A Black Hole Lined with Fire
Bipolar depression is different from unipolar depression in that it has so much more to give.
Unipolar is a nightmare in its own right, to be sure.
Now imagine being electrocuted while down in that muck and mire.
Or drowning while simultaneously being stung to death.
Or, like the image above implies, being sucked into a black hole and burning as you sink.
But you don’t stay at the bottom of this hole. It eventually spits you back out like a quasar from an actual black hole. You think you’re free only to find yourself being burned alive by the flames of mania that line the edge.
You’re up, but you’re so up that you’re dangerous to yourself and others. You’re the Happy Destroyer, blind to the carnage and destruction caused by your boundless energy and lack of reason.
And on the really bad days, you suffer mixed episodes. You fall into that black hole of despair as the energy of the fire pushes you from behind. Drives you into it. Then powers the despair, once you hit the bottom.
You feel alive with hopelessness.
You are energetically depressed!
It’s like starving and eating your own fingers to end the hunger pains.
Sorry for the graphic collage I just shared but if you’re among the uninitiated and wondering what a loved-one or friend may be feeling, the above gives you some idea of the intensity of bipolar depression.
My first panic attack felt just like this
I could even visualize it. I felt like I was sinking into a black hole in my very chest. It was terrifying. I could feel myself sinking into myself. Impossible but true.
And a buzzing energy that was sickening to feel vibrated through every cell in my body. I felt myself going insane but was conscious of it.
I begged God to let me pass out but it didn’t happen.
That little snippet from my life really nails why bipolar depression outranks clinical depression in the “ability-to-punish” chain of command.
Being depressed really and truly is disgustingly painful. Incredibly so. But bipolar depression kicks you while you’re down.
It robs you of even hoping for future peace because you know that when the fog is lifted and the sun comes back out, that same cheer-bringing sun will now cook you in its too-near flames.
You lose coming and going.
And if you’ve been dealing with bipolar depression for any length of time, your awareness is a punishment almost as bad as the symptoms themselves. You’re Icarus with a trampoline underneath and a lifetime supply of fresh wax on your back.
My doctor told me on the day he gave me my death sentence,
Psychiatry cannot help you. We’ve proven that exhaustively (as he patted my 3-inch thick medical file.) There are no more pills left to try. And you are 100% meds-resistant. Even if a new one came out, it wouldn’t work on you. We both know that. I wish you were ignorant of your reality.
I asked him why and he told me,
Because you are aware. You are my only patient who is just as happy to get the pills I give you but then goes home and researches why I gave them to you. You, alone out of all my clients, know how completely screwed you are and I hate that for you.
And he was right. I sort of wished I knew nothing too, because at the time, I was not even close to beginning the plan I now share freely with you on this site.
My system was two years away from completion and about two or three months from even being born as an idea. Bipolar depression was as constant as breathing.
But I wasn’t ignorant, nor could I afford to be or accept being so.
I felt no more strength but still had the spark of fight left in me
I began doing research with a mind that barely functioned and I continued to ask, “WHY?” to anyone who’d stop long enough to listen.
- I read books, websites, documents, and magazines
- I watched videos, medical shows, documentaries and movies that discussed bipolar depression
- I visited forums, called support centers, spoke with therapists and counselors
- I demanded that every court ordered agency that I was mandated to visit put all they had into helping me find info
- I tested the patience of every psychiatrist and medical doctor I ever sat before
- I regularly quizzed my family about the parts of my illness path which I could not remember, in order to find patterns
- I spoke with other sufferers and their support teams, be it family or institution
- I made endless journal entries so that I could see my thoughts laid out before me, allowing me to map sources and conclusions
- I pestered, bothered, annoyed and freaked out most everyone around me with my constant pursuit of knowledge and answers, never knowing if I’d ever find anything that worked
- Then I assembled all I had learned and experimented with, went with my gut and blind faith, and acted
I wish to save you guys from this huge and most painful discovery and learning curve
You’re here now, maybe in agony, maybe a supporter helping someone in pain. Save yourself the time, energy and money that I spent on all of the above.
Keep reading these pages – learning what I learned and doing what I did – and begin your own battle back to sanity and good health.
I write from the heart and my personal experiences. I got out when all I really dared to hope for was a smidgen of relief. Maybe you’ll have good news waiting just around the corner as I once did. Maybe you’ll only attain a lightening of your load.
But attempting to do what I did can only lead to some measure of improvement in your physical and mental health. It’s unavoidable due to the nature of the components of my system.
Clear it with your doc and give it a go.
Join me on the wellness side of the fence.