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Coping With Bipolar Affective Disorder

The Diane Rehm Show today had a segment on bipolar affective disorder (BAD). Ever since I was diagnosed with BAD last fall, I have been struggling to understand the disease. I have had two major breakdowns over the seven years in college—the first while I was at BU and the second just last year. While I know exactly what triggered those breakdowns, it is not possible to avoid completely the stressors in my life. I can’t avoid work. I can’t avoid people.

It is comforting to hear these stories. I feel connected with those people struggling daily with their ups and downs. I understand the confusion, the despair. I was never psychotic, but I know the overwhelming elation, excitability, impulsivity, and inability to concentrate, to think, to sleep. When up, I can take on the world. When down, on a good day, I don’t accomplish anything; on a bad day, I contemplate pain and death.

I still don’t have a handle on this. My life became busy with finals and the move. I forgot to take medication for over a month. After some reflection, it is obvious that the symptoms have resurfaced. I have recently began taking medication again, but I don’t want to. I don’t care. It has been hard to care.

The worst thing about life isn’t death. It’s this living hell where nothing is right, where no one can hear you, where there is nothing to look forward to.

categories: health, life, links, personal
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Broken

Four days ago, we were having dinner, discussing music. Three days ago, we were dancing at a wedding. Last night, we ended the relationship.

Things change so quickly.

The relationship had already dismantled years ago, when he stopped paying attention to me, and in response, I stopped communicating with him. He places the blame largely on the open relationship, but I know that our bond was already weak then. We didn’t talk about our problems, no matter how often I tried to start the conversation. Though we were intimate in other ways, we rarely had sex. I felt like an ornament in his life, someone he liked to keep around for companionship and security. The romantic relationship was a sham, even when I wanted to believe in it. We were so happy. But without him working with me, I was also so alone.

After many years without adequate emotional support, the abandonment was poignant. During these past four months, I couldn’t trust him. Every statement was suspicious. Every act had a secret motive. After so many broken promises, I was ready to shrug each new one as a lie. No matter how much he said I was the only one, I was sure that a few drinks will encourage flirting and sex with another woman. Where was the courtship, the respect, the desire to connect and understand? We’ve had so many arguments about our different viewpoints, about which ones were healthy and justifiable. Often I was on the defensive, feeling attacked for what was perceived as unreasonable. When you feel rejected enough, you soon begin to reject the rejector. When he later offered the olive branch, I viewed it with suspicion. I was waiting for that hidden stiletto, the one he would plunge without a care.

This isn’t what I wanted. I wanted full understanding, easy communication. I wanted the comfort of someone who cares. I wanted the freedom to be myself. I wanted passionate sex, knowledge that someone desires me. I wanted the space, the freedom to express my feelings—the anger, the sadness, the fear.

I wanted to find these things in him.

No one should be alone in a relationship. We seek that other so we won’t be alone. But after so many failures, so much broken trust, now I have to face that stark reality—that love fails, love disappoints, that no matter how much I reach out, I will always finish desolate, isolated, alone.

categories: life, personal, relationships
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Another Sparkling Drink

Byrnes and I were at The Pour House last Friday. I ordered The Rejuvenator—a mix of vodka, Gatorade, juice, and a flashing ice cube.

categories: food, humor, life, links, personal, visuals
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We Are So Much More

Scratch most feminists and underneath there is a woman who longs to be a sex object. The difference is that is not all she longs to be.

– Betty Rollin

categories: activism, politics, quotes, sex, society
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On Writers And Procrastination

Usually, writers will do anything to avoid writing. For instance, the previous sentence was written at one o’clock this afternoon. It is now a quarter to four. I have spent the past two hours and forty-five minutes sorting my neckties by width, looking up the word “paisly” in three dictionaries, attempting to find the town of that name on The New York Times Atlas of the World map of Scotland, sorting my reference books by width, trying to get the bookcase to stop wobbling by stuffing a matchbook cover under its corner, dialing the telephone number on the matchbook cover to see if I should take computer courses at night, looking at the computer ads in the newspaper and deciding to buy a computer because writing seems to be so difficult on my old Remington, reading an interesting article on sorghum farming in Uruguay that was in the newspaper next to the computer ads, cutting that and other interesting articles out of the newspaper, sorting—by width—all the interesting articles I’ve cut out of newspapers recently, fastening them neatly together with paper clips and making a very attractive paper clip necklace and bracelet set, which I will present to my girlfriend as soon as she comes home from the three-hour low-impact aerobic workout that I made her go to so I could have some time alone to write.

– P. J. O’Rourke

This is true. I am putting off writing to post this on my blog.

categories: humor, life, quotes, the arts
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On People

There's a point in life ..

(via Almostmoon)

categories: life, links, quotes, relationships, society, visuals
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