DECIDING DEALS TO DECIMATE THE DOMINANCE OF DANCING DICES

Trigger Warning : Mental Illness and Suicide

Gotta headline the post with a corny ass pic. 

 The delivery of details on this dismal darkness is deeply dreaded but dear disintegrating diary, this is a documentation of the decaying doom we dearly describe as :

D-D-Depression

Before it came kicking my door clean off  it's hinges, tak bagi salam and splash a  scalding cup of pure Depresso on my face, I could say I never really was "depressed".  I mean, sure there were holes-in-your-umbrella, fresh socks in a puddle, misaligned-mosaic days, but nothing too big to shrug off the shoulder. 

Until it did. And life, or the lack thereof, was never the same

As you might know, Bipolar Disorder was formerly known as Manic Depression. So, like it or not, it's part of the depressing deal. Part of the Unhappy Meal Combo 4. And the toy is a ball of rusty barbwire.

Parts of the post will sound severely sappy served with a tall glass of  whine so bear with me. I will try my utmost best to snip the seriousness off and let the sadness slip.

Here goes, 

The reoccurring pattern of it is that, after coming down from a manic episode (or derpisode), I would naturally,  inevitably be vacuumed into this violent vortex, a vicious void of said depression . Stagnant air reeks of soggy cardboard down there.

 You see, both hypomania and mania ascends my moods to the ever expanding cosmos whilst depression is like a reverse Big Bang because it shifted me a state of not wanting to even exist anymore. Zero. Zip. Nada. But we'll get to that later. 

It's like free-diving from the top of Mount Everest into the lowest depths of the Mariana Trench and land with a belly-flop. Then you proceed to flail into the absolute unknown like a maple leaf in autumn.  And you just lie down there, on the deepest, darkest ocean floor lifelessly where even sunlight can't penetrate. 

Depression is not about being sad, it's the lack of ability of feeling so. Along with the other emotions.  As a human being, emotions are an integral part of feeling well, human. Having goals, ambitions and a drive to fling yourself forward - are all part of the desired experience. Without them, you're just a humming husk,

I was the humming husk.

You are reduced to an emotionless drone. A buzzing zombie. A worn out television, broadcasting fluffy tv static. If you close your eyes and pretend hard enough, it can sound like it's raining outside. 

Don't buy mood rings when you're depressed. It only shows tv static.

You will lose every speck of desire in wanting to do things you used to love doing. Drawing, writing, skating, making lame jokes that would make people roll their eyes so far up, they'll see their medulla oblongata, all felt meaningless.

Dump this dictionary into the dustbin. Everything has lost it's meaning.

 You're reduced to a stagnant, sleepy, slobby sludge that sulks and shed saline streams from seeing-spheres in skull-sockets.  Tears rolled down my nose bridge as snot played like a yo-yo. I did not cry because I feared death, I cried for wanting death to squeeze me out of this pointless parade like a pulsating pus-filled pimple. 

Yeah...this is incredibly difficult to admit, but I was suicidal. Executed acts to exit existence.

Been swiping right on the app Ender and got two matches. Ikea knife was the first match, tried to stab myself in the guts but couldn't muster the strength to drive the blade in. The thickness of fat made it easier to bounce back too. Chanted "I wanna die, I wanna die" as I do sharp pokes on my belly. Poke poke. That was that, and never tried that shit again.

It's like Tinder, but we believe in love at last sight

Second match on Ender was Tall Buildings. I literally contemplated to fling myself off ridiculous heights and reduce myself to splats and smears, slobs and sludge, on the cement. Thankfully, the courage to end it all ditched me that day.

I wished to match with "Dying in my sleep" the most tho. Used my Super Like on her. 

Yes, I am perfectly aware that suicide is never the right answer and never will be.  If suicide ever cross your mind, please , please take a breather and contact someone you love and just talk it out. I've carried the load alone for far too long that my head almost imploded on itself. The load will lighten once you've let some steam out. Nothing is ever worth losing something as precious as this one and only gift of life. 

Trust me. Life do get better 

Slowly does it.

My first episode of depression was the worst. And I can safely say, it's the worst experience I've ever been through. Worse than when I broke my leg and worse than getting your level 100 Typhlosion deleted by a kid you quickly regretted lending your Gameboy to.

 I was merely existing.

I spent most of the days just lying on bed not wanting to ever get up. With sleep as my only escape from this waking nightmare. I have clumsily slid down the Sleep-ery slope. Got tired from sleeping and got tired of sleeping. It's a paradox on a pillow. 

Time was meaningless as it dissolved the seconds to a sloppy slush and minutes to a mushy mess. It felt endless. You're in a never-ending loop of thinking what to do with a wet match in pitch black darkness. A gust of wind blew a wet page of yesterday's newspaper onto your face while you patiently wait at the poorly maintained bus stop for the bus driver, Hope.

Hope,

Hope was a foreign concept to me at the time. I genuinely felt like it will never get better. I would never get better. The circumstances were too much in a relentless, repeating riptide. The tunnel would always remain as dark as my deafening thoughts. The loop of waking up and not wanting to wake up sucks the very life out of ya.

Alhamdulillah, I'm in a much better state mentally currently. Maybe, I'll write how I clawed my way up from the dusty depths of Depression (maybe not fully, but hey) in a future post. Remember, always check on yourself and the people around you. A bout of load-lessening verbal spillage with someone you trust can really help a LOT. Most times, you just need an outlet to spew the sorrow that has stacked up after so long.

You got this my dude.

Much love.

Btw, this is my depression anthem. Lmao, pretty lame of me to have one but here it is. The lyrics just hit home too hard; 

Lyrics: You'll never understand until you've been there. Been down so much, that all you can manage to do now is sit there. Thinking back at all the choices that you made to get there. Pumping a fist to the sky telling god "it ain't fair." But yo, we ain't there. How could it be with all this devastation and desperation surrounding me. So put me in the ground 'cause this life has just been pounded out of me, The only reason I ain't sleeping now 'cause I got mouths to feed. Why can't I catch a break? Why can't I step away and wake up one morning and think that things wont be a mess today. I gotta break the cycle somehow, sick of this pain, im sick of living this way. Okay, I'm done now. Not having fun now, there's just so many reasons. Feel as if my soul's a broken puzzle and I'm missing pieces. It's real easy for you to judge them when you see them, But you'll never truly understand unless you've ever been there. I've been there, a place where hope was thin in the air. If things are gonna get better tell me a 'when' and a 'where'. Sitting and staring in the mirror, nobody's there, That I know, feeling so alone and I'm scared that nobody cares. My nights consist of so many prayers. I once had so many dreams, I once was going somewhere. Try and following steps before you start to compare, Me to you and you don't know me, now you think that that's fair? I never thought my path would lead me to the point I'm at now. But before they get up, some people gotta fall down. Some fall harder than others, they thought they had it all down. Me, I take these experience and jot them all down. But how do you cope when you think that hope is nowhere around? How do you know where to go if you haven't been found? Yo, I'm saying it's draining living this pain that I'm in. You're quick to judge me but you haven't been the places I've been, c'mon.

PARALYSED PAIR OF PRUNY PINNACLES PROTRUDING THE POPPING PUPIL

Your pal-sy, Horatio the half-smiling hombre.

Bell's Palsy. It's palsy-ble that I have it. 

Ha

Starting off the post with a horri-Bell pun just so to dim the lights to a less intimidating ambiance. Now that the serious socks are off, grab some gummy worms, sit back and delve digitally into my lame, literary lash-out on this particular patch that's presently plaguing a part of my pirate-faced phase.

 Bell's Palsy is the partial (or in rare cases, full) temporary weakness or paralysis of the face. This happens when the nerve that controls your facial muscle is inflamed or compressed. The cause is unknown.

You better Bell-ieve it. 

As for my case, it's the right side of the face that has become unresponsive. Someone held a remote to half of my face and pressed "pause" and threw the remote into the oceanic abyss.

Look how one side is saying "Cheeeese" while the other is just "Oh..geez"

This is how it all began ; 

It was about one week ago , I was having lunch and wanted to go for a sip of a drink. I started noticing my frail facial fault when I was sucking through the straw, trying to quench myself with the goodness that is teh o' ais limau. 

"Wait a stinking minute" 

I stopped and realized that something felt off there.  Optimum liquid suckage was not achievable. You can't seem to direct the airflow going through the straw.

You suddenly suck - at sucking.

Something's rather straw-nge. 

What a mon-straw-city

Someone please straw-p this man 

I didn't put any considerable amount of thought into this yet as I assumed I have slept too hard on one side of my face the night before.

There's always the reassurances. Always, the reassurances. The safety strap to stabilize one's sanity. The precautionary protocol to preserve one's perseverance to probable pain.

Days gone by and the right side of my face feels weaker and weaker. Up to a point where zero movement could be made (it was just weak at first but I could wink. Now it's totally frozen). It feels weird, channeling your inner mental strength to nudge the cheek but it just won't...budge. Signals are as unsent as a one-ticked WhatsApp wonder. 

I bet everyone has tried moving an object with your mind after watching an X-men movie. Or any scene that involves telekinesis.  Don't tell me you've never stared at a lone lighter on a table and have your eyebrows twitch and your eyeballs bulge thinking this will, out of some cosmic fluke, lightly rattle. Yeah it feels somewhat like that. The unseen effort felt like that. Brain was sending waves but my nerves were on airplane mode.

I'm actually mentally tickling the neck of the spoon

I gathered my strength and what's left of my self-esteem to look into a mirror and tried to muster the biggest smile I could stretch and... 

N O P E

Negative, Navigator.

No sir.

 I look like straight up Two-Face. 

Ramen-iscing the better times

Or a maniacal,  moustached, mannequin man, with a mug to mortify the marbles out of the minds of mortals. My sad attempt of a smile looks like it might spontaneously relieve the bowels of an unsuspected pedestrian.

 

If I wore an eyepatch and have a bandanna-clad parrot perched  on my shoulder, I'd definitely look like I sail the seven seas and reek of gunpowder.

ARR

Arguably, the hardest part of this whole ordeal is the inability to taste. For a dude who loves his food, this is a GARGANTUAN deal. Bell's Palsy closed the lights to the party that is my mouth. The primal link that connects man and food has been severed. The only part of my tongue that could taste is a small strip of surface on the left side and that's it. It's like throwing a party for twins, but only one twin gets the cake while the other gets mushy batter and tasteless paste. I now see mouth-watering food adverts online with violent envy and despair. 

The little things, NEVER take them for granted my dudes. 

Another thing to not take for granted is freaking BLINKING. Yes, BLINKING. The bodily process that is as natural as breathing. The act of flapping your eyelids to prevent your eyes from drying up. You don't really notice how subconsciously significant it is until a streak of tear trickles down from the corner of an eye that has been left unblinked for an extended period of time.

I am deeply sorry if ever this has made you consciously aware to the act of blinking thus making you blink manually.

 He-he. 

If I were to subconsciously blink, only my left side closes whereas the right remains creepily open. This is particularly, socially dangerous. If I am not careful, I might unknowingly wink continuously at a random bystander when the peripheral radius of our vision crosses.

Wink about how awkward that might be.

Naturally, it affects my sleep too. I can, by conscious command, close my right eyelid if I try to but it doesn't shut as tight as it should be. It feels less like an eye-lid but more of an eye-instant-noodle-cup-flap. But maybe, slightly sturdier. If I take a shower, water will still slush into my right eye despite being somewhat closed. Not up to the point where I can't sleep at all, it just takes a pretty long time. Seeing sun blades, slashing through night's end, slicing through my curtains' slit before I get to drift to slumber is a common affair.

It's particularly painless tho. So, I can chill with that. I still can look this Bell Palsy-bugger in it's drooping eye and say : "Hey' you're not so bad" and offers it a gum. But it ain't picking the flavour.

But you can't stay, sorry. I want to experience the full glory of sashimi melting on my taste mounds again.

I have gone to the doctor about it, twice. To two different doctors. It is confirmed that it is Bell's Palsy or as I'd like to say it - Vphell's Phalcy. Not because it sounds cooler or because it sounds like an extra-terrestrial villain - but because my inability to say certain alphabets properly.

I took Prednisone for three days and now I'm taking Neurobion (or vitamin B complex) to help the facial failure to firm up if anyone's asking. I was also advised to chew gum to exercise the facial muscles and I do actual facial exercises too.

I might have to do a CT scan soon to make sure this isn't a stroke or anything worse. I will keep you guys updated and in the meantime ;

 Sanitize and stay sane.

SLITHERING SCALY SNAKE SNORTING STRIPS OF SALT

Hypomania. Despite sounding like a more devastating version of mania, It's actually the milder form of it.

 It's the lemon and herb in the Nando's hotness scale while mania is the coveted Carolina Reaper.

It's the gentler goblin that gobbles on guavas and gizzards and guts of grizzlies. Gummy grizzlies. While mania is the massive. menacing Manticore that munches on men and their mushy, moist meat.

"I will rip your limbs one by one, and devour them voraciously in front of your family."

It's characterized by an elevated state of mood - up to the point of euphoria and hyperactivity. Your mood basically jumps on a trampoline with a pogo stick and launches itself so high up, it got it's head stuck in the Stratosphere.

You can't really tell if I'm going through hypomania at a glance. It's like an Aedes Mosquito on a chessboard keychain. I wouldn't go around and convince people that my theories on parallel dimensions are scientifically correct despite having absolutely zero knowledge in that department. But I will however, appear to be a little "giddlier". A red squiggly line below the word indicates that the word doesn't exist, but you know how some words just describe something so perfectly just by how it sounds? The word is just that. It's being giddy, but giddlier - ya feel me? Nothing I did when I was hypomanic would really raise anyone's eyebrow and make them look like a wrestler who likes to ask people whether they can catch a whiff of what he's whipping up for dinner.

"It's siakap 3 rasa"

Hypomania feels like the unlocked stage in the good ol' game of life. It's when you unknowingly unlock a secret cavern that has a shitload of treasure chests, Vitality Vials, Yggdrasil Berries and an endless amount of vases and pots that you can shatter to shards to quench your thirst for destruction. It also houses the most powerful sword in the game, lodged in a glowing, red crystal. It would unleash Hades, riding on his trusty Cerberus when swung swiftly - leaving trails of hell fire in its wake. It also has a chance to land a critical strike that deals 9999 damage.

It's life - enhanced. Your perception towards your very existence feels like it has finally worn anti-smudge glasses. We're not talking about clouds having a silver lining, we're talking about the clouds being shiny cotton balls of silver themselves.You become unnaturally confident, extra energetic and your optimism is so positively high, it would reach the Sombrero Galaxy. No, I did not make that up. I assume there are planets that sprout taco trees and have piñatas drinking from salsa streams over there.

Your spaceship of self-esteem on the other hand, would reach the Tadpole Galaxy. Yep, that exists too. There, the planets squiggle around instead of orbiting it's sun which looks like a giant flaming head of a toad.

 You feel amazing. You feel like life finally has received the parcel of purpose and is gripping firmly on the ropes of reason.

I felt so motivated and my head was always swirling with thoughts and ideas. When I draw, the ink that spewed felt more spontaneous. It almost felt like having an imagination of a kid again. So carefree, boundless and unrestrained. I was always psyched to skate and when I did skate, it felt radically incredible. I also had energy that was like a stampede of bulls that has red skin. I would wake up when the early birds are chirping cheerily on cables and skate at the badminton court next to my house. Note that I don't usually do this when I wasn't hypomanic. I would then unwind and have a smoke while sweat drip down my b-oard. Have my gaze wander loose over the morning sky and swaying trees shedding leafy tears . "Eh, that cloud formation looks like a fluffy Flapper-Whapper teaching a swarm of Blobbles how to swim" as I take another puff of my cigarette.

I was never really a confident person. There were times where I'd nervously go "so that's means" and "it's hurts" in a muffled stutter due to having social skills as efficient as an umbrella in a typhoon. Not when I was hypomanic tho. Words would just flow naturally and my spoken english was tremendously better. There were no awkward pauses and jokes that only a crowd of crickets would laugh.

The need for sleep is also dramatically reduced. I can live on only a few hours of sleep each day and not feel like a zombie sloth when I wake up. I'm pretty sure there were days where I skipped sleep for a whole day and still have my energy sparking up like a tesla coil.

I was over-appreciative towards everything. Your senses soared to the skies and slapped the seagulls by their scapulars. Sights and sounds. Taste and thoughts. I would look at drains with carpets of moss like it's an installation in an art museum. My eyes would dart around odd corners and strange sections. Songs would sing a sweeter symphony and murmur a more mesmerizing melody. Food tasted like your taste buds have scored a higher qualification in taste-ology. Your thoughts would race around like a cart in Rainbow Road in Mario Kart.

Yeah, being hypomanic feels pretty darned dandy. I don't really mind being in that state if it weren't for Sir Derpington and his darling dame, Depression, knocking on the door to complain about the noise. And instead of asking to tone it down, they called the cops and requested for me to be in a maximum security prison.

Anyway, that's pretty much what Hypomania is and how it felt like. Neat-o ay.

 Make sure that your wink doesn't look like a worrying seizure of a twitch. Til' next time. Toodly-doo doods.

POLITE PIRATE PRACTISING PERPLEXING POSES

So, what is Bipolar Disorder you may ask?

I thought I came up with something clever to say here to only have a quick Google search to reassure me that it was completely unoriginal and worthy of getting questionable objects be thrown at me relentlessly. Yeah, I was about to say a polar bear who has an interest in both gende- 

NO WAIT DON'T THROW THAT I'M SORRY

Bipolar Disorder, or Manic Depression,  is an extreme mood swing, alternating between periods of hypomania (more on this in upcoming posts) or mania (derp), or both in my case, and depression.

No wait, did I say mood swing? I meant a flippin' mood catapult. One day you're soaring through the clouds with the Peregrine Falcons and the next - you're doomed to dwell in the deepest, darkest depth of the most dreadful dumpster .

It's like riding a roller coaster in the shape of the letter M with a conductor that's about to get fired for not reminding the riders to buckle up. He also spilled his coffee on the machinery that controls the speed causing the gears and gizmos to celebrate 4th of July. Man, he's gonna get fired so hard that he might just spontaneously combust. 

Apparently, there's no cure for it and you're pretty much stuck with it your whole life. It's not exactly the greatest feeling to know what you're having, doesn't have the pills to purge away the pain in the pooper nor the vaccine to vanquish the vile, vicious virus. But aw welparooni - I guess I'll live.

 May the uncertain promise of tomorrow bring this frown to town and make sure it has a good time. 

What is life without a few pulsating zits on its nose. They may pop up randomly without warning and ruin your day but hey - they'll be gone with time. Or maybe, I don't know, evolve into giant blobs of pus and blood. Even then, those will be gone eventually too. Maybe a scar would form but don't let that scar-e you. Put on a smile, act like you're okay and win an O-scar. The puns are running scar-ce so I guess I better scar-am (scram) like I'm a Na-scar driver and get myself some ice scar-eam.

Until then. Don't let anyone tell you that you're an avocado. Unless you like avocados and wish that people would go "Avoca-damn guuurll~" when they see you.

"Holy guacamole"


Alright, I'm avoca-done.

MENACING MICE MADE A MASSIVE MAZE

Derp

Derpity Derp McDerpDave

Since I'll be using this word for a considerable amount of time, let me just loosely put a meaning to it,

Derp is the term for when I was in a state of psychosis.

Psychosis is pretty much what the name suggests, being psychotic. From being mildly misaligned with your state of being to going completely batshit insane. I'm not talking about front-flipping-blindfolded-over-a-burning-bed-of-nails-3edgy5me insane, I'm talking about being worthy of a straitjacket insane.

A lot of people are surprised at how I'm still able to recall what happened when I was derping. I am too. I think it's because I was somewhat conscious of what I was doing and the judgments were my own. Only that, the things I did were only deemed normal by my own badly distorted perception of reality. To others, well, I looked like a bag of pistachios (get it? 'cause I was nuts lel). Like, if someone tried to convince me that pigs do fly - I would've completely bought that and proceed to explain how they exist in a distant dimension. Heck, I would have even thought that seahorses neigh and dragons knit sweaters.

And that's only the tip of the iceberg of insanity. Some of the scenarios could've baked a bouquet of purple steaks diagonally on a math theory on how bicycles inflate. Yep, the things I did made as much sense as the last sentence. 

Even worse when the delusions, the dandy and the destructive, were translated into actions. Some made people nervously laugh and question whether I'm being serious about thinking Hogwarts is real and I'm a wizard from Hufflepuff (protip: I was), some could've brought serious harm to myself and the people around me.

I am thankful, as I'm writing this, I'm considered sane. Sure. some people would tell me I'm

a little peculiar at times but only to an extent of receiving a stink-eye or a confused smirk. Nothing of serious concern. 

I just hope that Randy the Relapse Rodent won't crawl out of it's dusty little doorway and give me a gut-gushing gnaw that'll leave gnarly, gory gashes ever again. Basically, I wanna stay sane from now on end. Amin

So, that's pretty much what derp is. I'll elaborate more on what actually went down in future writings. 

Take care now. Don't let anyone tell you that your choice of bread spread is inferior.

INITIAL INTRO INTO THIS INTRICATE ILLUSION

So,

I have Bipolar Disorder Type 1

Or Manic Depression. Or the Jekyll and Hyde. Or the Severe Sanity Swing. Or the Gregory Schwartznitz Syndrome. I have no idea who the hell the last guy is and I totally made that up. But that Gregory guy sounds like a sophisticated old man with groomed, snow white hair who has an unhealthy obsession for lawn gnomes and ancient poetry that has thou, thee, shalt, thine, maketh in em'. He wears a monocle to his weekly chess matches at the local park too.

I think I've been a bipolarian (made that up, sounds pretty nifty ay?) for about 5-6 years now. It's been a surreal spiral of the utmost ups and the deepest downs. A roller coaster that someone with a burning desire to see planet Earth implode on itself created on Rollercoaster Tycoon.

It was life-changing.

It was like wearing clean socks all your life, and suddenly stepping into a muddy puddle.

In this blog, I will try to recall and recollect all my past experiences, be it unsettling or uplifting, From my psychotic episodes to the meds I've been on, the shitty side effects to my recoveries and relapses and all that neat stuff . And maybe even a few stories on Gregory Shwartnitz.

So I'll see ya later I guess.