T.M. Shannon

Hi everyone,

Well, it’s been good to get back to work – at least until I got to Thursday. But I made it through the week, I’ve been getting stuff done in terms of line editing (nearly at the halfway mark!), and I’m getting back to my 12 Step meetings today.

Having routine is good for me, and I’ve been getting through the work okay, just wish people would pay me a visit in my office – kinda left alone, which I like, but it’s kinda lonely, which I don’t like. And it’s really driving home the mental state I’ve acquired.

Life does go on, and it’s not without its joys. But when it comes with survival, well, it’s a recipe for disaster. Knowing that sucks. So, I thought I’d delve deeper into it today as a sort-of catch up for a Mental Health and Addiction topic post I never got around to because holidays.

The Bipolar B-Side

Bipolar disorder isn’t exactly your brain tossing a coin to see if it’s manic or depressive today. Or week by week. Or year. But the dopamine levels can go one way or the other without treatment – for me in 2018, it was a manic episode where I ended up strapped down and sedated in hospital.

Good sleep? Yeah, that knock-out juice is some pretty strong stuff. But the olanzapine/valium combo was enough to put me to a proper sleep under a miniscule hospital blanket, and the mindset to know, “You know you had an episode, right?”

Embarrassing as hell moment, but it did get me Godly.

But things have been good recently, in a new house (an actual house with a backyard, that means a lot after being cooped up in a tiny unit), I went to 4 days a week at work which lifted mood and mentality, and increased my performance, and despite some money woes, I was on the up and up.

Cue the holiday. Or more appropriately, my September expenses. Car service, inspection, rego, third party. And the private health extras came out, too – not that I’ve been using it, either. And, yeah, moves, money woes, attempts to pay off the credit card, equalled dwindled savings.

Did have the tax return, and it was buying tickets without thinking. Who cares, I needed to see my kid, and I stand by that decision. But being on a shoestring – and still on said shoestring – is my recipe for disaster.

Sure, I was hanging out with my kid. He played his games, I played mine, but I was isolating in the motel room. The only saving grace was the deposit on the rental car being a tenth what I thought it’d be – but I’ve since been stung on the difference.

Lesson learned, hire the Bimmer, it has GPS and no matter if you pay for it, the RAV4 doesn’t.

And the trip wasn’t without lunches and dinners, a trip to the amusement park, coffees and such like.

But getting back into sheer survival mode, where I hadn’t been for quite some time? Yeah, I was in a depressed state already, isolating and hiding away, but coming home, facing more expenses (chosen, btw), has only exacerbated that.

And the question is, what to do about that?

No Doctor Until December

So, I’m self-managed when it comes to meds, with 3-month catch ups to see how I’m doing, review how I’ve been going, and make any adjustments to the handful of pills I take day and night.

Being on a chunk of chemicals to balance out the brain chemicals isn’t the best of things. One med affects liver function, and that’s a problem in its own right – but given it helps me sleep and stabilises mood, I’m not giving it up.

In fact, trying to get off that med was what led to the manic episode in the first place. The second time I tried I was bolt awake on the third night, and knew I couldn’t do without it.

I’m okay with that.

But feeling myself sinking now, it’s a long time to my next appointment in December, and being at the question I just posed, there’s a worry things are going to get worse between times if I don’t do something about it.

Perhaps I’m just in a trough, and there’s a normalising wave coming, so I just have to ride it out. More likely, I’m riding the isolation and that good, old “brave face” stocism – yeah, not healthy. Been here before, too, so the memories are far from fond.

I’m not about to up meds without supervision, though. And maybe that’s the answer, dosing up on the antidepressants, a Serotonin and Norepinephrine reuptake inhibitor.

Speaking of which, these aren’t stimulators but keeping the mentioned neurotransmitters around in the synapses as, in a sense, they’re either slow to go in or too quick coming out. There you go, a bit of medical knowledge.

Maybe it’s a trip up to 400mg? Maybe I should get my backside out on my bike because it defeats isolation and works on your endorphins which can act in an antidepressant manner? Probably the latter.

But there’s that book of mine, and while I might be focused on it, as I was in writing/re-writing, that dragged me to some depths before, and I worry will do so again.

Still, won’t be a thing against the nail-biting as I wait for funds to get an editor and cover designer. New project, I guess, and a new game to tide me over.

The Addiction Side of Things

Going through mental illness (and the rest of my messy life) on my own led to unhealthy coping mechanisms, most of it wrapped up with my addiction.

As it stands, I’ve been away from 12 Step for 4 weeks now, no outreach calls, no Step 4 work (been trying to breach two weeks of sobriety but falling to behaviours in as little as 5 days), not a word to my sponsor, and no meetings.

I am going back to a meeting today, but despondency leading to more behaviour leading to more despondency is far from fun, and not the cycle I want to get stuck in as everything snowballs just like anxiety does from the first worry.

Honestly, I don’t know what I’m doing, or else it’s a case of I know what I’m not doing. I want to be sober, I miss those 68 days I got from working Steps 1 to 3 in short order, only to stumble going onto the, “Now you’re on your own time and pace,” of Step 4. I just can’t shake things, and it sucks.

I want to get back to it, and I know if I let it lie, I’m going nowhere. It’s also some pretty hectic S.H.I.T. to go through that has already conjured up a lot of anger – and I don’t like facing the anger, or the tiredness (which depression adds to), hunger, and loneliness, what I feel even in a marriage.

I’m scared to confront it, and having a terrible experience on FB this very week saw me self-soothe again, the same I have for countless years.

Am I the unfortunate who can’t be honest, born that way and hopeless? Am I the grave mental illness-person who can’t get around to honesty? Am I just a total basket case and there’s no saving me, not even Church?

To answer, yes, I can be and am honest, not without hope. Yes, bipolar isn’t a walk in the park, but I can get around to honesty. Total basket case? I can function in society. As for Church, well, that got me out of the most expensive behaviour and I’m damn glad of the fact.

But the euphoric recall is a killer. I’m stuck in two very easy behaviours. That wounded inner child is still trying to rebel, digging for an outlet. I’m going to counselling and it’s really just a chat about things where I need to dig deeper.

I’m at least thinking I need more therapy and more healing. Maybe I need to talk to Dr Psych about something for my dopamine, because the addictive behaviours feed that though I feel nothing except a balancing clarity where I see it all and know it all enough to lament where I’d just fallen.

Prayer, too, isn’t my strong point, and I’ve failed even in the midst of it because the addiction is too strong at that time.

I don’t know. I just know the despondency is another hurdle to everything and I have to make do despite hating it.

Can We Please Talk Craft?

So, I had an unfortunate encounter on FB messages, a fellow author who reached out to me – and I felt it uncomfortable from the start.

Long story short, they wanted to sell me sales advice, and it was about the last thing I need right now, being neck deep in line editing and short of funds to do anything anyway.

But they asked why I didn’t have many reviews, and that’s a personal thing for me. Besides minimal funding, there’s been more despondency, good old, “Why bother?”

And there’s sheer forgetting courtesy of the bipolar, thinking about it here and there only for other thoughts to jump in and drag me away from it. And good old imposter syndrome, which I’ve responded to with self-talk and pecking out validations for myself.

As for validation, I crave that. It’s not nice to crave it.

The conversation really fired my anxiety up, not to mention how stilted it was. It was not a fun night, and I needed to sleep it off over two nights.

Sure, you’re going to run into, “I can edit your book,” scalpers, and I’ve seen a few in the messages. “I love the world you created,” you’re just saying that up front because I haven’t created a world my book is set in Sydney in 2013.

I don’t want to talk about this. Besides having an editing service I’ve used before in mind, what happened to talking craft? Sharing strong points, weak points, listening to one another without the ulterior motives of suggestions, hints, tips, other stuff?

Like the validation, I crave it.

Is a lot of it talking myself up? I won’t deny it. Am I catching up for lost validation from childhood, not being recognised for innate prowess, not being sought as a guide, me trying to save people? Guilty as charged.

But I don’t need anybody asking why I’ve got few reviews, offering an agent or, “Check out my stuff,” when I guarantee it’s just selling self help or, “Look at me, sales extraordinaire,” making money off advice you could be on the internet for free if you’re really concerned with helping other authors.

Maybe now isn’t the right time for it, and time to let my guy in the sky have things happen on His terms. Perhaps I need to live more in Him about the depression and anxiety rather than defaulting to doing it all myself.

And when you’ve had a life like mine, relying on yourself because you don’t believe you can rely on others to get it right the way you want it done right (which is really unhealthy), it comes naturally.

A Time to Acknowledge There’s Still Hope and Sunshine

As with all the times I’ve hit a rock bottom, scraped through the doldrums, or sunk out of the world altogether in a manic high and total paranoia, my strength seems to be picking myself up and getting going again.

Maybe I need a bit of wilderness time, but staying in touch with God, program, life in general and what’s good. I certainly need to finish up with the comfort eating and craving sugar – recent diabetes diagnosis and all.

Maybe I need to peck through Step 4 on my own, addictive behaviour or not.

Part of me wants to try an exorcism, just to try and see. Personally, I doubt it’s a demon, but the inner addict feels like one at times, while the psychological side of me knows I have to nurture that addict back into self-love.

Whatever my answer happens to be, I’m still living, I’m still in a happy marriage, I still have work, and I still have a few healthy outlets to run things by and get the internal mess picked apart.

Could I do with more? Probably. I don’t want to stress about it, but doing nothing is its own problem.

So, hope and sunshine? The weather’s not too bad, the Church I go to does a pop-up cafe now and the coffee was pretty good, and my birthday is coming up – I’ve put in a request for a Steam voucher I’m going to burn on Baldur’s Gate 3.

Here’s hoping it can be a good one!
T. M.