I diagnosed my self as an Alcoholic at the end of 2003. It was a great relief to me. No one diagnoses themself as an alcoholic unless they are desperate, but my experience is that once that point is reached there is overwhelming relief. All at once things fell into place, and there appeared to be a program of action I could take which might result in some peace for me. I hear people say that their doctors and mental health professional have diagnosed them, but that is comparatively rare. The medical profession seems to accept our self diagnoses.With only a few exceptions, I also accept other's self diagnoses. No one would wish Alcoholism on themself, there is nothing to gain from it except a lifetimes of meetings and self restraint, no pills no free passes
I was diagnosed with Bipolar (ultimately Bipolar 1 but originally Bipolar 2) when I was 11 years sober. I was diagnosed by a psychiatrist, after being forcefully referred by a psychologist I was seeing for some trauma issues. (She confessed that my energy was so strong, I had given her a headache). I was in a hypomanic episode that was characterised by intense euphoria ( or that was how I was seen by them). I am back on the edges of that now, whatever that is. I had heard many times in fellowship for Alcoholics that I attend, that many of us are wrongly diagnosed with Bipolar; that the two illnesses look very similar. So I was wary. I researched "how to not look manic", to try to hoodwink my psychiatrist. But even my friends who have bipolar could see I was hypomanic. They were all envious (Bipolar is mostly depression; mania and hypomania are rare and not always euphoric). The possibility of euphoric hypomania is a thing that is difficult to let go of once you have experienced it. When I started to talk to the psychiatrist a light bulb went on, just like it had with Alcoholism. So much was explained that iI found it impossible to dissemble. The diagnosis was clear. I laughed and laughed when he told me.
Bipolar is notoriously difficult to diagnose. 95% of the time it just looks like depression. Apparently Bipolar depression is usually atypical, involving oversleeping, but that kind of depression is not decisive.Psychiatrists need to catch a patient in hypomania to diagnose properly, and that is difficult, because hypomania is rare (between 3 and 40 depressive episodes normally happen between hypomanic episodes), but also because hypomania often feels so good that the patient will not seek medical help. I only sought help because I wanted a medical certificate to stay off work longer. I had rocketed from a depressive episode to a feeling of extreme good humour. I thought I had been cured, not that I was in a particularly dangerous part of a serious mental illness.
And I am flirting with that danger as I write this. For weeks, even months, my mood has been buoyant. An opportunity for a week off work was presented to me. I am now sitting by a pool in Angeles City Pampanga Philippines as I write this. I have travelled across time zones, missed sleep, spent money I cannot afford, given money away. And I am feeling fantastic.
People try for a Bipolar diagnosis. I am speculating, but I suspect many of them are Alcoholics who are afraid to stop drinking. They want an answer that does not involve any work by them. I suspect too, that many are embarrassed by their bad behaviour when drunk and want a mental health explanation. Perhaps some are seduced by the possibility of hypomania, living in the false dream that a wrong diagnosis will bring the reward. But mostly, I think, they want the powerful mind numbing drugs. On Seroquel, sleep becomes a passionate lover, calling to you during the day, demanding your embrace as night falls. Many troubled people seek that quietness, that simplicity.
Those who actually have the condition struggle with medication. When I am depressed I can stand the side effects, but when I feel as I do now I hate the intended effects even more than the side effects. Consequently I am medication free, living like I am a fearless version of my 20 year old self. I have tried to put my medication "on the program" but have found it is artificial. How can I define "sobriety" by including in it the prescribed use of drugs that make me feel like my head is in a clamp.
Another issue is that when I feel as I do now, I feel much closer to "God" than I normally do. I got sober by putting my faith in a power greater than myself. I crave that connection. Step 11 of our program reads in part, "sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God, (as we understood him) praying only for knowledge of his will for us and the power to carry that out". God made me the way I am. The psychiatric profession uses fear as a weapon to try get me to comply. Their motives are pure. They see us patients suffering and want to spare us as much as they can. But they cannot know the experience of being touched by fire. I have been open with my psychiatrist. I am going to ride this wave to the shore.
I define my Alcoholism as including my problem with gambling. and my dabbling with illegal drugs. It was put to me by an apparently conservative lady who was a thirty year sober Alcoholic at the time (now more the forty) "James , you can do anything you want to, except drink alcohol, gamble or take drugs". I hold these words dear. I have not become a buttoned down kind of recovering alcoholic. Instead I have confronted my fears about not looking normal, and have led a passionate and fairly unusual life since.
An incident which has been critical in my diagnosis as Bipolar 1 illustrates how I have learned to face fear. In 2009 I drove my car across the Nullarbor Plain in Australia. The Nullarbor is one of the most isolated pieces of road in the world. It is a two day drive of over 2000 kilometres with only roadhouses every 150 or so kilometres to break the monotony. The name is Latin for "no trees" ( I think it is misleading, because I saw at least one tree).
I entered psychosis halfway across at a place called Eyre, on the border between South Australia and Western Australia. It was only when I discussed the incident with a consultant psychiatrist that I realised I had been delusional. It was very frightening, and I was very paranoid. I had to drive for nine hours to get phone coverage. When I could ring, I rang my mum. She advised me to turn around. Then I rang a mentor who was also a recovering alcoholic. He knew I had a spiritual purpose in my journey. He knew I was travelling to Port Hedland where my drinking had been at its worst. He understood my need to go back and look at this town. He also knew fear. He advised me to keep going. When I first realised I had been psychotic at the time I thought my friend's advice had been bad. I had listened to him and tried to continue on my journey for three more days. To some, travelling through an uninhabited part of Australia where I knew nobody and was filled with a deep and powerful fear of people and of God would be unthinkable. But not to my friend.He advised me to pray to my power for the strength to do what I needed to do. How I survived those three days of psychic terror I will never know.
My friend had given me a gift, possibly unintentionally; he did not know I was psychotic. It was the knowledge that I can survive psychic pain of a very high level. It means I am free to travel the world. I am free to take breath-taking risks. I know I can access a power stronger than my madness that will get me home.
So fear of a possible future crash is not a useful motivator for me. I have learnt in my recovery to take every day on its merits. To do that I need to ask God's care and protection every day (pre step 1) and to seek only to do God's will (step 11). Facing fear is an essential part of that. And for me facing fear involves stepping outside the normally accepted rules of behaviour. It means I sometimes make catastrophic mistakes and fail spectacularly. but usually the mistakes are minor, and the failures trivial. I did not get sober to lead a boring life.
I recently watched a podcast about an exchange of letters between Bill Wilson, the founder of AA, and CG Jung. The letter from Jung to Wilson is extraordinary. It is the last published piece of writing by Jung in his life. It was written when he was 91, six months before his death. In it he talks about the "spirit of evil" which prevails in this world. He discusses the ways a human being can escape from evil, and he expresses the view that all of us yearn for oneness with God.
At the heart of Jung's psychology is the idea that our duty is to become who we really are, or the person we were created to be. Bill Wilson had undergone a Jungian analysis in the 1950s to try help him with crippling depression. He realised he had surrendered his identity to become the leader of AA. He began the process of handing AA over to its members. He reclaimed his own personality and strengthened AA as a result. Getting sober was not enough, he had to become real. It must have painful to surrender control of an organisation that he had founded and which was admired all over the world. But he had to do it to save his own life.
I did a course when I was about ten years sober, just after the Nullarbor Plain incident, but before I was diagnosed with Bipolar. My Diagnosis at the time was Alcoholism (in remission) and Major Depression. When I was rehab for the Depression I was introduced to the works of Brene Brown. Six months or so later I did a Daring Heart workshop using her teachings. As part of this, or at about the same time and inspired by the course (I can't remember precisely), I wrote these words; "If there was a chance for joy, you would throw everything at it!"
In the end, this is what I am doing. Throwing everything at the chance for joy. It's a risk. But for me it's a risk worth taking. When i am this hypomanic, fearless version of myself, I do not just feel good. I am in a very poor country and I throw my money around. I am not not a "Christian" but I love Jesus. The heart of his teaching seems to be contained in the Beatitudes, in his desire for us to be more loving, more peaceful, more generous. In hypomania I find this easy to understand. I feel when I behave in this way I am doing her/his will.
I am not always like this. I can be very selfish. There is even an element of selfishness to my generosity, it feels so good!
My aim is to seek God's protection, and to do his/ her will.
I am not sure about any of this. I listen to my psychiatrist, but when I am hypomanic I am getting much closer to my aim.
Is this just hypomanic grandiosity, or am I really on to something?
Let's ride this wave to the shore and find out!
Bipolar is notoriously difficult to diagnose. 95% of the time it just looks like depression. Apparently Bipolar depression is usually atypical, involving oversleeping, but that kind of depression is not decisive.Psychiatrists need to catch a patient in hypomania to diagnose properly, and that is difficult, because hypomania is rare (between 3 and 40 depressive episodes normally happen between hypomanic episodes), but also because hypomania often feels so good that the patient will not seek medical help. I only sought help because I wanted a medical certificate to stay off work longer. I had rocketed from a depressive episode to a feeling of extreme good humour. I thought I had been cured, not that I was in a particularly dangerous part of a serious mental illness.
And I am flirting with that danger as I write this. For weeks, even months, my mood has been buoyant. An opportunity for a week off work was presented to me. I am now sitting by a pool in Angeles City Pampanga Philippines as I write this. I have travelled across time zones, missed sleep, spent money I cannot afford, given money away. And I am feeling fantastic.
People try for a Bipolar diagnosis. I am speculating, but I suspect many of them are Alcoholics who are afraid to stop drinking. They want an answer that does not involve any work by them. I suspect too, that many are embarrassed by their bad behaviour when drunk and want a mental health explanation. Perhaps some are seduced by the possibility of hypomania, living in the false dream that a wrong diagnosis will bring the reward. But mostly, I think, they want the powerful mind numbing drugs. On Seroquel, sleep becomes a passionate lover, calling to you during the day, demanding your embrace as night falls. Many troubled people seek that quietness, that simplicity.
Those who actually have the condition struggle with medication. When I am depressed I can stand the side effects, but when I feel as I do now I hate the intended effects even more than the side effects. Consequently I am medication free, living like I am a fearless version of my 20 year old self. I have tried to put my medication "on the program" but have found it is artificial. How can I define "sobriety" by including in it the prescribed use of drugs that make me feel like my head is in a clamp.
Another issue is that when I feel as I do now, I feel much closer to "God" than I normally do. I got sober by putting my faith in a power greater than myself. I crave that connection. Step 11 of our program reads in part, "sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God, (as we understood him) praying only for knowledge of his will for us and the power to carry that out". God made me the way I am. The psychiatric profession uses fear as a weapon to try get me to comply. Their motives are pure. They see us patients suffering and want to spare us as much as they can. But they cannot know the experience of being touched by fire. I have been open with my psychiatrist. I am going to ride this wave to the shore.
I define my Alcoholism as including my problem with gambling. and my dabbling with illegal drugs. It was put to me by an apparently conservative lady who was a thirty year sober Alcoholic at the time (now more the forty) "James , you can do anything you want to, except drink alcohol, gamble or take drugs". I hold these words dear. I have not become a buttoned down kind of recovering alcoholic. Instead I have confronted my fears about not looking normal, and have led a passionate and fairly unusual life since.
An incident which has been critical in my diagnosis as Bipolar 1 illustrates how I have learned to face fear. In 2009 I drove my car across the Nullarbor Plain in Australia. The Nullarbor is one of the most isolated pieces of road in the world. It is a two day drive of over 2000 kilometres with only roadhouses every 150 or so kilometres to break the monotony. The name is Latin for "no trees" ( I think it is misleading, because I saw at least one tree).
I entered psychosis halfway across at a place called Eyre, on the border between South Australia and Western Australia. It was only when I discussed the incident with a consultant psychiatrist that I realised I had been delusional. It was very frightening, and I was very paranoid. I had to drive for nine hours to get phone coverage. When I could ring, I rang my mum. She advised me to turn around. Then I rang a mentor who was also a recovering alcoholic. He knew I had a spiritual purpose in my journey. He knew I was travelling to Port Hedland where my drinking had been at its worst. He understood my need to go back and look at this town. He also knew fear. He advised me to keep going. When I first realised I had been psychotic at the time I thought my friend's advice had been bad. I had listened to him and tried to continue on my journey for three more days. To some, travelling through an uninhabited part of Australia where I knew nobody and was filled with a deep and powerful fear of people and of God would be unthinkable. But not to my friend.He advised me to pray to my power for the strength to do what I needed to do. How I survived those three days of psychic terror I will never know.
My friend had given me a gift, possibly unintentionally; he did not know I was psychotic. It was the knowledge that I can survive psychic pain of a very high level. It means I am free to travel the world. I am free to take breath-taking risks. I know I can access a power stronger than my madness that will get me home.
So fear of a possible future crash is not a useful motivator for me. I have learnt in my recovery to take every day on its merits. To do that I need to ask God's care and protection every day (pre step 1) and to seek only to do God's will (step 11). Facing fear is an essential part of that. And for me facing fear involves stepping outside the normally accepted rules of behaviour. It means I sometimes make catastrophic mistakes and fail spectacularly. but usually the mistakes are minor, and the failures trivial. I did not get sober to lead a boring life.
I recently watched a podcast about an exchange of letters between Bill Wilson, the founder of AA, and CG Jung. The letter from Jung to Wilson is extraordinary. It is the last published piece of writing by Jung in his life. It was written when he was 91, six months before his death. In it he talks about the "spirit of evil" which prevails in this world. He discusses the ways a human being can escape from evil, and he expresses the view that all of us yearn for oneness with God.
At the heart of Jung's psychology is the idea that our duty is to become who we really are, or the person we were created to be. Bill Wilson had undergone a Jungian analysis in the 1950s to try help him with crippling depression. He realised he had surrendered his identity to become the leader of AA. He began the process of handing AA over to its members. He reclaimed his own personality and strengthened AA as a result. Getting sober was not enough, he had to become real. It must have painful to surrender control of an organisation that he had founded and which was admired all over the world. But he had to do it to save his own life.
I did a course when I was about ten years sober, just after the Nullarbor Plain incident, but before I was diagnosed with Bipolar. My Diagnosis at the time was Alcoholism (in remission) and Major Depression. When I was rehab for the Depression I was introduced to the works of Brene Brown. Six months or so later I did a Daring Heart workshop using her teachings. As part of this, or at about the same time and inspired by the course (I can't remember precisely), I wrote these words; "If there was a chance for joy, you would throw everything at it!"
In the end, this is what I am doing. Throwing everything at the chance for joy. It's a risk. But for me it's a risk worth taking. When i am this hypomanic, fearless version of myself, I do not just feel good. I am in a very poor country and I throw my money around. I am not not a "Christian" but I love Jesus. The heart of his teaching seems to be contained in the Beatitudes, in his desire for us to be more loving, more peaceful, more generous. In hypomania I find this easy to understand. I feel when I behave in this way I am doing her/his will.
I am not always like this. I can be very selfish. There is even an element of selfishness to my generosity, it feels so good!
My aim is to seek God's protection, and to do his/ her will.
I am not sure about any of this. I listen to my psychiatrist, but when I am hypomanic I am getting much closer to my aim.
Is this just hypomanic grandiosity, or am I really on to something?
Let's ride this wave to the shore and find out!
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