Reflections on a Bipolar Life

 Looking at the date in the context of all my earlier posts, I laugh.  It's not humorous.  It's rueful.  It's been 13 years.  So I ask myself just how much anyone will be interested in what I have to say about this passage of time, and shift in emphasis.  I do not assume, but I hope that my words will resonate or illuminate in some small corner of the web.

Since 2007 (a time when I was hypomanic and the year of my last entry), I have received a diagnosis of bipolar disorder.  For you, the reader, that may only be so many vague words without any real understanding.  For me, living it, I finally had an explanation for the months of depression, the lack of motivation, the self criticism, the inability to participate in my family's adventures as my sons grew up.  Less obvious, but also addressed by the diagnosis, was the hypomania, the euphoria, expansiveness, grandiosity, ambition.  

That's not what this is about though, the symptoms, swirling changes in self-perception.  This is about the treatment.  As I understand it, bipolar disorder is a genetic disorder of the brain, a psychiatric illness manifested as a chemical imbalance causing mood swings.  The way psychiatry has addressed this is largely through pharmaceuticals though there are others.  Transcranial magnetic stimulation (TMS) uses magnetic pulses to stabilise moods and behaviour.  Electroconvulsive therapy (ECT) proved the most effective for me with its brief electrical current the catalyst for a seizure in the brain resulting in production of neurochemicals important to stability.  Lastly, and about which I know very little, is vagus nerve stimulation (VNS) which involves a sort of pacemaker and electrodes.

Like most other bipolar patients my initial plan was to rely on medication(s) to manage my symptoms as there is no cure for the disease.  My doctors and I tried all sorts of meds, eventually progressing to the point where I opted for TMS and then ECT.  It was the ECT which rescued me and gave me back a life I enjoyed.  However, the main side effect of ECT is memory loss.  The price I have paid has been both retrograde and anterograde amnesia.  I have lost huge swathes of memory from before the intensive course which kicked things off in 2015.  I also struggle to create and retain new memories now while I continue with maintenance ECT treatments every four weeks.  Remember, there is no cure for the disease.

 

Input

Input

I am inquisitive and curious. I collect things: information and facts; books and music. I'll buy nearly any type of music as I enjoy the rush of getting to know a piece previously unkown. When looking at books, I'm happy to pick up history or science, fiction or non.

I collect them because I’m interested, and I’m interested in so many things. The interwoven connections of the various and diverse elements of our lives and environment draw me in to continuously seeking more to collect. New input keeps my mind fresh.

Arden & June

I just got home after spending my afternoon helping find a night's lodging for a man and his mother who are stranded here in the hamlet I call home. I was behind them when their car broke down, so I stopped, contacted the local mechanic, and set to work ringing colleagues. In the end, I was able to put them up at the historic Napa Valley resort sanitarium.

The experience reminds me of getting off the bus at the wrong stop in Rutherglen when trying to find the home of relations there. When I asked a grandfatherly man to help, he took me to his son's flat, set out some Guinness, and unfolded a map. I was actually quite close, so before continuing on, I stopped to buy some music in the shop that faced the mercat cross. Poor Andy and Nessie - I'm sure they didn't appreciate my youthful enthusiasm, but that album will always take me back to a dark pint with a helpful stranger.

Balloons and Geese

The season has clearly changed here in the Napa Valley. The large hot air balloons which had been filling the morning sky as I drove to work have all gone now. I'm not sure they'd rise well when soaked through with rain.

Instead, I watch the geese on their southward flights. In the evening my family and I hear them settling on the fields beyond the trees. At dawn I see them chasing the gulls from the pitch so they can browse the grubs without competition.

Replacing the throaty roar of the balloon burners, geese serenade me from car park to classroom door.
Perhaps it's only to take all the credit for the fertilisation.

Fundraiser

We participated in a large fundraiser last night for construction of a local skatepark. It was heartening to see so many come out in support of a student-organised group in pursuit of a goal that will benefit not only themselves, but other people they will not even know.

The dedication impressed me, both that of the youth, and of the adults who support them. I see the activity as an affirmation of faith in the next generation, reinforcing the community to illustrate the Social Contract theory.

First Rain

We've had the first rain of the season. My boys and I went out to catch raindrops as the thunder rolled in the distance. Soon the hills will green up again, and woodsmoke will fill the air.

Last night, my son curled up in front of the fire to fall asleep there despite the work my wife and I still had to do in the room. There is something comforting about the shift to winter life focused on inside spaces and activities, crafts and baking, games and of course, more reading.

Introspection

I like to think. I like mental activity. I like exercising the muscles of my brain, stretching them in multiple directions. This need for mental activity focuses at times, on solving a problem or developing an idea. On the other hand, it can also prove unfocused at times. I enjoy time alone because it allows me the opportunity for reflection as I explore questions and concepts. This introspection is a constant hum in my life, my mental refreshment, rejuvenation, and regeneration.