In 1995 I was diagnosed with Cyclothymia, a bi polar disorder. It' s not as bad as some but will worsen with age sometimes.Lucky me. You have high highs followed by lows. In between you can feel semi normal.
Looking back it started back in my late teens. I either couldn't sleep or couldn't wake up. There were episodes of explosive anger. Anger that frightened me because i couldn't control it. I would get stupid pissed. Usually over nothing. I was a grill cook and had the occasional waitress in tears after I went all Gordon Ramsey on them.
Academics came easy to me and I had a low boredom threshold which still plagues me today. Bored to tears I dropped out of OSU. Sexual misadventures is a symptom used to diagnose. Well one person's misadventure is another's party. However it may explain my inability to settle down in my misspent youth. I was constantly looking to charm a woman out of her knickers. Well it was the 70's and pretty easy to do.
While married I didn't cheat. Thought about it when the marriage was collapsing. We should never have been together to start with. It seemed like the right thing to do at the time.
From my teens on I was a party animal. Always ready to hit a club, party or a bar. Anyplace I could meet a woman. I was awful. I wonder what I missed not getting to know them.
This whole time I was bouncing up and down along my little crazy train. I couldn't keep my life together. Too many DUI's and County time.
Every time I was sent to Drunk School.
At the intake interview I explained why I drank. Boredom and trying to get laid.
No, I answered, I don't think about getting drunk.
No, I don't drink at home.
No, I don't drink alone.
No, I don't sneak drinks at work.
All to those knowing nods, sure I'm lying my brains out. One counselor implied I was an alcoholic because I'm Irish on both sides.
I'd go to AA meetings and listen. I couldn't understand why I was there. I heard horror stories Hiding and stealing liquor. Loaded at work. No alcohol? Mouthwash. I was lost and confused. My life was in shambles and I wondered why I was even bothering if I was such a low life reprobate.
Finally someone listened to what I was saying at these intake interviews.
Sent me to a shrink He diagnosed me. When I was younger the treatment and diagnoses weren't there. I wonder how life would have been different at times. But I don't dwell.
Anyway, I was prescribed Depakote. I'd rather be crazy. It simply flattened me out. Instead of an emotional graph that looked like the Rockies I had one that resembled Kansas.
I was numb. No emotional response to anything. An avid reader books elicited no response. Music, a love of mine? Mazak was fine. Film? Gigli was as good as Casablanca to me. So I stopped.
My GP and I decided to try anti-depressants. Helps even me out. Levels the peaks and fills in the valleys a bit. I had no insurance and these meds were pricey. So I've been off and on for years. Then I met Maralyn my second. I discovered something. Structure did wonders. It seems to lessen the severity of my swings. Which is good because she drank. Mare eventually drank herself to death. At fifty.
I had kept us together for years and suddenly, I was ALONE. Her Daughter I'd raised went to live with an aunt in fucking Kentucky. At least it was Lexington and her uncle was on faculty at UK.
So here I am. Me. the dog. And a cat who wasn't overly fond of me. It was mutual. I collapsed into major clinical depression. I lost my love. I was in a job I'd hated for years and a place I couldn't afford that was full of ghosts.
Alone I sifted through the detritus a family accumulates. I moved. into a studio. Still barely fucti0onal. My GP got me right. My dog may have saved my life. Again structure. I was devastated when she passed in my arms a few years later.
On and off the meds. Drove my credit into the dirt. Only able to work my trade as a temp.
I bounce up and down. I can usually feel a bout coming. I cope. To a point. The lows are lower as I move through life and the highs are dizzying.
Up, I have an arrogance as to i can accomplish anything. I get angry when I find I'm wrong. The lows reduce me to a puddle of self hating protoplasm. My GP found me a generic I can afford. It's helping. So I am looking forward to the ACA. Improved mental health care would be a boon to those around me.
So since I do better with imposed structure, me being unemployed and alone is seldom a good combination. Throw in my cataracts making me legally blind and my trade booming at the moment I can't practice it . So I shrug and persevere. I pick myself up over and over. Start again hoping. Smiling at times through anguish and despair knowing it'll be ok eventually
Looking back it started back in my late teens. I either couldn't sleep or couldn't wake up. There were episodes of explosive anger. Anger that frightened me because i couldn't control it. I would get stupid pissed. Usually over nothing. I was a grill cook and had the occasional waitress in tears after I went all Gordon Ramsey on them.
Academics came easy to me and I had a low boredom threshold which still plagues me today. Bored to tears I dropped out of OSU. Sexual misadventures is a symptom used to diagnose. Well one person's misadventure is another's party. However it may explain my inability to settle down in my misspent youth. I was constantly looking to charm a woman out of her knickers. Well it was the 70's and pretty easy to do.
While married I didn't cheat. Thought about it when the marriage was collapsing. We should never have been together to start with. It seemed like the right thing to do at the time.
From my teens on I was a party animal. Always ready to hit a club, party or a bar. Anyplace I could meet a woman. I was awful. I wonder what I missed not getting to know them.
This whole time I was bouncing up and down along my little crazy train. I couldn't keep my life together. Too many DUI's and County time.
Every time I was sent to Drunk School.
At the intake interview I explained why I drank. Boredom and trying to get laid.
No, I answered, I don't think about getting drunk.
No, I don't drink at home.
No, I don't drink alone.
No, I don't sneak drinks at work.
All to those knowing nods, sure I'm lying my brains out. One counselor implied I was an alcoholic because I'm Irish on both sides.
I'd go to AA meetings and listen. I couldn't understand why I was there. I heard horror stories Hiding and stealing liquor. Loaded at work. No alcohol? Mouthwash. I was lost and confused. My life was in shambles and I wondered why I was even bothering if I was such a low life reprobate.
Finally someone listened to what I was saying at these intake interviews.
Sent me to a shrink He diagnosed me. When I was younger the treatment and diagnoses weren't there. I wonder how life would have been different at times. But I don't dwell.
Anyway, I was prescribed Depakote. I'd rather be crazy. It simply flattened me out. Instead of an emotional graph that looked like the Rockies I had one that resembled Kansas.
I was numb. No emotional response to anything. An avid reader books elicited no response. Music, a love of mine? Mazak was fine. Film? Gigli was as good as Casablanca to me. So I stopped.
My GP and I decided to try anti-depressants. Helps even me out. Levels the peaks and fills in the valleys a bit. I had no insurance and these meds were pricey. So I've been off and on for years. Then I met Maralyn my second. I discovered something. Structure did wonders. It seems to lessen the severity of my swings. Which is good because she drank. Mare eventually drank herself to death. At fifty.
I had kept us together for years and suddenly, I was ALONE. Her Daughter I'd raised went to live with an aunt in fucking Kentucky. At least it was Lexington and her uncle was on faculty at UK.
So here I am. Me. the dog. And a cat who wasn't overly fond of me. It was mutual. I collapsed into major clinical depression. I lost my love. I was in a job I'd hated for years and a place I couldn't afford that was full of ghosts.
Alone I sifted through the detritus a family accumulates. I moved. into a studio. Still barely fucti0onal. My GP got me right. My dog may have saved my life. Again structure. I was devastated when she passed in my arms a few years later.
On and off the meds. Drove my credit into the dirt. Only able to work my trade as a temp.
I bounce up and down. I can usually feel a bout coming. I cope. To a point. The lows are lower as I move through life and the highs are dizzying.
Up, I have an arrogance as to i can accomplish anything. I get angry when I find I'm wrong. The lows reduce me to a puddle of self hating protoplasm. My GP found me a generic I can afford. It's helping. So I am looking forward to the ACA. Improved mental health care would be a boon to those around me.
So since I do better with imposed structure, me being unemployed and alone is seldom a good combination. Throw in my cataracts making me legally blind and my trade booming at the moment I can't practice it . So I shrug and persevere. I pick myself up over and over. Start again hoping. Smiling at times through anguish and despair knowing it'll be ok eventually
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