Hypo Averted.

Well, that was an interesting experience. I'm new to this bipolar thing and even newer to monitoring myself to assess where I'm at so a recent experience was a steep learning curve.

It all started with a documentary on a topic that I'm really interested in, so I got very excited about it. To add to the excitement, some people I know appeared in the documentary, so that made it extra exciting! It wasn't until about 2am the next morning when I was too excited to relax and sleep  that I realised that I had tipped over from excited to kind of hypomanic. The next day at work was unpleasant as I'd ended up only getting four hours sleep. I was 'buzzy' and irritable and knew I had to do something, so that night I raised the doses of my meds, and took enough to knock me out by 8pm. I've been on the higher dose for 12 days now and seem to be evening out so I might start reducing back to maintenance dose in a day or two.

At a visit to my psychiatrist six days after this started I told him what had happened, and what I had done. He said I had done the right thing with my meds. Go me! Maybe I'm getting this thing figured out after all!

So for this time at least, the score is Me: 1, Bipolar: 0 and I'm going to celebrate this small victory.

Inequality In Mental Health Care

This week in Australia a famous footballer spoke out in the media about dealing with depression, suicidal thoughts, and struggling with demons from his past that included sexual abuse and witnessing extreme violence. He is a well liked young man both inside and outside of the football community, and I have no doubt that the admissions he made to the media will have a positive impact far and wide. He really is a quality young man, and one I have admired for a long time. Long before he dropped his bombshell this week.

I am pleased to know that he will get every bit of help and assistance he needs and he has the full support of his employers - the football club. He will have the best psychiatrists and psychologists at his disposal, time off whenever he needs it to attend his therapies and a boss who knows what is going on, and is supporting him. There will be no interruption to his income for any time he needs to take off as footballers are paid by yearly fixed amount contracts.

Now this is the bit that makes me sad. This young man has everything he could possibly need in terms of treatment and support at his fingertips simply because of the fact that he is a footballer at a wealthy football club. Not many employers are able to provide that kind of support though.

For the rest of us, out here in the real world, dealing with our mental health issues isn't quite so easy. Many of us have to hide our illness from our employer. We juggle appointments around work, are forced to lie to bosses if we need time off - which for some is unpaid. Then we have to find the funds to finance our treating professionals and medications. For the folk in the real world, mental illness can be a cause of financial hardship or even homelessness.

It makes me sad (and angry too I guess), that these two scenarios can exist in society side by side. Where two people can have completely different opportunities, and therefore, completely different outcomes due to their circumstances and available resources. All might be fair in love and war, but it sure isn't in mental health care.

All that it takes

I don't know about other mental illnesses, but bipolar is so exhausting. For me, the most exhausting thing about it is all the pretending. Pretending I'm OK, pretending everything is fine, pretending I am living a normal life. On top of the pretending is the surviving. Just getting through each day so I can go home, retreat mentally and gather my strength for the next day. And if its not the bipolar doing it, its the meds.

I'd like to have an active life. I'd like to swap my flat shoes for heals, pop on some make up and dash out to dinner after work now and then. Weekends away would be nice too, but I. just. can't. I'm too tired.

I'd like to go bush walking, or mountain bike riding, or dancing the night away. There is so much I'd like to do but if I achieved even half of it, I'd know I was hypomanic.

And if its not the disorder inhibiting life, it's the meds!

Bipolar. Its exhausting.