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Kita1


Member

Posted Thu Sep 27th, 2012 9:28am Post subject: Introduce yourself

Welcome Felicity!Welcome and hello to everyone!
Hello,im a 37 year old mummy of 2.and i also have bipoler.i also have anorixia and am the mum to an 11 and 2 year olds.


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Andrzejki_Slivka


Member

Posted Wed Oct 24th, 2012 1:12am Post subject: Introduce yourself

Hello,
I am 43 years old... divorced and a dad of 2.
After watching ..."The Secret Life ..." ... it created of connection of hope ... that other people in the world ... that know that sharing their hidden thoughts and intuitions will provide access to being in the here and now... while terrified at the echo of 'crack' in the ice ... and again have to search my soul for the purpose/meaning of why my suffering is worth it....

As far back as I can remember (5 years) old ... I knew something was wrong with my brain .... I couldn't turn it off ... it was like a spiket of pain and torture... nothing made any sense ... I wouldn't dare share what I was feeling or thinking... Looking back ... I felt more autistic (all due respect) ... because my expressive skills were articulating what I was experiencing... I felt much more comfortable with animals or nature ... as that didn't require thinking ... We could just be together ... and understand each other...

Fast Forward 33 years ... and my son says to me "Dad ... I can't fall asleep very well... I close my eyes ...and I think... I can't turn it off... I don't want to fall asleep ... then my dreams become real ... and they are so scary"

"I could answer him at first ... All I could think is Oh shit ... I have passed on the gene" ... "I wouldn't want anybody I know especially my son ... to go through the suffering I went through..and go through.... Oh man ..what do I say ... "take 3mg of Lunesta and will talk about in the morning" ...
... Or "well son ... that kind of thinking is creating your emotions ...let's review the 10 cognitive distortions...and maybe we can identify your root cause by identifying your dysfunctional attitudes ... a vertical arrow exercise ... will make you feel better ... at least you'll have some logic into why you feel this way ... if that doesn't work there are book I want you to read "Mans Search for Meaning" and "Handbook to Higher Consciousness" and "Feeling Good"....

"luckily I save the above prescription for myself... and I said to him ... tell me more about what your thinking ... I am very interested to hear/see/and feel what your experiencing "
"He said ... are you sure ... they are very scary ... I want the thoughts to go away ... if I tell you them ... they will become more and more ... can't you make them go away ??????"
"I knew at that moment that ... as long I keep him expressing his feelings and thoughts ... it would be ok ... if he shuts it off ...and vents inward ... Oh god ..what have I done.... please put me on the cross and punish me for my sins and save my son from this hell"

I am Clinically diagnosised and being treated Since I was 20 years old:
Bi-Polar Depression I
ADHD (Non Attentive)
Sleep Apnea (Complex = Obstructive -> Central)
Anxiety

I feel most at home going between 200-240 MPH (indy car analogy)...
When I get above that ..and start to Red-Line ... I hope that I safety gear will save me when I crash into the wall ... I have gotten better at listening to my pit crew ... and sometimes I pull over and Pit Stop"

"My latest challenge is my sleep ... I am so happy when I wake up and look at my CPAP results and my AHI is low"

"there is nothing worse then hearing your kids say "Daddy you are always sleeping... we only get to see you on the weekends...why are you so tired"

"I say to myself ... I am not sleeping because I am depressed"

"Oh yeah .. i did work 4x14 hour days this week... "

"You stupid #ucken #uck ..won't you ever learn ...that it is not all about you ... you need to step up ... what the #uck is wrong with you... how many #ucking times to I have to tell you...

... Do you want your kids to grow up like you ? ....

I hope above made sense and was appropriate ...comment's questions ... constructive criticism welcome .... thank you for listening... Feel free to ask my anything...
cheers


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Lady Estelle


Member

Posted Wed Oct 31st, 2012 1:07am Post subject: Introduce yourself

Hello Everyone,
Wasn't really entirely sure where to post this, but then i found here. I am not here to introduce myself, rather to introduce a friend of mine that can no longer introduce herself. Her name was Sian. It's been nearly two years since she took her life and it has been a hard slog. To be honest, i'm not entirely sure even where to start. so, i wrote something previously. I just wanted to get it out there, that's all. Some wierd thing in my head to try and have a measure for her life. It is long, 4000 words in fact, but i'd be honoured if just one person read it.

Memento

Sian was five foot six with a thin frame with mouse brown regrowth underneath her auburn dyed hair. She had wise, brown eyes that twinkled mischievously when she thought something was funny. Her skin so pale that she often joked that vampires suggested that she needed more sunlight. She had a trilling laugh, high pitched and unabashedly loud. More of a sneeze of laughter than a complete laugh. She was smart, funny and unbelievably kind. Her mind was so often off with the fairies that I joked with her that the fairy society must have considered her an honorary citizen. Her utter love of Judy Garland sticks in my mind. I guess that’s why her hair was such a bright red. She was out of her time, born later than she should have been. She lamented not being born in the late 30’s or early 40’s purely so she could have witnessed the rise of Judy Garland and lived through the era of the glorious stage productions. Sian herself was a great lover of the stage, spending what money she could allow on trips to see various shows. In her spare time she graced the stage with her presence, often spending months beforehand organising things in the background. I always loved to hear how things were progressing in her work, adoring the way she became jittery with excitement at what her new project was. However, I could also see the strain between the three aspects of her life; the stage, university and her home life. I never really knew much about her home life. She kept that part of her quiet and unmentioned. I’d met her at university, our first day there together and became fast friends.
I remember what her hair looked like that first day. Freshly dyed and cut into a bob. The ends framed her face, her round cheerful face and she looked up at me from under a straight fringe that covered her eyebrows. She was seated in the front row, unconcerned by the people behind her that seemed to be paying particular attention to her hair. I admired that about her straight away and asked if I could sit down next to her. She smiled gratefully and shoved her things aside so I could put my stuff down.
“I’m Beth, pleased to meet you.”
“Hi, I’m Sian.”
And that was the start of our friendship. We ate lunch together that day and bonded over our loathing of the class that we had together. We both despised the teacher that we had because we knew what we were doing in that class. We laughed and thought up new and inventive ways, to get through the lessons. One of our favourites would be to pick a word at the start of the class that we would have to put into all the answers that we came up with. It was interesting to try and get the other to laugh as well as keep a straight face while answering the teacher. It was great to watch the other work through and see what we could come up with. In a montage to a Johnny Depp movie that she and I adored, one of the words we chose was underwear; a somewhat troublesome word when referencing national parks and wildlife. Sian ended up suggesting that kangaroo attacks were on the rise because they weren’t allowed to wear underwear. I managed to conclude that tourism would increase if people were allowed to either walk around with no underwear on or that Australia should sell underwear with the tagline “budgie-smugglers for all” written on them. Both of us were successful that day in making each other snort with laughter as well as the class. Whether or not our teacher ever noticed our game is beyond me. It didn’t matter to Sian and I. We were having fun. It was during those classes that we really got to know each other. It is somewhat strange now, thinking back, that she never really said anything about herself. She always managed to turn my questions around and make them about a movie or back to me. She knew everything about me and yet I never really knew about her. In a strange way, I didn’t need to know the intricate details. I understood who she was without the knowledge of her life. It was later that I would find out her mother’s name is Helen and her sister’s name is Erica. I never met her father.
Movies were Sian’s passion. On the few occasions we caught up outside of university hours, we would sit around watching old movies, she singing along to all the musical numbers. She had a lovely voice and was talented in adjusting her voice to each singer she admired the most. Her bedroom, an on-campus hovel, was brightly decorated with posters and made into a loving collage of faces. On more than a few occasions I caught her wistfully looking up at them. What I mistook for a look of admiration was more pleading. I understand now that Sian wanted to be with them. What little I would ask her, as she lay pinned beneath my weight, would return to the world of the silver screen that she loved so much. I didn’t miss that she was sad or disliked being around other people, I just missed something along the way. Missed a clue that she didn’t say. Then again, she never really spoke about anything of great consequence.
I introduced Sian to my love of comedy and she introduced me further to the decadent world of the old silver screen. She was incredibly switched on and understood how and why the world of comedy appealed to me. Before long we were swapping DVDs; her, the beloved Judy Garland movies she possessed and I my cherished comedy gigs. She fell hard and fast for the world of comedy I showed her, amassing a large collection of comedy DVDs in a very short amount of time. Sian often said that comedy was the only modern thing that she genuinely enjoyed. We relished the time we spent together and loved what time we had away from university. Outside of uni we didn’t really talk as we both led busy lives. Besides, Sian never kept her phone on her. Yet, we always made sure to ask about our weekends were and to see how everything was going. It always amazed me that she remembered every detail of my life. My parents, my sister, my love; everything. Hell, she even remembered the name of my dog.
Don’t mistake me; I always tried to get her to open up so I could learn more about her. But she was gifted at dodging my attempts. In all our time I don’t think she ever mentioned her family, let alone other friends that she had. She had some people that she knew from the theatre, but it seemed that was it. Other than myself and the theatre, it seemed that Sian was alone. Sometimes, I tried to introduce her to my other friends, to expand her contact with people. Remarkably, although Sian was capable of being in front of thousands of people, she was shy when only a few surrounded her. I have no idea whether it was a good idea to try and help her in that way, but Sian said that she appreciated that I was trying. I hope she did, but more than that, I hope she didn’t mind. I knew how much she hated meeting new people. Yet there was no way that I was going to abandon her to a large group that she didn’t know. It wouldn’t have been fair of me to do that to her. She was a quiet timid, creature most of the time. Yet it suited me just fine to have a friend that was so relaxed and quiet. I was far too used to people being over the top and sometimes rather annoying. Sian settled me whenever I became wound up about something in particular and reminded me that it was no use complaining about something, unless I was going to do something about it.
Whenever I needed to vent Sian, she would calmly listen, with a somewhat bemused look on her face. Not because I was erroneous or veracious rather that I was complaining about things that didn’t matter in the grand scheme. Sian would always remind me, with a slight smirk, that if it didn’t matter right then, it probably wasn’t ever going to matter. In a lot of ways, Sian was far wiser than I was. In a way she was already removed from the Earth not caring, one way or another what happened. At the time I thought she was teaching me a new way of looking at the world, an alternative to my wild, sporadic ramblings I was given to. In a way she was teaching me. Then it seemed as though it was wise to observe the world from an objective third party and to not become passionately involved because it served no purpose. It suited my usually calm demeanour and served to placate my view on the world. It’s only now that I realise she was neither right nor wrong. Simply misguided. She was correct in suggesting that small things didn’t matter, however she was also wrong to assume that things were as simple as always staying the same. Matters at hand alter and sway, that is the point of life. Sian’s theory was to lie down and let the world pass you by. In a way, Sian taught me that the world has to be fought for as much as my family and friends. By telling me one side, she taught me the opposite.
Sian gave no warning of what was to come. She was as happy go lucky as she usually was; she kept away from large groups of people and constantly sought out new copies of old movies. She continued to suggest movies and comedy for me to watch. She still sang the old show tunes. We’d taken to sitting in one of the student foyers where the acoustics were fantastic and would sing as loud as we could. Either way we didn’t mind who sang lead, usually the sounds sorted themselves out. We’d roar with laughter every time someone walked past and simply stared in amazement at the sounds we were making, then continue right on singing. It was fantastic. On a few occasions, the teacher of our class that we both loathed would come out and shush us. We’d wait until she was safely back in her office then start singing again. Our word games in class were as fun as ever, the words becoming more and more difficult to randomly drop into conversation. Some of the words that I remember included intestine, fatuous, herpes and fornication. We’d invented a game another two games by now. One included choosing a word and dropping it in to a sentence as many times as we could. The other was to start talking about something that had nothing to do with question asked then say the words “but I digress”, in homage to Wil Anderson, one of our favourite comedians, then answer the question.
My personal favourite of Sian’s was that she managed to complete two games in one answer. She was asked to spell out the word “abstinence” for someone else in the class and answered:
“F. O. R. N. I. C. A. T. I. O. N. But I digress,” then proceeded to spell the correct word. I was laughing so hard that I had to leave the room for fear of wetting myself.
It was drawing to the end of the semester at university. so our class was slowing down. Sian and I still rocked up, merely to get our name ticked off and so we could muck around a bit more. It was a great time. At the same time as I was glad the class was over, I lamented seeing it go because I didn’t know if I’d get another class with Sian the next year. And I knew that there was no way that we’d end up talking during the holidays, regardless of how much we tried to. With her workload in the theatre and my having to look after stuff in another town, there was little chance for us to be able to catch up. We both hated the idea, yet we swore that we’d do our utmost to get together every now and then during our four month absence from uni life. However, we both had exams to get through first. One of which was for the class that we both loathed. Our teacher lined us up and said that neither of us were going to pass the exam, because we apparently never paid attention; even though both of us had received high marks for all of our previous assignments. After that, we simply shrugged and decided to wing it. For the last class we literally stuck our head through the door, waved at the teacher and the rest of the class and then went to the student lounge and got some lunch.
It would be the week after that final, happy lunch that our exam would be. November the 17th 2010. We caught up briefly before the exam and were sitting two seats apart. We’d heard rumours beforehand that our teacher had requested that we be seated apart, but had been barred because the idea of exams was for them to be completely impartial and anonymous. The exam itself was a breeze, both of us careful not to make noises that would make each other laugh; otherwise we would have been kicked out of the room. Including reading time and the time it took us to furiously scribble the word count required we were in and out of the room forty-five minutes before the exam was scheduled to end. We were completely alone, just she and I as we had intended. We walked away from the hall and made plans to wander down the street and get some lunch before I headed home on the bus back to Echuca. She mentioned something about going home to change first and to drop off her car before she would join me down the street. She carried the same handmade bag that she always did. I saw the regular town bus pull up and said:
“I’ll see you soon huh? Look after yourself.”
“I always do.”
I turned back to her in time to see her pull a regular kitchen knife from her bag. I didn’t even have time to really process what she had in her hand before she drew the blade across her wrist. Her left first, then her right. She dropped the blade and my instincts took over and I lunged forward. I clasped my hands around her open and bleeding wounds trying to stop the gushing warmth. I looked over my should and kicked the knife as far away from us as I could. She was shaking already and slowly slumped down to the ground. As I went with her to make sure I held onto her as tightly as I could all she said was:
“I’m sorry. I had to.”
“Ah come on. You said you bought a DVD this morning. What was it?”
I thought of anything I could to keep her talking; movies being the easiest thing to concentrate on as I thought about how I was going call an ambulance. There was no one else outside and wasn’t likely to be anyone for quite a while. Her normally pale skin became damn near see through and clammy as shock set in. The only way I was going to be able to call an ambulance was going to be to kneel on her wrist and grab my phone from my pocket.
“This is going to hurt. I’m sorry, but I have to get to my phone, ok?”
I warned her as best I could and then knelt on her arm. I chose the right arm as it was less damaged than the left. Sian squirmed and shouted as I pressed my weight to what I felt was alright for keeping pressure onto her arm. As I held the phone as best as could in my hand I felt her blood roll down my arm and drip off my elbow. The ambulance would be there as soon as it could. All I had to do was try and keep her calm and stop the bleeding as best I could. Sarcasm burned through me and I simply thanked them for the sterling and blatantly obvious advice. Somewhere in the time we discussed the countless movies she and I had seen and were yet to see, Sian asked me to call her mum to let her know what was going on. This meant that I had to kneel on Sian’s arm again to get her phone out of her pocket because she didn’t remember the number. After a fair bit off effort the phone was free and the call was made. I can’t even remember what I said to Helen, Sian’s mum. Even now looking back I haven’t a clue. All I remember is thinking it would be at least twenty minutes before Helen would be able to get there. Thinking more practically, I scrambled around in Sian’s bag in search for a spare shirt or belt to stem the bleeding. I couldn’t find anything. So I was stuck holding her wrists until help arrived. I didn’t see another person until the sudden flurry and blur of Sian’s mother and the ambulance arrived. By the time the two groups of people arrived it had been forty-five minutes and my hands were cramping and the blood was stinking. Flies had begun to buzz and Sian was nodding in and out of consciousness.
What happened after that, I can’t clearly remember. Time seemed to meld together and faces swapped bodies. I was shoved backwards; hands crusted and flaked with the blood of my friend. The demanding questions of “WHY?” and “HOW?” were shouted at me as people panicked. By now a few more people had started to come out of the exam and were being held back by some of the uni teachers and some police officers that had also responded to the call. It was almost like a thunderstorm; noisy and a series of flashes before it blows itself out and the viewer is left standing alone completely struck by the situation. It took all of three minutes to pack Sian up into the ambulance and whisk her away. Her mother said something about calling me and left with her. And there, I was left. Standing underneath a massive gumtree, blood smeared all over me, alone. In a daze I found a tap, washed the blood off as best I could and then called my Dad. Later on, he would tell me that I hadn’t mentioned anything about Sian’s attempt on her life. I was in a daze and had deeply supressed what I had seen. It was several hours before I remembered what had happened. I broke down then.
I wasn’t allowed to be near with Sian during the week she was shut away. I had a few phone calls from Helen reporting in what was happening. Sian had cut her left arm so deep that several tendons had to be reattached. She was being kept in hospital and put on suicide watch for a week to make sure she healed somewhat before releasing her. I hated that week, walking around in circles, dazed and heavily relying on friends of mine for comfort, though no one knowing entirely what to say. It didn’t matter to me, as long as they were there. I planned to visit her the morning of her release, November the 26th, 2010. As I was about to leave for the bus to go and see her, Helen rang me.
“Sian locked herself in the bathroom of her room at the hospital. She broke the mirror.”
I waited as Helen tried to hold back heaving sobs. I dreaded what was coming, but I already knew what had happened. Yet, I had to hear it.
“Sian killed herself this morning at 5:36 am.”
I didn’t even get to say thank you for the information or to comfort Helen. She simply hung up. I understood that she had things to do for her daughter, family and to tell other people. I sat down on the couch and started to cry. I was going to be on my own all day. I cried until my head hurt. My friends were at work and my family lived hours away. My heart tore at the loss of Sian and my brain tore at me for having missed what was so terrible in her life. Logic told me I had done everything possible to help her. Yet she was still gone.
The day of Sian’s funeral I didn’t know what to expect. Many of my friends and family had offered to go with me to the funeral, but I needed to go by myself. There was no coffin, just a small emerald green urn with black marble swirling on it. I held myself together and glanced around at who else was there, hoping that no one would ask any questions about what had happened or if I knew why she had claimed her own life. I spied some of the people from our class that had been harassing her about her hair and style. A part of me wanted the anger to seethe and strike out at them. Yell at them and ask them why they were there, because they didn’t know her. I did. Her family did. They weren’t her friends. But I also knew that there was no point. I’d just be striking out for the sake of striking out. It wasn’t the place, nor was it the time. I held it together right up until Helen spotted me.
She came over with Sian’s older sister, Erica, and introduced us. The formal condolences were exchanged and then Helen did something I wasn’t expecting. From deep within her pocket she produced a small plastic bag with a tiny silver charm in it.
“It’s a guardian angel. Because that is what you are. You’re Sian’s guardian angel.” Helen said to me.
“No, no I’m not.” I stammered, overwhelmed by the thought and gift. “I didn’t do anything. I tried and I couldn’t.” I indicated to the small urn at the front of the room, Sian’s things scattered around it.
“Oh yes you are. You gave her back to me. You let me say what I needed to. It’s because of you she had that time.” Helen’s eyes welled up again for the umpteenth time and she indicated to my necklace. “She told me about that necklace of yours. So I want you to have this. Please.”
Oh, that last word cut through me so much that I couldn’t refuse. Without delay I put the charm on my necklace and broke down. It was the first time that day that I’d allowed myself to do so. The charm is still on my necklace, even though I don’t think I deserve it. Not as a marker of Sian’s death, but as a memorial to her life.
I still hold fond memories of Sian’s life and it is a year later. I didn’t know how to celebrate the life she had or the time that we had. So a man that I admire suggested that I do the best thing I know how to do; write. Write about what Sian and I had. Although it was only a short time in regards to most friendships, it’s one that will stick with me forever.


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Katymum


Member

Posted Thu Nov 1st, 2012 11:05am Post subject: Introduce yourself

You have made me laugh and cry with your amazing words. You both had a beautiful friendship, one to celebrate and cherish and one never to forget. Take care. x


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Lady Estelle


Member

Posted Fri Nov 2nd, 2012 8:41am Post subject: Introduce yourself

Katymum said:
You have made me laugh and cry with your amazing words. You both had a beautiful friendship, one to celebrate and cherish and one never to forget. Take care. x

Thank you. there is no greater thing for me to say, than thank you.


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chellyfish


Member

Posted Mon Nov 5th, 2012 2:28pm Post subject: Introduce yourself

Hello, so I'm Rochelle, just about 19, and I hail from down under.
My biggest problem right now is getting help, there are a lot of people who don't understand or don't believe me when I try to tell them I think something is wrong. I'm in university and I don't have the funds available to seek professional help, I've tried volunteer-run free online things but I never get through. Hotlines are a no go as I have a previously-diagnosed form of social anxiety that generally renders me unable to make phone calls, so I guess this forum is my last hope. I saw this documentary a few months back and realised that others inspired by it must be joining together somewhere.

I think about death almost everyday, from times when I am seriously contemplating the most efficient method to achieve it and other "good days" when I just vaguely hope that every pain is a sign of incurable disease or that my train will derail. Other times I'm just like my old self and I think I'm stupid for ever thinking something is wrong; but sure enough it all comes crashing down eventually.
I'm not sure what is wrong exactly, probably not bipolar but I'm reasonably sure that I won't be turned away from here even if my issues are different. All know is that there has to be something wrong, because I can't see how we could advance as a species if everyone feels this way, I can barely see myself making it to another birthday, let alone another sixty or so years. Over the past three years my mental condition has gotten progressively worse, starting off with just dissatisfaction and bouts of irritability/apathy and moving towards the moods at strike me now where I isolate myself and flit between panic combined with racing thoughts and curling up in the dark and crying where I can barely move for hours.

I am relying on my parents because I had to give up my job after a major, stress induced melt-down that had me resorting to self harm and getting the closest I've ever come to taking my life (sat with my legs hanging out of an eighteenth story window before coming to the conclusion that I will try and seek help before I go through with it). I am just coming out of a major slump, I'd celebrate if I could bring myself to care.

I'm just looking for some thoughts and advice, I'm not sure where else to get them at this point.


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Manwithtentacles


Member

Posted Sat Nov 24th, 2012 12:36am Post subject: Introduce yourself

Manwithtentacles, aka Petetentacles, or just Peter.

Currently in the worst depression I've had in a while - but it's been a difficult year. I was diagnosed as a clinical depressive at 25 (now 43) and was put on pills (Anafranil). It was a dreadful time with the pills and after 5 years I moved to a new job and a new doctor took me off the pills totally. 6 moths of talking therapy and I was OK. I say OK, but I still got 1 to 3 depressions a year, but I could deal with that.

This year, however, there have been a few triggers (job loss, but then set myself up freelancing, so I have work) and a couple of personal disappointments. I've never felt so low. I think I may have to go to the doctor, but I'm scared of going back on medication.
P

"Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths..."

twitter: @petetentacles

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Rose


Member

Posted Sat Nov 24th, 2012 6:57am Post subject: Introduce yourself

chellyfish said:
Hello, so I'm Rochelle, just about 19, and I hail from down under.

Plenty Fry fans down under!
Please look at this song:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uiCRZLr9oRw&feature=related
Peter Gabriel and Kate Bush
Tender words of comfort


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Rose


Member

Posted Sat Nov 24th, 2012 9:42pm Post subject: Introduce yourself

Rochelle and other young people here
Music has helped me enormously, maybe it can comfort you too.
"Shambala"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UmTx9y7ePTg&feature=related


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Tourvel


Member

Posted Fri Dec 21st, 2012 3:48pm Post subject: Introduce yourself

I know I suffer from depression and am medicated for it. But sometimes I feel that's it's a little bit more than that. I seem unable to find any middle ground for my feelings - I am either firing on an inordinate amount of cylinders or I'm feeling as I am feeling today (which is feeling utterly heartbroken and totally useless). The medication I am taking for depression has walled up the entrances to many of my old refuges of self hatred - I no longer call myself a stupid, fat ugly cow or torment myself in that way - my feelings about my appearance are non existent whether I am up or down. I rather fancy that I am invisible as a female and can slip through life unnoticed as an asexual 'thing', causing neither pleasure or offense.

I see my Up days as my good days, days where I shop up a storm, cook an amazing dinner, am 'wickedly amusing' (that is someone else's description of me, not mine) and when I am in full flight I become an overblown version of myself which, in retrospect, is probably terribly boring for my audience. Spending silly money on silly things in my 'because you're soooo worth it!' moods and tramping around in the same sweater for a week (no lets be honest here, not a week, a month sometimes) because I want to be invisible.

Looking back to my childhood I see things which I am deeply ashamed of. Overblown gestures to create friendships is the biggest one. The unusual desire to attract attention one moment and the desperate desire to become invisible the next. Swinging between begging to be popular, when feeling Up, and wanting to crawl under a stone and be unseen when down.

Anyhow .. this is me. I don't know what else to say really, except for hello and does what I've said make any sense to anyone else?


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Rose


Member

Posted Sat Dec 22nd, 2012 8:32am Post subject: Introduce yourself

Hello Tourvel! Nice to meet you. Lots of what you say makes sense to more people than you know. Welcome aboard! You are amongst friends.


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alfredo3


Member

Posted Fri Jan 11th, 2013 12:27am Post subject: Introduce yourself

Hi to all here including Stephen Fry who I hope gets to read this if he finds some time.

I have already introduced myself a while ago here but, lately, there have been some good changes in my personality. I am becoming quite a different person, more humble and less grandiose. I do suffer with bipolar II but I have learned to control it with various methods.

I do help sufferers with bipolar and depression, online, mostly by exchanging emails. What has come to my attention, lately, is a condition that is one of the worst mental disorders around and that is Multiple Personality Disorder. People who suffer with Bipolar can also suffer with multiple personality disorder. If you suffer with MPD (also known as DID or Dissociative Identity Disorder) it is very difficult to introduce yourself because tomorrow you may be a different person.

Anyway in introducing my self I am really introducing one of my greates curiosity and passion: the study of people with DID or MPD.

I write a journal which I have published here before: The Anti Stigma Crusaders. This time I have a letter of the month which I include here all about my struggle with a freind who suffers with both bipolar and MPD. At the very leasty, those of us with bipolar II can say that we are a bit luckier than Stephen whose short story I include here below:

ANTI STIGMA CRUSADERS LETTER OF THE MONTH

Alfredo Zotti January 2013

I am helping a friend who suffers with Multiple Personality Disorder (MPD) better known today as Dissociative Identity Disorder or (DID).
Stephen (not his real name) is an email friend who has a number of “alters” which means, in psychological jargon, different personalities. Indeed Stephen's personalities are hidden from each other, at least for now. The alters choose to stay hidden in order to protect the front personality. It is all too complex and some alters can be in conflict with each other although Stephen alters are not aware of each other at this stage. I am aware that in MPD the unity of consciousness, which we use to identify ourselves, is absent. However, there is a front personality.
He wrote to me in desperation one day, telling me that his alters were doing things for which he had no recollection. One day he woke and noticed that all his hair had been shaved. He was now bald but could not remember how or why this happened. And there is missing time that he cannot account for. He told me that he does not like this because he feels as if he has no control over what the alters do and what kind of decisions they take. Could I help him?
I told him that I am not a therapist just a student of psychology who communicates with many sufferers. Nevertheless, I had a pretty good idea about how he could keep track of his alters and gain more control, or at least knowledge, of his life. Technology could be helpful here.
I noticed that he wrote to me the emails using his iPhone. So I told him to keep his iPhone hanging from his neck, attached to a kind of necklace. This way he always carries his iPhone and if he has a shower or goes to sleep he should keep his iPhone handy where he can see it, I suggested.
On the cover of the iPhone, I suggested that he writes that he suffers with MPD and that even if he forgets that the iPhone belongs to him the phone does indeed belongs to him. In addition, there is my name and email on the cover and he should also write that I am his email friend and even if he does not remember I am his friend and always there to offer some advice and listen to him. Stephen really trusts me now and this is important for a person with MPD to have someone who they can really trust.
I told Stephen that he should get into the habit of writing briefly, in his iPhone memory, the main events of his days no matter what personality takes over. He has a note on his phone about this as well, that no matter what personality takes over, he has to write a brief summary of where he goes and what he does.
This iPhone idea of mine is working because now he has some knowledge of what is happening. He has come to understand that alters are not trouble makers and are quite sensible and are there to protect his front personality from past events.
The iPhone is also giving him an opportunity to begin to sense his other personalities and to want to find out more about them. This is why Stephen is now much more interested in therapy. I have also explained to him that his MPD, like most if not all cases of MPD, has a traumatic origin often due to severe child abuse. His alters will not cause problems for him because the alters are there to protect him against the traumatic memories. However, they are reacting to the present as if it was the past. Objectively safe situations are treated as if they were terrible in some way. The way to cure this is to stop using avoidance strategies but to face the memories so they can be processed. And for someone with DID, a lot of work needs to be done to make this possible.
As he progresses with the therapy ( with his psychologist) and the traumatic experiences are exposed, he will be able (hopefully) to slowly learn to integrate his various personalities and if he continues with his therapy he may one day be able to fuse his personalities. Stephen knows that this will take a long time and that we are probably talking about years of therapy with his psychologist who is a very nice man and who told me that my idea of the iPhone was ingenious. A major problem is to find the funding for those necessary years of therapy.
I am glad that my iPhone idea has worked for Stephen and I wonder if it could be used to assist others who suffer with MPD.
I have asked a few psychologists if this was safe for Stephen, I mean the use of the iPhone to keep track of his life. Psychologist Dr Bob Rich also agrees that this will not harm Stephen and that this is a good idea. He writes:
“This is ingenious. I can't see any dangers.
The alters who choose to stay hidden from the front personality do so as a form of protection for it/him. They will therefore not reveal anything that would have been dangerous for him to know during the time of his traumatic experiences.”

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Manwithtentacles


Member

Posted Sat Jan 12th, 2013 10:41pm Post subject: Introduce yourself

Hello all.
Happy and peaceful New Year!
Still a little better than was, still dealing with the year of disappointments, worried about the downs and slight manic ups.
How does it affect anyone else at work?

"Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths..."

twitter: @petetentacles

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alfredo3


Member

Posted Sat Jan 12th, 2013 11:38pm Post subject: Introduce yourself

Hi there MWT,

I have (hypo)mania which is the milder form of mania because I suffer with bipolar II. It is never easy to control the (hypo)mania for me especially when I have to work or study (I am a uni student).

I find it helpful to cut coffee and tea completely and avoid all stimulants. Trying to get adequate sleep is the battle when I am high. I usually need help when the highs are severe which happens once a year. I do suffer with rapid cycles but the Spring (hypo)mania is particularly strong. It is during this troublesome springtime that I start some medication (Epilim which does not affect creativity but increases it). A modest 600 mg of Sodium Valproate (Epilim)does the job. So I am medicate 3 months of the year while I am medication free for the rest of the 9 months of the year. Then I may take one sleeping tablet which I discontinue as soon as possible. I use sleeping tablets very rarely and I am careful not to become addicted.

The most important thing is that I have learned to accept my disorder and I try to cope as best as I can. I know that there is a purpose for my presence in this life so that I may as well learn my lessons and do the best I can. Life is only a short journey anyway but it is the most interesting of journeys. I am a multi talented artist and all artists are a bit unusual. Indeed most people with bipolar are a bit unusual but we are often those who join the dots of knowledge where others see a disjointed mess. In many ways, bipolar is also a gift. Not many see it as a gift and therefore not many use the gift.

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alfredo3


Member

Posted Sun Jan 13th, 2013 10:33pm Post subject: Introduce yourself

To continue my discussion and introduction of Dissociative Identity Disorder, I can say that a closer look at this particular mental disorder can be used to question the idea of mental illness as purely biological illness.

For example, people with multiple personalities, or alters, can have different blood pressure, different heart beat, and respond differently to medication and treatment.

To give you an example, someone with DID went to the dentist and after the local anaesthetic had been administered, and after the dentist had started to drill, suddenly a new alter had taken over, only that this alter could feel the pain because the anaesthetic was not working. Here was the same person whose personalities responded differently to treatment.

What does this mean? It means that the different personalities have different electrical and chemical reaction therefore different brain biochemistry come into play. How is this possible? The only answer is that the mind can alter brain function in a matter of milliseconds.

If this is so, can we really speak of mental illness as biological illness? Not really because there is no definite proof. To the contrary, the fact that some people with DID can also suffer with Depression and Bipolar and that when they are finally able to fuse their personality the bipolar and depression often go away, tends to indicate that the problem may not be of a purely biological nature but, to the contrary, traumatic.

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