The Onset

ELEMENTARY

I was an awkward child. I was clueless on how to be social. I always had trouble making friends. My father was in the military so we were stationed on a military base in Germany. The school I went to was of decent size. I remember my classrooms being about 20 students total. I was teased constantly because I’d read books or draw in a notebook.

Bus rides home. Gum thrown in my hair. Boys trying to trip me in the aisles. Girls pointing at me and calling me a nerd, a weirdo. I clutch my books tighter.

Lunch hour is spent sitting in the corner most table, alone. I eat. I read. I look over all the kids and wonder why I’m different.

Third grade. I have an evil teacher. She uses a chart system to track her student’s behavior. Behave well and you get a gold star for the day. Have 4 or more gold stars each week, get a prize. She also uses a punishment system. A card holder on each desk with 4 colored cards: green, yellow, orange, black. Each time a transgression is committed, a card is taken. She doesn’t like me. I do not know why. I pay attention. I do well on my assignments. She calls me out for things that she does not on others. She takes several of my cards each day. Each day I am looking at orange, or at black. I feel like a bad child. I never get a prize the entire school year. I watch the other kids as they pick out little, worthless toys and wonder why I am so awful.

Fourth grade. Counselor tells me to try harder to make friends. At recess, I approach a group of kids and try to talk to them. They look at me like I’m diseased. I ignore it and continue to talk, try to make conversation. Perhaps they’ll warm up. No success. A boy calls me a freak and pushes me down. Everyone laughs. Inside, I’m crying.

My parents inform me that dad has been requested to transfer to Texas. I consider it a blessing. A new country. A great country. AMERICA! I am excited for a new start and the amazing life I’ll have. Little did I know how wrong I was.

Fifth Grade. New school. New faces. Completely new ideas of what is cool. I still don’t fit those ideals. Sadly, I am immediately outcasted. From my out of style clothes, my library books I carry around, my weird accent. I am told by a boy I am ugly. I am told I am a Nazi. What am I doing wrong?

JUNIOR HIGH AND HIGH SCHOOL

The hell years. The worst years of my existence.

13. I am growing taller. I am no longer wearing clothes from the children’s section. My mother takes me to the mall. I see outfits that are considered “cool” by my age group, what Seventeen magazine tells me I should dress to be a happy, sociable teenager. I instead fall in love with Converse high-tops and band T-shirts. Another new obsession is music, especially rock music. I relate to the angsty lyrics.

P.E. A class I hate. I hate undressing in front of all the girls. They make fun of my scrawny body. No curves. How are these other 13 year old so developed? I do well in athletic events. I outrun almost everybody. I can kick a ball very well. I can shoot balls into a basket effortlessly. Teacher tells us to divide into two teams for kick ball. She picks two leaders, the leaders take turns picking for their teams. Everyone is getting their name called. I am the last one standing. The teams have been evened out. I am 21st student in this gym class. I can play well, but no one wants me. Teacher tells me I can keep score and help referee. I accept, but would rather be playing. I go home that day in a fog. I go the bathroom and discover a red stain on my panties. I am a woman.

14. I meet Tom, Emily, Tara, Josh, and Kim. They become my friends. My only friends. For the first time in my life, I know what it’s like to be liked, to be wanted. We talk late into the night on Instant Messenger (no texting cellphones then). The beeping booping of incoming messages drive my mother crazy. She comes in every night and tells me to go to bed NOW. I feel on top of the world. I am loving life. I am loving high school. My grades are doing well. I take part in after school activities. I have many acquaintances. I still get picked on for reading books, for being too smart, for being a nerd, but I wear it like a crown.

15. We celebrate Tom’s 17th birthday with a bang. Tom plays football, but has friends in every social group at school. A true floater. A charmer. Everyone’s friend. But, he likes me. I am one of his best friends, he tells me. Tom’s parents are out of town on their second honeymoon. Tom invites me over to his house to hang out. We watch a movie and pig out on snacks. Something happens. Tom tries to make out with me. I push him away. I tell him no, you’re my friend, that’s it. I get up from the couch. He follows. He grabs me and throws me to the floor. I am in complete shock. I do not know exactly what is happening. He tries to pull my pants down. I kick. I squirm. He slaps me. I continue to fight, he continues to fight back. In desperation, I bite him. I taste blood. He screams and loses his hold on me. I run away from him. I run away from the house. I run and run and run. My home is 5 miles away and I run the whole way home. My mom cradles me for hours. She lets me cry. She holds me and rocks me. I am taken to a hospital. I am still a virgin. A therapist attempts to talk to me. I don’t say much. I just want to go home. That night, I take a scalding hot shower. I try to erase the pain with more pain.

The next week at school, people are point at me. I hear names being called out to me; “whore”, “slut”, “skank”, “Hey Babe, are you free tonight?”. Tom is laughing with them. My other friends are not sure what to think. I tell them my side of the story. They make me feel like its my fault for agreeing to go to Tom’s alone. I trusted Tom. I considered him a best friend. He lost my trust. He violated me. He ripped my heart out of my chest and crushed it. I lost not just Tom, but all my friends. What I have I done to deserve this? All I wanted was some true friends and to be content with life. I never spoke to Tom again, but his presence haunted me the rest of high school. I could wish curses on him. I’m sure he’s married with children of his own now.

16 and 17. Oh, sweet 16. Or so it should have been. My grades begin to drop. I sleep in class. I lash out at my teachers. I eat lunch in the library. I don’t even try to make friends anymore. I continue to read. I listen to darker and darker music. I get my driver’s license. More freedom. But, I use it to go to the library at my own leisure. To go to record shops and discover new music.

In class on day, a boy turns around from the desk in front of me. He looks straight at me and says I am the ugliest girl he has ever seen. I should just kill myself because would ever want to touch me. I tell him to fuck off. Inside, I seethe. My hands shake. An image pops in my head of me crashing my car into a brick wall at a high speed. I shake it away.

I meet Taz. He is sweet. He likes me. We begin dating. He pushes for sex. At first, I say no. Finally, one night I give in. I agree. I believe I am love. He tells me so. I enjoy it. Perhaps I am what they call me behind my back. Our relationship becomes based around sex. We stop talking to get to know each other. All we do is fuck. We go to a house party. He gets drunk. When I find him passed out drunk on the patio floor, I decide I’ve had enough. I end it with him.

I sleep less and less each week. Everything irritates me. I begin to lash out at my parents. My mom the most. Our fights are chaotic. The walls shake. Our dogs cower and hide. I am so angry, but I just want to be loved. I don’t how to tell my mom this because back then my emotions were so confusing.

Somehow I graduate. I am so happy. I continue to have hope that life will be better now. From here on out, I’ll be in more control of what happens, what people I deal with.

Opening up to Cyclothymia

All my life, I’ve considered my frequent mood swings as part of my personality. Part of who I am. I never knew there was a name to it. I never would have thought I’d have a mental illness, a mood disorder.

Cyclothymia, also known as cyclothymic disorder, is a mood disorder in the same spectrum of Bipolar disorder. Cyclothymia has episodes of emotional ups and downs, but not as severe as Bipolar Type II or the beast of all of them, Bipolar Type I.

With cyclothymia, I experience episodes where my mood dramatically shifts up or down from my baseline. I may feel on top of the world for a short time, but it’s quickly followed by a low period where I feel worthless. In between these episodes, I’ll feel fine, normal, “stable”.

The highs of cyclothymia are characterized by elevated mood that resemble those of mania but a lot less severe, also known as hypomania. The lows consist of mild depressive episodes known as dysthymia. Cyclothymia symptoms are similar to that of Bipolar I and II, but a lot less extreme. I can function normally in daily life while in an episode, but not always at optimal level. My mood shifts are so unpredictable that I never know how they may affect the following day.

Graph showing the three different Bipolar spectrums and how the highs and lows are different for each category.

Hypomanic Phase of Cyclothymia

The hypomanic stage of cyclothymia meets the same criteria as that for Bipolar Type II. Signs and symptoms include:

• An exaggerated feeling of well-being (Euphoria)
• Extreme optimism
• Inflated self-esteem
• Poor judgement
• Rapid speech
• Racing thoughts
• Aggressive or hostile behavior
• Easily agitated
• Excessive physical activity
• Risky behavior
• Increased drive to achieve or perform goals
• Increased libido
• Decreased need for sleep
• Easily distracted
• Inability to concentrate or focus on a task, even something simple

Depressive (Dysthymia) Phase

Depressive episodes include a combination of any of these symptoms:

• Sadness
• Hopelessness
• Thoughts of suicide
• Anxiety
• Inability to sleep
• Appetite problems
• Fatigue
• Loss of interest in activities considered enjoyable
• Decreased libido
• Irritability
• Pain with no known cause or reason

It sounds a lot like Bipolar, but I never experienced a full blown psychotic manic episode nor have I been crippled or bed ridden from major depression. From my research, Cyclothymia is often classified as a rapid cycling bipolar. My episodes are so quick on-coming and short lasting that they don’t have enough time to manifest into either extreme. But that doesn’t mean I don’t suffer the effects from the swings. This ties in so much with how I feel now and how I have felt in the past. I’ve suffered through this my whole life, for as far back as I can remember. I can clearly remember my first Dysthymic episode when I was in the 6th grade. I remember it was caused by a rejection from a group of girls I had at the time wanted to be friends with. Rejections hurts, sure, but for me it cut so deep that I was literally in a deep fog for several days.

Cyclothymia is seen as the “mild” version of bipolar. I personally feel like using the word mild for something where thoughts of suicide and self-harm can be commonplace as nothing mild at all. Less than a week ago, I had a thoughts of throwing myself from the balcony of my third floor apartment but telling myself it was stupid because it wasn’t high enough. I’d be most likely hospitalized, but dead? No. I’ve had more thoughts of suicide than I care to count, but I have never yet acted upon any of them. I feel like I would have already if I was serious. But I still can’t help but feel that one day I may come close.

I remember back to my failed marriage. To the memories of a husband who was not supportive. Not understanding. I would lash out at him because he would choose work over me. He would leave when I was having an episode, coming back home several hours later, sometimes the next day. All I ever wanted from him was his attention and his love. When I found out of his affair, I dove even deeper into my head.

I’m sure we all have moments of highs and lows. It’s part of being human. We get hurt. We get rejected. We go through happy moments and feel so alive. But I’ve always felt like my ups and downs were different from everyone else. My ups and downs happen so frequently they make my own head spin. This can’t be normal for everyday people. I’ve never felt like I fit in with the “normal” folk. When I am in a episode, it’s usually not until after it has surpassed that I realized I was in one. When I’m in a hypomanic state, I feel like everyone around me is amazingly boring. When I’m in dysthymia, I feel like everyone around me is stupidly happy and annoying. It’s not until after an episode that I cringe at the thoughts I had or what I may have done or got myself into.

The lows are scary. I have woken up in the middle of the night not wanting to live anymore. Wondering what the fuck I’m doing on this planet. Why do I even bother anymore? When I’m on a high, I get so many ideas of what I want to do, but very few if any even see fruition. I’ve had plans of writing a novel. I’ve wanted to read a whole stack of books in one sitting but I’d start reading and 5 minutes later I’d be distracted by something, the dripping of the kitchen sink for instance, and never get back to the book. I’d rearrange my bathroom cabinets but only get halfway done. When I’m in a normal state, I end up “fixing” what I attempted.

What is the cause of cyclothymia? The sad thing is there is no known cause. It is thought to be a mix of social environment and genes. If someone in the family has a mental illness, the chances of someone else in the family having an illness is high. It is most likely due to a chemical imbalance in the brain. In bipolar case, it’s when the brain doesn’t produce enough serotonin or dopamine, which causes the ups and downs. So it’s inherited, caused by environmental stressors, or a chemical imbalance in the brain. But most likely a combination of all of the above. Getting diagnosed officially is hard. Most will diagnose as another mental illness. Cyclothymics are often first diagnosed as Borderline Personailty Disorder, but we miss many traits of that disorder and Borderline doesn’t have certain symptoms from Cyclothymia. It’s estimated only 1% of the population has cyclothymia, but the estimates can be very far off as most people never seek professional help. Our episodes are never severe enough to warrant a visit to a therapist. I personally have not sought out a professional yet as I do not wish to be jockeyed back and forth between other professionals and through tests for someone to tell me what I am 99.9% sure of myself.

Treatments for cyclothymia are inclusive and often don’t work effectively.

• Therapy, or
• Psychoactive medication

I do not wish to mess with any of those drugs as I feel the side effects are worse than anything it intends to “treat”. Those who are treated with anti-depressants or mood stabilizers have a 50% chance of going into a full blown Manic episode, which would then classify them as Bipolar I.  And the symptoms after that have been recorded to intensify…Dysthymia becomes full blown crippling depression and another possible psychosis Manic episode. So basically, there is no cure and no effective treatment for cyclothymia. Why would I bother seeking help from a professional when in the end there is nothing they can do? I must treat this myself. The holistic way. For me, it’ll be through taking care of my body and my mind the best I can in hopes the mood swings are less frequent and continue to stay at a “mild” state. Again, mild is not a term I like to use to describe my episodes.

I have not told anyone, not even my parents of my discovery. I fear the stigma that may come with it. My parents are not understanding of anything that is in the field of mental illness. I don’t think they would be upset. I just don’t think they would know what to do or how to cope if I told them. Obviously keeping this quiet from work is of extreme importance. In a field where my paycheck depends on other people giving me money, i.e. I am commission based, that last thing they need to know is I have a “mental illness”. I have learned from years of experience to hide my mood swings. I have become good at wearing a mask, good at appearing like I am a normal person, albiet with a few “nerd” tendencies that wouldn’t throw anybody off.

I’m going to continue to study the field of cyclothymia and all strains of bipolar in hopes I can find the ultimate fix for myself and my friends who are suffering from the same thing.