Facebook, texting, twitter and emails are all the devil to people that are drunk, impulsive or anxious.

Anxious is probably the worst, period.

I get a rage in my insides to respond or write something that I know I won’t mean the next day or after that hangover or after that manic episode, by then and it’s too late. Any electronic viral beast is just that: A beast.  Hide your equipment when you’ve had a few too many or are on a manic binge or feel anxious.

Anxiety is a terrible emotion we rarely talk about.  But anxiety can be the root of all evil and the best way to track or detect it is to observe your own tendencies when it comes to social media.

Be wary.  Be certain.  Before you wake up and it’s too late.  Cause this ^$%* is viral!

There ‘aint no take backs!

 
Anxious woman photo available from Shutterstock

My book, “Inside the Insane,” caused a scene in Los Angeles County when it first came out.  I was immediately escorted out of my job at the hospital and served papers which said I was under investigation for publishing my book and conducting myself in “inappropriate behavior.”  For what?

For telling my truth.  My truth.  We all have a different idea or concept of truth, which is great, but only if we use that truth toward bettering society.

Upon catching wind of my book, the county banned me from speaking to anyone from the Department of Mental Health (DMH) or the Department of Health Services (DHS) and moved me to the basement at headquarters to do data entry.  OK.

John Stuart Mill “On Liberty”

“Truth, in the great practical concerns of life, is so much of a question of the reconciling and combining of opposites that very few have minds sufficiently impartial to make the adjustment with an approach to correctness, and it has to be made by the rough process of a struggle between combatants fighting under hostile banners.”  (1859)

I believe truth has lost its voice in our culture, specifically when discussing the mentally ill. 

If I have one more face off with a woman in my work bathroom stall beside me I… I am not sure WHAT I will do.

Why are women so crazy in the bathroom?  When it comes to going number two, they want to do it alone so they will sit and wait for you to go, flush and leave.  And should they accidentally go they will immediately play with the toilet dispenser, flush the toilet, cough, anything and everything to hide the fact that they are going.

Don’t you know that all of us use the same tricks to cover up our waste?

The worse is the face off.  If it is my turn to go and I am faced with a challenger, I wait.  Since she is there first she should be the one that is the first to leave. Why do I have to go?  Why are you playing mind games with me?

The face off is a mental test that challenges your body.  Can you hold it?  Can you have patience to wait for her to exit?  Can you be the strong one that takes a stance? This is a challenge that I give myself and lose EVERY TIME.  And every time that I get frustrated and give up I promise myself that next time I will stand strong and win the face off.

I haven’t won a face off yet.  Go figure.

Women’s room sign photo available from Shutterstock

Women cannot have it all.  This is a fact.  In many ways the feminist movement bit women ’cause we rallied for equality when, simply put, men and women are not equal.

The “modern woman” is faced with a double-edged sword.  We need to have a career to land a man than once we’re married, we’re supposed to drop everything and have a family.  Women spend thousands of dollars ensuring they are marketable to men by having high educations and flourishing careers, then have to ditch that profession to raise a family.  And women who don’t want to work and just want to raise a family are frowned upon by our culture.

What does this mean to the female human psyche?

I’ll never forget the first time I took medication and woke up.  It was 6:00AM.  I jumped in my car and immediately drove to my best friend’s house in the hills.  I exploded into her room, fueled by excitement that I had never experienced straight out of bed in the morning.  Ever.

“I woke up normal.”

My friend rose from her heavy sleep and smiled. “That’s awesome.”

“No, really, is this how people wake up?  Like, rested?”

“Yeah!  I told you you should have gotten help.  I’m so happy for you.”

“Happy isn’t even the word for it.”

It has been my experience that when you’re hypo-manic, you really don’t get depressed — at least not the kind of depression Bipolar I individuals may experience.

But, it has also been my experience that in a heightened state of mania there is a depression in the eye of the storm.

Before I got help I was a whirling Tasmanian devil.  I was on fire, reckless, self destructive and flat out wild.  Looking back on those wild times, underneath it all was an underlying depression.  Similar to depression, when you are out of control with a manic episode you don’t have control over your mental state.  You are trapped in your maniacal mind like being trapped in a depression.  You become a manic IN depression.

You can’t control yourself, which can result in fear, turmoil and sadness.  When you haven’t slept in days, depression shows its face on your face.  Your eyes burn and your body is tired but it’s trapped in a frenzied mind.  When you are grandiose and think you are all that, underneath it all may be some deep insecurities fueled by depression.

Pay attention next time you think you are on a manic binge and having a ball.  With some personal insight you may find those wild, fun times on the outside covering up a deep, dark, hidden depression simmering on the inside.

Manic man photo available from Shutterstock

Ok.  We’ve all done it.  We’ve alllll been naked.  Most of us are embarrassed to be seen nude.  I’m not.  I’ve never been, BUT there are some times where I could have kept my clothes on.  Did I need to take off my clothes in the middle of Sky bar on Sunset to go for a dip in the pool, in the middle of a party?  No.  But I did.  I didn’t even think twice about it.

When you’re manic you just go.  You are a doer.  You will not be told what to do so other people shouldn’t don’t bother.  Especially a Bipolar II Chronic Hypo-manic individual.  Those clothes are OFF.

I went to an all girls catholic high school, which means one thing: uniforms.  I loved uniforms.  I may have been the only person in my class who actually liked wearing the same shirt and skirt every day.

On the weekends I was faced with my real clothes.  I would go to parties and all the girls wore their weekend uniform: black, tight and short.  We had beepers back then, so having a beeper was very in, too.  So were organizers, which I never really understood ,and last but not least, a bottle of water.  Why we felt the need to hull around a bottle of water everywhere I don’t know, but most of us did.  Gucci and water went hand in hand.

I never really fit into the party style scene.  I felt like it was fake to dress for the guys so wore regular street clothes.  It wasn’t until college that I started making my own style. 

“It’s not my fault the world is in slow motion.”

“You are such a spaz!”

Pick any one of my friends and they’ve all said that to me.  Multiple times in my life.

I’ve always had a quick mouth to match my fast mind.  Chronic hypo-mania lives in a body built on speed.  You walk fast, think fast, move fast and your speech can be one major indication of potentially having a mental illness like Bipolar II.

Often times your rapid speech can be mistaken for ADD or ADHD, and a lot of psychiatrists might throw that diagnosis out there before Bipolar II.  As a culture, we tend to over-diagnose children with ADD or ADHD, and it can be harmful when a person may be suffering with Bipolar II ’cause there is a HUGE difference.

“I’m outta here.”

And that’s what I would do.  When I was out with my friends at some party, bar, restaurant… anywhere. When I heard the voice in my head saying I’m outta here, I was out.  And I’m not one of the “oh goodbye see you soon,” or, “good seeing you,”  blah, blah.

“Just tell us next time you bolt. I worry.”  My best friend was serious.

“Don’t worry.  I’m sorry. Sometimes I get this I gotta go hitting my mind to the point where I just have to bolt.”

“That’s fine.  Just text me so I know you’re okay.”

I never gave much thought into how hard it must be for my closest friends to deal with my issues.

I still bolt, mostly, but give a quick bye.

My friends get it.

Hitchhiker photo available from Shutterstock