Now is there programmer who can escape from the clutches of the null pointer? I think no. It is like the “Yeldra natu sani” every C programmer is destined to suffer from it. Suddenly the error may popped up from Windows Media player.
Meanwhile, I wonder what they teach at those so called premier institutes of computer engineering. One of computer science grad names a variable as “anded” because it stores the result of bit wise and of two other variables.
# Tcl snippet
set anded [hexpr $addr & $def(MASK)]
I walked into the waiting room of my pdoc’s office today feeling better than my last visit. As I sat there, however, I wondered if how I feel now is as good as it gets. I am not having major panic attacks, I don’t have the overwhelming weakness that goes with major depression, and most important I am starting to feel a bit of confidence. I have gone weeks with the feeling that depression has set up camp in my soul. Now it is like the calm after a storm. My soul is more settled.
Medication has helped. I don’t enjoy having to take it. But I feel it is working. My pdoc has really worked hard to find the correct medication and the right dosage. I am learning to trust. She hopes that gradually my symptoms will cease. I do pray so. In the meantime, I continue on in my journey even in its difficulty.
This is bad. Since I have been in this episode, it has been hard for me to be creative. I couldn’t even think of a title for this post. Writing is hard. Reading is harder. I can’t seem to get my eyes to settle on the page and my mind wants to drum up worries. Worry, what a stupid thing to do. It does not help make anything any better. It drives the depression and anxiety to higher levels.
I am sorry folks. The only thing more depressing than me right now is the news. I hate being such a drag. I know I will get better. I always get better. I just wanted to be better yesterday. I have found with this kind of episode wellness comes slowly each day with some days of setbacks. Like taking two steps forward and one step backwards. Then one day, poof! I realize “Hey I am better.” I am longing for that day.
For sure, this time around I am not going to help my relapses with not caring for myself. (I know I say that every time.) This time I really mean it. Losing track of your feelings and not paying careful attention to yourself makes disaster brew (or a bad case of mania and depression).
Some days I am grateful for this illness. I am a much deeper person because of it. But not today. Today I loathe it and wish it away. Somehow, I think that makes me one step closer to acceptance.
I’m not just sitting around waiting for my medication to work. I have been doing the things that are healthy for me. My therapist and I have had some good sessions of late. I am just not better. I try to will myself better to no avail. The truth is when you are depressed no amount of will power will make it go away. This depression has been so hard. I keep remind myself that it is an illness not a weakness. I tell myself all the other things that seem to help at a time like this. I just can’t shake it. I am so frustrated with myself. I just WANT IT TO GO AWAY.
I get up every day and trudge through work. I am grateful that I am still functional. On the weekends I just crash because I have no energy left. I’m try to be patient and kind to myself.
For all of you out there that know where I am-prayers are wanted.
Yesterday, I went to see my therapist. Therapy helps me to organize my thoughts. I have so many. Sometimes I think my brain will explode with everything I think of. I spend a lot of time drumming up worries. My brain will prattle on telling myself things that may or may not happen. I talk about my thoughts with my therapist. She reminded me yesterday of some things I can be thankful for.
1. My heart no longer beats out of my chest with nasty panic attacks.
2. I had a great weekend.
3. Today is pay day.
4. I am enough. I am all I can be at the moment and that is okay.
This is the time of the year I begin to be thankful. I love the fall season. It reminds me to stop and consider the great things in my life instead of dwelling on everything that is wrong. Also, coming out of depression makes it all the more important for me to focus on things that are going well. I have to discipline myself to maintain this line of thinking. Turning on the TV is hard right now. There is so much discussion about the uncertainty of things. That dialogue only adds to my stress. I try to avoid the news and rest in the good things that are.
“We may define therapy as a search for value.” Abraham Maslow
I had to go to a dinner the other night. I placed the “fake face” on and went. I felt lousy, but I could not bail out of this obligation. I had already excused myself before several times. I knew I was wearing a mask to hide my pain, but I did not feel fake. I think it was because I was choosing to “put on an act” to protect myself. Not every place is the perfect time to indulge that you are having a recurrence of your bipolar episode. In fact, it is the rare moment that one is able to discuss it at all. If I had a headache, arthritis, or a common cold it would be acceptable to talk about how I feel. Emotional illnesses are tricky. The main thing to remember is they ARE illnesses.
So I wear the mask.
Everybody keeps talking about change. I would love a change in my circumstances right now. I dream of a strong warrior coming in and sweeping away all the anxiety and depression. My family would be very content and I would be really happy.
So my life is not a movie or a story with a happy ending. No one is going to magically take away my anxiety and depression. Medication and therapy help, but they don’t cure me. There are SO many things that play into recovering from an episode. I remember during my early days of this battle with mental illness. After my first break with reality, it took a long time for me to recover. My illness went into remission and for two months I had the emotions of a normal person. That was three months ago. For the past three months I have been on this bipolar roller coaster that has made me sicker than a ride at the county fair. I have had stretches of relief, but not like those earlier days. I try to remember what I was doing that might have made it better-maybe something I am missing. I have had plenty of time to search myself honestly and I think I am doing what I can.
I have to keep believing I will not only recover from this episode but will maintain sanity. Without this hope, my life is lost. I have accepted that my illness will always be with me. It is a part of me. But it’s a fraction not the whole. Yes, there is change for me. Big or small I will accept it.
The problem for the sufferer of depression is that it can be a very debilitating illness, but to the majority of non-sufferers that you meet you show no signs of having anything wrong with you. There are no no stitches, bandages or plaster cast, and you don't require sticks, crutches, or a walking frame to get around. You can be, however, very seriously ill indeed and yet there are no outward signs that would be obvious to those that you meet. So short of carrying a bell or clapper like the lepers of long ago, or wearing a notice around your neck proclaiming "I have depression; treat me carefully" most people would not realise that there is anything wrong with your health.
I don't know how depression manifests itself in other people, I can only describe what I feel, but my depression is not only something that affects the way that I feel about things, it also has some very definite symptoms that I feel physically. When it is at its worst, depression makes me feel as though my head and body are not connected to each other. My body feels numb, like the numbness that you feel in your lip after having an injection at the dentist's, and my head has a woolly feeling with a tendency to feel very light-headed as though I have drunk alcohol on an empty stomach. All of this is combined with an overwhelming desire to cry, though I have no idea what I am crying about, it is just something that I have to do.
I find it impossible to concentrate; reading becomes something that is unbelievably difficult. I have always loved reading, and half an hour with a good book with good music before I lay down to sleep was the perfect end to the day. Now I find that I have to read the same page repeatedly to stand any chance of understanding what I have read. I have always been shy, but depression makes it incredibly difficult to interact with people that I do not know. Social functions become trials that can cause anxiety to build up days in advance, and small talk something to be avoided because you are likely to become tongue-tied while attempting to have the simplest conversation.
When somebody asks you "How are you?" you answer automatically "Fine" although you aren't really, and that if they ask you anything else you are likely to burst into tears. You hate it when they say "Smile, things could be worse" when you know that there is nothing that could make you feel worse than you do at that particular moment and and smiling is the last thing on your mind because you are finding it almost impossible to just exist. If you were to answer the "How are you?" question truthfully, the questioner would become embarrassed and not know how to further the conversation because they would find it difficult to deal with someone with a mental illness.
Mental illness is something that happens to people. They don't ask for it, and they most certainly would prefer not to have it. Unfortunately, while the medical profession has made incredible advances in the treatment of many of the diseases and injuries that affect us physically, diseases of the brain are not so easy to treat. While we are very similar physically, we are all unique mentally; that is what makes it so difficult to 'cure' mental illnesses.
The next time that you meet someone who suffers from depression like me, please remember that they are a human being just like you, they don't want to feel the way that they do, and that you can't catch what they have got through contact with them. But most of all, remember that they don't like being stigmatized because they have a mental illness. Remember that; because at some time in the future the person with depression could be you.
Music pumping in my head.
Obviously, I'm doing this on purpose.
Quite clearly, I am simply thinking the wrong thoughts and should unthink them.
(I mean it follows logically, doesn't it, that if I create depression by thinking depressing thoughts, then I also create the wild energy by thinking too many wildly energetic thoughts. And should be able to stop.)
On thursday morning I went back to the dr. I had a OLEANZ and then an hour or so later a Sulpitac and I slept through till five and was spaced and calm all day. In fact, I felt almost quite normal, and life seemed relatively plausible. Perhaps permanent sedation is the answer?
I think the dr is doing a superb job in difficult and pressured circumstances. I don't think I have anything but praise for them.
It's still true though. Mental illness is bloody boring, from both the inside and the outside.
And it works both ways. Just as having a mental illness doesn't make you weak/lazy/dangerous/meaningless etc., neither does it mean that you are strong/inspiring/courageous/kind/lovely etc. Most of the time you're just getting through as well or as badly as you can.
I'm just feeling flat. I have contemplated my deep loneliness and how difficult I find it to form relationships. I am ready to go back but guess what, I don't want to.
"But, on the other hand, there is another hand." - Louis MacNeice
My aunty came to see me, and I do believe we had a conversation, though I remember very little of it, I only remember hearing my mouth make polite but stuttering noises from a great distance.
I am completely disconnected. I stare out the window in vague puzzlement. What world is this then, that I happen to find myself in? Am I an alien, accidentally arrived here? I can recite facts - the date, the year, the place, my name - but they seem arbitrary. I can pull up a few images from the last few months, but they seem like someone else's memories. Who was that? I'm sure it wasn't me. This reality seems only one reality in a whole complex layering of them, and not the most familiar.
I sit in front of a computer, in my room. I look around the room, and the room goes haywire, the walls twist, the stacks of books ripple and pulsate, the elephants on the mantelpiece start marching. I cannot get outside this experience, there is nothing outside this experience, this is how things are.
Now thoughts do come - I am thinking about the dimensional shift, I am thinking about the origin of dreams - they're not my thoughts, they are the thoughts the world thinks in me, my mind is a giant receiver, that can be tuned to different channels.
It's nine o'clock so I will take my medication. It seems a strange ritual. I start to wonder if the tablets make me good. Right now.
This is my most favorite photograph of Writer Sujatha. This picture originally appeared on one of his books, Puthiya Pakkangal published by Kumari Pathippagam. I actually re-shot this from the book using a digicam.
Puthiya Pakkangal was published in ‘93. So this must have been clicked atleast 15-16 years back when Sujatha was still sporting a moustache and picking up grey hairs. Though he wasn’t exactly from the middle class even then, this picture somehow profiles a middle-aged, middle class Indian with sharp features. The striped shirt adding to the middle class working man’s look.
Simply curious to know if he was actually posing for the flick. Or it could be clicked while he was still thinking how to complete next week’sthodarkathai. Photographer isn’t credited in the book but he surely did a good job with this photograph. I wish this will be used as the official photograph.
“Whatever the future holds it will hurt or please you less than you imagine”
“Searching for evidence that could prove you wrong is a painful process”
“The more we invest in something the more committed we feel to it”
“If you find everyone in your group agreeing, play the contrarian”