In the beginning there was life and I was raised by alcoholics. That could've been bad, but when you're living in shit it's hard to recognize that your life is different. Realization came sometime around when I was ten, but life went on as it was. There were times when I was unhappy with the way life had dealt me a bum hand, yet I realized there was little I could do. As a kid I kept looking for happiness wherever I could find it and many, many times I found it, which made my life tolerable.
I struggled academically and early on knew I didn't have a future that involved with going to college. My plans were to go into the Army and go to the Defense Mapping School to learn about cartography, but somehow, someway my parents convinced me to go to college. With my low GPA there were few choices, but I was accepted to Eastern Washington State College (now University) starting in Fall 1967. I lasted exactly three quarters.
In college I started smoking cigars. At Thanksgiving when I went home my mother told me to stop smoking them, so I switched to cigarettes, which I smoked until September 23, 1996. I also started drinking to excess in college which would continue almost unabated until 2015. I never drank to get drunk, although that was the inevitable result, but I drank because I like the taste of alcoholic beverages (except sake). Now, with the meds I'm taking alcohol is a definite no-no.
As a whole, my life has consisted of moving from one failure to another. I could never figure out what was going on until 2003 when I was laid low by a bout of major depression, but that wasn't really the problem. I've always, as in for as long as I can remember, had trouble with dealing with reality. My view always conflicted with the way others saw it. I knew there was something wrong, but growing up in the Fifties and Sixties meant not having mental issues, which is unfortunate because it was not until the Spring of 2008 (at the age of 58) when I was diagnosed as being Bipolar. The initial diagnosis was Type II, but in 2011 I was upgraded (downgraded) to Type I.
Finally, I had definition to my life that explained nearly everything that had gone wrong with me. All the striving to be something I could never achieve because I didn't know that my worldview was skewed by bipolar disorder. All of the moves, the rotten marriage, bankruptcy, lousy credit, numerous job changes, and all the rest can now be viewed through the lenses of a bipolar disorder sufferer.
So, now, what lies before me? Well, a recent medication change and dealing with all the side effects that go with it. Adjusting my life once again to the demands of the illness. And, most importantly, simply getting on with life, such as it is.
It is my hope that this blog will continue as a journal of my experiences of dealing with the disorder and living a life of senses dulled by the effects of medication.
