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´╗┐Bipolar Disorder: A Personal Story of Triumph Over Suicide and Mental Illness Personal Statement: It is my conviction that as your Official Guide on Enlightenment, I should measure some of my personal background and experiences so that you can attain to comprehend me and comprehend where I stand.

I've had a life entire of suffering but if you are to truly understand blessings, you need to go through suffering and exultation over it.

I personally don't suppose you can overcome actual crises without acquiring spirituality.

If anyone wishes to contact me, please email me at or denominate 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 forceful for support when I finest contracted Bipolar Disease, but backing was not forthcoming.
Oh yes, there were the electroshock treatments that in 1991 made me a blithering idiot or in 1995 temporarily lifted my agitated clinical misery for one finished week before submerging me again in drudgery.

During this week of freedom, I was so gleeful that my despair had lifted that I stupidly gave up my inclination word 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 get re-approved for my desire term disability.

The paperwork should hold taken me at most a pair of hours.

Instead like my original application, it took me three weeks.

That’s how strenuous it was for me to do anything.
It would be three years closing before the discredit of this infection allowed me to once fresh face my university colleagues through attending my comrade and colleague Bill’s retirement party.

From 1991 through 1995, I was hospitalized four to five times, each occasion 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 trick my flee in that I would bar 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 intelligent Professor scientist who now accepted his pile that this is the method his gone life would be from here on in.

In March of 1995, I skilful my suicide.

I had spoken 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 sake one but I wasn’t listening.
I had been a pill taker all my life, so I believed I finally had found a method out of a globe that was telling me that there was no style out.

Only through Divine Providence of God coming to my wife Marcia am I alive today.

And I’m so gloomy now that Marcia passed on March 18, 2011.
She saved my life but I wasn’t able to salvage hers.

I took drugs for the voices I heard in my skipper and for the psychosis that accompanied my mania.
The group effects of the drugs were involuntary twitching of the lips, brain fog, and tremors to the dab that I could not token my name.

The antidepressant drugs that I tried never worked and only months of the course of time brought me out of my episodes of drastic clinical depression.

My only respite was the two hours of sleep that I got from sheer fatigue each night.

I’ve never figured out why berth was able to provide that relief but in retrospect, the doctors should retain heavily sedated me with the most awful sleeping pills.

After all, isn’t that what they do, govern drugs? The three different psychiatrists that I had during this juncture spell never really talked to me, never got at what I was feeling.
Their role was to provide their patients with pharmaceuticals regardless of drug group 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 conviction 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 recipience pills and the two hundred pills disappeared into my belly in reasonable 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 inverse the process and I was waiting to see that illuminate that relatives who hold survived looming death experiences chatter 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 equitable ordered lunch when Marcia vocal to Erin, “We hold to go.
Something’s wrong with dad.

” When they showed up back at the quarters 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 exterior changed my temperament 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 elliptical stretcher in an harmonization conditioned room with marked overhead fluorescent lights.

I was frosty and had to pee.

An unkind encourage provided a metal urinal and I missed and urine was all over the sheet baldachin the stretcher.
The treat 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 obtain 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 conduit through my nose.

I was wishing it was over and finally for what seemed like forever, it was over, as everyone left.

After other instance had elapsed, of which I own no account, I remember finally being transferred to a bed that actually accommodated my 6 foot 2 inch height.

That was the last item I remembered as I was in and out and largely out sleeping for the successive 48 to 72 hours.

The caring nurture on duty had told Marcia that they didn’t sense whether I was going to make it.

I had fallen down a bottomless cavity and finally hit bottom.
I was embarrassed and ashamed but didn’t notice how I would continue to face this jittery clinical depression.

Days later, I made a latter chewed try at suicide with sixteen pills, idle considered an overdose, and had my abdomen pumped again.

Marcia was fed up and dumped me without a canoodle goodbye on the steps of the admissions office of the South Oaks Psychiatric Hospital.
I dreaded returning and felt that this was the end of the sequence and the final of my freedom.
This is where I would remain for the end of my days.

I had hallucinated and heuristic my hairdressers with orange and purple hair and practical unethicalness in paintings and people.

I had delusions of grandeur rational I was the Messiah.
In my 1991 episode, I played chess with Saddam Hussein as we strategized during the boon Gulf War.
Ironically, I didn’t gambit chess.

I even called the White House to prattle to Barbara Bush to bestow her my advice for ending the war.
I had experienced psychosis at the height of my mania and I had crashed to severe dejection to the ultimate bottom, suicide.

Several months latter when I had miraculously recovered without the help of drugs from my suicide attempt and trembling depression, I found myself at a analytical ailment aegis group.
The meeting was attended by parents of spawn who had the disorder and I qualified because in August of 1994 and June of 1995, my dual sons, Sean and Seth had their first bouts respectively of Bipolar Disorder.
I always felt that I was destined to keep the infection at age 50 so I could conjecture what they were and are inert going through.
I was the boon to posses Bipolar Disorder in the family.

My father suffered from despair but never experienced mania.
My psychiatrist felt that the mania probably came from my mother who he suggested was hypo-manic.
Identical paired studies keep shown that Bipolar Disorder, or Manic Depression as the ailment used to be called, is genetic in about half the cases.

That manner that half the point only one matching twin has the illness.

Where both twins are sick, you sometimes see one with Bipolar Disorder and the final with Schizoaffective Disorder or Schizophrenia.
The “schizo” attachment signifies an more opinion infection that can accompany the duplicate mania and psychosis as observed in Bipolar Disorder.
Bipolar as its interval implies is different than the “schizo” disorders in that it is a character malady with swings from the rangy of mania to the low of depression.

All types of rational indisposition are chemical imbalances in the brain and are not the mistake of the luckless and often surprised recipient who is diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder.
No one knows the surpass of Bipolar Disorder and after doing regressive therapy back to my mothers womb, I am not at all convinced that a genetic solution in families such as mine is the escort for transmission to young like my sons.

There is so much bio-electric activity occurring in the womb, especially in the birth canal abbot to birth, that may change the neurotransmitters’ and hormones’ amounts and actions to jell the stage latter for the attack of the disease.

Often the infection is not diagnosed for years because it seems that inability to do homework or axis in school can be explained by supplementary problems such as attention deficit disorder or accent deficit hyperactive disorder.
The textbooks natter about Bipolar Disorder being diagnosed in descendants as early as age 8 but my wife Marcia was a special erudition lecturer and she clear the attitude swings of the mania and depression 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 gang who come down with the sickness at about age 40.
Rarely does one see anyone like myself at age 50.
A young doctor, a pediatrician, in his delayed forties once stopped by my office at the university logical to meet me and perceive that there was someone else like him who had the disease at such an older age in life.

He too was the prime in his offspring and had to donate up his medical practice.

I hope that I gave him hope.

I was out of the university for five years on a long word disability and had fair mutual to Stony Brook to once again bring up my professorial duties when this fine heirs individual stopped by.

It’s a disrepute that mental disorder quiescent has the stigma attached to it although with further celebrities words about the diseases, we are seeing more awareness and sympathy from the public.
I often suppose that the mentally ill are slice of a crew forgotten by society.

Young relatives in particular assume that you can just leave yourself back to health.
You cannot.

You won’t go into remission from a particular incident of Bipolar Disorder until the chemical imbalance is restored in your brain to some way we might dub normalcy.

After years of obtaining drugs, that state of normalcy may not be the equivalent as your brain was before you ever acquired the disease.

Bipolar Disorder is like a tree stump.
It stumps your life.

Some connections never undertaking again and those that do are hampered.

Rare ones like myself are consecrated to return to a higher sort of occupation.

The malady is often the cause of assignment loss, connubial tension and divorce, and addiction to character modification drugs and alcohol.
All the Bipolars I met in the hospital for some actuation that I cannot sense smoked.

Traditional Bipolar is diagnosed by mania followed by depression, but the sickness takes on different forms with specific medical terminology.

The final is famous but what’s more important is to recognize that Bipolar Disorder is different for everyone and each companion incident can be different with natural patterns.

My indisposition is different from my twin sons, Seth and Sean, and theirs is different from each other.
How would genetics explain their differences unless influenced moreover by environment? There are a stack of misconceptions out there, but when connections secure former their fears and ignorance, they leave sometimes ask me what is the difference between hypo-mania and mania.
From my perspective, mania is a other radical hole of brain activity.

In hypo-mania, you may torpid be able to gamut the comrade and gain him help before he has a full blown episode.

In mania, the individual hears your voice but he or she is really not listening to you.
You can’t gamut a fellow in their manic state unless they finally quiet down with the aegis of drugs or they somehow know themselves, like I did, that it’s juncture to seek help or you consign flee your mind.

People moreover sheepishly ask me what my suicide attempt was like.

Bloody awful and demeaning I answer.
I remember at that aid team the social drudge asking for someone to begin.

Immediately, a woman sitting beside me jumped at the happen and vocal article I had never heard before.

“Bipolar Disorder is a terminal illness.

” No psychiatrist had ever expressed these words and they seemed to be floating in the music as I tried to snatch 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 hold been me.

The peeress told of her son’s countless cries for backing that went unanswered.

When the coordinator of the company asked me to gibber next, I wanted this female to conjecture that I understood, so I described my suicide attempt.

This story has always struck a woebegone chord in me and makes me thankful that I am still here.

It brings up such varied feelings in me.

There is idle much to believe about Bipolar Disorder and lest relatives think I am anti-drug, I am not.

In the lapsed days without mood stabilizers such as lithium and the neuroleptics (anti-psychotics), they threw you into the loony bin and you never came out.

It’s inert a crap shoot in the situation of the antidepressants.

However, if you find the improve one you entrust smooch the earth and thank God every day.

You can retain clinical melancholy without Bipolar Disorder and it is similar.
In my case, the melancholy was miscellaneous with an unyielding agitation of the mania allocation of my illness.

I was given nil for the Akithisia as the doctors mention to it and I could sit torpid for just a few seconds.

It was horrific and that’s when I signal to finally closing it all.
Thank God for God coming to Marcia.
I would never obtain recognized that I would hold ever come up had I not survived.

I hope that my message gives hope to connections who are struggling today that every descent is quota of an ascent to happen as wanting as you stay the course.

Today I axis on God and build my religious strength.
With God's help, I retain kicked Bipolar Disorder out of my phenomenon and hold not had an circumstance since the suicide attempts in 1995.
My twins are on the cycle to their posses spirituality and they are obtaining mend with their logical illnesses.

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