Keep On Keeping On

Greetings again, readers, I am back after an extremely long period away. Much has happened, that I’m not at the moment up to explaining—suffice to say, I’ve had my medication drastically adjusted and suddenly I’ve had an exciting improvement in my cognitive abilities which I’m absolutely thrilled about reporting! What has happened is my mood stabilizer, Depakote, has been decreased whilst my antipsychotic Risperdal has been increased. This new concoction, along with a lower dosage of my non-habit forming anti-anxiety med Gabapentin, has me actually multi-tasking (surprise!), reading the Wall Street Journal, dialoguing with husband Michael about current events, watching streaming services, listening to a wide array of music, and back here ever-so-slowly learning to write again. Could it even be possible for me to pick up a book and actually read it?!? One can only hope.

Now, I’m currently sitting here, very early in the morning (again), thinking about a number of things. First, given everything I have gone through over the past TWO decades with cognitive impairment most definitely caused by the medication I have been prescribed, is it any surprise to anyone that people diagnosed with bipolar disorder and put on these medications would resist taking these said medications?! Um, hello, can I accurately explain how painful it is to be surrounded by books you once loved to read but can no longer get through one page of text? It’s frustrating, you feel stupid, you feel like you are missing out on this wonderful, thought-provoking world that everyone else can enjoy. This, in turn, makes you want to flush said medication down the toilet. 

But wait.

Those who have read through my blog know this is the juncture where I try to feebly issue the warning that not taking your medication (exactly) as prescribed can lead to a series of very, very unfortunate events—some quite expensive (buying cars, houses, etc.), some quite unnerving (wandering through dangerous places in the dead of night), and some just entirely unexplainable with current words in the English language.

But secondly this morning, I’ve been reflecting on the conversation I had with my therapist yesterday, where I mused if I even was bipolar. Yes, after all these years I still remember quite clearly the conversation I had with my former psychiatrist, where he came oh-so-close to saying he doubted I had bipolar disorder—and I latched on to that with such unabashed hope that maybe, just maybe, I could be free of the dreaded medication….

So here we are, AGAIN, at this juncture of To Med Or Not To Med, a street corner that I often come to time and time again. Waiter, pass me my pill tray.

Thirdly, I have spent a little time this a.m. researching the effects of marijuana (I’m talking street-grade here) on psychotic events in bipolars, and as expected there is nothing available to date. I’m doing this because I’m harboring a suspicion that perhaps it was extremely powerful marijuana that led to my first psychotic break, which led to my hasty bipolar diagnosis. If true, might we argue that continued abuse of street-grade marijuana led to repeated psychotic breaks (and hospitalizations), not “bipolar mania” run amok? Alas, one can only hope, though I guess in my current position, age 56, on bipolar medications for 20 years, I am left with just trusting the psychiatrists and taking whatever pills they deem appropriate for whatever I am cursed with having. I will try hard not to get too down, too frustrated. I will continue on my sober journey, continue doing the Next Right Thing. Keep pushing towards better functioning. 

Keep On Keeping On….right?