Part two, as promised!

Bit of an odd week, on the one hand, I achieved certain goals, found out some great news but also find myself in a strange mindset. By that I simply mean that for someone who in all honesty, should be dancing around the room full of the joys of life, I find myself in a mood that can be described as melancholy. I don't seem to be feeling the happiness I should be having, its like its again shut off from me and I'm inside some glass box able to view it, but never really touch it. Yeah, odd is the right word, because I don't feel depressed in the slightest, if anything just a little anxiety about finishing off a big project.

So what am I going to talk about today, well I guess we can get around to that part two of things I love and the stuff that dreams are made of. So I'm going to talk about my photography, well if that is what you can call it, I know there is a massive debate about what that is these days. Quickly highlight that point, as it is very important for this blog, since the invention of the digital camera and software programs like photoshop, the line between digital art and photography in my opinion is somewhat blurred. Photography is the art of creating images, the debate is how those images are created or even presented.

Now that is out of the way, one of the reasons I've explained it will come up later, for now, know that I describe myself as an amateur photographer who loves to dabble in digital art. Long winded I know, but it does sum up wonderfully what I do, as my skills are far from professional, and that isn't me being over critical. When you see the things that professionals produce, I'm not even in the same league, and that is a good thing for me, its something to aspire to. So I need to break down that long winded description don't I?

Forest Scene - Pure camera work here, no edit

I oddly took loved photography from a young age, but never really pursued it, again that situation where I could take really good photo's believe it or not but nobody really showed a huge interest. I remember my mother being very impressed by a shot I took of a gymnast in mid air using a very basic camera. No motion blur, perfect focus, I tracked her on a trampoline for about a minute, keeping up with her movement to get that shot. Sadly, I didn't really go anywhere with it, it wasn't like I went to my parents 'hey, I love photography, can you get me a good camera'. No, I just moved on, it wasn't really the lack of interest, I honestly from what I remember, just felt that it wasn't for me, I was far more obsessed with science at the time if I'm 100% honest. Anyway, moving forward, I took advantage of a photography adult learners course, learnt all about how the camera works, even learnt how to develop black and white images. I have to admit, that was great fun, but again, my interest, it was fun to learn but I had my sights set on something different. You'll see that a lot with me to, get an idea, think its good but then something shiny comes along and I'm chasing a new dream, it was the reality of untreated and undiagnosed bipolar.

So the history lesson over, I didn't bother for ages, years went by, but I eventually found myself in the company of various people who did a little photography, mostly as a hobby, some as professionals. These ranged from a wonderful friend who is my evil twin as I call her to cosplay friends. Yeah, through seeing amazing nature photography to taking part in cosplay shoots, I started to get that itch that initially made me want to take pictures. Only now, I was far more stable, I understood what it was about the art form that attracted me, it was that ability to capture an image. Didn't have a camera though and this was the weird setup that led me to owning one, because after you read that, you won't see it coming trust me.

Both my wife and I love astronomy, and after a while, and due to a certain evil twin, we got our passion rekindled. We watched the new 'stargazing live' and from that, we bought a lovely reflector telescope, can you see where this is going?

You guessed it, I wasn't the only one interested in photography, so was my wife and she really wanted to try out some astrophotography. So we set out, we saved up, asked around and got a great little canon camera for us to share. Lovely little semi-professional dslr, our first real digital camera, something we both had to get used to. Turned out I didn't, my wife picked it up really quickly, she has the most amazing eye and was snapping pics, using the manual options and taking command of the camera. I was using the same, taking photo's and failing entirely to even get one in focus shot, yeah I know I could have used the auto features, but that's not going to produce the shots I want. Well, I nearly gave up again, really was about to pack it in until my dad offered me an old slr camera with a good set of lenses. Only problem it was a Nikon, no good for our current digital model, but I had the brainwave, what if I buy a Nikon body, use the lenses as I know from research that the old lenses fit the newer bodies, just no auto focus. So, a little bit poorer, but it was the right move, seriously within mere moments of getting the camera and trying out the lenses, I was nailing shot after shot of birds in my mothers garden, I lost hours. I felt amazing, turned out that the interface on the Nikon was Richard proof, in other words it was less complicated but offered me quick and easy control to switch between settings, something I had failed to do on the canon.

Rosemary by firelight - Again nothing fancy, just silhouette no edit

Since then I have been honing my skills, taking photo's of anything I can, from landscape to models, I even got to take part in a few big shoots and picked up some awesome tips from professionals I am now fortunate to call friends. Hell if I'm honest, two of them in particular have heavily influenced my style. And then came the real breakthrough, the one that took my photo's into the area I really want to go, photoshop and the ability to edit. I had experience with editing footage, using things like after effects, which when I came to photoshop proved useful as they are not that different in reality. I was able to edit my photo's, create weird art, which I did, and some of it was bloody terrible, I mean seriously bad, but I loved the attempts. And that was the point, every attempt, every new shoot, every moment I spent tweaking, I got better. I went from making something that personally a primary school kid could do these days to something that may not professional, but I can be at least a little proud of. See I suck at art, I can't sketch, barely paint, ok I can sculpt pretty well but that's not the point. Photography, along with digital media, had finally given me a way to express my artistic side, yeah its weird, I may have more miss than hit but the whole thing is still me being able to do something I otherwise would never dream of.

Landscape - Now this is edited, not heavily, but I'm still learning

In only a few years I've gone from fiddling with images, trying my best to being asked to attend shoots while also organising my own. Can you imagine that?

This guy who couldn't stay focused, now has the chance to work on shoots he'd only dreamt about. The most amazing part is I get to work with friends and even make new ones through it. I've done some bonkers shoots from boudoir to aliens. I've had fun days out, where I've got to photography glow worms, red kites and even a fun bug hunt in my own garden so my wife, myself and a good dear friend could do macro photography (look it up, its fun) on the things we could find. So what has happened is after years, of not being to express myself I now have multiple things, yeah I highlight cosplay and photography as they are huge factors in my life. But that is far from all and in reality I need to add a third thing, something I can discuss in a part three of this blog, my love of nature and the wonderful friend who has helped it blossom.

I've thrown a few random images in this instalment, they are just examples of my work in photography, I stuck to the basic images as a lot of my more weird ones include models and I'd rather have permission before showing them in my blog. Something to add to my to do list!.

Good News Everybody!

Finally, after many years and I mean years of fighting the system I actually have something positive happening in regards to my treatment. Its taken my wife and I a long time, butting our heads against the wall of a system that has suffered cuts, incompetence at times and frankly a failure in its duty of care. I know those last two are harsh and this is the NHS, but seriously, anyone who is currently dealing with this system will at least have one horror story I can tell you.

Anyway, to the point, the good point, after all the fighting to get things done, things are finally moving in the right direction and all it took in the end was two key people who actually listened. My medication is now being changed, no more lithium, as I mentioned before, the stuff was killing me, now I'm being taken off it and put on depakote which although isn't perfect, isn't going to kill me. That's the start, the other far more amazing outcome is that I am now, officially under the mental health community care team. So, from this point on, we have additional support, no more confusion about who is supposed to be seeing me and no more of the who is in charge of my overall care.

How on earth did all this come about?

My last crisis moment, the one I mentioned in previous blog, it led to this whole situation because things just got beyond a joke. But it was two moments in this that stand out from all others, the first was a crisis nurse who had been transferred to my local team to help cover. This nurse was amazing, she was shocked at the treatment I have endured and could not understand why things were as they were. She even used the word I have associated with the last 10 years, being in limbo, not knowing what is what. So she set out a plan of action, here at my own home. She wanted me under the community mental health team, she wanted a medication review and most of all she wanted clarification of my actual treatment. I'll admit, I thought, 'yeah heard all this before' and completely dismissed her at the time. But this amazing woman, within days had arranged for me to see the psych for the medication review, started the ball rolling to get me into the community mental health team and before she had to go back to her previous post, reassured me that things would get done.

Now you may remember me having a rant about visits not happening when I was in crisis, this was the case after she finished. For the whole six week period I was lucky if I got a phone call and I they even lied about trying to contact us. The problem with this was that my application to the team was now in the hands of the same idiots that sadly have let me down before. Heart sunk, old fears returned, but something else came along to help me with that, it came in the form of who was doing my medication review.

I was lucky enough, extremely lucky actually to have a professor of psychiatry review me medication. This man had been brought out of retirement in order to help the current team as they were very much understaffed. Little note on that under staffed part, its amazing how they like to remind you of that fact when you feel suicidal and thinking you are a burden to people, just think about that for a moment, you'll understand why both my wife and I have had the urge to murder them. Back to point though, the professor, this man surprised me, remember at this point I had given up all hope, I wanted to die, didn't see any point in going on. This man walked in, took us to a private room and without the aid of a computer talked to us. Now that part is important, as every appointment I have the psych will pull up my file and spend two minutes flicking over it. He didn't need to, he'd already prepped for the meeting and read my notes fully and was in effect just as shocked as we were at things. This is how I found out that my psoriasis that was caused directly by my lithium, should have been stopped there and then, not increased time and time again. I will say he wasn't perfect, he did give me a medication that once I read the leaflet and asked questions proved to be dangerous to me due to my family history of multiple conditions.

Anyway, time ticked on, crisis team kept telling me they were having issues with getting me the help from community mental health and that it was being blocked by a consultant for some reason. Turned out that was utter nonsense as when i had my last appointment, the one where I am officially coming off Lithium with the wonderful professor he politely informed me that the team should be involved as I am a secondary care patient and he is completely at a loss why they would not be involved. Just days after this appointment I get a phone call from the crisis team, which were supposed to do the last home visit, to cancel that visit, discharge me but also announce, I am now under the community mental health team. I can't be sure, but the sheer timing to me suggests there was a question raised and nobody could answer and boom, I'm in.

So right now, things are looking good, I'm also referred for a more advanced form of CBT to help me cope with recent developments in my condition. Being honest I'm going to need something as one other great thing about the professor, he's honest. He told me, without any shadow of a doubt, this new med might not work and I may have to face life dealing with my condition in more challenging ways. I know I've mentioned a fair bit of this in a previous blog, but this is more an update. I have some hope, someone finally grabbed my hand and pull me up out of the waters of the limbo I was in. Lets just hope it doesn't fall apart due to the stupidity and I seriously mean that, I don't care if it is the NHS, there has been so many mistakes I'm allowed to have a rant about it!

Crisis Zone! (Warning - Suicide content)

Quietly, thinking to myself...hang on that's not right, sure that's the lyrics to a song by fingers eleven! Lets try that again, I'm sat here, quietly, thinking about the last  couple of months, in particular the last two. See this blog hasn't covered quite a few recent events, one of which was me hitting rock bottom and feeling suicidal. I don't say that lightly either, I was pretty damn low to say the least, staring into an abyss that was threatening to just drag me into the depths of whatever fresh hell was waiting at the bottom. I've experienced this before, in the sense that I wanted to end it all, had two very powerful reasons that tend to do the round trip on me. One is when my psychosis become so overwhelming that being alive is just a living hell with no hope of escape. Imagine for a moment my voices all screaming so loudly I can't hear anything but them, I am seeing things appear before that are so horrifying that I am too afraid to open my eyes and to top it off I feel like somebody is drilling a hole into my brain. Yeah, that is how it feels during those times, thankfully very rare at those levels, plus everytime it happens, I get a little more savvy to it. Then there is number two on that list, the moment where I hate myself so much, that I convince myself its not worth going on, that everyone actually would be better off without me ever existing. You know that phrase thrown as an insult 'I wish you were never born' well I feel like I shouldn't have been during such times. Its a crippling depression, driven by anxiety that just pushes you to make that decision to end all decisions.

Well recently I had a new and far more disturbing third option happen to me, yes the list got bigger and I'm actually still scared about how badly it affected me. I hit a point where I didn't want to go on, I wasn't suffering psychosis, I wasn't feeling like life would be better without me in it, no, this was weird. I simply stopped, I didn't want to go on, I had no real feeling in me, I felt numb and detached from the world around me. Now don't get me wrong, that sounds a lot like depression and it is, but for me, I'd never felt it so intensely as this. I had no will left, no strength and I just wanted to end it all. But the weird part, I had no reason to, there was nothing to say 'you really should kill yourself' no it was more like I lost who I was completely. There was nothing left of me, motivation, feeling, just this sense of being completely numb. I was watching the world in slow motion, nothing sparked any reaction in me, no real emotion and even if it did I felt so far away from it I may as well be staring across the ocean. So why on earth would that make me feel suicidal, surely I would just shut down and just not care right?

What triggered the suicidal feeling is you have to remember I'm bipolar, I'm used to emotion, feeling and although its really messed up and not balanced, that is what makes me, well me. Imagine if you are used to feeling emotion so intensely that it threatens to overwhelm you on a daily basis and the only thing keeping it in check is your medication and coping skills. It becomes your normal everyday routine, but to have that suddenly gone, sucked away as if some kind of emotion sucking vampire visited you in your sleep and forgot to finish you off completely. It was insane, I felt completely alone and isolated, and in this numbed state, in this moment of absolute nothingness, the voices. Oh yeah they didn't waste any time in this, I had it all thrown at me but one just hit me hard and it was simply put. One whispered, just loud enough to be heard 'see, you are broken, why go on?'

It was right to, I was broken, that is what happened, all the nonsense, all the bullshit I had put up with trying to just live life in some way that isn't just about coping. I broke, stopped, crashed, however you want to say it somehow I managed to feel so utterly removed from my life that it was nothing more than a distant memory. And slowly, due to that voice, those feelings of isolation began to swell to the point where I thought to myself, in the most rational way ever, why not end it?

It made perfect sense, after all if you look at is, my health isn't getting better, my mental health will in the end get worse and no matter how much I sugar coat it, its hurting those around me. I know people will argue, but trust me, few of you know the other sides of this, the parts where I am no longer me and something that is purely irrational and at times a monster. I sat there, thinking to myself how easy it would be, I even started to type up a suicide note to explain how this was different, so Elizabeth would understand that I wasn't in pain and that it was the right thing for me to do. Can you imagine that, just calmly typing the reasons you are dead and hoping that those reading it would understand your rational explanation. I justified it perfectly, what better time to go than like this, while I was not in any pain and calm.

Then another voice kicked in, not my hallucinations, my own inner voice, reminding me that I swore if I felt like killing myself I would talk. I hate breaking a promise, I avoid it at all costs, so I remembered, deleted the suicide note and decided to tell my wife that I wasn't right, something felt wrong, I felt broken. I explained that I had thoughts of ending it all. This naturally led to the call to the hospital for crisis team, which you'd think would be simple right?

Nope, never simple, first you got to jump the hoop of getting through to them, then you have to have them tell your wife that in order to help they need to speak to me on the phone, even though at this point I am now unable to even muster a sentence, but they insist that unless I do speak, they won't do anything. Its only after my wife gets upset that they even bother to say they will, but add 'oh can you get him down here' and when told we don't have a car they seem to think someone in my state can travel by bus (oh middle of the night, no buses). Eventually, after hours have passed, I get down there, I can't even quite remember how, may have been a good friend, taxi, I honestly can't remember right now as its still a little blurry. If it was a friend, I'm so sorry for not mentioning you and forgetting. That leads to me being eventually seen, by a doctor and a nurse who seem to have no idea what to do, when told by my wife what has happened previously, lets say it left them even more confused. That's a long story I'll get into in another blog entry, its a fun one but lets say my history with the crisis team is rather amusing and insulting.

In the end, I'm discharged, given meds I need to take, told they are ok and will cause me no harm. Good job I check things, I didn't like the mention in the side effects that this medication should be given to anyone with bipolar disorder. Turned out to be a good call to, as I was told they should NEVER had given to me in the first place and don't understand why they were. Finally I got to a professor, yes not a doctor, not a consultant, a professor that had been pulled out of retirement. This man is good, I'll give credit there, he is the one now taking me off lithium, a man who has told me the truth more than anyone else in the mental health department has in the last 10 years. I jumped a bit there, but I'll come back to point!

The crisis team, they arranged home visits, to come and make sure I'm ok, through these home visits I find out that somehow, I am no longer under the community mental health team. Even though I had previously been told repeatedly I am. Imagine my confusion when they even state I am an outpatient when I just came out of an appointment with my psych who stated I'm a secondary care patient. Home visits became a joke then, going from twice a week to not at all for a week, not seen the same person more than twice and even though I am supposed to be closely monitored for six weeks I have effectively seen my crisis team around five times and oddly we're on week eight. Yeah, week eight as they've not been able to discharge me as they have not been able to have someone pop over to do the final visit. Add to that we get random letters and phonecalls saying 'we have been trying to contact you' and when ringing them back they are saying one particular nurse has been trying to ring us. Odd however that we have answer phones on both our mobiles and the house phone, not to mention caller display and not even an unknown or withheld number has come up. Either this nurse is ringing the wrong number, or frankly, somebody is lying through their teeth at the expense of my wife and I's sanity. Now back to the community mental health team, after being I'm not in it, only a few days ago, I was told by that lovely professor that it makes no sense, I should be and there is no reason he can see why I'm not. He was as confused as we were as he thought I'd just not understood that I should be in it and he had assumed I already was.

Well tomorrow I have that final visit apparently, with news of what is happening with the team, so I am sat here thinking about what is going to happen and how I'm going to deal with it. Because I'll confess, I'm not fully healed, I still feel fragile and to find out that nothing is happening to help me and my wife, especially with the change of medication that is happening. I don't know what I'm supposed to do, I seem to fighting a system that should be helping and whats worse it seems to be fighting with itself in terms of who is doing what.

Now I know I've really laid into the NHS mental health department in this, I don't mean to attack something that is run by good people struggling with running the thing in the first place due to the pressures put on them by cuts etc. But they have failed me again and again in ways that make little to no sense, its seemingly all down to miscommunication pure neglect at points. We are talking about a department that once forgot about me for over 13 months where I had no appointments. I actually had to arrange on my own back with my GP to have my lithium levels monitors in a clinic that was not equipped to do so. So as much as I love the NHS, no matter how much I respect the staff, they need to sort it out, because I'm lucky, I have my wife, family, friends supporting me, imagine the people who don't?

They are the people you see on the news, the ones that didn't make it or broke trying.

Shoot to thrill and thrill no more.

I had a pretty good two days, yes I realise I didn't post anything yesterday, but in my defence, no access to this PC just my phone, and blogging via a phone is hard to do. So what's new, spent time with my mother, which I have to say was nice as I don't spend enough time down with her frankly. Bonus I get to fuss the old boy known as Barney (my mums lovely little dog) who although getting on a bit, still has moments of madness. So yeah, yesterday was quiet, which was needed and I feel a lot better for it.

Now we move onto today, today I got to do something I love, I mentioned it in a previous blog and I realise I've not done the part two to that one yet. I had a photo shoot with a fantastic friend and awesome model who not only did me a huge favour by modelling for me today but also brought her partner who was amazing himself. I'm a step closer to finishing a project I want to get done by Halloween and its almost looking complete. Yeah had a few issues, mostly down to various things including time, availability and most of all my terrible organisational skills.

Anyway, shoot went REALLY well, go some cracking images and it did my confidence the world of good. I love photography, yeah I'm no professional, I'm a hobbyist and an amateur one at that, but I'm learning and enjoying the journey. The more I do, the better I'll get and who knows, maybe one day I'll do something I can actually be proud of in my own self. Which is going to bring me back around to an issue I mentioned before, me, hating me and hating the things I do.

I've only ever had one bit of bad feedback on a photo shoot, I was starting out, made the huge mistake of thinking its just point and click, I had no idea to be honest what I was doing. But as time went on, I took a lot more photos, people seem to like them, in fact a lot loved them and praised them. Problem there is I don't see it with their eyes, I see it with my own judgemental eyes and see nothing but mistakes, shoddy work and badly produced images. That is me getting in the way of me, hating what I do, no matter how much people tell me otherwise, I find it so hard to like anything I create. I know where it comes from and I know I've already talked about it, me looking for validation while also thinking constantly, I can do better because of events in my childhood and pretty much in my adulthood.

But I am not going to let this blog go all negative, I achieved goals today, I also had the bonus of working with a female and male model dynamic that offered so much potential. Again, I'm damn lucky to know the people I know and even more so to call them friends. I honestly need to get out and do more, I have who really want to work with me and I just can't seem to get myself going when I need to. And there you go, the eureka moment as I typed that sentence!

I need to get organised, I need to get out more and I need to take advantage of the rare opportunities that are presented to me. To do it though, I need to focus and also get handy with my craft skills, I have access to a studio now and that allows a lot more versatility to my work. I have access to tools, a workshop so why on earth am I not building props all the time, why do I mostly sit on my arse here in this house and do very little actual work?

Answer to question, my mental health, there are days I just can not function and those days are alarmingly frequent. But the real annoyance is going to end soon, the lithium, it is the fly in the ointment of everything I do. Imagine if you will, you are getting excited, you feel creativity flowing, you start to feel very happy and the energy level starts to drive upwards. Well for me, that happens, then I hit a brick wall made of lithium, it is designed to do that, stop me in my tracks. It prevents my manic phases but the like a double edged sword, it stops me doing something stupid while also stopping me doing anything with that energy full stop. I live in an emotional limbo, never quite feeling happy, never quite being excited by anything. Its there, but its distant, think of it like moving in water, everything is slowed down, dulled, the sound is muffled. But as I said, its going to end, does this mean finally, after years of not being to do much I might be able to do more?

That is my hope, the thing I actually dare to dream of, having the energy to do the things I want to do. Build props, use them in everything from cosplay to photo shoots. In turn I get to do what I love and the real bonus, I get to make people happy. I like that second part, don't get me wrong, I'd do what I love anyway, otherwise there would be point to it if it wasn't for myself in some way. But I do appreciate the fact I can give something back to, to the people who have always shown me kindness. This is really an odd one isn't, like its two different things crammed together to make sense out of some third weird thing that I don't quite fully understand.

That third thing, is purely me longing to be better, better than I am, both in health and in the things I do. I've suffered so much due to my health this year, I don't help the situation, I am overweight, I smoke and I find it hard to motivate myself. But I want to get there, to be better, to not having aching legs, to not feel locked inside a box and most importantly, to be free, free to focus on the things that matter in my life without worry. So I'm going to leave this blog as it is, I reckon I'll do that part two tomorrow and talk about exactly why I love photography so much. Yes, that's what I'll do!

Every cloud has a lithium lining...

Today has been one hell of a weird day to say the least, I know I promised a part two to my previous blog but I just had to get this one done first. See today, I learnt a few interesting things, made some life changing choices and more importantly found out a few facts I had no idea about. 

So I'll start with the beginning, prepping to go to my psych appointment, not something I was particularly looking forward to as frankly I had given up completely on the system and whatever help it could offer. The first challenge, getting out of bed, because believe me, I DID NOT WANT TO. But my wife being her usually amazing self and knowing this appointment had potential, managed to get me going. Yeah I had no real motivation and honestly I was hoping something unexpected would happen to stop me going. Safe to say that didn't happen, I even think the universe itself was going 'make sure you get to this one' as when I was waiting for the bus, a journey that often fills me with anxiety, my sister in law surprises me. Like an agent of fate she was in the area, had seen I had an appointment and happened to have time to spare. I'll give her full credit, she was there, wanting to help and straight up reassuring. 

That led me to the other weird part, see I don't see either my brother, sister in law or the kids unfortunate enough to have me as an uncle. So as you can imagine, I don't hear a lot, that's my failing in honest, I'm not very good at the whole family thing, I guess I just liked my own space too much. Anyway, meandering off there again, but I got to find out that in many ways 2018 has not been a good year in general, something I thought in honesty was in my head, but nope, 2018 has sucked bad for a lot of people, including family and friends. Yeah, odd sentence, but I realised as I was typing I was about to talk about things that really, I have no right to post up here unless I check first. But the point still stands, weird and unexpected were words I was going to get used to during the passing of today. 

See we had the unexpected lift, then the information, then came the actual appointment, which by some miracle of nature, I actually attended and had the same person to speak to. To explain that, over the last few years I have never seen the same person twice in terms of my treatment. Every time its like a reset button as I have to explain everything to a new person who just started. But back to actual appointment, the person I was seeing happened to be a professor of psychiatry that had been pulled out of retirement. I'd seen him during my recent time with crisis team (another story I'll tell another day). This man, instead of trying to argue with me, tell me that my concerns were wrong or that I there were no alternatives, listened to me. He didn't try and explain away anything, he broke things down, waited to hear how I felt and formed a plan from that. But man, did I find out some facts that left me feeling like I have been effectively lied to for years, no not feel, had been. 

See I want to come off my lithium medication, I'm getting severe side effects after more than a decade using it. My skin is so covered in psoriasis that I can safely say it now occupies about 50% of my total body in some form or another. Its so out of control that no creams work, no moisturiser will penetrate it and it cracks and bleeds daily. Sorry if that makes some of you feel off reading it, but its my reality, its also embarrassing, I hate my body due to it and its robbed me of a few things. An example, I can't even go swimming in the local pool, because as soon as they clap eyes on open sores, there is no way they will let me in. I know people shout 'but they can't stop you, its discrimination' and that I have rights, but it doesn't stop it and those rights go out the window if the sores are 'open'. So you can see why I want to come off it, aside from it not working well anymore, its causing me a ton of problems. You won't believe the things I can't take or eat as they directly affect the levels in my blood and could effectively cause toxic levels and kill me.

Safe to say, this professor, understood this, he actually stated if he had been the one treating me at the beginning, he'd have taken me off it years ago at the first sign. Which shocked me but angered me to, because I'm sat there thinking 'everytime I told them about the side effects, they increased the dosage'. But he went further, and this actually freaked me out but the anger took over quickly. The fact, that the lithium is directly responsible for my psoriasis also meant that potentially it could have also killed me. I kid you not, I am sat in an office, with a guy who knows his shit, telling me that if the psoriasis reached a certain level, it would, without doubt, cause my body to lose so much water that the lithium levels could kill me. You imagine that for a moment, not only has this chemical wonder that can stabilise my mood and run my fucking watch been slowly damaging my kidneys, lymphatic system and skin, while simultaneously stopping me using medication that could heal many of those problems. It was actually acting like some moisture seeking vampire who had turned my own body against me. I am still raging here over that thought, that in over 10 years not one, and I mean not one so called mental health expert had ever thought about that. I made no illusions about how bad my skin was, hell they even once referred me to dermatology!

Right, calm, deep breaths because there is some silver lining here, because this wonderful man, this professor who actually took the time to read my notes before I got there, said enough is enough, time to stop the lithium. Yes, this man, in but a few appointments did more for me than anyone has in years of treatment at the hands of a so called mental health department. I hate to criticise the NHS, but seriously, in terms of mental health, they didn't just drop the ball, they lost it so badly the damn thing is now called Wilson. So I'm starting a new med, can't remember the name off the top of my head but its a basic mood stabiliser that also happens to be a treatment for epilepsy, a med I was offered but talked out of when I started lithium. So slow withdrawal from the lithium starts in about 3-6 weeks and surprisingly, may only take as little as 8 weeks to actually come off it completely. 

One last thing with the appointment I had to just drop my jaw with, which is coming back to the NHS mental health team. He asked about crisis team, who I am still under at the moment due to previous low point, I was in a very dark place. I informed him that they had been very hands off but were chasing up my referral to the community mental health team. To which he laughed, said but you are already in it, you are in secondary care, so its automatic. This is what I had always assumed, problem is, he's wrong, I'm not, as apparently I'm an out patient, which nobody seems to understand. But its comedy at its best, that even the guy who is top of his profession has no idea how their own system works in regards to my care. I am in the mental health limbo, a place where I am apparently treated but nobody knows how!

So here I am, after all that, new beginning, there's no guarantees here, my skin may never recover, this new med might not work and I could be facing dealing with the full force of my bipolar disorder. But I would rather that, than face a slow, painful and corrosive journey into my 40's on lithium. Life isn't going to change so much for me but things will be different and I will face challenges that I've not had to deal with in a long time. But I am quietly confident about this, that this new treatment plan could work. Who knows, maybe he'll get me the community mental health team, be nice as it would take a lot of pressure of my wife. She never complains, but I am not stupid, its draining living with a bipolar. But I am holding out, you could say I have new hope and this time, maybe, just maybe, I can get the help I need to get a grip on my own health.

Cosplay, a reason to live!

Well day four of doing a daily blog, not bad for a man who normally quits this kind of thing after only the first few attempts. But this is good, I'm enjoying it and I hope if you happen to read my ramblings you are enjoying it to, be a nice bonus. So what am I going to discuss in this one, I have to be honest I wasn't entirely sure until I sat down listening to a bit of Iron Maiden and the song Wildest Dreams just blasted into my earphones. I do love when inspiration can take a metaphorical frying pan and beat you across the head to get the message through. So that is what I'm going to talk about, dreams, ambitions and how they keep me sane.

So we start simple, hobbies, there are a few I quite enjoy and in particular there are two that stand out, to the point they allow me to express myself in ways I had never really imagined. I'll start with cosplay, to those unfamiliar with it, I'll just break it down. Cosplay is derived from two words, costume and play and that should give you a massive hint already. I get to dress up as some of my favourite characters, attend various events and have a great deal of fun doing it. I can imagine some already going 'but that's just fancy dress' trust me, it involves an element of that, but the reality is much more interesting. Being honest, depending on who you ask, cosplay is described in many ways. But if I was to try and sum it up in a sentence, its a form of roleplaying where you can bring characters to life from your favourite things (film, TV, comics, animation) through costume and play with the bonus of attending events and be part of a fantastic community. I'll be honest, that doesn't do it justice, because the level of some of the costumes, man you wouldn't believe, the effort people put in, from the person who buys their costume to those who create things so visually stunning its beautiful. Everyone, from those who are starting out to the veterans, they are all so amazing and the community is equally so, ok not perfect, but tell a fandom that is.

So what attracted me to cosplay, well, honestly, pure escapism and just giving into that mega geek within. For a few hours I could be anything I wanted to be, I could be a Sith Lord, Crime boss or even a classic goon for some villain. The freedom I felt doing it, one of my first characters was a Sith Lord I created, an original character, called Lord Stryfe. I had no real craft skill, no real talent for making things, so I actually used bits of old Halloween costumes and modded them best I could. Threw on a cheap ski mask, cut up an old long leather coat and with perfect timing, my brother and sister in law bought me a lightsaber toy. So first take him to a photoshoot (which funny enough will be something else I'll talk about) run by a good friend who was so amazingly kind to me and let me join in. Now I add amazingly kind because if you saw the people who turned up to this, we had a Harley Quinn that looked like she was lifted from the pages of a comic, Jessica Rabbit, brought to life (again epic) hell I could go on, we had the most Wolverine looking Logan I've ever met. There were so many amazing ones, that I could do an essay on each, but lets say its surreal to realise you are in a room with such epic people and characters. Do you know the best part, there is me, in my frankly knocked together outfit, looking nowhere near as good and all of them, every single person made me feel part of the shoot, part of the group and as time went on, part of an ever growing list of friends, good friends.

Trust me, I could write for hours how amazing life has been since taking up the hobby, being part of this cosplaying community. Through it I've gained friends, overcome many of my confidence issues and its given me a means to cope. I now attend conventions, actually had cosplays requested and get invited to wonderful meetings, it just opened up my life. See when I do cosplay, as I mentioned earlier, I have that sense of freedom, that escapism, it all helps me, but it does extend further. Now I build things, I create new cosplays, learn new skills and I do a photography, only as a hobbyist, but its fun. These new things, these extensions of the hobby can often keep me busy when I need to be, give me an outlet that allows me to focus my mind. You could quite easily say that cosplay saved my life in many ways, but I will add there are many other things and people that also do the same but have nothing to do with cosplay. Not underselling cosplays importance to me, but it is just one part of my life, as I stated at the beginning, I have many hobbies, but I also have many wonderful diverse friendships.

Wow, just realised how big this is and I was going to cover two hobbies, tell you what, I hope you can forgive me but I'll not do the second now, I'll do that as a kind of part two to this one. I am reading back over this and thinking, man have I missed so much out, but I am travelling memory lane and blogging it is going to take a few posts I think. But maybe that's something I need to consider, I want to talk about my past, but I need to talk about my present more to, maybe even some plans for the future. So I'll leave this here, come back and I'll finish this off with its part two, which is pretty much going to about my love of photography and how I was inspired.

Oh Psychosis, what a mind, what a mind

This is going to be a fun one to say the least, because one of the most interesting things about my mental health is my psychosis, it really doesn't seem to fit the bipolar group that well. Interesting fact about that is that my psychosis is actually a separate diagnosis and treated very much that way. Anyway, I wanted to get into the subject and how it affects me, mostly as recent things highlighted it for me.

Right, psychosis, think a good idea would be to clear up what that is straight away, for me psychosis is my brains wonderful way of creating delusions and hallucinations that are very hard to distinguish from reality. These come in the form of paranoid thinking, the idea that they really are out to get you. For example I once got locked into a delusion where I thought there was a low frequency being transmitted by everything that could send a signal that was meant to affect people of a certain brain pattern. I actually thought that my bipolar and psychosis were being triggered deliberately by some shadow organisation that was trying to stop people like me from being able to 'think' clearly as we had something special that was able to see through their illusions of society. I pretty much went all Rowdy Roddy Piper in They Live but without the aliens..

Next on my wonderful symptoms, hallucinations, oh man are these things great, from entertaining to damn right terrifying. I get the whole package, but unlike a Sky package I couldn't opt out after 12 months. To define package, I get visual, auditory, sensory and tactile hallucinations. To break that down for anyone not overly familiar with the terms, visual (I see things), auditory, (I hear things), sensory (smell, taste)and tactile (I feel things) that are not there. Visual hallucinations vary from seeing a random cat toy rolling on the floor (no I do not own a cat) to very real and frankly disturbing demonic entities that would make Clive Barker smile with glee at the grotesque and horrifying visage. I'm going to skip to tactile and sensory here, as trust me, the auditory, that's really complicated. Right before I side track, tactile, I feel things that aren't there, one is the sensation of something crawling under my skin. Cast your mind to the film 'The Mummy' and those little borrowing scarab beetles, yep, its really that disturbing and really that real to me. I've actually tried to hack my skin open to get them out. Sensory, I hate this one, smells that appear out of nowhere, tastes that randomly occur, good example is the taste of blood while drinking a cup of tea but it can go as far as tasting something rancid while enjoying a bowl of cornflakes.

Auditory, this one is getting its own special part of this blog, because it is, by far the most annoying thing I have to deal with on a daily basis. See something I missed out in previous posts, I've always had this, my bipolar and psychosis, never remember a time without it and the voices are the reminder of that. My first memory of them was as a kid, I was coming up on 6 if I remember, but things do get screwy in terms of time for me. Anyway, back then, they spoke as one voice, one chorus if you will, telling me to do the opposite of what I wanted to do. So you can imagine, I went to do something that was fun and caused no harm, they wanted me to do something that would make me feel terrible and possibly hurt someone or something. Most of the time I was able to ignore them, I learnt that 'if your friends told you to stick your head in the oven' rule very early on, these voices fell into the 'don't trust the idiots' part of my child brain. As time went on, they got louder, but I also got smarter, I figured out I could trick them with my own voice in my own head. My inner monologue would tell them I wanted to do something bad, so they cheered on the good things. It was a complicated relationship, but it worked, it meant with a little creative thinking, some doodling and the fact I was actually a very quiet kid. The quiet kid part meant nobody bothered me much, parents, even my brother, who to be honest, was pretty damn good to me. So that was the childhood sorted, now onto teens and how things changed, for the more complicated.

I have no doubt it was my blossoming hormones and education that led to the voices changing completely, like me, as they are me, they grew and changed. But what was once a chorus, split, individual personalities developed and my constant waking torment persisted. See even though they developed into individuals, what didn't, remained as a constant noise in the background that had the most unreliable volume control ever. Imagine yourself sat in a crowded pub, no music, just the noise of people, talking. It can be as quiet as them all having a casual chat or as loud as them screaming for their favourite team to win, to the point of screaming. That is how it evolved, that noise never goes away, it never ends, I wake to it, a go to sleep to escape it. But I mentioned individual personalities, and trust me they really are individuals, I often wonder how on earth my brain came up with them as some are so alien to my normal mindset that really does feel like they are real entities haunting me.

I have seven individual voices so far, I say so far as that could change, I'm aware of this, it could go up or down but mostly its gone up. When the chorus broke, there was only three, but that was like some advanced scouting party. I won't disclose all of them, as even typing about certain ones will bring them out to play and I frankly can't deal with them right now. But I will tell you about two of them, the first one who is simply known as Frank. I called him Frank because its a name and description, he is blunt, to the point and often very critical. He is that guy who you bump into and for some reason sticks around, spouting his opinion whether you want it or not. He passed comments on every situation is pretty much the most present of all my voices. He's not all bad though, he has been known to be creative, helpful even when I'm working on ideas for projects. But there is a very thin line between helpful motivation and attempting to push me into a manic episode. The other, well they are kind of a pair, the twins as I call them and I absolutely loath this pair of high pitched mental assassins. You know the twins in the Simpsons, they are like that, finishing each others sentences, speaking in unison and always picking out flaws in either my character or things I am doing. Its a continuous assault of giggling, critical and dripping in venom comments. I can usually silence them by simply reading something nice a person has said about me or by simply challenging their logic, which oddly Frank can sometimes help with.

Now I am avoiding the rest, they disturb the hell out of me and I'm not going there yet. But as bonkers as all this sounds, truth is I'm used to it. I grew up with this, its grown with me, I have adapted and taken on new coping skills to deal with it. Yes, there are days, even just mere hours where it becomes too much and they do happen more frequently that I like to admit, but it could seriously be worse. Imagine if I just woke up one day with all of the above?

I would be in hospital or worse lets face it, not being over dramatic or making it sound life threatening, I don't have to, because it really is. So there you go, an insight into what psychosis is for me, I know I didn't go into much about how it affects everyday life but I thought that could be a post in its own right. Because I reckon some of the things I've learnt, might actually be useful for anyone who has this condition. But I'm going to stop, click publish and think about what I'm going to do tomorrow.

Bipolar Wars - The Phantom Menace

Yeah, I stole the title from one of the least loved star wars films, but hey, it gave us Darth Maul and John Williams epic 'duel of the fates'. Anyway before I get sidetracked by that, and trust me as you read this that statement in itself will make so much more sense. I've lived with bipolar all my life, I can't remember a time it hasn't affected my life, I grew up with it and even though I didn't have a name for it, that didn't stop its influence in my life. I could go into how I grew up with it, I could give you a story of a childhood lost, dreams shattered and even love that was nearly lost, but that's for another time I think. What I want to talk about today is one of the most annoying and yet strangely creative aspects of being bipolar.

So what is this strange thing, this aspect that is both annoying and creative?

Everyone has those moments of inspiration, those moments where you get an idea and you go 'that is amazing, lets go for it'. Well, bipolar loves those moments, it adores them and being as its a part of who I am, I love them to. There is a slight problem though, see a rational minded person looks at an idea, they decide to take a chance on it, work it out the best they can. How it goes, that is dependent on the person, they might make a success out of it or it'll all come crashing down around them, either way they take that chance and focus more often than not on that single thing. I know that's not exclusive, people do tend to wander from thing to thing, forget things, start new projects, shelve old ones. But for a bipolar, these things are a little more complicated.

You see I can look back at my life and see a trail, that trail is made up by a million unfinished, unrealised or even totally wrecked ideas. Like everyone else, I get ideas, I try to make them happen and like everyone else I sometimes get them to work or fall flat on my face, no real difference there. Here's the complication, bipolar is a condition that takes you to the heights of creativity, you feel like you can do anything while on the high end of the mood scale, nothing is beyond you. Imagine that for a moment, you can do ANYTHING put your mind to, to you its all possible. You are bound to be thinking already, nobody can do anything, there are limits, to think otherwise is either arrogance or a sense of over confidence. You're right, problem is, I can't see that when I'm high, that's nonsense, who the hell do people think they are to tell me I can't do these things. Fair, that's the extreme end, I also get ideas for things while stable, but like everyone else, I tend to try and work with what I have and understand my own limitations. Though tell me I have those while high and I'd dismiss it in an instant and tell you that anyone can achieve anything they want, they just have to believe in it.

Not so bad, wondering where I was going with this, so am I but I think this next part will tie it all together. That feeling, of knowing you can do something, having confidence in it, high or stable, it doesn't matter. Because all it takes is for the floor to open up and swallow me and those things blink out of existence. The phantom menace, the demon that lurks in the mind of so many, depression. I could be doing so well, I could be on top of the world and all it takes is one bad day, the rug gets pulled as I'm going my rather hefty arse goes flying up in the air, all goes sideways and I'm laying in a heap, clutching myself in pain as my mind reminds me how horrible I really am. Yeah, that about sums it up, so now imagine the things I'm doing well in, they are now turned against me. They become things that are beyond me, I can't deal with them, I can't motivate myself to get off the floor and the longer I stay there the more guilt I suffer as I watch well made plans fall apart.

It really is a case of the things that inspire you and devour you, all those lovely plans, all those unfinished projects just sit there, mocking you for your inability to finish them. Worst thing is, its never just one or two things, nope, bipolar personality has so much to give. I end up doing so many things at once that even when I'm stable I find it hard to keep up with it which, as you may have guessed already, can trigger depression through good old fashioned anxiety. And believe me anxiety is a bitch, that little gem is like somebody says 'here hold this' and then you realise you're posed like Atlas holding up the weight of the world on your shoulders and the floor is giving way.

So the phantom menace of bipolar for me is that long list of unfinished things, those things mount up, to a point where they become a crushing reminder of what could have been. Feeding anxiety and destroying any sense of hope you had to do something, anything. Don't get me wrong, I love that feeling of starting something new, I love the creativity but I can't ignore that sense of defeat every time I end up giving up. It has the ability to inspire me, to think of amazing ideas, to create new projects and to have the confidence to carry them out. But it can also tear it from me as someone yanks the lever labelled 'trapdoor' and it all comes crashing down leaving me in a heap of my own creation. Now there are ways to cope, hell I never understood it years ago but an occupational therapist said to me when I am depressed just finish one task a day, even if its something like do the dishes. I get it now, because while all the other things seem out of reach, impossible to do, the simple things, the little things, they can provide a sense of achievement. That sense gives you enough to get through, enough to keep the demons away for a few more hours. Maybe with enough little things, you can keep them away just long enough to actually make it back up walls of the pit and onto solid ground again.

So i think that explains it, I hope it does anyway, i feel I didn't quite get it across but that's the nagging doubt, well more a couple of voices in my head (oh we'll get to them in another post). Anyway, I'm going to stop here, as I think I actually just managed to even confuse myself!

Bit of a tricky start!

So, here I am, attempting this thing they call blogging...

I feel like I need to introduce myself a little so I'll do my best, this is a little strange and I'm usually used to the wonderful platforms of social media where things are short, people are friends and pretty much most of the time posts just get forgotten. Anyway, babbling (I will do that a lot), who am I?

That question in its own right makes me think of the philosophical concepts of identity, but before I get caught in that thought, keep it simple as my friends say. I'm a nearly 40 year old bloke who lives in the South Wales Valleys, happily married, massive geek, hobbyist photographer and I'm also bipolar. Now all those things I've just mentioned will play a major part in this blog, as frankly, me getting older, my love for my wife, my geeky hobbies and my bipolar are very important in my life.

So, what do I say next?

Well maybe the reason why I'm trying to do this blogging thing might help. I like to put things down so I can read them again later, but also I have this little hope that sometimes someone will read it and find something of use. I very often talk about my condition, the dreaded bipolar as I have many friends who not only share my condition but also friends who understand and want to know more. So in honesty, this blog may well focus heavily on how I cope with living day by day but I didn't want it to be just about bipolar. See I figured out a long time ago that treating it as a separate entity to myself was actually giving it more control over me. At the end of the day, bipolar is as much a part of me as the stretch marks on my stomach (just realised I forgot to mention I am rather alarmingly overweight). Now where on earth was I going with this line of thought, ah yes, not being just about bipolar. I want this to cover my journey in life, so yes it'll play a large part but there are so many other things I can talk about, those geeky things in particular!

So this is an introduction to my blog, but also a statement of intent, I will keep this going, I will post as regularly as possible and I will share my life in the hope that people reading (if you do) can gain a little something from it. Whether its how I cope with bipolar or just a simple interest in things that I take part in, it doesn't matter. I'm doing this for me, because I feel that writing my thoughts down, sharing my adventures could help me better understand myself and perhaps help others understand me. It may even, at an outside chance of a million to one actually help someone else find an answer they've been seeking.

Oh and I know I put this in the description, but I'll mention it here, the blog name, inspired by a friends nickname for me. Started out as Tricky dicky, eventually got shortened to Tricky, I always felt it summed up how things were for me.

Anyway, that's where I'll end this for now, but after sitting here typing all this, I now understand why people blog, its refreshing and freeing, no little social media screen, just space to fill with my musings!

#newbeginning