposed to increase my dosage here soon, not as quickly as a lot of people do, but still. I really don't want to have another day like yesterday.
I am coming to understand it, but it boggles my mind that I got through thirty-two fucking years without really accepting or understanding what the hell is happening in my head. I chalked it up to the ADHD and honestly never really bought into the bipolar diagnosis. I mean I accepted that I may well be bipolar, but I never really grasped the actual impact it has had on me. I brought this up to Dr. T, because while there has been a several year hole, he's known me for almost twenty-five years.
He suggested the very thing that I brought up in my first of a series on Thursday, I have been dealing with this since I was born. I have had my entire life to learn ways to compensate. I didn't have a sudden onset as a teen or tweener, I got a leg up on them by working through my childhood on being less atypical. And I had the ADHD to blame for what I couldn't manage.
Fuck! I just took my pill for the evening ten minutes or so ago. And I am just fucking drifting now. I can focus, but I am not able to focus - it's really hard to explain. The bitter irony, there was a time when I would have been thrilled to have this shit. It's a fucking high to be sure. But I don't control it. I would love nothing more than to flush this crap down the fucking toilet and get a bag of weed. It may not be as effective, but at least I have control of my high. And the first half hour to an hour with weed doesn't make me keep getting weepy. Though I have to admit that that too is not as bad tonight, as it was the first night, or even last night, which wasn't as bad as the first.
I am going to give it the week at least, probably more. Even if it doesn't work out, we need to know exactly what kind of problems I am having with it, so we can move on to the next with a higher likelihood of success. And the few nights I've taken it are just not a reasonable assessment period. But this really fucking sucks.
I am, by the way, going to continue writing that series I started on Thursday. But it is going to be in my own time. It's not all that easy for me, though it is extremely valuable to me. And I would also really like to write about the issue of these "conscientious" objecting pharmacists, who don't want to fill scripts for meds that they think are wrong, but honestly, it just makes me so fucking angry that I have a hard time writing about it rationally. I already blew up big time at Abel's TerraSig and started to really lose it at Pal's White Coat Underground. Sorry guys. But I would really appreciate it if you would take a look at their posts and after, take a look at this clearinghouse for proposed and passed state legislation about conscience clauses for pharmacists and other health care pros. I would like to say that I will get around to posting about it, but it's highly unlikely - I have way too much on my plate. Two midterms on Tuesday and homework I haven't touched since Friday, because of these fucking meds. Not to mention home repair projects for a couple of very supportive friends, that are piling up.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
In Which DuWayne Explains His Rage, Anger and Fear...Part One
I really don't have the time to do this now, but the way things are going, I never will. And I need to. The following series of posts (interspersed with other posts) will probably include a great deal of profanity, it will certainly include a great deal of information that will likely make some readers uncomfortable. I am going to talk about what many would perceive as rather dark aspects of human sexuality and even darker aspects of the human brain - namely my own. I am a very dark and lonely place
I want to be very clear to those who choose to read the following, that I make no apologies and carry no shame for who and what I have been. I am who and what I am, who I have been got me here. Quite honestly, given the opportunity to do it over, I am not certain that I would do a damned thing different. I have always done my best with the tools I have, though all too often those tools have failed me or my ability to use said tools has failed me. More...
Here I am, fucking naked again. More naked than before.
Of my first twenty-four hours out of my mother's womb, I slept just under ten. Before my eyes could even focus enough to see anything more inches from my face clearly, I needed to see it all. My mom hated it when I actually took a nap, because that would inevitably mean I was going to sleep even less that night. And when I woke up, I was always absolutely awake and ready to see more shit. My brother Jack taught me to read when I was two, at which point I began to incessantly devour books like they were food and water in a time of famine. I read Paddington Bear when I was four and was onto philosophy and theology by the time I was nine.
When I was nine, I learned about people. I learned how to read the people around me, not just what they expressed to me - I learned to read the truth of them. I had ideas. Always hammering me relentlessly, on top of each other, around each other and in and out of each other - it never fucking stopped, not even for a moment - but it slowed a little when I was explaining some bit or another. It made it better for that little while. When I was nine, I learned that when I was bouncing ideas off of the people around me, they didn't have the smallest clue what the fuck I was talking about.
When I was nine, I begged my god to take me home. I just wanted to die, rather than to go on without even the tiny abeyance that came when I was explaining it to someone else. But my god just wouldn't do it. So I retreated into a special world that I created for myself. A quiet place that was filled with the people I came to love so very much, the characters in my books. The times, places and realities that were not my own, but that I could borrow for a time. As a little boy I slipped away from this place and into a place of wonder, where I wasn't so very stupid and slow.
When I was ten, I took ownership of a very special sort of freedom. I no longer wanted to die, but nor was I afraid to die. This body wasn't the whole of me but I don't think that mattered even then. Had there been nothing more than this, the this I had had to that point would have been enough. But at the time I knew it wasn't. Not fearing death and being the singularly arrogant person that even then I was, I felt no real fear of any temporal authority. To be sure, I felt beholden to my own moral framework and the dogma of my Faith. But I was beholden to these, to the exclusion of all other authority.
I loved my god with every bit of my being. There's a very good reason for that, two really. For all of my study into the bible and theology, I created my god in the image of my idealism. And for all of my awe and wonder at the world around me, the world that my god had created, my observation of reality was also shaped to fit the reality of my god. Even though I dearly loved the people around me, everybody around me, People were an abstraction to me. Later, when I became more fully aware that People were people too, my god creation changed - But I digress. At that point in my life, the reality I perceived and inhabited was entirely my own creation.
The reason that the betrayal of my church (see a much earlier post) was such a traumatizing event for me was not so much the betrayal itself, it was the shattering of my own, perfect little reality. It became unglued, untenable - while I was desperate to hold on and keep it together. But I couldn't keep it together and everything was hammering me again. Because in the act of creating and maintaining, I burned enough of my energy, used enough of my brain to stem the tide of thoughts and ideas to a peacefully babbling brook - contrasting the non-stop flash flood that opened up on me, even as my reality collapsed.
Then I discovered cannabis and alcohol. And before long, sex.
I will continue this in another post, for the moment I just need to stop. But I would like to take this moment to explain something. In a previous post I mentioned balancing the sensory overload of music and drugs, with the additional sensory overload of sex. Someone very special to me, who I am coming to adore and care for very much, mentioned the contradiction of that, when I sent her the post before I actually put it up. She later wrote me and asked why I hadn't changed that (I told her I would). I couldn't answer at the time, because I really didn't grasp entirely why I didn't feel right changing that.
I think I understand it now. I meant exactly what I said, even though I really didn't consciously understand why. My life has generally been various states of sensory overload in a rather delicate balance, with one thing playing off another. Through this process, I have slowly learned to ride the balance of the tide, as it rushes through my head. The conscious and unconscious largely interchangeable. And after decades of running from it, I have finally come to embrace the rush. With the last vestiges of my creations falling to dust around me, I am finally riding the reality of me.
At thirty-two, I am both a very old man and a swaddling infant - but I am free. I am, finally, me. This is why I am afraid of going on more meds. Ultimately, I am just finally getting the opportunity to know me, with my filters stripped bare.
I know that it will be ok and I know that I need to do it. No matter how many ideas and sculptures of words flow through me, I am unable to do a fucking thing with them as it stands. And I fucking have things to do.
I want to be very clear to those who choose to read the following, that I make no apologies and carry no shame for who and what I have been. I am who and what I am, who I have been got me here. Quite honestly, given the opportunity to do it over, I am not certain that I would do a damned thing different. I have always done my best with the tools I have, though all too often those tools have failed me or my ability to use said tools has failed me. More...
Here I am, fucking naked again. More naked than before.
Of my first twenty-four hours out of my mother's womb, I slept just under ten. Before my eyes could even focus enough to see anything more inches from my face clearly, I needed to see it all. My mom hated it when I actually took a nap, because that would inevitably mean I was going to sleep even less that night. And when I woke up, I was always absolutely awake and ready to see more shit. My brother Jack taught me to read when I was two, at which point I began to incessantly devour books like they were food and water in a time of famine. I read Paddington Bear when I was four and was onto philosophy and theology by the time I was nine.
When I was nine, I learned about people. I learned how to read the people around me, not just what they expressed to me - I learned to read the truth of them. I had ideas. Always hammering me relentlessly, on top of each other, around each other and in and out of each other - it never fucking stopped, not even for a moment - but it slowed a little when I was explaining some bit or another. It made it better for that little while. When I was nine, I learned that when I was bouncing ideas off of the people around me, they didn't have the smallest clue what the fuck I was talking about.
When I was nine, I begged my god to take me home. I just wanted to die, rather than to go on without even the tiny abeyance that came when I was explaining it to someone else. But my god just wouldn't do it. So I retreated into a special world that I created for myself. A quiet place that was filled with the people I came to love so very much, the characters in my books. The times, places and realities that were not my own, but that I could borrow for a time. As a little boy I slipped away from this place and into a place of wonder, where I wasn't so very stupid and slow.
When I was ten, I took ownership of a very special sort of freedom. I no longer wanted to die, but nor was I afraid to die. This body wasn't the whole of me but I don't think that mattered even then. Had there been nothing more than this, the this I had had to that point would have been enough. But at the time I knew it wasn't. Not fearing death and being the singularly arrogant person that even then I was, I felt no real fear of any temporal authority. To be sure, I felt beholden to my own moral framework and the dogma of my Faith. But I was beholden to these, to the exclusion of all other authority.
I loved my god with every bit of my being. There's a very good reason for that, two really. For all of my study into the bible and theology, I created my god in the image of my idealism. And for all of my awe and wonder at the world around me, the world that my god had created, my observation of reality was also shaped to fit the reality of my god. Even though I dearly loved the people around me, everybody around me, People were an abstraction to me. Later, when I became more fully aware that People were people too, my god creation changed - But I digress. At that point in my life, the reality I perceived and inhabited was entirely my own creation.
The reason that the betrayal of my church (see a much earlier post) was such a traumatizing event for me was not so much the betrayal itself, it was the shattering of my own, perfect little reality. It became unglued, untenable - while I was desperate to hold on and keep it together. But I couldn't keep it together and everything was hammering me again. Because in the act of creating and maintaining, I burned enough of my energy, used enough of my brain to stem the tide of thoughts and ideas to a peacefully babbling brook - contrasting the non-stop flash flood that opened up on me, even as my reality collapsed.
Then I discovered cannabis and alcohol. And before long, sex.
I will continue this in another post, for the moment I just need to stop. But I would like to take this moment to explain something. In a previous post I mentioned balancing the sensory overload of music and drugs, with the additional sensory overload of sex. Someone very special to me, who I am coming to adore and care for very much, mentioned the contradiction of that, when I sent her the post before I actually put it up. She later wrote me and asked why I hadn't changed that (I told her I would). I couldn't answer at the time, because I really didn't grasp entirely why I didn't feel right changing that.
I think I understand it now. I meant exactly what I said, even though I really didn't consciously understand why. My life has generally been various states of sensory overload in a rather delicate balance, with one thing playing off another. Through this process, I have slowly learned to ride the balance of the tide, as it rushes through my head. The conscious and unconscious largely interchangeable. And after decades of running from it, I have finally come to embrace the rush. With the last vestiges of my creations falling to dust around me, I am finally riding the reality of me.
At thirty-two, I am both a very old man and a swaddling infant - but I am free. I am, finally, me. This is why I am afraid of going on more meds. Ultimately, I am just finally getting the opportunity to know me, with my filters stripped bare.
I know that it will be ok and I know that I need to do it. No matter how many ideas and sculptures of words flow through me, I am unable to do a fucking thing with them as it stands. And I fucking have things to do.
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Reading What isn't there - Figuratively and Literally
I should mention that I actually got the material I was looking for, thanks Becca.....
Before I go very far, I am hoping for some help. I really need an article out of a journal that is not part of the databases I have access to. Because I am uncertain I will actually want to use it, I don't want to buy it. So if you have access to the journal Psychology of Men and Masculinity I would really appreciate it if you would email me. If I actually end up using the article I am looking for, I don't mind buying it. But if I'm not, I'd rather not spend the money.
So I stuck foot in mouth a bit yesterday. Being in a strange state of focus lately, I rather read an awful lot into some comments at Greg Laden's blog. What annoys me about this is not the embarrassment of having to admit to my mistake and apologize. Being rather egotistical, I appreciate having the opportunity to be humbled. I am annoyed, because I just don't do this - reading in things that are not actually there. I get really irritated when people do it to me, being one who tends to mean very specifically what I actually say.
I much prefer to have to admit I was wrong about something, because someone else convinces me that my reasoning was flawed or my evidence is wrong. I really hate admitting I was wrong, because I jumped to conclusions by inference. The fact that most of the time the conclusions are correct, does not make it any less obnoxious or sloppy.
Having been somewhat focused on this line of thinking, I realized that I have been guilty of this a lot lately. While this is the first time it's really come to bite me, I am doing a lot of reflecting on how I have developed this habit. Stress is at least a part of it, but I tend to think that there is something more going on that I need to delve into. This is not the only "not DuWayne" issue that has arisen in the last few months.
The problem with this is there are so many factors involved, that it's really hard to differentiate and sort through it all. And it is really important that I sort through a lot of it, because I am finally trying to really deal with the negative aspects of my neurological make-up. It is critically important to me that I maintain the best balance possible between functionality and retaining who I am. But at the same time it has become increasingly apparent that my neurochemistry needs more help than Ritalin and the occasional Xanax are providing now.
Going much beyond the minimal constrictions of my current regimen really scares me. It hurts like hell to be me, quite a lot of the time. It's hard sometimes to sort through the constant barrage of ideas, words and music that inundate my mind. It's frustrating to get sent on tangents that distract from what I am trying to accomplish at a given moment. But it's me. It's who I am, what I am. I don't know how to be not me.
But I also don't know how to be me and succeed in the ways that I must.
Before I go very far, I am hoping for some help. I really need an article out of a journal that is not part of the databases I have access to. Because I am uncertain I will actually want to use it, I don't want to buy it. So if you have access to the journal Psychology of Men and Masculinity I would really appreciate it if you would email me. If I actually end up using the article I am looking for, I don't mind buying it. But if I'm not, I'd rather not spend the money.
So I stuck foot in mouth a bit yesterday. Being in a strange state of focus lately, I rather read an awful lot into some comments at Greg Laden's blog. What annoys me about this is not the embarrassment of having to admit to my mistake and apologize. Being rather egotistical, I appreciate having the opportunity to be humbled. I am annoyed, because I just don't do this - reading in things that are not actually there. I get really irritated when people do it to me, being one who tends to mean very specifically what I actually say.
I much prefer to have to admit I was wrong about something, because someone else convinces me that my reasoning was flawed or my evidence is wrong. I really hate admitting I was wrong, because I jumped to conclusions by inference. The fact that most of the time the conclusions are correct, does not make it any less obnoxious or sloppy.
Having been somewhat focused on this line of thinking, I realized that I have been guilty of this a lot lately. While this is the first time it's really come to bite me, I am doing a lot of reflecting on how I have developed this habit. Stress is at least a part of it, but I tend to think that there is something more going on that I need to delve into. This is not the only "not DuWayne" issue that has arisen in the last few months.
The problem with this is there are so many factors involved, that it's really hard to differentiate and sort through it all. And it is really important that I sort through a lot of it, because I am finally trying to really deal with the negative aspects of my neurological make-up. It is critically important to me that I maintain the best balance possible between functionality and retaining who I am. But at the same time it has become increasingly apparent that my neurochemistry needs more help than Ritalin and the occasional Xanax are providing now.
Going much beyond the minimal constrictions of my current regimen really scares me. It hurts like hell to be me, quite a lot of the time. It's hard sometimes to sort through the constant barrage of ideas, words and music that inundate my mind. It's frustrating to get sent on tangents that distract from what I am trying to accomplish at a given moment. But it's me. It's who I am, what I am. I don't know how to be not me.
But I also don't know how to be me and succeed in the ways that I must.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Listen to Your Doctor.....
I finally got through the hell of trying to get into a doctor and went to the one I grew up with yesterday. I am now on regular old methylphenidate (Ritalin), which will allow me to exert a great deal of control over my dosing. So on days when I need to go to class, I can take two 10MG in the morning, one at lunch and generally call it good. On days when I need more time to study, I can take two in the morning, one at lunch and one mid-late afternoon, while on weekends I can minimize, unless I am studying.
Though I have to admit that I really would love to try Vyvanse. Unfortunately, at ten dollars a dose, it's just not feasible, as it's a total out of pocket cost. Basically, Vyvanse is a prodrug equivalent for Adderall. It is theoretically superior to Adderall and Ritalin, because instead of being an extended release because the pill is made a particular way, it's release is extended through metabolizing. This apparently reduces many of the side effects found especially in Ritalin, but which are also occasionally found in Adderall.
We also discussed the possibility of a close generic equivalent to Adderall, dextroamphetimine which is the actual generic for Dexedrine. The thought was that this might decrease or eliminate the headaches I often get when I take methylphenidate. The problem with that being that the script is twenty some dollars to fill, as apposed to six for methylphenidate. Unfortunately, cost is a significant factor, so for the time being, I am taking methylphenidate.
I was also prescribed Alprazolam, which is the generic for Xanax. I am not going to take it often, as I really only need it for certain, specific cycles. I am starting out with the ability to get a refill before I see the doctor next, because he felt that it might help me getting used to the methylphenidate. Mostly I am keen on having it to help me nip off the cycles that got me diagnosed with bipolar. Though it was nice to see my old family doctor again, as he agreed with my assessment that it is more likely that the symptoms are a result of a lifetime with far less sleep than most people should get. The other reason I was interested in Alprazolam, is to help me through therapy. Last Friday's session was really intense and left me pretty shell-shocked.
So now we get to listening to the doctor.....
I have a really tough time remembering to take my meds, when I am on meds. Even worse, is if I have to take more than one, at different times. It is much easier if I can just take them all at once. So my doc explained that I should probably not take the Alprazolam, until I am getting towards lunch time, or unless I really felt the need for it before then. But he wanted me to take my first dose of methylphenidate without it, figuring that if I really was going to have trouble, it would be with the second dose of the day. He also warned me that I probably would do better to offset the mythylphenidate and the Alprazolam by at least forty minutes to an hour. I asked him if taking them at the same time was dangerous, which he said it really isn't, it just causes a lot of people to get a little buzzed.
So what do I do? Screw that, I say to myself. I'm going to forget the Ritalin if I don't take them together. Then came my remedial algebra (yes, I am math inept - failed pre-algebra in high school, twice). I had no trouble focusing on class. I was able to pick up the concepts we were learning today. I could not however, ask either of the questions I had, to save my life. I was actually afraid if I tried to talk that gibberish would come out. Thank the gods for email and a instructor who is happy to answer them.
Amusingly, when I was out having a smoke after class, I mentioned it to the smoking clan. One of them explained that he had experienced the exact same thing. He said that the offset in taking them really makes a difference. Of course he also mentioned his fondness for taking them together on weekends. I have to admit, that while not at all conducive to full functionality in class, it did feel pretty good. Thankfully, I have years of memories of getting high and don't feel the least urge to abuse the drugs that are here to help me function. I did seem to have an easier time in humanities, which follows the math.
No problems contributing to the discussion - though that may be because we were talking about the Roman Empire, a topic that really gets me excited. Though I should admit that I did have to leave class early, but that was because we were watching a documentary I've seen twice and really hated. There's a twit who makes the assertion that the Romans built Hadrien's wall and never went north, because they felt it was a wasteland. That was just their excuse. The reality is that the naked blue warriors had the invulnerable Roman Legions pissing themselves in terror. So by building Hadrien's wall, the Romans saved face and the Picts were left alone again. Watching the video might have worked anyways, but the sound was kind of warped in my head and was making me very uncomfortable.
Though I have to admit that I really would love to try Vyvanse. Unfortunately, at ten dollars a dose, it's just not feasible, as it's a total out of pocket cost. Basically, Vyvanse is a prodrug equivalent for Adderall. It is theoretically superior to Adderall and Ritalin, because instead of being an extended release because the pill is made a particular way, it's release is extended through metabolizing. This apparently reduces many of the side effects found especially in Ritalin, but which are also occasionally found in Adderall.
We also discussed the possibility of a close generic equivalent to Adderall, dextroamphetimine which is the actual generic for Dexedrine. The thought was that this might decrease or eliminate the headaches I often get when I take methylphenidate. The problem with that being that the script is twenty some dollars to fill, as apposed to six for methylphenidate. Unfortunately, cost is a significant factor, so for the time being, I am taking methylphenidate.
I was also prescribed Alprazolam, which is the generic for Xanax. I am not going to take it often, as I really only need it for certain, specific cycles. I am starting out with the ability to get a refill before I see the doctor next, because he felt that it might help me getting used to the methylphenidate. Mostly I am keen on having it to help me nip off the cycles that got me diagnosed with bipolar. Though it was nice to see my old family doctor again, as he agreed with my assessment that it is more likely that the symptoms are a result of a lifetime with far less sleep than most people should get. The other reason I was interested in Alprazolam, is to help me through therapy. Last Friday's session was really intense and left me pretty shell-shocked.
So now we get to listening to the doctor.....
I have a really tough time remembering to take my meds, when I am on meds. Even worse, is if I have to take more than one, at different times. It is much easier if I can just take them all at once. So my doc explained that I should probably not take the Alprazolam, until I am getting towards lunch time, or unless I really felt the need for it before then. But he wanted me to take my first dose of methylphenidate without it, figuring that if I really was going to have trouble, it would be with the second dose of the day. He also warned me that I probably would do better to offset the mythylphenidate and the Alprazolam by at least forty minutes to an hour. I asked him if taking them at the same time was dangerous, which he said it really isn't, it just causes a lot of people to get a little buzzed.
So what do I do? Screw that, I say to myself. I'm going to forget the Ritalin if I don't take them together. Then came my remedial algebra (yes, I am math inept - failed pre-algebra in high school, twice). I had no trouble focusing on class. I was able to pick up the concepts we were learning today. I could not however, ask either of the questions I had, to save my life. I was actually afraid if I tried to talk that gibberish would come out. Thank the gods for email and a instructor who is happy to answer them.
Amusingly, when I was out having a smoke after class, I mentioned it to the smoking clan. One of them explained that he had experienced the exact same thing. He said that the offset in taking them really makes a difference. Of course he also mentioned his fondness for taking them together on weekends. I have to admit, that while not at all conducive to full functionality in class, it did feel pretty good. Thankfully, I have years of memories of getting high and don't feel the least urge to abuse the drugs that are here to help me function. I did seem to have an easier time in humanities, which follows the math.
No problems contributing to the discussion - though that may be because we were talking about the Roman Empire, a topic that really gets me excited. Though I should admit that I did have to leave class early, but that was because we were watching a documentary I've seen twice and really hated. There's a twit who makes the assertion that the Romans built Hadrien's wall and never went north, because they felt it was a wasteland. That was just their excuse. The reality is that the naked blue warriors had the invulnerable Roman Legions pissing themselves in terror. So by building Hadrien's wall, the Romans saved face and the Picts were left alone again. Watching the video might have worked anyways, but the sound was kind of warped in my head and was making me very uncomfortable.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
ADHD, Bipolar and other neurological issues: A Quick Note
To be clear before I go further, the information available to me about those hitting this site is very limited. But one of the things that my site meter tells me about, is the referring URL, i.e. where you clicked in. And when a google search brings someone here, while I don't know who that person is, I do know what the search string was.
I have noticed that I get fairly regular hits from searches on ADHD, bipolar and neurological disorders. Often included are methylphenidate, ampehtamine, adderall, ritalin, substance abuse, etc.
Please, let me make you welcome. If you are hitting this post, feel free to peruse the rest of the blog, but more importantly, please let me know what you are looking for. While I am painfully busy right now, I would very much like to provide links in the sidebar to help facilitate your search and the searches of others who come after you. I do have several links that I intend on posting, but school and, well, ADHD behaviors have kept me from getting to it. Meanwhile, there are links to some forums that may be of use. Discussing our problems with people who have similar issues can be a major help in itself. And some of the forums provide links to other information - and you can always post a request for links.....
More than just a place to foster interesting discussions, I want this blog to also be a place where information on topics that affect me and those I love can be found. I have rather severe ADHD and not so intense bipolar issues. I have many years of experience with substance abuse issues and am studying psychology with the intent of going into addiction research and clinical work.
If you happen to be looking for substance abuse links, please take a look to the right of this, you may have to scroll down. There are some links now and that list will be growing as I have time to get to it.
So please, if you don't see what you're looking for, let me know. You can post anonymous links or email me (just write confidential in the subject line). While I am not a therapist and cannot provide mental health care, I can point you in different directions and am often happy to talk. While there is no legal compunction for me to do so, I am very discreet and will never post or talk about you. If you give me permission, I may discuss things you share with me, but would make sure to keep your identity private.
I have noticed that I get fairly regular hits from searches on ADHD, bipolar and neurological disorders. Often included are methylphenidate, ampehtamine, adderall, ritalin, substance abuse, etc.
Please, let me make you welcome. If you are hitting this post, feel free to peruse the rest of the blog, but more importantly, please let me know what you are looking for. While I am painfully busy right now, I would very much like to provide links in the sidebar to help facilitate your search and the searches of others who come after you. I do have several links that I intend on posting, but school and, well, ADHD behaviors have kept me from getting to it. Meanwhile, there are links to some forums that may be of use. Discussing our problems with people who have similar issues can be a major help in itself. And some of the forums provide links to other information - and you can always post a request for links.....
More than just a place to foster interesting discussions, I want this blog to also be a place where information on topics that affect me and those I love can be found. I have rather severe ADHD and not so intense bipolar issues. I have many years of experience with substance abuse issues and am studying psychology with the intent of going into addiction research and clinical work.
If you happen to be looking for substance abuse links, please take a look to the right of this, you may have to scroll down. There are some links now and that list will be growing as I have time to get to it.
So please, if you don't see what you're looking for, let me know. You can post anonymous links or email me (just write confidential in the subject line). While I am not a therapist and cannot provide mental health care, I can point you in different directions and am often happy to talk. While there is no legal compunction for me to do so, I am very discreet and will never post or talk about you. If you give me permission, I may discuss things you share with me, but would make sure to keep your identity private.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Eugenics, Yes, I said Eugenics; Is there a problem?
Please check out and even contribute to the comments section. We have a decent discussion going and would love to hear from you too.
At this point if you're reading this, it is quite likely you've only recently discovered my blog. Mainly because I quite recently posted for the first time in a very long time. I'm really glad that I did, because someone managed to go back and hit on a post I wrote over a year ago (granted there weren't many posts between here and there). I'm glad, because I really think this is an important discussion to have - one that becomes more important by the day. And the comment left by Juniper Shoemaker is worth addressing. And to make it really fun, Juniper is a geneticist in training. (Juniper is also the bittering agent in the last beer I had, an awesome brew by my friend Mac back in Portland.)
For those who might not want to read the original post, I am basically making the argument that we need to get past the hysterics that almost inevitably ensue when the word eugenics is brought up. I would like to be clear that I am not advocating for or against eugenics, though there are certainly ideas involving eugenics that I am strongly against. All that I am advocating for is a rational discussion of eugenics, much like Richard Dawkins did a couple years ago.
The reason this is important right now, is that a lot of controversial things are happening that should be fostering important conversations. But those conversations aren't really happening and I suspect that the reason they aren't happening is because the term eugenics is so very loaded. So before I get into addressing Juniper's comment, I would like to point you to a very illustrative post that discusses eugenics. (without ever actually using the word)
Yup, that there is a shining example of eugenics in action. It's not abortion. It's not killing a flawed infant. It's not sterilization and it's not genocide. It's simply a couple who needs a little help having a child, a couple who wanted to exert a little control over the genes of their child to be. Not really very controversial, it's not much different than the decisions people make when choosing a mate they might reproduce with naturally. But on to Juniper's comment....
I have no problem with that. I'm bipolar and also have very severe ADHD. And guess what? My son has been diagnosed with severe ADHD and probably has either some of my other neurological issues or those of his mom. I have very little doubt that my youngest will also exhibit something of our neurological issues too. I can even accept that there may well be some value in the propensity for DS as well.
I will also go as far as saying that the idea of aborting a fetus that has tested positive for DS is not a black and white decision or an absolute net positive. This, in spite of the fact that if our incredible one year old had tested positive as a fetus, he would not be with us today. No question, no discussion necessary. Had that test come back different, we would have terminated the pregnancy. Because while the idea is far from black and white, our ability to deal with it is absolutely clear. We already have a child who needs a lot of special attention. Under ideal circumstances, the sibling of a child with that level of disability is going to lose out. In the case of a sibling who has special needs of his own, it's a recipe for disaster.
But this statement of Juniper's is really the crux of the matter. She is presenting one of the best examples of why we really need to have this discussion. Because right now, it is possible to test for a variety of traits, invitro and make decisions to abort based on those tests.
Call me a hypocrite, because I will freely admit that in a sense I am one. I am fully aware that any child I produce is likely to carry certain traits of mine, that aren't all sunshine and roses. Having the neurological issues that I have is not an easy burden to bear. But I have reproduced and more than once. And I think that the value that comes from having neurochemiustry such as mine, is ultimately worth the hardship it entails. Honestly, if it becomes possible to test for ADHD invitro, I would have serious issues with the notion of trying to eliminate that trait.
Yet without question, I would have no problem with terminating the pregnancy of a fetus that has tested positively for DS. I'd like to say that this is only because of the child I already have. But being perfectly honest, I don't think my reaction would be much different if I was childless. Dealing with a child with that level of need is not something I think I am suited for.
And then we have a somewhat gray area for me (but not for a lot of people), autism. I suspect most people out there who would terminate a pregnancy for DS, would also terminate a pregnancy if there were a significant risk of autism. I'm not one of them, but that is because I have a fair number of autistic friends. At the same time, having the older child I do, I am not sure given the option, I could, in good conscience bring a fetus to term that carried a significant risk of severe autism.
These are not black and white questions, but they are well on there way to being a fact of life and are indicative of why we need to be talking about eugenics.
Honestly, I think that this is why we need to separate Eugenicists, from ownership of eugenics. Because I really don't think it's reasonable at all to allow anyone lay claim to a concept that is as broad as eugenics. Eugenicists, as Juniper is describing tend to fall into a fairly narrow range of beliefs. And those beliefs are not based on actual science, any more than the beliefs of the so called intelligent design movement, or evolutionary psychology.
I would take that one step further and say that eugenics only has a peripheral relationship to evolution at all. Because eugenics is really contra-evolution. Not that being contra-evolution makes eugenics inherently bad. But the claims made by Eugenicists are worse than ignorant, I believe that for the most part they are flat dishonest.
No matter how dishonest, no matter how ignorant their theories, I think it is long past time to take the concept of eugenics away from the Eugenics movement. It is also way past time to take the concept of eugenics away from the specter of the Nazis. Because like it or not, eugenics is a reality and the hysteria surrounding it is preventing us from having some very important discussions with very profound social implications.
At this point if you're reading this, it is quite likely you've only recently discovered my blog. Mainly because I quite recently posted for the first time in a very long time. I'm really glad that I did, because someone managed to go back and hit on a post I wrote over a year ago (granted there weren't many posts between here and there). I'm glad, because I really think this is an important discussion to have - one that becomes more important by the day. And the comment left by Juniper Shoemaker is worth addressing. And to make it really fun, Juniper is a geneticist in training. (Juniper is also the bittering agent in the last beer I had, an awesome brew by my friend Mac back in Portland.)
For those who might not want to read the original post, I am basically making the argument that we need to get past the hysterics that almost inevitably ensue when the word eugenics is brought up. I would like to be clear that I am not advocating for or against eugenics, though there are certainly ideas involving eugenics that I am strongly against. All that I am advocating for is a rational discussion of eugenics, much like Richard Dawkins did a couple years ago.
The reason this is important right now, is that a lot of controversial things are happening that should be fostering important conversations. But those conversations aren't really happening and I suspect that the reason they aren't happening is because the term eugenics is so very loaded. So before I get into addressing Juniper's comment, I would like to point you to a very illustrative post that discusses eugenics. (without ever actually using the word)
Turns out that a couple had been searching for awhile to find an egg donor who looked like the mother and possessed certain attributes that clinics do not approve of as legitimate donor criteria.
Yup, that there is a shining example of eugenics in action. It's not abortion. It's not killing a flawed infant. It's not sterilization and it's not genocide. It's simply a couple who needs a little help having a child, a couple who wanted to exert a little control over the genes of their child to be. Not really very controversial, it's not much different than the decisions people make when choosing a mate they might reproduce with naturally. But on to Juniper's comment....
The problem with eugenicists is that they ignore the fact that the desirability of ANY trait is dependent on its environment. The environment always changes. Traits you cannot possibly conceive of as "desirable" today could prove desirable tomorrow for a myriad of reasons. For all we know, these traits could include hypertension, bipolar disorder, Down's syndrome and autism. Reality is bizarre and unpredictable.
I have no problem with that. I'm bipolar and also have very severe ADHD. And guess what? My son has been diagnosed with severe ADHD and probably has either some of my other neurological issues or those of his mom. I have very little doubt that my youngest will also exhibit something of our neurological issues too. I can even accept that there may well be some value in the propensity for DS as well.
I will also go as far as saying that the idea of aborting a fetus that has tested positive for DS is not a black and white decision or an absolute net positive. This, in spite of the fact that if our incredible one year old had tested positive as a fetus, he would not be with us today. No question, no discussion necessary. Had that test come back different, we would have terminated the pregnancy. Because while the idea is far from black and white, our ability to deal with it is absolutely clear. We already have a child who needs a lot of special attention. Under ideal circumstances, the sibling of a child with that level of disability is going to lose out. In the case of a sibling who has special needs of his own, it's a recipe for disaster.
But this statement of Juniper's is really the crux of the matter. She is presenting one of the best examples of why we really need to have this discussion. Because right now, it is possible to test for a variety of traits, invitro and make decisions to abort based on those tests.
Call me a hypocrite, because I will freely admit that in a sense I am one. I am fully aware that any child I produce is likely to carry certain traits of mine, that aren't all sunshine and roses. Having the neurological issues that I have is not an easy burden to bear. But I have reproduced and more than once. And I think that the value that comes from having neurochemiustry such as mine, is ultimately worth the hardship it entails. Honestly, if it becomes possible to test for ADHD invitro, I would have serious issues with the notion of trying to eliminate that trait.
Yet without question, I would have no problem with terminating the pregnancy of a fetus that has tested positively for DS. I'd like to say that this is only because of the child I already have. But being perfectly honest, I don't think my reaction would be much different if I was childless. Dealing with a child with that level of need is not something I think I am suited for.
And then we have a somewhat gray area for me (but not for a lot of people), autism. I suspect most people out there who would terminate a pregnancy for DS, would also terminate a pregnancy if there were a significant risk of autism. I'm not one of them, but that is because I have a fair number of autistic friends. At the same time, having the older child I do, I am not sure given the option, I could, in good conscience bring a fetus to term that carried a significant risk of severe autism.
These are not black and white questions, but they are well on there way to being a fact of life and are indicative of why we need to be talking about eugenics.
However, it irritates me when eugenicists assume that the only reason why people get pissed off with them is the "controversial" nature of the subject. That implies that people have to choose between a ringing endorsement of a loaded practice or a sheep-like unthinking aversion to the practice.
Honestly, I think that this is why we need to separate Eugenicists, from ownership of eugenics. Because I really don't think it's reasonable at all to allow anyone lay claim to a concept that is as broad as eugenics. Eugenicists, as Juniper is describing tend to fall into a fairly narrow range of beliefs. And those beliefs are not based on actual science, any more than the beliefs of the so called intelligent design movement, or evolutionary psychology.
I get pissed off because people who like the idea of eugenics usually have a shitty understanding of evolutionary theory.
I would take that one step further and say that eugenics only has a peripheral relationship to evolution at all. Because eugenics is really contra-evolution. Not that being contra-evolution makes eugenics inherently bad. But the claims made by Eugenicists are worse than ignorant, I believe that for the most part they are flat dishonest.
No matter how dishonest, no matter how ignorant their theories, I think it is long past time to take the concept of eugenics away from the Eugenics movement. It is also way past time to take the concept of eugenics away from the specter of the Nazis. Because like it or not, eugenics is a reality and the hysteria surrounding it is preventing us from having some very important discussions with very profound social implications.
Monday, August 6, 2007
Living With Bipolar
I would like to thank Tyler Pietro, of PowerUp, for contributing some of his personal experience with Bipolar disorder, to the discussion of neurological disorder denialism. It is especially hard to deal with this brand of denialism, when it's one's own parent or parents in denial. In large part, this is why I this discussion is so very important to me.
Again, if anyone would like to contribute their story to this effort, please let me know. I would be happy to hear from you.
From Tyler's blog;
I'm an ubernerdly atheist liberal with an interest in mathematics and computer science, as well as side interests in traditional forms of geekery (video games, electronic gadgets, anime, etc.).
There are multiple reasons people get involved in combating crankery and denialism. Some people do it simply because they find stupidity irritating. Some people do it because their profession in particular is attacked regularly by denialists and cranks. However, I'd venture to guess that the greatest class of people (in terms of cardinality, for you math geeks out there :-] ) is composed of those who do it because they know of it's consequences. HIV denial kills people, creationism condemns children to ignorance and superstition, global warming denial sidelines efforts to curb potentially catastrophic environmental impacts, etc.
In terms of mental illness denial, I'm actually familiar in a very intimate way with what denialist rhetoric can do. My immediate family was dead against it when school administrators became increasingly suspicious about my mental health. I suffer from bipolar disorder, and it was around high school that my outbreaks started occurring. I started to experience severe mood swings, spells of depression and intense anger, and even suicidal timulations on an increasingly frequent basis. It was in particular when one of my freshmen year teachers discovered some "disturbing" writing in my notebooks that I was admitted to the social workers office.
When that social worker suggested that I see a psychiatrist, my family went into uproar. That was when I became familiar with all the standard mental illness denialist canards: "everyone has 'mental illness', no one's the same", "it's just an excuse for personal laziness, quit being so narcissistic", "they're just pulling disorders out of their hats to sell pharmaceutical drugs", etc. I pretty severely affected my family life for a good while, eventually climaxing in a hospitalization that finally forced my family to recognize the reality.
Personally, I suspect it is people who have problems who are the most vulnerable to this sort of rhetoric. Especially in cases of psychotic depression, people are far more prone to blaming themselves for their problems. Taking drugs and receiving regular therapy is a moral failing and makes you a weak individual in the eyes of many, and often times it's not too hard for people to convince themselves of the worthiness of such an idea. But in cool-headed moments you can realize several things that denialist mind-readers can't: flying in and out of depressive and manic episodes isn't some sort of "lifestyle choice", I didn't need a psychiatrist to brainwash me into thinking I had a problem, and refraining from treatment causes severe problems.
Again, if anyone would like to contribute their story to this effort, please let me know. I would be happy to hear from you.
From Tyler's blog;
I'm an ubernerdly atheist liberal with an interest in mathematics and computer science, as well as side interests in traditional forms of geekery (video games, electronic gadgets, anime, etc.).
There are multiple reasons people get involved in combating crankery and denialism. Some people do it simply because they find stupidity irritating. Some people do it because their profession in particular is attacked regularly by denialists and cranks. However, I'd venture to guess that the greatest class of people (in terms of cardinality, for you math geeks out there :-] ) is composed of those who do it because they know of it's consequences. HIV denial kills people, creationism condemns children to ignorance and superstition, global warming denial sidelines efforts to curb potentially catastrophic environmental impacts, etc.
In terms of mental illness denial, I'm actually familiar in a very intimate way with what denialist rhetoric can do. My immediate family was dead against it when school administrators became increasingly suspicious about my mental health. I suffer from bipolar disorder, and it was around high school that my outbreaks started occurring. I started to experience severe mood swings, spells of depression and intense anger, and even suicidal timulations on an increasingly frequent basis. It was in particular when one of my freshmen year teachers discovered some "disturbing" writing in my notebooks that I was admitted to the social workers office.
When that social worker suggested that I see a psychiatrist, my family went into uproar. That was when I became familiar with all the standard mental illness denialist canards: "everyone has 'mental illness', no one's the same", "it's just an excuse for personal laziness, quit being so narcissistic", "they're just pulling disorders out of their hats to sell pharmaceutical drugs", etc. I pretty severely affected my family life for a good while, eventually climaxing in a hospitalization that finally forced my family to recognize the reality.
Personally, I suspect it is people who have problems who are the most vulnerable to this sort of rhetoric. Especially in cases of psychotic depression, people are far more prone to blaming themselves for their problems. Taking drugs and receiving regular therapy is a moral failing and makes you a weak individual in the eyes of many, and often times it's not too hard for people to convince themselves of the worthiness of such an idea. But in cool-headed moments you can realize several things that denialist mind-readers can't: flying in and out of depressive and manic episodes isn't some sort of "lifestyle choice", I didn't need a psychiatrist to brainwash me into thinking I had a problem, and refraining from treatment causes severe problems.
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