avoiding performance

It's weird how I got so amped when I performed with my church band. I was a bit anxious but extremely excited too. My thoughts raced the few nights before my performance. I thought I was sleeping but I guess I didn't sleep much. I let the thoughts race and my body felt OK as if I had enough energy to get through the day. I should have taken enough of the one medication that was taken on an "as needed" basis.

I heard from a friend at church that there might be another concert this July. If that is the case, I don't think I'll be ready to perform. I don't want to get that amped again and then end up in the hospital.

I sing once a month at church for the Sunday service, not for a concert. I think even this gets me amped but not as much. I am not performing for such a huge crowd and I know I only have to do this once a month so that fact is comforting.

One of the people at my bp support group told me that she gets hyped and sometimes manic when she has a lot of money in the bank.

I don't get the symptom of over spending. Perhaps because I don't have too much money to spend, I don't have this symptom.

But going back to peformance...for now I will avoid any performances that are in front of a huge crowd. It's the safest thing to do for now. It's been only seven months since the last hospitalization. I don't plan on going back there any time soon, hopefully never!

white sheet/green sheet

I guess I was on the floor where the people are the most whacked out. I was on "green sheet" which meant I couldn't go down to the cafeteria. I wasn't exactly excited to go as my food was brought to me in the main room. Everybody was acting like this "white sheet" business was the best. This one patient said goodbye to us as he was going to move to a lower, less whacked out floor. He said they play poker and have lots of fun.

"How do I get to that floor?" I wanted to play poker cause it sounded fun.

"To get to that floor, you got to get one of these." He held out his hand with a bracelet. "Make sure you get on white sheet so you can go downstairs and eat in the cafeteria."

Big flippin' deal about the cafeteria. I remembered it from when I was 14 and didn't really care to go.

But I got on "white sheet" by going to the groups , taking my meds and acting appropriately, did what I was told.

The cafeteria's decor hadn't changed from when I saw it several years ago. Oranges, browns, and floral motif for the whole place. Reminded me of Thanksgiving.

So being on "white sheet" to me just meant that I got to go to the cafeteria, where I had a couple choices for an entree and I got to get salad at the bar and pick a juice. Cool.

So I always got lettuce, olives, garbanzo beans, beet strings, crunchy noodle things and ranch dressing. I loved the salad and sometimes the food. I never felt hungry until I sat down and looked down at my tray.

Gosh, but the food reminded me of how much I wanted to be home eating my own cooking or my husband's cooking. If I stayed a week later, I would miss Thanksgiving with my family.

Oh, hell no. I hoped that the "white sheet" status helped me in going home sooner.

should've nipped it in the bud/conclusion

I think the mania started to creep in when I wasn't sleeping so well. I was anxious about performing with the band at my church. I was extremely excited as I had invited a lot of family and friends. My mind raced for about three or four nights as I lay in bed. I was on this medication that was prescribed as needed. I took a small dose but I guess it wasn't enough.

I performed Friday night. I got checked in the ER that Sunday night about 11PM or so.

For two days, I didn't sleep really. My mind kept racing and wouldn't stop. I acted like a junior highschooler, playing with the kids and their friends. I didn't get much done but I talked a mile a minute and didn't really make any sense.

I took a nap and woke up a few hours later feeling high. I thought I could do anything and I felt spiritual, almost like I could feel others' pain. I thought I could feel spiritual presence. I remember this happening the last time but shit, I didn't catch myself this time. When I am deep into my mania, I am lost and my mind is broken for that moment of mania. When I start going into psychosis, it is no fun for anyone.

Here, I'll conclude with saying that now, I have to be vigilant. When I feel overwhelming anxiety, I need to take my anxiety medication. And the number one thing is that I need to get my sleep. No more pulling any all nighters to get some cleaning done or whatever else. No more stimulating activity before bedtime. So, I need to wind down and get off the computer.

I could have nipped it in the bud but I was over the edge. My spouse says he saw it coming and that next time, he can be better equipped to help take care of me. For me, mania is scary and it hurts those around me. They don't want to see me like this. Now, I am trying to put the pieces back together as there are some holes in my memory. I want to remember so I just know. Not knowing what happened still bothers me. But little by little, the memories come and I reflect with many different feelings. In the next posts, I would like to share tidbits of my journey as I am still learning about this disorder. I thank you for reading.

should have nipped it in the bud/part six

Before I write any more, I have to apologize for all typos. I don't edit and I don't feel the need to. I want this blog project to be raw and I want to take you to where I've been without having to spell check.

Any way, on the ride over to the hospital, I felt too restrained and the paramedic guy said to stay still. I still managed to get one of my arms loose and told him I had an itch. I think I did this in the police vehicle too. Any way, during this ride, I am singing and freestyling again. Singing, "It's the Latin....let's dance, let's dance Latin active...activity." Then I rapped about bad memories. I was going so fast and I don't even know if I rhymed the whole time. The paramedic guy said he was digging my rap but I know now that he wanted me to keep my mind busy.

So the ride came to an end and they were pushing me through the hospital doors and I started signing again, not real sign language but more like I was playing charades. I wasn't making any sense and the paramedic girl said she didn't know sign language. I shrugged my shoulders. Whatever.

Then I only remember a couple things after this. I actually ran from an MHT (Mental Health Tech). I ran naked in the hallway. All of a sudden, he chased me and said in Filipino, "Please put your gown on right this second!" I understood him and still ran. They somehow got a hold of me and had me sign some papers, after the nakedness of course. What the hell was I thinkinh?

I could not control my actions, I swear. This is so unlike me. I think they sedated me somehow and I ended up in a room with a 47-year-old lady who had a raspy voice.

"Where am I?" I asked as I really didn't know what was going on . I felt 14 years old again for some reason.

"You don't want to know. You don't want to know." I'll call her Rosa Maria. She talked in a raspy voice and as soon as she said this, I knew exactly where I was. This was the same hospital I went to at 14. I couldn't believe I ended up here AGAIN.

Damn it all to hell. I was going to get the hell out of here ASAP. I should have nipped this shit in the bud for sure.

More later....I will talk about my stay at the hospital and how bad I wanted to get home, what I saw while I was at the hospital and how trapped I felt.

Thank you for reading. I thank you all for your support.

should have nipped it in the bud/part five

The nurse called my name. Here is where they took my vitals. I totally forgot why I was there in the first place.

All I remember is lying down, talking to one of the security guards. I didn't know what was happening and I was really confused.

I remember walking around the hospital floor, saying something extremely rude to one of the nurses. She turned around and looked at me and said, "F-- you bitch!" That made me wake up and I knew I had said something terribly rude to her. I would rather not repeat what I said. I still feel bad to this day about it and hope she doesn't remember my face.

I threw ice cubes at the understanding security guard and I broke one of the blood pressure machines and didn't know why I was doing this. They gave me a shot after a lot of resistance.

I woke up as the nurses came to me with food. I couldn't speak and started to speak with my hands, sort of like sign language but not quite.

I was calmer and ate half of the sandwich that was offered and drank something, not sure what it was.

The hospital staff transferred me to the stretcher and I was taken to the ambulence. Here, I knew where I was going and I was looking forward to going at the moment as I knew I needed to go.

should have nipped it in the bud/part four

Whatever. I knew I needed the psych hospital. Apparently, the police advised I go to the local hospital's ER, down the street. On the way over, I was rapping freestyle, with rhymes I would not think of presently. I rapped about riding in the cop car ready to go to the ER..street signs..the fact that I was in handcuffs.

Let me back up. The cops put me in handcuffs after I pleaded with them not to. I asked so nicely but they assured me that the cuffs were for my safety. "OK, I understand." I guess it was a good thing. What if I decided on a whim to hurt myself? We couldn't have that.

I didn't mind the pat down and complied with the police officers. I ended up riding in the car with the reheaded chick. I digged her.

We arrived at the ER lobby. "Thank you so much for the ride." All I remember was waiting in that lobby. I saw two little boys, one about ten years old and the other one about six. They looked really scared...perhaps their parent was hurt in the ER?

"Tienes miedo?" I asked them if they were scared in Spanish. At first, they shooked their heads and said "no" quietly but then I gave them a motherly glance and they both knodded.

"Why are you here?" The older one asked/

"I don't know." At the time, I thought I was fine, forgetting that I put myself there in the first place.

should have nipped it in the bud/part three

Jeremy! We need to go to the hospital. I felt the severe manic urge. I could not take it any more. I needed out of there. A few minutes before I was asking my spouse to rub my feel and he refused as he had other things he needed to do. "We can't go right now. The kids are all asleep and mom (his mom) has work tomorrow." I paced back and forth in my apartment. I paced and paced. I sneaked to my bedroom with the telephone and dialed 9-1-1. I hung up immediately after I dialed. "Listen to your husband. Listen to your husband." I mumbled to myself to listen to my spouse. After all, I did not want to go back to that damn hospital. Oh, but the manic urge was so strong. I was seriously either going to hurt myself or break something, or worse...hurt someone." I was a danger to myself.

I opened the door as I knew the police were outsise our door in the apartment complex. I could hear the loud radio/speakers and it really bugged the hell out of me. "What's going on?" One of the police officers was an attractive red head- a bit tall but not crazy tall. Her hair was pulled back and her bangs a little messy but cute. She looked at us with huge concern. I subtly walked towards them and whispered, "Let's keep it down. Everything's cool. I am having a manic episode. I need a ride to the hospital." The other police officer (a short cute Asian guy) looked over at my husband and J. just knodded his head. "My wife is bipolar. She does need to go to the hospital." He looks at me with hurt in his eyes, "Are you sure honey?" "Oh, I am sure. I need to go honey . I will be alright. A few minutes before all this, I had put on my sleevless collared tan top under a fitting brown blazer. I wore my favorite pair of faded jeans, the kind that was flattering to my legs and butt. I also wore a pair of my fuzzy black pajama slippers, with little bows. My hair was pulled back in a pony tail. My spouse had asked me why I was getting dressed and I told him I wanted to be professional for the cops. So I hugged and kissed J. on the cheek and assured him I would be OK. The police officers looked at each other quietly debating about which hospital they should take me to. I requested one pyschiatric hospital, the one I had visited on my previous hospitalization...the one with the nice fountain outsise... But they insisted I go to the local hospital's ER. Whatever.