November 27, 2007

 

Comments

thank you for this info own how bipolar children respond to facial expressions. my son has bipolar disorder. this helps me greatly in understanding him and why he reacts the way he does. i need all the info and help i can get.

Posted by: sharon sparks at March 27, 2008 6:23 AM

That's way more clever than I was expecting. Tnhaks!

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Posted by: SawyerKathryn22 at December 9, 2011 6:02 AM

Once I passed 40, I use to sort of dread my biahtdry for a lot of the reasons you and David share. Getting older in a youth-worshiping culture, time passing me by, midlife crisis, the milestone thing, hating being bipolar another year and another and another Then I got cancer. Talk about a wake up call. Sweating whether it had spread to other parts of my body or not. Wondering if I was going to waste away and die hideously, begging for the release of death like my mother-in-law died of bone cancer. Lost a kidney to that disease. Thank god I had two and could afford to lose one. And it hadn't spread. At least last time I was checked. They never tell you you are cured once you have had the big C . They just write on your chart no evidence of cancer . What if it had been my lungs or my brain? Cancer has a way of making you rethink your priorities and just how valuable your life is to you. F*ck wanting and trying to kill myself during a depressive episode. I had a bad episode just three weeks ago where I was thinking everyone would be better off if I were dead. But when I'm not being sucked under the cesspool of the opposite extreem of my illness, I realize having bipolar wasn't quite as terrible as dying of cancer, losing parts of myself piecemeal, being slowly and agnonizingly poisoned by chemo, being burned alive by radiation treatments. (Reading back on that last sentence, substitute bipolar treatments, and it almost fits the same discription as cancer treatments!) Almost, especially the depression part of my disease, but not quite. So I celebrate my biahtdrys again. I don't just celebrate, I sing, dance and cheer, throwing up a pumping fist in triumph. Take that, fate! Here's to you, cancer! F*ck YOU, bipolar disorder! It's been another year, and I'm still here, still alive and getting revenge. My revenge is that I'm still breathing. Still doing. The best revenge against cancer and bipolar I can get is to stubbornly ENJOY my life as much as I can. To live it, experience it, drown in it. To defiantly keep on living, out of spite if for no other reason. I'm not going to lay down and die just because fate decrees that for me. Natasha, I see why people like to paraglide or jump out of planes; it is in DEFIANCE of the nether that wants, seeks to devour you. You want to run, screaming obscenities at the fates, and throw yourself into the empty air with abandon, and feel the terror and the joy of your life's blood coursing through your veins, feel how puny you are in the world, yet still triumphant and defiant and ALIVE. I'm here, I'm still alive, and not beaten!

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