Last night my wife and I had a discussion similar to many we’ve had in the past. I told her of my last Sharepost, how I wrote of my fear that long term use of my psych medications will render me disabled at some point in my lifetime.
"Why are you so negative?"
"I wasn’t being negative, I was being realistic. And I did say I felt medication was the right decision for me."
"You need to give people hope!"
"What I write mirrors my mood. It will be down at times, up at times, rambling, manic, caustic, informative – it illustrates what I’m feeling and experiencing at the time I write it."
"I understand that, but people need to know this isn’t the end of the world! That it can be a gift!"
"There we go with the ‘gift’ stuff again. That’s almost as offensive as being told to ‘snap out of it’."
This was a friendly discussion, with both of us taking light-hearted swipes at the other, but the topics were serious. She’s right, there is a lot of negativity out there. People struggling with bipolar disorder need to know life can be good. Very good. But I’ve always taken the approach that I’m not a cheerleader, and I strive to give an accurate view of my thoughts, feelings, wins, losses, highs and lows. What I write is what I feel and believe, be it right, wrong, good, bad, bright or ugly. I can’t do it any other way.
But the more I think about it, the more I know she’s right. When I look deep inside, there is an underlying current of optimism. A confidence that ebbs and flows, but is always there. It’s harder to find when I’m depressed, but when I see the sun shining, and know a depression has lifted, that river of optimism runs a mile wide. And that’s where I am today – my depression of the last 2 months has lifted, at least for now, and things are looking good. I am once again able to look at the bright side, and I am hopeful about the future.
So it's time to revisit my last sharepost from a much different frame of mind.
In a comment on my last post, Just Me said:
"...essentially this decision is a way I've said I'd prefer to die younger from something theoretically preventable than to have my bipolar get worse in a way that could be medication controlled."
This statement is simple and straightforward, but profound in its implications. It's a "live for today" philosophy that many of us have, often out of necessity. This philosophy is echoed by QueenB who says:
"I think for anyone with a mental illness has to live for today. What works for us today. If not, then we will die an even earlier age by self-destructive behaviors or suicide. We really don't have much of a choice now do we?"
This is something we must keep in mind. Of our peers, it's said up to 25% will take their own lives at some point. This is horrifying, and completely beyond the comprehension of somebody outside the community. Whether it's depression or mania, we've all experienced those feelings. It's scary as hell when we climb out and look back. But when we're there, it's a matter-of-fact part of our lives.



My sister is a nurse. She was working in a clinic once and was the intake nurse. The intake nurse took the patient's vital signs, wrote the patient's history, and wrote down the meds the patient may be on at the time.
One day a woman came in with her husband. She had over 20 different bottles of pills and liquids. Most of the meds were psychiatric. Some of them were for blood pressure, a few for diabetes, but most for psychiatric.
The patient didn't work and barely could get off the couch each day. Her husband cooked, cleaned, and reminded her to take her multitudes of medication. She was unable to care for herself because she was so "doped" up (patient's words).
She had meds to help her sleep, meds to wake her up, meds for anxiety, meds for mood, meds for psychosis, meds for neurosis, meds to counter act the adverse effects of other meds. Her life revolved around taking her meds and watching TV for she was parked in front of it normally.
My sister told me about this patient because she was absolutely aghast at the fact that the woman had to take a med for just about anything she did and didn't do and because of such she was disabled and totally dependent on her husband. The meds caused liver damage, kidney damage, diabetes, and a heart arrythmia. She had been on them for several years. She literally couldn't live without taking the pills.
Her husband's story was that his wife, at one time, was a promising up and coming attorney with a brilliant mind but over a short period of time became more and more psychotic and neurotic. He told my sister that now she just gets up, he takes her to the couch and turns on the TV, he fixes her meals, gives her the meds, and at night he puts her to bed.
Made me stop and think about meds.
A lot of folks with Bipolar due end up disabled and on disability because they are unable to work and/or function. They are on many meds which cause life living issues and over a period of time physical illnesses and issues. This isn't to say that the meds aren't needed. I've taken whokus of them over the years - I just wonder though truly what a lot of us are exchanging our lives for - a peach colored pill or momma's little helpers just to live in this world.
I think maybe there's another question to ask there: if it is the meds causing you to give up your life, then what can be done to fix the meds? Being medicated to the point that quality of life is diminished possibly more than untreated BP would do makes no sense.
To me, it didn't sound like this was a question of whether any tx was too much to handle, or whether what she was on was excessive.
I have many thoughts about this, but will express just a couple.
First, this illustrates why it's so crucial to have a doctor we can trust, and one that will listen to us and work with the objectives we have, and limits we place on our treatment.
I was at a support group meeting the other night, and one man was going through a benzodiazapene (sp?) withdrawal program. It looked and sounded like the guy was going through hell. It was a process that would take several years to accomplish. He knew what he was experiencing would be a part of his daily life for the next few years. He was handling it much better than most of us would handle it. I bring this up as we all have an obligation to ask our docs hard questions about our prescriptions, and take an active role in our treatments.
Thanks tabby for sharing that story. As heartbreaking as it is, I think we can all learn a lesson from that.