So I’m depressed again
23/03/2011It was not my intention to turn this blog into some mock re-enactment of the bipolar curve, but…
shit…
It’s on me again.
Another day, another decade
31/12/2009Throughout the year I’ve been wanting to write a blog post about some of the personal stuff that has been going on lately. There’s been a lot of it. Every time I wrote a post however I decided it was too revelatory, too emo, too whiny or too something else. This is a personal post, and it’s probably too “something”, but I decided to go ahead and post it anyway in the spirit of “not letting shit go unsaid just because you can’t decide on all the words.”
I was twittering the other day about how the noughties have been a pretty eventful decade for me on a personal level, building up to a crescendo and culminating in a pretty spectacular oh-nine.
I feel it’s worth writing a post about. Whether it’s worth reading a post about it I leave to the discretion of the reader.
Medication
24/08/2009Copyright be damned1!
As a bipolar on lithium I’ve experienced having my creativity, eagerness and mind numbed and agonized over it in no small measure.
Accordingly this strip really struck a chord with me:
- At least until I get a C&D. ↩
Minor update
5/03/2009There’s been radio silence here for a while now, interestingly not because I haven’t had anything to share with you from my regular rambling repertoire of reprehensibly reckless recommendations. In fact I have quite a few posts I’ll be happy to perpetrate quite shortly.
No the cause of my negligence is that I’ve acquired a new affliction. Symptoms are pretty serious and include terrible insomnia, severe anxiety, sudden bursts of emotions and reoccurring nausea.
It’s a chronic condition, and only rarely does anyone get rid of it in their lifetime, and in those cases it’s always resulting in terrible depression (well… except in cases of people that are already severely suffering from disturbing mental issues).
I’ve already spent a fortune on different necessities to treat the condition in the proper manner and I can clearly see I’m not going to get rich in this lifetime.
The name of this curious syndrome? Let me present: Mathilde Trømborg Jacobsen.
That’s right. I’ve been fatherized, daddyfied and papa’ed and holy crap has my life ever changed. Firstly I’ve never been so much in love, and secondly I’ve never been quite so fucking tired before. (This from a man with chronic periodical insomnia. Not the kind you brag about. The kind that hurts.)
It’s been said countless times before, and it will be repeated to the end of time; Having a child is a crazy, lovely, terrifying, messed up experience. That part about it being a treasured and beautiful experience for the father to attend the birth? Bullshit! We will be there; but do not be fooled, prospective mothers, we are there for your sake. There isn’t one of us that doesn’t secretly yearn for the days when the mans role during child birth was to nervously smoke a lot of cigarettes in the waiting room.
Mathilde, being a daughter of mine, entered the world explosively and wreaking havoc and mayhem to all that beheld her. And, well… A hundred years ago I would be a single parent. Then again; A hundred years ago I’d be wearing my trousers pulled up to my nipples, probably worrying about the potato harvest and speaking in a weird staccato. The point is; It was dramatic. Very dramatic. 1 But both lovely mother and lovely daughter are now doing well.
So we’ve established that I do love my sweet little imp, but boy does she ever scare the crap out of me some times. On the subway this morning after spending about 4 the last 48 hours asleep I had to distract myself and get an outlet, so these tweets what was I came up with:
- I’m sure I’m losing followers Like I’m spending money with all this spam, but so be it. The torture of parents by infants needs a voice.
- FACT: an infants screams are designed by evolution to drive (grown-up) people completely bonkers. Much like the stench of corpses.
- FACT: Depriving someone of sleep is a well known form or torture (or “enhanced interrogation” for you yanks).
- FACT: The result of the two latter excrutiating experiences combined is far, far greater than the sum of their parts.
- FACT: Infants have no wish to cause you harm. It is simply in their nature. Much like that frog-riding scorpion. This does not help.
- FACT: Much like a camel can retain impressive amounts of water an infant can save up to three times its own weight in poop in its body.
- FACT: Infants live by and enforce Murphys extended law. This is why they will strike exactly when you are about to enter REM sleep.
- But she really loves me. I shouldn’t have made her so mad. It’s all my fault really.
Well. It says it all I guess. Still:
She is my sweet little princess (think Leia, not Cinderella), and I vow to spend my life protecting and supporting her, and make sure she has somewhere she can feel safe, no matter how crappy of a human she may turn out to become. “It’s bullshit to say that my life now has meaning”. It already seemed very meaningful to me, but it’s very much true that my life now has a slightly different focus, and yes, another meaning entirely. That, my friends, is all.
- To expand on this; From entering labor to the birth was over; 25 minutes. Sounds lovely but not a sign of a healthy birth. ↩
Money doesn’t talk. It swears.
20/05/2008One of the really shitty sides to bipolarity for me has been the exceptional ease with which I ignored bills and debts during both the up and down periods. Whether I was too depressed to manage or too manic to care doesn’t really make a difference. The result is that I find myself today in debt. Badly. No really badly.
Ever since I started taking some responsibility and pills I’ve been on the case of getting straight with all my creditors. It’s an uphill battle, let me tell you.
I estimate that the 7 months or so I’ve shilled about $18.000 in old debts. Now, that’s on top of the rent and regular expenses, so on my salary (which isn’t all that bad) it leaves a pretty hard dent in my pocket. This, as so many things, would not have been possible without my girlfriend. It may sound pretty fucked up to anyone who hasn’t had this problem, but getting past that dread of window envelopes is a pretty rough deal. And don’t get me started on just how fucking depressing it is to keep being surprised by some new gargantuan debt every time you think you’re starting to get control of the situation.
The important thing is to just keep chopping away at that mountain as long as it takes, and be upfront with all your creditors. Some day I’ll be out of debt. Just not some day soon.