Enemy Mind @ Bipolar Writer: I’m Mentally Ill, Not Contagious!

Living With Bipolar
I view my Bipolar as “riding the crazy train.” So, as Ozzie says:

“All aboard!”
(Insert crazy laughter here.)

“Fasten your seat belts, this ride hugs the curves, your seat doubles as a floatation device and objects in mirror are closer than they appear.”

Ready?

I’m mentally ill, but I’m not contagious. You think that’s a strange statement? Well, most people avoid the mentally ill as if they’ll catch what we have. As if I would spew hot molten crazy all over you and infect you somehow.

Crazy, right?

Okay, point of clarification, since I am mentally ill, I am certified to use the word “crazy.” Don’t believe me? I’ve got the papers to prove it. So, if you are too PC to live in this imperfect world or offended by the word, crazy…

Suck it!

Moving on …
I had a tough time coming up with the title for my blog post. I couldn’t call it:

@ Depressed, Bipolar, OCD, ADHD Writer, could I?

Yes, those are the tags that describe me. Interesting, right? It’s as if I stepped up to the “crazy” buffet and said:

“Only one mental illness?
Hell no!
While I’m here, you might as well load me up!”

Damn! Just my luck. I have the grab bag of mental illness. So, I have my Bag O Swag, and I can’t return it. I just have to live with it.

Anyway, I’m not here to depress you or make you feel sorry for me. I’m here to shine a light in the dark and give you some insight into my thought process. This will be done in weekly blog posts. I’ll mainly focus on Bipolar, because, let’s face it, I’d run out of room if I didn’t limit my focus.

You’ve all heard the technical definition of Bipolar. Basically, it is severe mood swings, characterized by depressive states and manic episodes. Or, as I call it, “Depths of Despair” to “King of the World.” As you can imagine, King of the World can be kinda fun…sometimes.

But, King of the World, can be dangerous too. I can do reckless and risky things because I think I’m invincible. Well, that’s how I acted back in the day when I was young. And I can say, back in the day, because I’m old! When I hear a 20-something say, back in the day… Grrrrr!

Getting back to the reckless behavior, I’m much better now, thank you. Although, I can get really agitated during my highs/mania. I make some questionable decisions, especially on Twitter. It’s kind of like drunk Tweeting. It seems like a great idea at the time, but…

For instance, here is a recent mania Tweet to a guy who got on my nerves:

“What a piece of work is man…
His douchebagery knows no bounds.”

See how I worked in a Shakespeare quote? Now, at the time, judging from his Tweets, the guy was clearly a douche, so I thought it was perfectly acceptable. But my feelings now? Not so much. Also, when I’m King of the World, frankly I can be a mean super bitch.

There are people makin Tweets that are meant to uplift and inspire. And that is wonderful. But when I’m in my mania phase, I’m like, hell no! I’m not gonna let that one slide!

Observe…

His Tweet: Write down your goals and put ‘em where you can see ‘em
each and every day. Then go make ‘em happen!

My Tweet: Or watch as they mock you.
Alas, time has made me her bitch.

Okay, pretty awful, right? He had a positive message and I crapped all over his Tweet! Well, after I disembarked from the crazy train, I looked over my past days Tweets.

“Holy shit! Did I really do all that?”

Yea, I had to make amends.

Final thoughts…

If you are thinking about doing any “impaired” Tweeting, please reconsider. The reputation you save could be your own.

Autism: An Hour In His Shoes

With Autism: You See the World Differently

 

Processing…

When my son was younger, he had trouble with information intake. Since he had no filters in place, information would bombard his senses in an endless stream. The best way I can describe it is this:

Taking a Test At School

You are given a simple command. You have one hour to complete a multiple choice test in class.

A regular student would filter out all the extraneous stimuli and focus on the test exclusively.

An Autistic student cannot filter out the incoming data stream. There are too many variables vying for his attention.

Sight:

The overhead lights are bright and hurt your eyes. Fluorescent tubes flicker in a random pattern and emit a low frequency hum that is distracting.

Noise:

Voices: teachers and students… the ticking clock… the teachers voice… the scratching of a pencil on paper… papers rustling… students: breathing… sneezing… coughing… etc.

Time:

Do I have enough of it? How many minutes do I devote to each question? What if I don’t finish in time? What if there are trick questions?

What it Feels Like…

Driving 100mph on the Autobahn while taking a test, reading, watching a movie and carrying on a conversation.

Now, do all of these things well and at the same time.

This exercise lasted one hour. Now, picture your every waking moment progressing this way.

MineCraft
Ender Dragon

By

Ian Phillips

Autism: The Gift That Keeps On Giving

My Son Has Autism.

He was officially diagnosed at age 3, but I knew long before then. When he was a baby he was jaundiced and not gaining weight properly even though I was breast feeding him. He suffered from constant ear infections. He cried all the time, wouldn’t look me in the eye and tried to pull away from me when I held him. It was heartbreaking. I cried a lot too.

Milestones

He was late hitting all his developmental milestones. Crawling… Walking… Talking…

Because of his constant ear infections, he had an excess of fluid and wax build up behind his ear drums. He could not hear properly so he did not learn to speak properly. I was the only one who could understand him. The doctor put tubes in his ears to drain the fluid. After that he could hear, but he developed Echolalia. He could repeat what he heard, like a parrot, but it might not make sense in conversation. He could only repeat phrases he heard on SpongeBob SquarePants! Just picture that… So we communicated in our SpongeBob language.

The Diagnosis

At age three we took my son to a developmental pediatrician who diagnosed him with High Functioning Autism and ADHD. She said it was the most severe case of ADHD she had ever seen. I asked her: “Does that mean we win a prize?”

My son spent most of the visit under her desk searching for things. He found broken glass, thumbtacks, nails and staples. He dumped the pile on her desk like a present. He was very proud. She was surprised. I was embarrassed.

The Therapy

My son was enrolled in a special needs school at age 3. He received cognitive, behavioral and speech therapy. I remain forever grateful to his teachers. In less than 6 months he was speaking in complete sentences! He still had a mild form of Echolalia, but at least we could move past total SpongeBob Speak.

At age 4 he learned to read. I was surprised and I thanked his teachers. They were surprised as well. They had never taught him. When I asked him about learning to read he said that he had taught himself. I was dumbfounded. He said: “Well, I thought it was time.”

The Mind of Autism

My son has always been inquisitive and intelligent. He was always asking questions about the way things work and the nature of the universe. He is very interested in physics, quarks, dark matter, wormholes, etc. Starting at age 4 he began his endless barrage of questions. One was about black holes. He asked me, since black holes pull in everything in their path and light cannot escape, does that mean that the other end of the black hole lets out into a light universe?

WTF?

Where did that come from? He surprises me constantly. He also makes my brain hurt. So I made a new rule:

No Physics Before Breakfast!

No Filters

Because of my son’s autism he has no filters and doesn’t think before he speaks. This can get pretty tricky at times. Sometimes hilarious. We stopped at a convenience store once and my son observed a man smoking a cigarette. He pointed at the and said: Cigarettes are bad for you. You are going to get lung cancer and die!” The man looked at my son then at his cigarette. “You’re probably right.” He threw down the cigarette and walked away.

Once at church, during a particularly long winded prayer and following silent prayer, my son’s voice boomed for all to hear:

“Is this ever going to end?”

Now, I was thinking the exact same thing, but I wasn’t going to admit it. I was mortified and wanted the ground to open up and swallow me. The church thought it was hilarious judging by the laughter.

More to Follow…

This is my first post about my son’s autism. I will post more articles on a regular basis. It is my son’s journey, but I’m right there on the train with him.