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    Insomnia

    Insomnia, bloody insomnia! The thorn in my side, the thing that  keeps going, when everything else has failed! 

    My sleeping patterns have always been skewed, ever since I was a kid.  Hyperactive at night, fidgety, confused and wired, always at the wrong times.  When I should be sleeping, I would be at my most active, this made School extra hard for me. Turning up with only a few hours sleep was a nightmare! I hated being at School anyway, let alone without any sleep.  That was the time I took up smoking.  It must have been at about the age of thirteen.  For some reason it helped.  Although illegal, back in the 1980s, it was quite easy to get round that small illegality.  I used to hand write a note, from my Gran, asking the shop assistant if she could furnish me with twenty JPS, or as my Grand smoked, Cadetes.  I preferred JPS, so that is what I got.  Cigarettes were much cheaper back then, I guess they were about 99p for 20, maybe less.  Can't remember for sure, but my dinner money covered it comfortably!

    I never skived off School in the true sense, but there were times, during lessons I hated, mainly Physical Education, that I would just leave and smoke myself to death. Another forged letter from one's parents, usually served a graceful exit, when needed. I actually passed all my exams in my final year, with flying colours.  God knows how.  I am certainly intelligent enough and moved on to College, as was expected of me at the time.  This is when my sleeping was at its worst.

    I always looked older than I was, so would spend a lot of the time in The Admiral Cunning, the local pub.  I would smoke, do my homework, beer glass stains, fag burns and sometimes the remnants of throwing up  adorned a lot of the pages.  It didn't seem to matter that much.  They probably just thought I was a little bit special.  At the time I discovered men, had a sex life, went to clubs regularly, got drunk frequently and spent quite a bit of time in London, in all the right places of course. My lifestyle at the time was more in tune with someone in their mid twenties and not 16 or 17 years old.  Sleep was something, I did if I had to.  I turned up to my Saturday job a mess most of the time, after only an hour or two in the sack! I always got away with it, so in many respects it became habitual.

    After taking a year out I went to University.  To be honest I don't think I ever wanted to go back into Education, but it was the easiest way to live permanently away from home.  Back then I got a grant, as I was classed as a Mature Student....YES, MATURE.... Was I f*ck.  Maturity is not something I ever aspired too, so for me it was an extension of my social and sex life, which at the time had reached new heights!  I spent most of my time either drunk in lectures, hiding from my Landlord in The Student Union Bar or cashing cheques in the SU shop, to pay for my ever-increasing, damaging, foolish and damn right nasty lifestyle.  I only ever went back to my bedsit in the early hours, when there was no chance of being caught Mr Mr Singh!

    'Cottaging' was also top of my list of things to do; for those of you who don't know, it was 'Social Networking' of it's time; meeting guys in public toilets for sex.  This could happen all night.  The amount of times I never turned up to lectures was approaching 50% and to be honest I thought I would be thrown off the course.

    At this point I need to mention Section 28.  Under The Thatcher and Major, Conservative Governments in the Eighties and mid nineties, it was very difficult to get advice on homosexuality and coming out.  I certainly could not approach my parents and officially no one in authority. I was wrestling with my sexuality right up until 1994, with no one to talk to.  Of course, with an active sex life so early on, there were many risks.  Mentally, physically and in every sense I was exhausted.  There was the AIDS 'Epidemic', advertised so graphically and scarily during the 80s.  This left me with more sleepless nights than you can ever imagine.  I thought I was odd and in some cases evil.  I had no self-worth, so just led an even more raucous life, doing more and more life endangering stuff; I just didn't care!

    When I met Darrell in 1995 and started to establish our relationship, things changed dramatically.  Despite our relationship being a bi product of a hedonistic life, we managed to settle down for periods in our 20-year history.  My life was still rather stifled of sleep for many other reasons.  Darrell's snoring, working nights for a period, dabbling in drugs, owning our own business.  All of these things served to prevent a decent 7 hours kip.

    As I know today, there were also many other issues that caused Insomnia for me. Bipolar is the biggest, with racing thoughts, all the time, especially at night. Depression, the biggest factor, which has always stopped me sleeping and of course medication over the last ten years plus.  Many different types, colours, creeds and capsules, all serving to stop me shutting my eyes.

    Today my meds are not working again.  I am awaiting an ADD diagnosis, which in all likelihood, if confirmed will be the biggest factor in my f*cked up life, and I am slumping into depression more and more.  I need a level of care that I am not sure The NHS can provide successfully.  I hope things change soon, I have a life to lead, a job to do and sleep to get!  Watch this space!
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    Positivity Vs Negativity

    A positive mind, or a negative mind.  The way I feel is important.  It is important for me to react to any state of mind that may potentially harm me.  I suppose you could quite easily replace Positive with Mania and negative with depression!

    A few weeks ago, I was Manic.  More manic than I had been in a very long time.  My heart was racing, my thoughts were hard to process at the same pace, my mind was on overdrive my body animated.  Unless you can see that yourself, I realise you can really never have, any idea what others, in your vicinity are feeling.

    Just before I was arrested, apparently I was all the things above and more. My Mania had reached such a dangerous phase, that my self belief was delusional.  So much so, I was happy to jump off a bridge and end it all on a high.  I would have done it too, if the Police, hadn't stopped me!

    I constantly worry about having happy or sad thoughts, always afraid where those thoughts will end. To an extent medication causes the extremes of anything to flat line.  Medication can be so soul-destroying for that reason.  It takes away my creativity and stifles my abilities; something I do not want.

    It's been a few weeks since my relapse.  I am still on sedatives, and I am starting to slump lower than I would like.  Unlike most people, I find it very difficult to control moods, emotions, thoughts and tasks.  At the moment while I await the right medication,  I am doing what I can to stabilise myself.  

    I have been blogging, as I do so now, writing always makes me happy.  It allows me to interact with my own thoughts, as well as the outside world.  Putting one's innermost beliefs and convictions down on paper or on a forum allows me to often judge myself, at different stages of my life and indeed listen to others, who could maybe offer alternative philosophies and paths to take.

    Keeping ones mind active is the most important thing for me.  I can never start one task and complete it.  Today for example I am multitasking in the extreme, and will probably finish, maybe one endeavour!  I have always been that way.  My head is so full of ideas, good intentions and 'things to do', that I want to achieve all of them, now, right this minute. Sometime the resulting muddle and confusion can cause everything to falter, sometimes one or two may succeed to differing degrees of success and rarely I achieve absolutely everything I set out to do!  Thus far, today is pretty successful.

    This morning I broke the TV, lost my keys, cigarettes, bank card and just wanted to go back to bed.  I am awake and rushing around doing too much again and achieving more than I have done in recent times.

    To analyse, what most of you regard as normal daily tasks, must seem odd to some of you.  To me, it helps me discover who I am, what has happened and where I am heading, whilst all the time, trying to keep my head above the danger levels of Bipolar. Hope you all enjoy your day, I am!
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    Gossip and Rumour

    Yesterday, Sunday, what to do? 

    Well I decided to have a normal Sunday.  I am just about able to function on a 'Standard, usual' level.  I can at least cook and do the things I was, as a human being , born to do, to survive.  Darrell had taken his caring, administrator duties to a whole new level.  Some would call it control, others essential maintenance, others a loving partner looking after his mad old boyfriend.  I personally, reserve judgement. Whatever the real reasons, I know it was something that had to be done! I am still sedated for a lot of the time, but there is a brief window where I am able to pop back into reality. This Sunday was one of those days!

    In the past I was always a great house husband.  There were long periods when I was unable to work.  I channelled a lot of energy into home making.  That is the one thing I have always been good at.  I feel secure, knowing I have a nice home.  A total hoarder, charity shop buyer, art collector and antiques lover.  Actually I own far too much stuff and It is probably a map of my mind in material form. I need to declutter my house, as much as I need to declutter my mind.  Not happening any time soon. It's on my Bucket List.

    Anyway, this Sunday, I did Sunday things, like what used to happen, back in the day. Before 1992 anyway.  I cooked a Roast. Roast Beef,  my favourite.  I invited Natalee over.  She had been working her arse off at University, and being a young girl, I thought I'd show her how to cook properly! In fact, she can cook better than me.  My cooking abilities, having suffered somewhat over the years.  Unsurprising, since I only ate once a week at one stage, and that was normally Super Noodles and Jacobs Crackers! There is only so much one can do with such ingredients!

    Dinner turned out fine, despite drinking Stella and Red Wine, whilst trying to cook.  I can always work in the kitchen a little drunk and at least come up with something, even if it is below my initial expectations.  The Yorkshire pudding was certainly not Aunt Bessie's or Tescos Finest, but Natalee did the whisking and it didn't turn out right. They never did with me in the past, so that is another thing to add to my Bucket List. The day I die, will be the day my pudding rises and I can finally rest in peace.

    More alcohol, in fact copious amounts was consumed.  It's Sunday, I'm having a rough time, no harm in a little tipple from time to time!  One thing led to another and Natalee decided to take me out for the evening, to that 'Edge Nightclub'.  I was hesitant at first, since I have moved on from most of the people who frequent that place, most of whom, need a kick up the arse to get out to work and stop wasting their lives. Reluctantly I went.  It was a Sunday, what's the worst that could happen?

    An anti-homosexual gay man.  That is the way I would describe myself.  I have spent 25 years, on and off, on the Southampton Gay Scene and have seen most things, heard the best and worst from peoples mouths and observed many, stuck up their own arse Queens try to bitch their way through life.  Unlike Natalee, the Gay Scene means something totally different to me.  It is troublesome, infuriating, nauseating and juvenile. Just my luck, there was someone there who I could have done without seeing.

    I went out for a quiet drink with Natalee and her 'NORMAL' friend called Jack, who unlike ninety-nine percent of the people there, was intelligent, could hold a conversation, articulate successfully and was straight.

    There was trouble there that night anyway.  Groups of  blokes out of the lash, Gays baring a grudge and attitude problems in abundance.  I was approached by someone, who I removed from my life, due to association with lower forms of life, that I had disposed of long ago.  Questioning my judgement, rambling about the past, full of attitude and clearly a person who had not moved on in life.  I have the utmost respect for him, feel for him, but I will not be questioned about my choices, that were necessary, due to the nature of my present relapse situation.

    For f*cks sake! I've heard it all before.  People can not just forget, let alone move forward in their lives.  This was the very reason I ditched them in the first place.  When you live a Gay lifestyle, 24/7, when that is all you know, when you don't work, when you associate with low lives, for you there is no other world outside.  That is your life.  You believe the rumours from others, you question the abilities of those who are older and wiser, well a little wiser, and finally  you truly believe in the fanciful world you inhabit. I can take all of this.  I have before and will again!

    What I will not stand for, is damn right lies, to my face, pointing the finger at people who are my friends, who were there for me, prevented these disastrous influences from destroying my life and are streets above them in every respect.  GOSSIP AND RUMOURS are always bad for those at the raw end of it.  I have learnt  over the months, to not believe anything anyone says.  Least of all those who have a grudge, however imaginary it maybe. They literally seek to destroy what they don't have. Twisting the truth, reading the worst into what people say and point-blank are in denial. Very Sad to see! Their clouded judgement based on their obscure version of events, at a time when their minds are clouded by dreadful people, insecurities and narcotics, is sad, expected but not justified.

    I am glad I went out.  Gladder still, I saw those people for the fools, I really always knew they were and elated I actually had my feelings confirmed.  At 43 years old, I don't want this lifestyle.  I want to lead a normalish life, with the friends I love and DO NOT want to ever see certain people again, at least while their minds are addled.  I like my life, do they actually really like theirs! Do not question me, my success and failures, past and most of all do not question, what you don't have!

    GROW THE F*CK UP!
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    Bipolar and ADD

    Currently, I am awaiting a further diagnosis, in regard to Attention Deficit Disorder.  Since my relapse I have spoken to a Psychiatrist at length.  She has suggested, that I may also have ADD, from the discussion we have had.  I can find very little on these two conditions identified together and would like to ask if anyone has any information on this particular dual diagnosis.  What type of medication is available, what help is there to deal with these symptoms, both natural and medical and is there anything I can do now, to insure I remain as stable as possible, before this is confirmed.


    Please email any advice, using the form below.  Thanks!
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    Relationships

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    Twenty Years and counting.


    THE BEGINNING!

    I have been with my partner Darrell for twenty years.  We officially started a relationship on 22 September 1995, and we aim to be legally married on that date this year, no matter what happens!

    I have read a lot about relationships and Bipolar over the years, most of which has been negative.  From the articles I have read, long term happiness with the same person is difficult at best, impossible at most.  Bipolar offers many challenges that conventional couples do not face, but I am not abnormal and the difficulties are not insurmountable.

    Darrell is Australian and when we met in 1995, there was no mechanism in law, to recognise our 'de-facto' relationship. A gay relationship officially did not happen.  I never expected to fall in love with my partner straight away, but that is more or less how it happened.  We were determined at that point to stay together, no matter what the circumstances, and that is where our difficulties started.

    Darrell was on a Holiday Work Visa.  This gave him limited time in The UK, with limited work allowed.  To be perfectly honest, I didn't even like him at the beginning.  I found him arrogant and typically Australian.  Certain things happened, which resulted in Darrell moving in with myself and my previous partner.  He had nowhere else to go. One thing led to another, and we fell for each other.  

    It was the night before the reopening of The Magnum,  the oldest Gay Club in Southampton, indeed the oldest in the country;  It was also my partners Birthday.  At the time we were quite heavily involved in the club scene and two friends came over to help us prepare for the opening night.

    My ex partner went to bed, and myself and Darrell stayed up talking.  We wanted to be together, but felt it would be impossible in such a close, small gay scene and decided to leave.  Now love always changes one's perception of situations. In this case it made the urgency we left critical, so we did.

    I was rooting around the house for my passport but couldn't find it.  So, as you do, if you are about to leave your boyfriend, I went and asked my sleeping ex partner, where it was. He pointed to a chest of draws in the bedroom, where I found it.  I have no idea if he knew what I was doing or not.  I literally left with the clothes on my back, and we caught the first train out of Southampton and headed for London.

    The next few days were extremely confusing.  I remember going to Australia House and arranging a Visa.  I remember buying a ticket at the Airport to fly both of us to Australia.  I remember the funny bits too.  We arrived in London with no accommodation and took the tube to Kensington.  Both Darrell and I were big 'Absolutely Fabulous' fans and since we were in the capital, we thought that had to be the place to go.  We ended up in Bayswater.  Cheaper than Kensington, far cheaper, but full of vibrancy and life.  

    Finally, we found a Hotel.  One of those huge imposing Georgian buildings.  Looked fantastic from the outside.  Going inside, it wasn't quite as it seemed.  Patterned flowered carpets, even busier wallpaper and a musty smell.  There was an old lady at a reception window, doing knitting.  It was like the old 1950s movies I used to watch, you know the sought, Margaret Rutherford and the like.  We took a room which was near to the top of the building.  My god, I remember that room, better than most memories I have from that time! Same swirly carpets.  A number of beds, pushed together.  Candlewick bedspreads!  I love candle wick bedspreads, I used to pick the curved lines of tufty cotton as a kid, leaving a trail of material around my bedroom.  It was kind of comforting, and yes I was picking those bedspreads as soon as I arrived in that room. There was no bath.  In fact there was no bathroom, just a plastic shower in the middle of the room.  Pealing wallpaper. Numerous handwritten notices about, when there was hot water, what times the front door would be locked, amount of towels that we could use and nothing about what to do in the event of a fire.  These days, the place would have been condemned, but I loved it, we both did.  After all it is where we really began our relationship!

    It was great spending those first four days in London,  It was the early 90s, we had no mobile phone or internet, so there was no way anyone could contact us.  It really was a great sense of freedom.  Walking around the streets of Kensington and Bayswater in the evening was bliss,  so different from Southampton. Colourful, cosmopolitan, interesting, twenty-four hours a day!

    After a brief stay in a single room in a London Suburb, with all the paperwork sorted, we left for Australia, flying British Airways to Perth.  I was still really unaware about the magnitude of this decision, but would realise over the next twenty years.  This was the day my life, as messy as it is, began.  This was the day we started to battle to stay together, this was the day I truly put my heart before my head, and never regretted a thing!
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    Relapse

    August 2014.  That's a month I won't forget in a hurry.  What a great summer it was.  I had more friends than I could ever want and was enjoying life.  Living for the moment and happier than ever.  Or so I thought!  My view of friends and friendships are very different to most other peoples.  I expect a lot, maybe too much from friends and in return I give my all. Having a lot of friends can be a problem.  Spreading oneself too thin can cause offence.  The quality of friendships diminishes and you spend too much time worrying about others and not enough time worrying about yourself.

    Summer 2014, was about excess and when I look back now, damaging behaviour. I had let my guard down too far.  The medication I was on had made me so complacent that I was allowing the worst dregs of society into my life.  I really mean the worst too.  Evil in many cases!   

    My relationship was suffering and I didn't even know it!  

    Darrell and myself have been together 20 years. The most time we had ever spent apart is just a week, at the beginning, while Jason was waiting to return from Australia.  Over the last year and a half we changed all that.  We split up twice.  I want to focus on the second time, the beginning of a long period of relapse.

    Our relationship had become violent for the first time.  My depression and mania had become uncontrollable, my medication was failing and finally we split for a second time.  Once again I tried to take my own life.  I had a few bottles of vodka and took around 120 tablets.  Venlafaxine, Quetiapine, pain killers, Tramadol, whatever I could get hold of, I took them. I was found by someone I used to regard a friend.  He found me and saved my life.  I even asked the Paramedics when they arrived if he had indeed saved me, they said he had and immediately it left me with a dilemma!

    This guy saved my life, yet he had been in part responsible for the worst period of my life!

    I was taken to Hospital and left on a bed for over 2 hours, when I walked out.  I made it home, somehow, although even today, I have no idea how!  The Hospital called The Police, who searched the grounds and finally ended up breaking into my house.  They had a duty of care to save my life, they said. All I wanted was to be left alone.  I fought off the threat of sectioning by speaking to Doctors and Police into the early hours. Eventually they agreed that I was of sound mind, and they were not going to take me to a secure unit.

    CHOICES

    It was time to make some choices.  Darrell was staying with two friends.  A phone call to me suggested they were more than friends, so I had to make decisions.  The old me, would have flown off the handle and probably ruined what was left of our relationship. I asked for advice.  For the first time  ever I asked someone what I should do.

    'Do something, you would not normally do!'

    So I did, or rather didn't.  Firstly I gave up Medication.  At the time, I had too.  I had no choice.  It wasn't working.  Getting to see a Doctor with the current state of The NHS, was near on impossible.  There was no chance of seeing my personal Doctor, which is something I had always requested.  My meds were rationed, due to a previous attempt at suicide and point black, no one cared enough at that time, to help me!

    Meds in the bin, Darrell came back and now, I was determined to sort my life out!

    I went through a month of hell coming off medication.  Going cold turkey was not recommended.  In fact, I was told to never come off my medication.  I ignored it.  With the month over, I felt something, I had not felt in years.  I could smell, taste, hear and see things in a way, I had not experienced for many years.  I remember that first day, walking to work in the morning, appearing from like a haze.  I looked back behind me. The haze was still there, but not following me.  It was a complete sense of freedom!

    Relapse

    In reality, if I had investigated the implications behind giving up medication, I would have realised, stopping treatment was impossible.  I was chronically ill and needed pills for the rest of my life.  I lasted 8 months instead of the three predicted. During those 8 months I got to know a dear friend again and was able to sustain a good friendship.  I removed bad people and influences from my life.  I did normal things.  I went for meals out and pub lunches.  All of which I hadn't done in a long time.  I met new decent people and Darrell and myself finally seemed happy and full of hope.

    In reality, I was breaking down inside.  I still had people who were bad for me and I thought were friends.  They were still manipulating me.  In fact for the last four months I was being harassed, at home, on the net and at work.  I had an exterior of 'I'm handling this'.  I wasn't at all.  I was on my own and having to fight a tirade of abuse that was breaking me apart.  

    I put time and effort into other people in a way I hadn't done previously.  It took my mind off the abuse I was suffering, but it didn't solve the pain.  I took on more responsibility at work, but was suffering daily.  I said nothing, I needed support, there was none.  My fault, I should have asked.

    The end came when the person harassing me made a comment online to someone I regarded as close.  By this time The Police were aware of what was going on, and they told me to block that person, every time, without exception.  Since I had already removed him from my life, sadly I had to block a good friend.  He still hasn't forgiven me for that!  I had no choice.  It was a temporary measure, to prevent an escalation of hostility.  Something I would not have done as a rule, unless the Police said otherwise. My options were removed.

    Only days later I was confronted by an incident at work that left me feeling victimised and bullied.  I collapsed, both physically and mentally.  It was only a matter of time, before things got seriously bad and I did everything I could to block that out!

    End Time

    I spent a week MANIC.  Mania is not something I can really describe.  I was lost in my own thoughts and feelings but was also spending quality time with a friend who I had only just met.  Natalee Michelle.  We talked for hours and hours.  I discovered much about Natalee, that I had never known and I have become very fond of her.  She helped me talk through issues of depression and madness and without her, I am not sure I would be here today.  She cooked me and Darrell a meal. I hadn't eaten in nearly a week, and I was grateful for all she did and is still doing.

    On the day she went home, my mania had reached dangerous levels.  So dangerous, Darrell phoned the Police.  I was suicidal and spoke so fast and unclear, he knew enough, to make a difficult decision for him.  I left the house.  I was going to jump on cars to a bridge, where I would throw myself off.  I would finally be free and Darrell would also be able to get on with the rest of his life, without this wreck, I had become.

    I was stopped by the Police, who thank god, prevented me from damaging myself and was taken into custody.  I spent a night in the cells and was assessed by The Mental Health Team, the next day.  A plan of action was discussed and my Doctor was concerned enough to get me into see a consultant straight away.  

    After severe physical and mental pain, whilst rapid cycling and damaging behaviour I am today sedated most of the time, and I am awaiting a further diagnosis, which could include ADD.  Darrell, Natalee, Chris and Dale have been a great inspiration over this last week and have helped me keep memories alive.  For that I am truly grateful!

    Darrell cried when I had to once again take medication, that I hated.  I did not want to be a shell of my former self, but I knew I had too.  In time, I hope to see beyond the drugs and do my best to be me again, however long that takes!