mental illness

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Obviously the notion entered my mind that maybe this could be an installment of the Being Bipolar series (which there may be much more material for coming soon).  But Being Bipolar is more about the disease itself, and is intended to be a resource for those looking for insight and information from someone who lives with that condition.

What I’m sharing now, on the other hand, has less to do with that aspect of my life than it does with others.  Although mental illness is certainly the precipitant.

It was twenty-four years ago this month that the symptoms of manic depression, or bipolar disorder, first began to manifest themselves in me.  At first it was wildly intoxicating, all the boundless energy and creativity that came seemingly out of nowhere.  I was still looking for a job post-college and failing in that but other opportunities were coming to the fore (like ...

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Being Bipolar is a series that began in the winter of 2011.  It is an occasional look at what it is to live with bipolar disorder… which some still refer to as manic depression.  A new chapter is posted whenever this blogger feels that the time is ripe for a further examination.  In doing this I try to be as honest and forthcoming as possible, within reason.  I am not a medical professional. I am however a former peer support specialist in the field of mental health, and though I have recently left that post I am still dedicating myself toward advocating for others who experience mental illness.  If you are experiencing a severe crisis and are having thoughts about self harm or harm toward others, please do not hesitate to call 911 or reach out to your most available health care professional.  You may also find help and ...

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Being Bipolar is a series that began in the
winter of 2011.  It’s an occasional attempt to explore aspects of the
life of a person with manic-depression, or bipolar disorder if you will.  It’s never meant to be a regular feature of The Knight Shift.
 It comes along whenever “the time is nigh” for another installment is called for.  In this series I do my best to be
as honest and forthcoming about this condition as possible, within
reason.  As with anything else of this kind of subject matter, it
should be noted that I am not a medical professional.  So don’t take
anything written here as solid medical advice in the way of drugs etc.
 If you need immediate assistance, please go to the emergency rom of the
nearest hospital, or call 911 on your phone.  You may also find a great
deal of assistance from a local support ...

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I can remember the very first time that bipolar disorder reared its ugly head.  It was the second week of January in 2000.  A very snowbound winter.  There was a storm every two or three days, it seemed.

Maybe being trapped inside by incessant snow and ice was a trigger for what came about.  Or maybe it was primed to blow up anyway, at that precise time.  What I most remember was that I became extraordinarily creative.  Inflamed with imagination.  Overwhelmed with energy.  I had received a flatbed scanner for Christmas and I found myself going full-tilt wacko finding uses for it.  Lots of mischief.  I spent two solid months in creativity overdrive.  I was writing.  I was making new images in Photoshop.  I got invited to join the staff of TheForce.net and I readily accepted.

It wasn’t all fun and games though.  I was fresh out of college, looking ...

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So let’s get the obvious out of the way first:

YOWZA!!!!  Maybe the greatest Star Wars trailer in all of history.  But ahhhh… will the movie deliver the goods come next month?  No other way to be honest about it: some days I find myself loving The Last Jedi and others, I find it sorely lacking.  There’s just more that could have been done with the sense of pacing and time.  And spending that much time looking for one guy in a casino on the other side of the galaxy (which makes NO sense given the Resistance fleet’s situation) should have been excised completely from the script.  But, it is what it is.  And this far along in the game I’ve gotta be loyal to the end.  The tickets for opening night of The Rise Of Skywalker were already in virtual hand two hours before the trailer premiered.  Bought
...
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(It wasn’t MY idea to start this post off with that, honest.  Thanks Nicole!)

A note about this installment of Being Bipolar: it’s the longest to date.  There’s no escaping that and soon you’ll see why.  It’s also the most straightforward and absent clever floridity (is that even a word?).  But that has to be too.  It’s an account of all that’s transpired in the past three years since I departed on this quest for happiness.  Ultimately it became a quest for myself.  And if you press on toward the end, I want to believe that it may help others in their own quest for purpose and fulfillment.

Being Bipolar is a series that began in the winter of 2011.  It’s an occasional attempt to explore aspects of the life of a person with manic-depression, or bipolar disorder if you will.  Ummm… I guess it could be pointed out that

...
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For a number of years there’s been an image in my head of what it’s like to have bipolar disorder.  Mainly, the aspect of it that’s the most agonizing to endure.

Not looking for pity or sympathy for myself.  Just trying in some meager way to evoke what it is like for many, many people in this world.  Because I do know firsthand.  Maybe someone will see this and it might change a heart or two.  Perhaps even more.

I made this graphic earlier tonight.  It’s the best way that I know to convey it:

The inescapable sense that you will forever be outside looking in.  The person who those you love knew so well, disappeared.  And now there is this imposter, who only too often gets shut out and away.
And so there you are.  Looking at a world you once loved and were so thankful for.  Looking but
...
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Several months ago, following a mass shooting incident and some remarks he had made about mental illness, I composed a letter to The Honorable Donald J. Trump, President of the United States.  In the letter I shared some understanding that I, as a person with bipolar disorder, have come to discover.  Namely, that mental illness is a condition of the mind, and not the heart.  Over much of the past year especially I have worked alongside many who also have varying types of mental illness.  Not one of them is a person I would ever consider to be a danger to others.  But I also do realize that there is a stigma, and maybe it will be with us for a long time still.  And I suppose there is little that just one guy with a blog can do about that.

Even so: bipolar disorder has wrecked havoc with my ...

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Visiting the Reagan Presidential Library over a year ago impressed upon me the Gipper’s charm and cordiality toward Gorbachev.  Yet Reagan was also fiercely resolute in his conviction that people desire to forge their own destinies.  It was the two Cold War leaders riding horses together as much as it was Reagan’s defiance at the Brandenburg Gate that ended the threat of communism in Europe.

It was a fine example of the “neo-noblesse oblige” that had been the template since World War II.  Countless perished in that conflict due in no small amount to the failure of “gentleman diplomacy” on the part of the upper crust.  But for its time, that was sanity.  And then a new sanity dawned with the rising of a false sun over Hiroshima.

Yet Ronald Reagan… was insane.  Or so we were told by pundits and academics.

Speaking of peace while drastically building up the ...

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“Sir please return to your room.  PLEASE sir it’s dangerous!”  A fleck of dark red was on her cheek and plainly she was anguishing to clean off her face, take a shower and likely dispatch her uniform to the incinerator.  Red smears also on front desk.  A crimson palm print, vigorously violent and vaguely human, on one of the support columns.  Not far away on the floor: shards of broken glass.  Some stained red like those among the ancient windows of Notre-Dame and other holy places I had seen in Europe long ago.

But it didn’t register that it was blood… lots and lots of blood… until I was heading back up to the fourth floor.  Three hours later, as a commercial hazmat crew was finishing with cleaning and decontaminating the lobby, the desk clerk phoned up the “all clear” signal.  Once again the elevator doors opened onto the ...

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