I’ve been busy pondering the mystery of why I feel *more* depressed after not drinking for nearly a month.

Then Havi provided a clue, with a link to Bipolar Bears on her blog.

She also noted that “Depression isn’t funny.”

I say: “To hell with that! Because *I am* depressed, I have free rein to make light of the darkness.” (warning: impending silliness)

I consulted the DVG/W (Diagnosis Via Google/Wikipedia) to see if either of these terms (“bipolar” or “bear”) applied to me.

I’m fairly certain I’m not a bear, even though some of the symptoms seem to fit:

Common characteristics of modern bears include a large body with stocky legs

bears are typically solitary animals.

large amounts of fermented fruits affect their behaviour

can stand on their hind feet and sit up straight with remarkable balance.

Their ears are rounded.

Then there are the parts that don’t quite fit (aside from the sitting up straight thing):

Bears are aided by an excellent sense of smell, and despite their heavy build and awkward gait, they can run quickly and are adept climbers and swimmers.

Whew! Definitely not me. I was worried there for a second.

The bipolar thing turned out to be another story completely.

Bipolar disorder is a condition in which people experience abnormally elevated (manic or hypomanic) and abnormally depressed states for a period of time in a way that interferes with functioning.

Ding. Ding. Ding. That sounds like a scientific way to describe the emotional roller coaster I’ve been on for the past…oh…all my life.

Signs and symptoms of the depressive phase of bipolar disorder include persistent feelings of sadness, anxiety, guilt, anger, isolation, or hopelessness; disturbances in sleep and appetite; fatigue and loss of interest in usually enjoyable activities; problems concentrating; loneliness, self-loathing, apathy or indifference; depersonalization; loss of interest in sexual activity; shyness or social anxiety; irritability, chronic pain (with or without a known cause); lack of motivation;

All that’s missing is my photo.

And why, out of all the symptoms, do I *not* get the one that might be useful: loss of appetite.

You know what sucks more than being depressed? Being depressed and gaining weight. Believing that the only thing that stands between you and the rope is a cookie. Or a bag of cookies. Or a bag of cookies AND some broccoli. (I’m working on developing an addiction to fresh vegetables. I’ll let you know how it goes.)

Good thing there’s the counteracting fatigue and apathy.

Like yesterday…
Me: “I want ice cream.”
Joe: “OK, let’s go for ice cream.”
Me: Takes a long moment to think: I would have to get dressed (translation: changing the clothes I’ve been wearing for 4 days straight. Note that “showering” does not even cross my mind). And walk to the car. And <insert huge sigh here> choose a flavour. Finally speaks: “Nah.”

Near as I can tell, according the experts at Wikipedia, I am quite probably Bipolar II (Damn! If I have to have a mental illness, why does it have to be the sequel? Sequels always suck. Like what is this? Bipolar II – Return of the Polaroids? I can see the reviews: “…drags in places, not quite as crazy and madcap as the original.” But the plot develops before your very eyes!)

Diagnosis is based on the person’s self-reported experiences, as well as observed behavior.

there is no blood test to confirm the disorder.

Diagnosing bipolar disorder is often difficult, even for mental health professionals.

I was officially diagnosed with depression many years ago (assuming “scrip for anti-depressants” = diagnosis). I brought my doctor a list of depression symptoms I found on the internet, with the ones I was experiencing highlighted in yellow.

It would have been faster to just highlight the 2 I *didn’t* have: which were thoughts of suicide and loss of appetite. (Nothing gives me loss of appetite. Not even the stomach flu. I don’t even think death can get between me and food. I’ll be popping up out of the coffin as soon as they bring the snack trays around at my funeral.)

Doctor: “Here, have some Prozac.”

Then every visit afterward, at the end of the appointment, he was always offering: “would you like some more Prozac, some Paxil…how about some Wellbutrin?” Just like those guys selling popcorn and peanuts at the circus. But not in the “popcorn and peanut selling voice” – which would have been much more entertaining:

PAX-IL!! GET YOUR PAX-IL HERE! PRO-ZAC! WELL-BU-TRIN!!

I’m like: “No thanks, I kinda like orgasms.” (Those of you who have taken Paxil/Prozac will get the reference.)

After that experience, I implemented a new personal policy. I won’t take any medications unless I get to roll them myself or it comes in a bottle labeled “Old No. 7″

But I digress (hey wait, is that a symptom?)

Attention span is low and a person in a manic state may be easily distracted.

Ah yes, the manic side.

Judgment may become impaired; sufferers may go on spending sprees or engage in behavior that is quite abnormal for them. They may indulge in substance abuse, particularly alcohol

I wonder if selling everything, buying a sailboat, sailing 1,000 miles down the Baja after only 6 days of lessons, then realizing that I fucked up my entire life would qualify as “impaired judgment” (where is the line between that and “adventurous”?)

Let’s pretend for a moment that my decision was just “a courageous attempt to live life fully.” (And that transparently exposing my entire life – especially the embarrassing parts – on my blog does not constitute “lack of good judgment.”)

There’s also “Mania Lite” (now with less Kooky!)

Hypomania is generally a mild to moderate level of mania, characterized by optimism, pressure of speech and activity, and decreased need for sleep. Some people have increased creativity…

… Hypomania can be difficult to diagnose because it may masquerade as mere happiness, though it carries the same risks as mania.

Hypomania may feel good to the person who experiences it. Thus, even when family and friends learn to recognize the mood swings, the individual often will deny that anything is wrong.

Hmm…let’s see if I understand this correctly:

If I am self-reporting this, I could go to my doctor with a worrisome list: “Gee, Doc. I’m not sure what’s going on right now. I seem to be smiling a lot lately. Cracking jokes. Looking towards the future in positive way. I also have a lot of energy and a bit of creativity. I’m concerned I might be hypomanic.”

Or perhaps my friends (if they really loved me) might stage an intervention.

My concerned friend/family member: “I’m worried something is wrong with Patty.”
Other concerned friend/family member: “I think you’re right. She’s been awfully optimistic lately.”
CFFM: “And more energetic.”
OCFFM: “Ooo. She also claimed she was feeling “happy” the other day.”
CFFM: “Sounds like Bipolar II (Revenge of Paxil). We need to get her to a shrink immediately.”
OCFFM: “Yes. There are some severe risks. Look here:”

it has also been associated with creativity

higher accomplishment, elevated achievement motivation and ambitious goal setting

CFFM: “Oh. We can’t have that happen.”
OCFFM: “It gets worse…”

greater-than-average striving for goals, and sometimes obtaining them..

CFFM: “Ack! She’s *striving* already! Hopefully they can reverse the damage before she gets to the obtainment phase.”

Monty Python Guy: “This is silly!”

So I broke the news to Joe.

Me: “I think I’m bipolar.”
Joe: “I always thought so. I see the way you look at Karen.”
Me: “I was drunk. And besides, that’s not what I meant. <insert depression part of explanation here>”
Joe: “So what? That describes everyone I know. No one’s happy. They’re all bitching about their jobs, their kids, their lack of money.”

He has a point. Low grade depression seems to be normal. Accute happiness is the exception. (What would happen to anti-depressant sales if we accepted this? Would we start seeing commercials for anti-happiness pills?)

And what the hell is the difference between Bipolar II (Wellbutrin Strikes Back) or its even milder cousin cyclothymia and ordinary mood-swings? Where is the line? What do I need to do in order to claim the label? (Other than be officially diagnosed, medicated and possibly “admitted”?)

I like labels. As a person who enjoys analyzing, who likes to ask the question: “Why?” labels are incredibly useful. They make a good shorthand answer. A nice, clean, clinical replacement for the nasty things I might otherwise think about myself.

So I like the idea of being Bipolar II (Vengeance of the Anti-Psychotics).

Instead of being “lazy” and “useless” because I spent every last bit of energy I had hauling my ass out of bed and now I’m sitting here like a lump, staring into space, using every shred of willpower I have not to burst into tears or go *back* to bed…now I can just say: “Ah, I’m Bipolar II (Prozac Reprisal). This too shall pass.”

And when I’m on the other end of the swing, I can show up striving for ambitious goals…and I might even *attain* them, because, after all, I’m Bipolar II (the Rebound of Lithium)

Or, as Joe reminded me yesterday: I can just “Stop It!”

Warning: The following video makes fun of therapy and mental illness. Joe and I watched this some time ago (when I wasn’t in a depressed state) and laughed our asses off. Yesterday, he took one look at me, said “awww” then gave me a really long hug. I started to cry and he whispered: “Stop it!” I whispered back: “<insert video punchline here>” We both burst out laughing. I believe humour is healing.

Uh oh. I’m feeling a bit creative. Sense of humour is returning. I might be rapid-cycling.

I hope not, though, because that sounds too much like exercise.

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Tagged as: awareness, depression, silliness