Rapid-Cycling and The Luna[r]tic

I’ve written before about rapid cycling. I was rapid cycling that time if that wasn’t obvious enough from my writing style. I also wrote something similar here. I figured I’d put together something describing to muggles a comparable experience of rapid-cycling (not bicycle related). And some of the possible triggers (only two).

The DSM-IV describes rapid-cycling bipolar as having four or more manic, hypomanic or depressive episodes in a single year cycle. So far I’m on 5 episodes in the last year, but I digress… remember that despite the name bipolar folk may not experience a depressive episode (or even a mild one – sometimes called cyclothymia) – all it takes for a bipolar diagnosis is a single manic episode.

What does rapid cycling feel like? Well this is my experience.

Seriously think rollercoaster: you’re elated and excited to experience that rush of Adrenalin while you’re standing in the queue.

Then once the harness is lowered (and causes considerable pain in the groin area) the anxiety kicks in – it’s an anxiety that grips your gut like it’s being put through a mincer by a pig farmer in the Karoo.

And slowly you climb that initial elevated section. By this stage you’ve come to terms that there’s no turning back, you’re on this ride and there’s nothing to be done but enjoy the ride. Or not. Maybe you’ll hate it.

Enter mixed-episode as you reach the summit: you’re laughing at the silliness of this all but also crying because you’ve made such bad life choices like this one and you’re undeserving of such happiness or having feelings at all. There’s defs more deserving people in the world. OMG. We’re falling. Falling fast.

But just as your stomach catches up with your body you’re back at elated and glad you took the plunge to get on this ride in the first place. Yaaaaas me! Yaaaas!

Now slow that experience right down – like a frame by frame.

This roller-coaster takes weeks to go the full circuit. Weeks of uncertainty. Weeks of angst. Super pumped and bashing out your work for 48 hours straight and next three days answering e-mails holding on to any semblance of real life outside of your apartment.

At some point you realise you’ve got to take back control of a life that’s in free fall and so you begin picking up the pieces. Finally, after weeks of dips and turns, you put your feet on the ground again.

So, we don’t want rapid-cycling. Ever.

I so wish I had the answer to how to avoid rapid cycling fellow Bipolar Bears. As it always is it’s a combination of effective treatment by taking your meds (no, you’re not better, dork), knowing what your environmental contributors are (i.e. triggers) and letting go of the things you cannot change.

The Luna[r]tic

Perhaps I haven’t spilled the beans on this one yet (I could have… I see you Lamotrigine) it’s almost certainly going to convince some readers that I am clinically deranged. Get this though: there’s actual academic research that supports a long time theory of mine: episodes are concentrated around a particular phase of the moon.

Here’s the research. And here. Also here correlating a gene that’s is responsible for the circadian rhythm and rapid-cycling bipolar sufferers.

It’s actually not all that far fetched if you think about it. It’s all to do with the circadian rhythm, right. Rhythm is a dancer. Especially at full moon.

Sleep disturbances, such as those caused by a full moon, come with increased activity across the animal kingdom… including us mortals. Except some lucky Bipolar Bears aren’t as good at adapting to this altered pattern and end up rapid-cycling due to a body-clock that’s in it’s moer (Afrikaans for broken beyond repair).

Theresa May with mad Dancing Skills

I have yet to meet a Bipolar Bear that doesn’t show any symptoms at all despite being adherent to medication. Remember bipolar disorder isn’t curable – all the pills are really doing is tapering the peaks and troughs of someone’s mood cycle.

So the clock is temperamental at best and sporadically functional at worst.

Now knowing this has some kind of pattern should be a good thing… except it’s not. Let me explain: every time you see the bad-moon rising you are acutely aware of impending catastrophe and crippled with the anxiety that brings with it.

Stress. Avoid. Avoid. Avoid.

Personally this is a huge trigger for me before any episode. Pretty much every time.

The stress could be imagined – which is interesting: generally I find that missing self-imposed deadlines and near catatonic list writing of things that need doing are followed immediately by, usually, a manic episode.

Then there’s the stress of everyday life of a millennial in an ever changing world demanding more and more of our resources. I find that significant changes in a pattern or “learned circumstances” such as major changes in one’s job, news of a family member being ill, disrupted financial status, your own poor health, and other major stressors pretty much seal the deal for many a rapid-cycling episode.

Rider

Accept the things you cannot change and quit beating yourself up. Also, at time of writing it’s a Super Moon.