Bipolar time - My Top Five Hallucinations

1) The praying girl.  This was a recent development t

I do not know how hallucinations you may have, but the bipolar group of the (1) and (II) varieties can really be amazing or terrifying.  Or, just so what, there's a Hobbit in my underwear drawer, and yeah, he likes me, OK with that? Huh?

I am a not a doctor, but I do have some experience in the business, having been bipolar for a long time.  And, now that Showtime's thriller program Homeland (and everyone' s favorite BP girl Claire Danes [as Carrie] was last seen running from an execution in Iran) has wrapped up its third season and our latest BP Disorder heroine in Black Box has just begun her show (with hallucinations, but only the patients so far),  I wanted to contribute to the lull (hmmmm...) by sharing some of my favorite hallucinations of the past few years.

5) Radio KNUT - this one is the usual music from a distant radio.  This is a more common hallucination, but mine comes normally when I'm in my house on colder days when the furnace comes on and the hot air swooshes through the grate.  I am then entertained by voices and songs harmless, and in some cases, soothing.  Occasionally, I make requests for some Tony Bennett, or Sinatra, but I'm not heard.  More Glen Miller is all I get.

I look at it all like this, and part of my philosophy comes from some time spent with Buddhist teachers.  From the site bipolar.about.com - Bipolar disorder is an illness that affects thoughts, feelings, perceptions and behavior ... even how a person feels physically. It's probably caused by electrical and chemical elements in the brain not functioning properly (see What Causes Bipolar Disorder? for more information), and is usually (but not always) found in people whose families have a history of one or more mental illnesses.

While we're at it, let's be clear about something: a mental illness is one that affects the mind, not one that's all in the mind.

That's a pretty good layman's term definition of BP.  I will add that from the Buddhist perspective, there is the diseased brain and there is the mind (that part of you that when you are thinking seems to be talking right above your eyes and inside the skill.  Close your eyes and think of your favorite movie or show. Now watch what you picked. See where it is? Yep. Okay, open your eyes). The mind is you, your being, or soul, or whatever works. I'm stuck in here as you are stuck in your body. If the body is diseased, it will effect you and the brain you are using to function in the body.  BP is not your fault, nor is MS (for my fellow MS'ers out there).  I use this to remind myself that a hallucination is just that. Not reality. It does not mean I can't enjoy it, though.

4) Flowers.  Right after I turn off the light at bedtime, and lay back on the pillow, the show begins. With a small nitelight in our parlor giving any brightness to our bedroom, its just enough to see the black flowers begin their dance across the bed covers.  Seemingly held together by the daintiest lace, the flowers move and swirl on silent winds that make no sense to me, but I just watch.  Sometimes. Other times I'll extend my hand out and increase the swirl. The flowers respond, growing and moving to what movements I make.  Last night my wife sat up with me while I "played" with the flowers, and telling her what I could see.  Jackie is used to this from me.  She asked me if I was concerned about this and I said no, its just part of what I am.  But it makes me think sometimes that there is more to all this.

3) Bugs.  Living near a forest has made the outside a bug filled zone through much of the summer and fall.  Actually, it's not that bad when you consider that most of them are flying around in my head.  But I do go through a lot of Raid.

2) People in the house.  When my wife was working and I was home, I'd be writing or whatever and I was reading, I was, at times, thinking there were people in the house aside from yours truly, or, if not people, then the glass angel on our dresser bedroom cabinet is after me.  

   >becomes>

1) The praying girl - She appears among the flowers that are dancing around the bed but she is kneeling and slightly above Jackie, and praying.  She is dark outline, of course, but she is in prayer form.  When I told Jackie what I could see, she said "Well, at least she's praying for me!"

Look if you are hearing and seeing things that you don't recognize, you need to speak to a doctor.  They may be able to help.  I know what my hallucinations are.  I do not fear them. 

Thanks for reading

Should I invite the voices in my head to Thanksgiving?

One of my heroines is Marcia Purse.  She's the voice of About.com's Bipolar Disorder Guide.  The site is filled with info about bipolar, the various levels, treatments, and hope.  But her November 13 issue struck a chord with me, in fact several.  Marsha related that the voices she hears, her hallucinations, sing, or rather hum, to her.  She heard everything from the Mexican Hat Dance to Perry Como being hummed solely into her right ear.  Her psychiatrist has urged her to tell the hummers to shut up.  Marcia is rallying and will get things right soon.  Both she and her column are valuable resources.

For me, the singers start mostly during silence, like Marsha's, but also there are voices when the heat comes on.  The voices, like a number of people talking, comes through the heat ducts and tell me stories but its so confusing I can't concentrate on what anyone, assuming there is anyone, is saying.  I've never heard the lines you hear in the movies with hallucinations such as "Kill yourself!" or "Shoot the President!" or "Go on American Idol. Really! You're that talented!".  Just mumbled stories.

Right now I've got the jazz station from Spotify on and the heat is whooshing around the kitchen but I'm fairly certain it's just me here this afternoon.  But then I've got to get up and go stand under a heat duct to get the full effect, and I'm just trying to get this done.  Maybe later.

Hallucinations can occur in folks with bipolar disorder when the depression or mania has psychotic features.  Taking a look at what some contributors added to Marcia's site made me feel good because I'm always seeing black bugs flying around the house (I mostly thought I needed new glasses, but bugs in Northern Hemisphere winter? Nah.) and I regaled readers some months back about my being watched by the glass angel in our bedroom.

This angel....

 

which to me is like this Angel....

 

 

 from Doctor Who.

 

So it sounds like as long as you're keeping the mind as engaged as you can on positive, pro active things, like moving your fingers over a keyboard, the singers/whisperers stay off where they belong.  But no matter what, you should be sharing this with your doctors.

 

I don't think I really need to invite the whisperers in my head to Thanksgiving, as they'll come anyway. Just glad we don't have to feed them. Maybe they have their own version of the day.  "These hallucinatory mashed potatoes are as miserable as you are! What? no green bean bundles? Okay that's it.  Everyone, Bohemian Rhapsody! Ah, one, ah two..."

 

"Is this the whole meal?

Pass the dark meat to me,

How was the car ride?

Why'd you vote for Mitt Romney?"

 

More on Thanksgiving later.  Thanks for reading.  The voices in my head are telling me they need coffee.  They should get their own car.

 

Thanks, Marcia, for keeping us informed.

 

Disney for the insane and the slow moving Day 3

Welcome to Wednesday.  This will be very short.  In the morning, which for me started at 4:30 AM, because MS wanted it to, and I sat in the early morning peace on our balcony.  The only sounds were the burble of the swimming pool in the distance, the chirp of the crickets (the only bug allowed in Disney World, except bees but they're considered Cast Members for flower upkeep) and the grinding sound of trucks making things appear or disappear as needed.  Clouds rolled across the early morning sky, threatening and then delivering rain but stopping before park openings.  I dozed a bit more, and full morning came.

We had breakfast, shopped, and relaxed before lunch with friends and their enchanting three year old granddaughter.  A boat ride back to Downtown Disney, farewells, and watching the World Series.

I'm using a different browser this time, so let's see if its any better.  Maybe this picture will show:

Okay, that's a start.  We're hitting the parks tomorrow (Thursday).

Angels in the Swimming Pool

I'm sitting here with a home made ice pack on my left shoulder.  The pain and discomfort on my left side has grown over the last few weeks to the extent that what was an occassional tingling is now a constant, albeit not cringing, throb with tingling down the arm to my left hand, dancing all tingly like in my ring and middle fingers.  The ring finger is bopping to its own music even now.  Lucky I don't need it to type. 

So today is water therapy day.  I was hesitant to make the drive today as the Mets' R. A. Dickey was going for his 20th win and with the pain in my arm, etc. etc.  But I put on the big boy pants and went down the road to Seton Health anyway.  And, as usual, was glad I did.  The therapist had a few moments before splash in time and we talked about the arm pain.

"Maybe you can ice it," she said.  "Tone down the exercise.  See how it goes.  The shoulder could just be inflamed.  If you find its not changed by Tuesday (our next session), then maybe its inflammation not from exercise, but is being pushed by MS."

Maybe. Always maybe with this thing.

So into the routine, and into the water, bobbing around like an apple in a Halloween tub, in five feet of warm water.  I'm the youngest guy in the pool, sometimes the only guy, some times just the youngest, and I stay in my little corner moving arms and legs, using water weights lighter than I've used before.  Damn, this hurts.  Okay, not Spanish inquisition pain, but that's not my MS. I have the nibbled into a wheelchair by ducks version.  Longer breaks between stints of work.  Later, the therapist turns on water jets and the soothing spray numbs my back and arm throbbing for ten minutes or so.  I gab with the ladies on good places for dinner.

The hour passes and its time to head out.  Just before I leave the pool, a beautiful young lady of about ten years of age, and her mom, stepped into the water therapy room.  The girl's body was skin and bones.  She had the look of a child who has seen perilous times, but has come through it all with an amazing smile.

And a limp.  But take her from land and place her in the water, and she floated with wide eyes and a radiant grin.

"This is like walking on the moon!" she said as she moved serenely from one edge of the pool to the other.  Her mom smiled wanly and excused herself.  Her child was in safe hands.

I hope she does walk on the moon.

So, another week of doctor's visits and changes in prescriptions.  We doubled the Nuvigil to 200 Mgs and MY AREN'T WE UP AND PEPPY!  Time to do the laundry! Again! Done? Go next door and get the neighbors!  Do theirs! Finished that novel? Great, write the next!  Use exclamation points!

Quoting my psychiatrist:

"You've got MS and are bipolar.  There's nothing you can do about the MS,

so looking at your bipolar status, you can be depressed or manic.  Personally,

I recommend manic.  Within reason."

 

 

I'm reasoning as manically as I can.  But then I think of that sweet child moving about the pool, feeling weightless and free, if for only a short time in her busy life. Tis well.

 

 

All of us in that pool are damaged, looking to hold on to the side or feel free to float and dance.  Like angels dancing in the morning sun.  I see them there in that water every Tuesday and Thursday, whether helping or being helped.  There is no hope in my disease. But there is amazing peace. Like walking on the moon.