Bipolar Disorder: A Personal Story of Triumph Over Suicide and Mental Illness
It is my opinion that as your Official Guide on Enlightenment, I should allowance some of my personal background and experiences so that you can earn to understand me and sense where I stand.
I've had a life full of suffering but if you are to truly comprehend blessings, you deprivation to go through suffering and ecstasy over it.
I personally don't reckon you can overcome actual crises without acquiring spirituality.
If anyone wishes to influence 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 shriek to the world, “I am a Bipolar.
” Why? Because I was forceful for aegis when I top contracted Bipolar Disease, but offices was not forthcoming.
Oh yes, there were the electroshock treatments that in 1991 made me a blithering idiot or in 1995 temporarily lifted my nervous clinical depression for one finished week before submerging me again in drudgery.
During this week of freedom, I was so elated that my hopelessness had lifted that I stupidly gave up my enthusiasm period disability and mutual to my professorial duties at Stony Brook University on Long Island, New York.
When the depression returned, all of a sudden I was bygone from the university for a period that lasted five years.
I had to reapply and attain re-approved for my desire interval disability.
The paperwork should have taken me at most a span 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 end before the dishonour of this ailment allowed me to once further outside my university colleagues through attending my man and colleague Bill’s retirement party.
From 1991 through 1995, I was hospitalized four to five times, each juncture 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 totality I detested.
Oftentimes, I would manoeuvre my lose in that I would hasp 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 sensible Professor scientist who now accepted his mountain that this is the fashion his misplaced life would be from here on in.
In March of 1995, I tactical my suicide.
I had verbal 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 procedure out of a system that was telling me that there was no manner out.
Only through Divine Providence of God coming to my wife Marcia am I alive today.
And I’m so sad 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 mark that I could not sign my name.
The antidepressant drugs that I tried never worked and only months of the alley of case brought me out of my episodes of extreme clinical depression.
My only respite was the two hours of moor that I got from sheer tiredness each night.
I’ve never figured out why sleep was able to provide that relief but in retrospect, the doctors should retain heavily sedated me with the most terrible sleeping pills.
After all, isn’t that what they do, oversee drugs? The three different psychiatrists that I had during this juncture name never really talked to me, never got at what I was feeling.
Their role was to provide their patients with pharmaceuticals regardless of drug squad 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 notion 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 taking pills and the two hundred pills disappeared into my abdomen in logical fifteen or twenty minutes.
I went to lie down and finally after months of finding it impossible to find a alcove for myself, I felt at peace.
It was too tardy to converse the process and I was waiting to see that irradiate that kin who retain survived near death experiences speak about.
Oops, I realized that I hadn’t written a suicide dispatch 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 logical ordered lunch when Marcia verbal to Erin, “We have to go.
Something’s wrong with dad.
” When they showed up back at the accommodation 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 facade changed my humour 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 concise stretcher in an melody conditioned room with glaring overhead fluorescent lights.
I was icy and had to pee.
An unkind promote provided a metal urinal and I missed and urine was all over the sheet cover the stretcher.
The doctor 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 posses 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 tube through my nose.
I was wishing it was over and finally for what seemed like forever, it was over, as everyone left.
After other circumstance had elapsed, of which I retain no account, I remember finally being transferred to a bed that actually accommodated my 6 foot 2 inch height.
That was the last device I remembered as I was in and out and principally out sleeping for the following 48 to 72 hours.
The caring nurse on respect had told Marcia that they didn’t comprehend whether I was going to make it.
I had fallen down a bottomless hole and finally hit bottom.
I was embarrassed and ashamed but didn’t know how I would maintain to face this anxious clinical depression.
Days later, I made a closing young try at suicide with sixteen pills, still considered an overdose, and had my belly pumped again.
Marcia was fed up and dumped me without a neck goodbye on the steps of the admissions office of the South Oaks Psychiatric Hospital.
I dreaded returning and felt that this was the latter of the column and the closing of my freedom.
This is where I would remain for the second of my days.
I had hallucinated and pragmatic my hairdressers with orange and purple hair and empitic dishonesty in paintings and people.
I had delusions of grandeur cognitive I was the Messiah.
In my 1991 episode, I played chess with Saddam Hussein as we strategized during the elite Gulf War.
Ironically, I didn’t machination chess.
I even called the White House to talk to Barbara Bush to present her my advice for ending the war.
I had experienced psychosis at the height of my mania and I had crashed to forceful misery to the ultimate bottom, suicide.
Several months final when I had miraculously recovered without the help of drugs from my suicide attempt and uneasy depression, I found myself at a rational disease support group.
The meeting was attended by parents of issue who had the indisposition and I qualified because in August of 1994 and June of 1995, my coupled sons, Sean and Seth had their elite bouts respectively of Bipolar Disorder.
I always felt that I was destined to obtain the illness at age 50 so I could understand what they were and are dormant going through.
I was the prime to hold Bipolar Disorder in the family.
My father suffered from misery but never experienced mania.
My psychiatrist felt that the mania probably came from my mother who he suggested was hypo-manic.
Identical dual studies retain shown that Bipolar Disorder, or Manic Depression as the indisposition used to be called, is genetic in about half the cases.
That procedure that half the time only one selfsame twofold 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 notion malady that can accompany the duplicate mania and psychosis as seen in Bipolar Disorder.
Bipolar as its period implies is different than the “schizo” disorders in that it is a mood sickness with swings from the colossal of mania to the low of depression.
All types of reasoning sickness are chemical imbalances in the brain and are not the lapse of the unfortunate 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 guide in families such as mine is the lead for transmission to family like my sons.
There is so much bio-electric job occurring in the womb, especially in the birth canal abbot to birth, that may improve the neurotransmitters’ and hormones’ amounts and actions to crystallize the stage later for the onslaught of the disease.
Often the malady is not diagnosed for years because it seems that inability to do homework or focus in school can be explained by other problems such as priority deficit illness or importance deficit hyperactive disorder.
The textbooks gibber about Bipolar Disorder being diagnosed in children as early as age 8 but my wife Marcia was a special enlightenment teacher and she striking the disposition swings of the mania and despair of Bipolar Disorder or Manic Depression in some of her 4 year olds.
Most persons are diagnosed in their teens or twenties like my sons.
There is a smaller party who come down with the sickness at about age 40.
Rarely does one see anyone like myself at age 50.
A offspring doctor, a pediatrician, in his late forties once stopped by my office at the university fair to meet me and recognize that there was someone else like him who had the disease at such an older age in life.
He too was the first in his issue 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 crave title disability and had impartial retaliated to Stony Brook to once again carry up my professorial duties when this fine young partner stopped by.
It’s a disrepute that reasoning infection inactive has the stigma attached to it although with additional celebrities talking about the diseases, we are seeing other awareness and harmony from the public.
I often conjecture that the mentally ill are portion of a group forgotten by society.
Young kin in particular suppose that you can unbiased bequeath yourself back to health.
You won’t go into remission from a particular incident of Bipolar Disorder until the chemical imbalance is restored in your brain to some system we might call normalcy.
After years of receiving drugs, that domain 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 connections never venture again and those that do are hampered.
Rare ones like myself are consecrated to return to a higher grade of occupation.
The illness is often the surpass of task loss, conjugal tension and divorce, and addiction to character altering drugs and alcohol.
All the Bipolars I met in the hospital for some reason that I cannot understand smoked.
Traditional Bipolar is diagnosed by mania followed by depression, but the disease takes on different forms with specific medical terminology.
The final is noted but what’s fresh famous is to recognize that Bipolar Disorder is different for everyone and each partner adventure can be different with common 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 furthermore by environment?
There are a mass of misconceptions out there, but when people earn 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 supplementary drastic sett of brain activity.
In hypo-mania, you may still be able to radius the individual and achieve him support before he has a perfect blown episode.
In mania, the individual hears your voice but he or she is really not listening to you.
You can’t span a comrade in their manic province unless they finally still down with the aid of drugs or they somehow recognize themselves, like I did, that it’s time to seek backing or you bequeath evade your mind.
People besides sheepishly ask me what my suicide attempt was like.
Bloody dreadful and demeaning I answer.
I remember at that support company the social menial asking for someone to begin.
Immediately, a female sitting beside me jumped at the befall and said item I had never heard before.
“Bipolar Disorder is a terminal illness.
” No psychiatrist had ever expressed these conversation and they seemed to be floating in the music as I tried to grasp 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 noblewoman told of her son’s countless cries for help that went unanswered.
When the coordinator of the band asked me to natter next, I wanted this peeress to presume that I understood, so I described my suicide attempt.
This information has always struck a woebegone chord in me and makes me pleased that I am inert here.
It brings up such diverse love in me.
There is inactive much to accept about Bipolar Disorder and lest kinsfolk think I am anti-drug, I am not.
In the lapsed days without mind stabilizers such as lithium and the neuroleptics (anti-psychotics), they threw you into the loony bin and you never came out.
It’s idle a crap germinate in the juncture of the antidepressants.
However, if you find the fix one you cede neck the burrow and thank God every day.
You can posses clinical depression without Bipolar Disorder and it is similar.
In my case, the depression was varied with an unyielding agitation of the mania quota of my illness.
I was given nothing for the Akithisia as the doctors consult to it and I could sit inactive for moderate a few seconds.
It was horrific and that’s when I pronounced to finally modern it all.
Thank God for God coming to Marcia.
I would never obtain published that I would hold ever come up had I not survived.
I hope that my facts gives hope to kinsfolk who are struggling today that every pedigree is slice of an ascent to materialize as wanting as you stay the course.
Today I spindle on God and build my hallowed strength.
With God's help, I keep kicked Bipolar Disorder out of my body and have not had an afair since the suicide attempts in 1995.
My twins are on the cycle to their retain spirituality and they are receiving renovate with their cerebral illnesses.