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Bipolar Disorder: A Personal Story of Triumph Over Suicide and Mental Illness
It is my thought that as your Official Guide on Enlightenment, I should measure some of my personal background and experiences so that you can achieve to perceive me and comprehend where I stand.
I've had a life complete of suffering but if you are to truly perceive blessings, you dearth to go through suffering and triumph over it.
I personally don't suppose you can overcome legitimate crises without acquiring spirituality.
If anyone wishes to collision me, please email me at or name me at 561-735-7958
Manic Depression or Bipolar Disorder
Like in Alcoholics Anonymous, I sometimes wanted to howl to the world, “I am a Bipolar. ” Why? Because I was harsh for help when I prime contracted Bipolar Disease, but help was not forthcoming. Oh yes, there were the electroshock treatments that in 1991 made me a blithering idiot or in 1995 temporarily lifted my nervy clinical hopelessness for one perfect week before submerging me again in drudgery.
During this week of freedom, I was so elated that my depression had lifted that I stupidly gave up my long expression disability and mutual to my professorial duties at Stony Brook University on Long Island, New York. When the despair returned, all of a sudden I was recent from the university for a period that lasted five years.
I had to reapply and achieve re-approved for my want period disability.
The paperwork should posses taken me at most a pair of hours.
Instead like my original application, it took me three weeks.
That’s how arduous it was for me to do anything. It would be three years final before the shame of this disease allowed me to once further guise my university colleagues through attending my individual and colleague Bill’s retirement party.
From 1991 through 1995, I was hospitalized four to five times, each instance for several weeks in three different hospitals.
I hated it each time.
I couldn’t wear my hairpiece and when that door locked me in the psychiatric ward, I knew I was trapped in a world I detested.
Oftentimes, I would ploy my dodge in that I would hook out the door with visitors after visiting hours, but I never found the courage to do so. Had I tried and failed, I envisioned being placed in a straightjacket like in the movies.
I had sunk pretty low from being an shrewd Professor scientist who now accepted his collection that this is the means his misplaced life would be from here on in.
In March of 1995, I politic my suicide.
I had oral to a patient in one of my hospital visits who described her suicide attempt with an overdose of pills.
She sighed when she told me that her experience was not a profit one but I wasn’t listening. I had been a lozenge taker all my life, so I believed I finally had found a means out of a creation that was telling me that there was no routine out.
Only through Divine Providence of God coming to my wife Marcia am I alive today.
And I’m so melancholy now that Marcia passed on March 18, 2011. She saved my life but I wasn’t able to reuse hers.
I took drugs for the voices I heard in my skipper and for the psychosis that accompanied my mania. The bunch effects of the drugs were involuntary twitching of the lips, brain fog, and tremors to the dab that I could not figure my name.
The antidepressant drugs that I tried never worked and only months of the path of time brought me out of my episodes of desperate clinical depression.
My only respite was the two hours of moor that I got from sheer exhaustion each night.
I’ve never figured out why land was able to provide that relief but in retrospect, the doctors should keep heavily sedated me with the most mighty sleeping pills.
After all, isn’t that what they do, govern drugs? The three different psychiatrists that I had during this point phrase never really talked to me, never got at what I was feeling. Their role was to provide their patients with pharmaceuticals regardless of drug company effects.
When all else failed, I resorted to suicide by swallowing 200 aspirin and codeine pills that my mother had brought me from Toronto. At the time, my wife Marcia and my youngest daughter Erin were shopping forty-five minutes away from our home.
They had no concept about what I had planned.
I opened the two bottles of pills and took one or two pills at first, followed by four then six then eight.
I was a pro at acceptance pills and the two hundred pills disappeared into my intestines in just fifteen or twenty minutes.
I went to lie down and finally after months of finding it impossible to find a place for myself, I felt at peace.
It was too unpunctual to opposite the process and I was waiting to see that decorate that people who hold survived near death experiences natter about.
Oops, I realized that I hadn’t written a suicide message to Marcia and the family.
Nor had I recorded the date for posterity.
I was certain, however, that I was going to die.
Meanwhile a miraculous intervention was occurring at the diner 45 minutes away by car. Erin and Marcia had fair ordered lunch when Marcia uttered to Erin, “We hold to go. Something’s wrong with dad.
” When they showed up back at the habitat and woke me up, I blurted out what I had done.
Marcia immediately called 911 and the Nesconset, Long Island Fire Department responded within minutes.
I initially refused to be taken to the emergency room, but Marcia pleaded with them and me.
The sadness and desperation on her appearance changed my attitude and all of a sudden I was being lifted off our king-size bed onto a stretcher. With sirens blasting, I found myself in a surreal state.
There were no beds at the emergency room, only an uncomfortable terse stretcher in an rhythm conditioned room with noted overhead fluorescent lights.
I was frozen and had to pee.
An unkind encourage provided a metal urinal and I missed and urine was all over the sheet cover the stretcher. The cherish was less than compassionate.
I felt humiliated and embarrassed, and within minutes someone placed a catheter into my penis.
The catheter was painful and never should keep been inserted.
The worse was yet to come as doctors and nurses stood over me while they pumped my stomach. They kept inserting this stinking channel through my nose.
I was wishing it was over and finally for what seemed like forever, it was over, as everyone left.
After additional point had elapsed, of which I keep no account, I remember finally being transferred to a bed that actually accommodated my 6 foot 2 inch height.
That was the last object I remembered as I was in and out and mostly out sleeping for the succeeding 48 to 72 hours.
The caring nurse on conformity had told Marcia that they didn’t notice whether I was going to make it.
I had fallen down a bottomless quarry and finally hit bottom. I was embarrassed and ashamed but didn’t sense how I would prolong to guise this anxious clinical depression.
Days later, I made a later feeble try at suicide with sixteen pills, dormant considered an overdose, and had my tummy pumped again.
Marcia was fed up and dumped me without a glance goodbye on the steps of the admissions office of the South Oaks Psychiatric Hospital. I dreaded returning and felt that this was the hindmost of the chain and the closing of my freedom. This is where I would remain for the closing of my days.
I had hallucinated and practical my hairdressers with orange and purple hair and experimental evil in paintings and people.
I had delusions of grandeur thinking I was the Messiah. In my 1991 episode, I played chess with Saddam Hussein as we strategized during the first Gulf War. Ironically, I didn’t machination chess.
I even called the White House to natter to Barbara Bush to bestow her my advice for ending the war. I had experienced psychosis at the peak of my mania and I had crashed to dire hopelessness to the ultimate bottom, suicide.
Several months latter when I had miraculously recovered without the offices of drugs from my suicide attempt and anxious depression, I found myself at a cerebral sickness assistance group. The meeting was attended by parents of heirs who had the indisposition and I qualified because in August of 1994 and June of 1995, my double sons, Sean and Seth had their prime bouts respectively of Bipolar Disorder. I always felt that I was destined to obtain the disease at age 50 so I could conjecture what they were and are dormant going through. I was the peak to hold Bipolar Disorder in the family.
My father suffered from hopelessness but never experienced mania. My psychiatrist felt that the mania probably came from my mother who he suggested was hypo-manic. Identical paired studies obtain shown that Bipolar Disorder, or Manic Depression as the malady used to be called, is genetic in about half the cases.
That means that half the situation only one similar banal has the illness.
Where both twins are sick, you sometimes see one with Bipolar Disorder and the modern with Schizoaffective Disorder or Schizophrenia. The “schizo” attachment signifies an additional belief disorder that can accompany the alike mania and psychosis as empitic in Bipolar Disorder. Bipolar as its name implies is different than the “schizo” disorders in that it is a mood illness with swings from the gangling of mania to the low of depression.
All types of mental malady are chemical imbalances in the brain and are not the error of the luckless and often surprised recipient who is diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder.
No one knows the prompt of Bipolar Disorder and after doing regressive therapy back to my mothers womb, I am not at all convinced that a genetic answer in families such as mine is the vanguard for transmission to descendants like my sons.
There is so much bio-electric task occurring in the womb, especially in the birth canal prior to birth, that may mend the neurotransmitters’ and hormones’ amounts and actions to set the stage hindmost for the onset of the disease.
Often the infection is not diagnosed for years because it seems that inability to do homework or axle in school can be explained by additional problems such as emphasis deficit ailment or weight deficit hyperactive disorder. The textbooks chatter about Bipolar Disorder being diagnosed in children as early as age 8 but my wife Marcia was a special knowledge pedant and she signal the character swings of the mania and misery of Bipolar Disorder or Manic Depression in some of her 4 year olds.
Most nation are diagnosed in their teens or twenties like my sons.
There is a smaller troupe who come down with the sickness at about age 40. Rarely does one see anyone like myself at age 50. A issue doctor, a pediatrician, in his tardy forties once stopped by my office at the university fair to meet me and perceive that there was someone else like him who had the disorder at such an older age in life.
He too was the peak in his descendants and had to present up his medical practice.
I hope that I gave him hope.
I was out of the university for five years on a long spell disability and had logical retaliated to Stony Brook to once again transact up my professorial duties when this fine offspring man stopped by.
It’s a shame that cognitive infection idle has the stigma attached to it although with fresh celebrities words about the diseases, we are seeing other awareness and rapport from the public. I often conjecture that the mentally ill are ration of a crew forgotten by society.
Young kin in particular think that you can fair will yourself back to health. You cannot.
You won’t go into remission from a particular event of Bipolar Disorder until the chemical imbalance is restored in your brain to some manner we might denominate normalcy.
After years of receipt drugs, that area of normalcy may not be the same as your brain was before you ever acquired the disease.
Bipolar Disorder is like a tree stump. It stumps your life.
Some relatives never assignment again and those that do are hampered.
Rare ones like myself are holy to return to a higher standard of occupation.
The sickness is often the vanguard of business loss, matrimonial tension and divorce, and addiction to temperament refashioning drugs and alcohol. All the Bipolars I met in the hospital for some motive that I cannot recognize smoked.
Traditional Bipolar is diagnosed by mania followed by depression, but the illness takes on different forms with specific medical terminology.
The closing is superior but what’s fresh superior is to recall that Bipolar Disorder is different for everyone and each friend incident can be different with common patterns.
My indisposition is different from my paired sons, Seth and Sean, and theirs is different from each other. How would genetics explain their differences unless influenced furthermore by environment?
There are a stockpile of misconceptions out there, but when connections attain past their fears and ignorance, they entrust sometimes ask me what is the difference between hypo-mania and mania. From my perspective, mania is a fresh radical lair of brain activity.
In hypo-mania, you may stagnant be able to area the individual and procure him aid before he has a flawless blown episode.
In mania, the man hears your voice but he or she is really not listening to you. You can’t scope a friend in their manic domain unless they finally calm down with the aid of drugs or they somehow spot themselves, like I did, that it’s occasion to seek assistance or you cede evade your mind.
People besides sheepishly ask me what my suicide attempt was like.
Bloody mighty and demeaning I answer. I remember at that aid squad the social drudge asking for someone to begin.
Immediately, a lady sitting beside me jumped at the happen and verbal article I had never heard before.
“Bipolar Disorder is a terminal illness.
” No psychiatrist had ever expressed these utterance and they seemed to be floating in the melody as I tried to catch onto them and internalize them in my brain.
The woman, whose husband was sitting solemnly beside her, was somber as she spoke lovingly about her son who blew his brains out with a gun.
Thank God I took pills or that could posses been me.
The female told of her son’s countless cries for help that went unanswered.
When the coordinator of the squad asked me to prattle next, I wanted this duchess to believe that I understood, so I described my suicide attempt.
This data has always struck a unhappy chord in me and makes me thankful that I am passive here.
It brings up such varied affection in me.
There is passive much to presume about Bipolar Disorder and lest folks reckon I am anti-drug, I am not.
In the obsolete days without temper stabilizers such as lithium and the neuroleptics (anti-psychotics), they threw you into the loony bin and you never came out.
It’s inactive a crap germinate in the time of the antidepressants.
However, if you find the redress one you cede neck the form and thank God every day.
You can posses clinical dejection without Bipolar Disorder and it is similar. In my case, the depression was varied with an unyielding agitation of the mania share of my illness.
I was given nil for the Akithisia as the doctors touch to it and I could sit passive for just a few seconds.
It was horrific and that’s when I glaring to finally modern it all. Thank God for God coming to Marcia. I would never posses declared that I would own ever come up had I not survived.
I hope that my announcement gives hope to folks who are struggling today that every lineage is portion of an ascent to transpire as enthusiasm as you stay the course.
Today I fulcrum on God and build my blessed strength. With God's help, I hold kicked Bipolar Disorder out of my body and have not had an happening since the suicide attempts in 1995. My twins are on the cycle to their keep spirituality and they are receiving better with their cognitive illnesses.