Tag Archive | manic depression

UNMASKED

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What happens when your world is shattered from within? When you can’t run nor hide from yourself? UNMASKED is not just about someone dealing with Bipolar Disorder, it’s also a story of hope. Of how a person can spiral so low but still manage to fight against the turmoil and find one’s self. It is everyone’s story of trial and tribulation, how going through the hottest of fire can make us stronger and wiser if we hold on long enough and refuse to give up.

UNMASKED is now available at Amazon.com, Central.com.phSmashwords.com, and Blink.ph

You can also order through https://www.facebook.com/genevievewisen/ by sending me a Private Message (PM) and stating how many books you want to order and your method of payment (Cash on Delivery/COD, Eastwest Bank, LBC, or Paypal) along with your name, address, and contact number.

Get your copy now! 🙂

 

 

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Of Bipolar and baby

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My son, Jace Gabriel, will be two months on May 3 and I still can not get enough of him; I doubt I ever will.

I remember when I had an inkling that I was pregnant, unlike a number of women wanting a baby, I was nervous. The day I confirmed my pregnancy, I was scared, nervous, and a little bit happy. I was at the mall and I immediately called my husband to tell him. I almost cried. I don’t know about other women with Bipolar who became pregnant but I was overwhelmed with a mixture of emotions and none of them was pure joy or elation.

Saying that the whole nine months was difficult is an understatement. Yes, I did not have any problems such as pre-eclampsia or gestational diabetes but my mind was and is not stable. I had Bipolar and not being able to take any medicines for it while I was pregnant aggravated my condition. I had major attacks at times – hitting myself (luckily not on the stomach), stomping my feet, hurting my arms and face, screaming until my throat hurt – and it scared and worried my husband as well as my mother. Me? I kept promising myself to do better next time, that I will control myself next time. But “next time” never came. When I wasn’t having my attacks, I saw my pregnancy as something so weird that I even likened it to the movie Alien where the main star got pregnant with an alien. I hardly felt overjoyed when I felt my baby’s kicks, I usually got goosebumps. All in all, being pregnant felt very surreal for me.

Fast forward to March 3, 2016. My psychiatrist recommended a C-section for me, fearing that I would have an attack in the middle of labor pains and the actual labor itself. As I was being wheeled towards the surgery room with my husband by my side all I can feel was trepidation. I was agitated and it was because I knew I was going to be injected with anaesthesia and they will inject it in the spine. I was actually crying because of that. I don’t really remember it but according to my husband I was on the verge of an attack.

When my son finally arrived at 8:59 am, I didn’t cry tears of joy. I didn’t feel any happiness when I saw him. I wasn’t gleeful. Truth be told, I wasn’t anything – I did not feel anything. For days and weeks, I struggled with my feelings towards my son. Why didn’t I feel loving towards him? Why do I keep looking at him strangely? Where’s the feeling of love every new mothers rave about? And the ultimate question every moms ask – Am I a bad mom???

Along with his birth came the Bipolar medications that prevented me from breastfeeding my son as well as taking care of him since the medication came with a sedating effect and I  was asleep for 15 hours and sometimes more.

It took two weeks, almost three, and not taking my medication just so I can take care and bond with him for me to feel the first stirrings of motherly love. It was like a dam slowly getting cracks until it burst. And now I know without an ounce of doubt, I love my son more than my life. Oh, my medications still keeps me from fully taking care of him and my attacks are still there that I sometimes actually felt hate towards my innocent baby boy twice but that’s how it is – for now. I can fight my attacks but everyone with Bipolar knows how futile it is. During the good days, I feel like I can do anything, I make plans just like everyone and bond with my baby but on bad days I am a wreck, non-stop crying, screaming, and hurting myself. One thing I am grateful though is that after twice feelings hate towards my boy, I now look at him with a gentleness I didn’t know I can muster during my severest of attacks. No matter how bad my attacks get, whenever I see Jace or hear him crying I am slowly brought back to my senses. Before him, only my husband can do that to me.

Bipolar and babies don’t mix, I found that out the hard way, but it is and will always be worth it just to see my precious son’s toothless smiles and grins, his happy gurgles, and his milestones. The nine months of hell was easily replaced with a lifetime of heaven with my son’s love.

 

 

E-book Version! ^_^

Hello everyone! How have you been? I know it’s been a while, more on that later 😉

Despite the absence, I have finally made an e-book version of UNMASKED! Yehey! 😀 😀 😀 The available formats are: epub, mobi, pdf, lrf, pdb, txt, and html. Do check it out at Smashwords.com. I’ll be making an e-book version for the Kindle as well  so please watch out for that ^_^

Smashword

How?

How can

you explain

a loneliness,

a sadness

so pervasive

that

no words

can describe?

When

all that is left

is a hole

while

everything around

is a bustle

of activity?

How can you

explain

anguish, grief,

and strife

when

the war being waged

is within?

When all that

is left

is a pit

while

everything around

is

a merry celebration

how

can you explain

shadows –

overwhelming emptiness

when

I can’t even

explain myself?

A Bipolar’s Manic Life

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Have you ever been to hell while alive? It’s like waking up from a deep slumber but instead of feeling well-rested, your head is swimming in constant emotional and mental turmoil. It’s being born again with all the misery and hollowness in the world put inside you and you feel like bursting any moment. Your mind is a jumble of mismatched wires and your heart is beating but you feel lifeless.

I have Bipolar II which means I have more manic depressive episodes than high or elevated moods. More often, I sleep the whole day because I feel like my energy has been drained but there are also times when I am restless and can not sit still or stay in one place. There are times when I am overly excited or happy and have grandiose plans regarding my life, and life in general. Other times, I shop compulsively. I am sometimes the most pleasant, enjoyable company you will have, and at others I am the most obnoxious, sarcastic bitch in the room. I am prone to suicidal tendencies and hurting myself. More so to feel something than to deliberately inflict pain on my being. I have Bipolar, not insanity.

Many an article both here in the Philippines and abroad have featured suicides due to depression and others wonder how these people could do it. What on earth possessed them to end their life, to give up just like that? As someone who have thought of killing herself on more than one occasion, I may not be able to speak for everyone but this I know to be true: the misery within, the silent plea for help when we don’t even know if we want it or not, and the conflict between losing & finding ourself  are all too great a burden that all we want to do is end it. End the chaos plaguing us, for it is a plague, a never-ending plague that only settles but never leaves.

Sad to say, only a few people with Bipolar get the much needed support and unconditional love from their family and friends. On my end, I am not criticizing any friends – nor family – I have but they do tend to ignore me when I am in my manic depressive mood. Others even have the gall to ask how I am doing when it is obvious how exactly I feel. I guess it’s because they do not know. They do not have the slightest clue of the conflict I am battling every single moment of my life. They have their depressive episodes but that will be gone in a few days or week while mine stays. It is a constant in my life. Except for my husband, I am almost always left alone where the feelings of guilt and worthlessness magnify into a thousandfold.

In a way I am guilty of my Bipolar blossoming. I nurtured it you see. From the throes of slight depressive episodes until the depths of a dark bottomless pit, I have watered it until it thrived. You ask what made me do it? Not because I wanted to be in the lowest hierarchy of humanity where pity is constantly on its feet but because I am a writer.

As much as I have Bipolar, I am self-aware and it did not take me long to realize that I write a whole hell of a lot better when I am in my manic depressive mood. It is in my darkest, most primeval, and volatile state when I become in charge of all my faculties – literary at least. In these moments, nothing can stand between me and my thoughts. I am then compelled – summoned more like it – to put pen to paper where all my thoughts gush out, like a faucet opened on full power. It is when I write to my full satisfaction where my brain and heart literally race and tumble over words. I do not know how many people with Bipolar experience this but it is during these moments that I am in bliss. I feel like I am me again – no, I AM me again. My pathos is also my salvation.

Some people might think it but no one ever wants to be mentally ill. No one. But it is something I, and a hundred or maybe thousands of people, have to deal with everyday. I have it not because I am weak. I have it not because I have a flair for the dramatics. I have it not because I am pessimistic. I have it simply because I do. It is a fact and nothing can ever change that. The agony, the tiring ups and downs of my emotions, and the constant feeling of drowning and emptiness is mine and mine alone. Understanding Bipolar will take time but if people put in a lot of patience coupled with dedication then one day, the stigma that is Bipolar will be broken. Then, people with Bipolar like me will be seen as caring, strong, and thriving members of our community – not as weak, cry babies with whom others always have to be on edge with.

I can see the light. It is not that I, and the others, choose to be in the shadows. It is because I need my family and friends to make that light reachable for me, especially in moments of anguish. Yes I need help, but sometimes, I still wonder if I really do. I need patience and understanding, not scrutiny and judgments. One day, I know it will happen.