Manic Mike?
Howdy, folks, This is Manic Mike comin' atcha on a fine Wednesday. Worry not, I'm not "manic". Maybe a little speedier than I should be, but under control.
Monday and Tuesday were pretty good days. Certainly nothing to whine about in comparison to a year ago or even as recently ago ad December of last year. I can feel a bit of “quickness” in my thoughts, things racing a little. Not even so much that I’ve taken a second Risperdal. And maybe its just me getting more sensitive to changes in my head. Monday, still had lots to do to get the house ready. Tuesday, we had our first showing (exciting!) and so the morning was a little frantic getting everything exactly perfect.
Today, Wednesday, began with, we’ll call it, “The Manic Extra Mile.” I don’t think it was really manic, but it was classic me: push, push , push . Last week, I did 40 minute runs in an effort to build up my stamina so that I can begin to really train for the Marine Corps Marathon beginning in June (the race is in October.) Today, I decided to do a 50 minute run. Rationale: Lets just step it up a notch. Last night, I decided to make it a 45 minute run, figuring that I had increased my pace (this is all treadmill running…cold outside) also last week, so adding 5 minutes at the faster pace was enough. This morning, I started my 45 minute run, felt great at the increased pace from last week. About 15 minutes into the run, I had to use the potty. I jumped off the ‘mill and ran up the stairs. I was probably gone 3 minutes. So, I decided to make it a 50 minute run. Rationale: Make up for the time lost on the restroom break. I play a little game with myself to keep my mind off of the clock when I run. I cover the console with a towel, I watch TV, but have masking tape on the screen everywhere that the time ever shows up on the local news or “The Today Show”, and otherwise keep myself from clock watching, which makes the time seem to drag on forever. So, I look at my watch when I start my run and spend the first minute or two figuring out what time I will be done. Then, every time I look at my watch between that time and a time within 5 minutes of my “quittin’ time, I turn up the speed on the ‘mill by a notch.
Today, I got to 42 minutes before I looked. I turned it up a notch. Only 8 minutes to go. An hour has historically been like an invisible barrier for me. Coming up from underneath, when I break that barrier, I can run as long as I decide to go. If I can run an hour, I can run two, and if I can go 2 hours, I can go four. Its getting to that 60 minute mark that takes some time, patience and hard work. Today, at 42 minutes, I felt pretty good. I decided today’s run would be 60 minutes. Rationale: Isn’t it obvious…this close to the barrier…I HAVE to go for it! Couldn’t I just do 45 and call it good? Noooooo.
Today, I will have to be extra diligent about the pace of my mind. I have a psychiatrist appointment (an “I’m about out of meds” or “I think I need an adjustment” meeting.)
Melissa and I have had this discussion vaguely, and this morning it became a little more concrete. My personality has “changed” somewhat since ECT began. I’m now coming up on 5 weeks since my last ECT treatment. I feel differently than before, certainly. It’s a much better than before, also certainly. But Melissa and my kids have reported my language (use of “bad words”) has gotten worse. They are right, I’ve noticed that too. And the only thing that Melissa could put her finger on this morning was, as she put it, I have less “impulse control” than before. I say things that I wouldn’t have said prior to ECT.
My perspective differs. I feel like I have always been one to “bottle up my feelings (another symptom that can lead to depressive episodes), to not share with others what I’m thinking and to rarely give a clear glimpse of how I really feel about something. I think it has something to do with my childhood and being told to “shut up” by my mother, and sometimes even being yelled at for expressing my feelings. I have a hard time remembering those times, but they are there, somewhere in the fog of my childhood (which was foggy before ECT).
To me, it feels like, because I’m feeling better, maybe better than I ever have, I am just expressing my feelings. I’m saying what’s on my mind. The swearing was one of Melissa’s examples, but she also brought up the fact that I said something about smoking pot in a discussion with our realtors, who are a couple that I do know, and our “stager”, this super-cool little lady who they brought in to arrange our house (fine-tuning) for showings. It was something made in a light-hearted, laughing conversation. And Melissa is right:
A year ago, I never would have said what I said. But then, and for years before then, my only expression of myself was through writing that I never showed to anyone (because it freaked me out, and I was sure it would freak others out even worse. I feared being locked up (abandoned?) in some psych ward someplace.
There is definitely change that has occurred, but putting my finger on what that change is will take a little more time. Until then, I’m just going to be me and enjoy my life (while trying not to swear in front of my kids.)
Monday and Tuesday were pretty good days. Certainly nothing to whine about in comparison to a year ago or even as recently ago ad December of last year. I can feel a bit of “quickness” in my thoughts, things racing a little. Not even so much that I’ve taken a second Risperdal. And maybe its just me getting more sensitive to changes in my head. Monday, still had lots to do to get the house ready. Tuesday, we had our first showing (exciting!) and so the morning was a little frantic getting everything exactly perfect.
Today, Wednesday, began with, we’ll call it, “The Manic Extra Mile.” I don’t think it was really manic, but it was classic me: push, push , push . Last week, I did 40 minute runs in an effort to build up my stamina so that I can begin to really train for the Marine Corps Marathon beginning in June (the race is in October.) Today, I decided to do a 50 minute run. Rationale: Lets just step it up a notch. Last night, I decided to make it a 45 minute run, figuring that I had increased my pace (this is all treadmill running…cold outside) also last week, so adding 5 minutes at the faster pace was enough. This morning, I started my 45 minute run, felt great at the increased pace from last week. About 15 minutes into the run, I had to use the potty. I jumped off the ‘mill and ran up the stairs. I was probably gone 3 minutes. So, I decided to make it a 50 minute run. Rationale: Make up for the time lost on the restroom break. I play a little game with myself to keep my mind off of the clock when I run. I cover the console with a towel, I watch TV, but have masking tape on the screen everywhere that the time ever shows up on the local news or “The Today Show”, and otherwise keep myself from clock watching, which makes the time seem to drag on forever. So, I look at my watch when I start my run and spend the first minute or two figuring out what time I will be done. Then, every time I look at my watch between that time and a time within 5 minutes of my “quittin’ time, I turn up the speed on the ‘mill by a notch.
Today, I got to 42 minutes before I looked. I turned it up a notch. Only 8 minutes to go. An hour has historically been like an invisible barrier for me. Coming up from underneath, when I break that barrier, I can run as long as I decide to go. If I can run an hour, I can run two, and if I can go 2 hours, I can go four. Its getting to that 60 minute mark that takes some time, patience and hard work. Today, at 42 minutes, I felt pretty good. I decided today’s run would be 60 minutes. Rationale: Isn’t it obvious…this close to the barrier…I HAVE to go for it! Couldn’t I just do 45 and call it good? Noooooo.
Today, I will have to be extra diligent about the pace of my mind. I have a psychiatrist appointment (an “I’m about out of meds” or “I think I need an adjustment” meeting.)
Melissa and I have had this discussion vaguely, and this morning it became a little more concrete. My personality has “changed” somewhat since ECT began. I’m now coming up on 5 weeks since my last ECT treatment. I feel differently than before, certainly. It’s a much better than before, also certainly. But Melissa and my kids have reported my language (use of “bad words”) has gotten worse. They are right, I’ve noticed that too. And the only thing that Melissa could put her finger on this morning was, as she put it, I have less “impulse control” than before. I say things that I wouldn’t have said prior to ECT.
My perspective differs. I feel like I have always been one to “bottle up my feelings (another symptom that can lead to depressive episodes), to not share with others what I’m thinking and to rarely give a clear glimpse of how I really feel about something. I think it has something to do with my childhood and being told to “shut up” by my mother, and sometimes even being yelled at for expressing my feelings. I have a hard time remembering those times, but they are there, somewhere in the fog of my childhood (which was foggy before ECT).
To me, it feels like, because I’m feeling better, maybe better than I ever have, I am just expressing my feelings. I’m saying what’s on my mind. The swearing was one of Melissa’s examples, but she also brought up the fact that I said something about smoking pot in a discussion with our realtors, who are a couple that I do know, and our “stager”, this super-cool little lady who they brought in to arrange our house (fine-tuning) for showings. It was something made in a light-hearted, laughing conversation. And Melissa is right:
A year ago, I never would have said what I said. But then, and for years before then, my only expression of myself was through writing that I never showed to anyone (because it freaked me out, and I was sure it would freak others out even worse. I feared being locked up (abandoned?) in some psych ward someplace.
There is definitely change that has occurred, but putting my finger on what that change is will take a little more time. Until then, I’m just going to be me and enjoy my life (while trying not to swear in front of my kids.)
posted by DeMental at 7:27 PM
6 Comments:
LOL, just noticed his "dislcaimer"
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such a "lawyer"
While there is much controversy about this, I believe that ECT is much like a brain injury. Many of the syptoms of brain injury are experienced by ECT survivors.
One of those symptoms is impaired impulse control. I, myself, have this problem whereas I did not before ECT. It can create some rather embarrassing situations, but I'm usually not embarrassed until I've reflected on what I did or said (usually much later after the event). And typically it is someone else who points out what I have said or done.
I'm getting a little better at taking that extra second or two before I act, but all to often I just say or do things impulsively.
This isn't something my Therapist and I have touched on very much and maybe we should. He probably would have some valuable inputs to help me manage this.
Melissa is right, you are wrong. Loss of impulse control, or the self censorship that normally keeps whatever we are thinking from coming out of our mouths before we've decided if it's a good idea, is a typical aftereffect of ECT. It's a well known effect of brain damage.
Tell your wife that, if you don't have any more ECTs for another year, it will gradually get much better. However, if you keep having ECTs it is something she and your kids and you are going to have to live with.
Some people like this effect (you obviously do); others are troubled by and get in trouble from it.
So is grandma saying that you "like" to swear?
You know, in all the years I have known you, even when you were younger, that is something that I dont remember you doing a lot, or if at all. If you did, then it was done under your breath.....which I am sure is a great possibility, especially with me. lol
It is four weeks since your last ECT (14th April).
Sally, i don't disagree with you. I think there are many characteristics present for me post-ECT. I guess its the trade I made for being happy and mentally healthier. My wife and I joke (and are fortunate to be in a position where we can joke) about my "dain blamage." I realize for many, less fortunate that me, its no joking matter.
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