Impulse buy? This trumps it. I sent this email at the start of-a-yet-on-going rapid cycling and retched mania. (Resperal was added to the witches brew today.) It was impulsive like your cell phone purchase yet something I had been threatening to do it for a long time. Recently (at this mania beginning about 6 weeks ago (I track these things) I was sitting on some bags of fertilizer at Lowes holding two Big Boy tomato plants and thinking about cow manure and whether I wanted to be tomato fertilizer or not when I died. Cremated and sprinkled on tomatoes. I decided not. My kids don’t eat tomatoes and that is the only plant I would want to fertilize. Nor did I want to be sprinkled somewhere to become sewage or sludge or acid rain. Or be divided into three urns for the kids who may or may not pitch them into the local dump depending on THEIR mood or be in urns displayed the mantles above Christmas stockings to be pointed at: "Yep, that's Mom," and then re-inherited by great-grandkids I don't know and have some great or not so great-great grandchild oops knock it over running wild in the house. In that case, would I be swept up and tossed out or would I be re-urned? Or would ash-urned-me eventually be sold in some 23rd century version of a garage sale? And caskets? Are you kidding me? Pay to dress up a dead thing? That just isn't even an option worth discussing so we won't. And I don't want to rot on our local UT Body Farm for forensic scientists to examine. Puke. Maggot rot me not. Wouldn’t I be better on the front end to simply let my BP brain further science? So here is the email, one I have mentioned to the family several times that I might write and they have pooh-poohed or protested or complained about: Dear Mr./Dr. Wilkins: This is in regard to the possible donation of my remains after death to the Deeded Body Program at The University of Iowa Carver College of Medicine. I am a 60-year-old female and while I have no intention of dying soon (!) I want to make plans for your University to receive my anatomy and tissue for study when I am deceased. Why Iowa? We live in Tennessee and it is a joke in the family that if Mom ever runs away under duress they will simply look for her in Iowa. After all, no one would ever think to run away to Iowa of all places. Except me. So, I've decided to make good on the idea. In the end, I am going to run away to Iowa. However, I will be easily located: at your University. So, please send me the information or forms I need to arrange this upcoming event, which I hope will occur in the distant future. Have a good day. But please send the forms by mail or via the web, no joke. (My name an all the other stuff went here) So when I croak, just I will be split open on some slab in Iowa frustrating young people who are trying to handle me. In death as in life. Actually, I really do want to contribute something somewhere. If you have ever seen a dissection or a surgery you are just humbled and amazed. The intact human body is the most amazing perfect packaging job you can imagine, an unknown story bathed in red fluid. Body donation is an unknown story that ultimately affects someone else's unknown story that affects another unknown story, unknown story unknown story. Lost in the cosmos. Kokookajoo. Kick over the urn. Eat them tomatoes. Rot those maggots. It's my Iowa party. Now THAT’S an impulse decision. Long-mulled-over-and-manic-nudged. The forms have arrived and are waiting for my signature. And I am still just manic enough to sign them. Of course as I write I am thinking all this is very funny. I AM manic after all. (Though for the most part this particular episode has been ruled by the exhausting furies. But as we know, something always happens NEXT.)

Spontaneity, irresponsibility, impusiveness and reckless abandonment of rationality are all words and phrases that could be used to describe my bouts with loss of reason which range from suicide attempts to having my tongue pieced and buying a dog.  I got help for the suicidal tendencies, I swallowed the back of the piecing rod while I was sleeping so had to remove the rod and the hole closed immediately but I still have the dog and she's the best little companion I could ever ask for.  By and large, part of my coping and managing skills to avoid impusive behaviors include "The 3x3 Rule", wait 3 days and ask 3 friends if it's a good idea. 

i have a rhythym and a rhyme to my impulsivity it seems.  i always have a good reason to do what i do.  it also seems that i thought about what i  did and have control over my impulsive behavior.   i don't know....sue me!

respectfully,,

darkangel

 

 

Hi, I just wanted to share my own journey into the wide, weird and obnoxious world of impulsive-compulsive behavior that's so typical of us that are bi-polar.

I used to purchase a vehicle every six-eight months without fail. Didn't matter if the car needed slight, minimal repair or not; I'd just get an itch to change and I'd satisfy the itch and head for the dealership. As my job and income grew so did my requirements: bigger and more power and luxury; everything to do with my own self-image to mirror my own self-regard when manic which could know no equal! I've had any number of luxury imports, imported sports, american luxury cars, and except for the ultimate British car (Rolls) I haven't really experienced any other ultimate excepting for the Lamborghini or Ferrarri.

Once, when moving into a condominium in Seattle and my piano (a larger grand) couldn't be moved up a series of stairs (service) to my unit, (older condo, no elevator) I traded in my larger grand and bought a new Steinway baby grand! (Justifying the purchase by the inconvenience experienced by the movers thus far).

Once, in college, having had a few weeks of deep depression or "blues" as they used to be referred to, I called Pan Am, got a student stand by ticket to Honolulu for the next morning and took off from school for a week with absolutely no one knowing but for my room mate knowing where I was. I had exacted a promised from him: swearing that he was not to tell anyone where I was until my return....my life has been a series of impulsivities...clearly demarcating one chapter of my life to the next.

I was so relieved when I was diagnosed manic-depressive by my psychiatrist fifteen-twenty years ago as I had never owned up to this pattern of behavior with him until I wrote it all down in a letter to him and mailed it to him. He had actually been treating me for chronic depression for quite some time and he called me one afternoon after having read my letter and said simply that I was bi-polar.

thx jon

 

 

thx. jon