bipolar
Bipolar disorder; understanding the highs, the lows and the in between.
Grad School and the Beast
I was originally accepted into University of New Mexico’s Master of Public Archaeology program starting fall of 2018. I was extremely proud of myself because I felt that all my hard work in undergraduate university had paid off. At the same time, however, I was very confused and anxious about what I wanted to do or how I wanted to tackle the immense task of attending graduate school. When my professors and peers from undergrad would congratulate me for my admittance to grad school, instead of excited I felt… disassociated… like it wasn’t real. And not in a “too good to be true” kind of feeling, but in a nonplussed kind of feeling. I would even say things like “yeah, that ought to knock me down a few pegs”. I said this because during my undergraduate career I had been in honors societies, been the president of the anthropology clubs, assisted professors with their classes, mentored younger (and even sometimes older) freshmen, been an active member in local archaeology societies and clubs, served as a crew chief for my field schools and as a lead lab tech for my work study gig in the archaeology lab, and had even started working in cultural resource management before I graduated with a bachelors. All as a non-traditional student in my late 20s and early 30s, while working and taking care of a grandmother with dementia. But now, things were getting real. Especially the imposter’s syndrome.
By Sarah Foster5 years ago in Psyche
Snow In April
Snow on my birthday was the best possible gift Denver could have given me after the past five birthdays here. That is not to say that the others haven’t been beautiful in their own way, but instead to say that now, finally at 32, an age that I never thought I would reach, a blanket of soft, fresh, silent snow, is exactly what I wanted from Mother Nature.
By Kymi Parker5 years ago in Psyche
How to Spin a Yarn
When it comes to unwinding from the daily routine, my creative projects have always been as eclectic as my personalities. An odd quirk of being a writer is that I often feel my characters live on in my mind, resurfacing every once in a while, like whales coming up for air, to remind me they still have stories left to be told.
By Call Me Les5 years ago in Psyche
Let's Talk About Bipolar Rage
Last night, I experienced a bout of Bipolar Rage (or Bipolar Anger, or, according to the Mayo Clinic, Intermittent explosive disorder). I found myself in the street in front of my apartment screaming at some guy that I didn't know. Although it seemed that I was out of control in many ways, I wouldn't have actually hit him. At least I don't think so. I screamed profanities at him for quite a while at the top of my lungs, and I'm sure I could be heard from a long way off. There is a bar across the street and I know that I got the attention of every patron there.
By Chris Hearn5 years ago in Psyche
Living Through Bipolar Disorder
***Disclaimer: This article, in no way, should be taken as medical advice. This is just MY experience with bipolar disorder. Persons with this diagnosis must remain in treatment and remain on the medication regimen that their doctors prescribe. Always consult your practitioner.***
By J. Delaney-Howe5 years ago in Psyche
Bipolar
We got home from work and he grabbed ahold of me and held me; tears welling up in his eyes he said “I should be the strong one, but it’s you, you’re the strong one,” then asked me to have Alexa play “Atlas Falls” by Shinedown. All the while he held me, sobbing.
By Kari Kinzle5 years ago in Psyche
I do not gush.
I do not gush, what I mean to say is, I am not one for voicing my issues. I see it daily, whether on social media or the street. People are confident enough to express the way their emotions, be it anger, love, or sadness. Not me, I am a private person. I believe nobody would want to hear my nonsense, or my thoughts should remain shrouded behind a plethora of prescribed drugs. Who knows.
By Peter Culbert5 years ago in Psyche
Two faces.
Excerpt One. Realisation without regret. When did I realise something about who I am was different? My formative years, I guess. I invariably felt indifferent to my surroundings. Family, the neighbourhood in which I developed, seemed alien, foreign. An angel of anticipation deep with my subconscious, informing that my ‘true’ tribe was out there, and at some stage, they would undertake to liberate me from this purgatory in which I suffocate. Little did I appreciate at seven years of age that this was the birth of a roller coaster ride. A fairground attraction, a simple mortal could not dismount, no matter how desperately I craved.
By Peter Culbert5 years ago in Psyche
Bipolar Disorder 2 vs. 5-4-3-2-1, Get Up!
How My Disorder Affects My Mental State For many years there has been a longing for something that’s missing from inside my soul. Like a thirst to be more than what I am realistically capable of being; longing for something unseen that I have never quite been able to discover within myself. It is like knowing exactly what you want, but also not knowing or knowing that it is always outside of grasps reach. There are some days that I open my eyes and I can feel on top of the world... But, more days than not I feel in a sense that the entire world has stopped and is running me in the complete opposite direction that I fight so hard to travel.
By Harley Marie5 years ago in Psyche
Black Sheep
I knew I was different from the day I was born. Instead of playing with dolls, I loved nature from a young age. I found joy in learning about different animals and dinosaurs, and I liked looking under rocks for weird creatures. To my family I was a pretty strange kid, and to other kids I was an alien.
By Rissa Rose 🥀5 years ago in Psyche
