I was recently interviewed by the International Bipolar Foundation about my book! Check out the video on YouTube.
You may find it surprising, but I’m actually thankful for my bipolar diagnosis. My dad—who struggled with bipolar disorder his whole life—died by suicide when I was 24. Four years after I lost him, I experienced my first major depression. I had a delayed reaction to his death because it was so traumatic for me. That was when I myself was diagnosed bipolar.
At the time, the diagnosis was terrifying. It felt like a death sentence. I just kept asking myself, “Will I end up dying by suicide too?”
My whole life, I’d struggled with inexplicable impulsivity, racing thoughts, irritability, and tumultuous relationships. I’d always known something was wrong with me, but I didn’t know what it was. It wasn’t until I had a psychological evaluation, underwent therapy and found the right mood-stabilizing medication that I was able to find answers. I finally had a name for the tornado that had been raging in my head for as long as I could remember. My bipolar diagnosis has ultimately made me stronger.
My memoir has been published!
It’s now available on Amazon.
If you subscribe to Amazon Kindle Unlimited, my book is available for free through their program as well.
I want to wholeheartedly thank everyone for their support.
I hope you enjoy reading my book.
A Guest Blog From Alexis Zinkerman
of A Mile A Minute
It is grand larceny to waste away the dull moments in life. Mania allows us to fill the dull spaces with everything. But true happiness is a balance of white, dark and grey spaces.
My memory often fails me as part of my illness. It feels fragmented like a dream. Since being diagnosed bipolar 1 25 years ago, it has been a long struggle for stability. Sometimes I feel I’m in a spin class rapid cycling to the loud beat of several different tunes. My motormouth was always on green light going miles for every minute.
Last week, something frightening happened to me. I was talking to a friend about Downton Abbey—a TV show we both love—when I couldn’t remember one of the main character’s names. I pictured him clearly, and I could describe everything about his experiences on the show. He’s my favorite character, but I just couldn’t recall his name to save my life. I racked my brain, but I was stuck. The harder I tried to focus, the blanker my mind became. Before you say to yourself “Oh, I’ve done that, it’s not so scary,” consider this: I usually have a perfect memory for things like movie titles, and actor and character names. This was way out of the ordinary for me. I don’t know about you, but because I live with bipolar disorder, any potential disruption in my thought patterns worries me. It could be an indication of an impending episode, and that’s not something I take lightly.
Two weeks ago, I was sitting in front of my computer in my home office cranking out a poster design for a movie set, when I noticed my leg was extremely itchy. I reached down and scratched it, then felt the itch move up to my hip and then my torso. Soon my entire body tingled uncomfortably, but I couldn’t stop to figure out what was wrong. I had urgent deadlines to meet, and I was already overwhelmed with more work than I could handle. I ignored it. I didn’t have time to take care of myself or even think about my needs.
Hello dear blog readers! It’s been a minute since I’ve shown my face around here, I’ve been working long hours lately, but it’s coming to a close in July 2021.
I have some exciting news: I’m taking the plunge and self-publishing my book!
On that note, I have a question for all of you: would you be more likely to buy Daddy Issues as a print or an e-book? The price points won’t be much different, I’m just curious which format you prefer.
You can post your answer as a comment on this post.
Thanks everyone for your ongoing support and encouragement. Stay tuned…
The Myers-Briggs Type Indicator has been used for everything from psychological assessment to career guidance. My mom is a psychotherapist who has access to the full Myers-Briggs personality test. When I was in high school, I begged her to let me take it. I was dying to find out who I was, and how I fit into the world. The instructions said to answer without analyzing or thinking too much, so I excitedly responded to each question based on my gut instinct of who I knew myself to be—at least at that point in my life. Once the score was tallied, I was designated ENFJ—short for extrovert, intuitive, feeling judging. I came out not just as an extrovert, but on the extreme end of the scale between I (introvert) and E. Of course, it made sense on paper. I had a lot of friends. I was a happy, fun-loving person who adored attention. I was one of those people who could walk up to strangers at a party and introduce myself. And—no joke—my first word wasn’t “mama” or “dada,” it was “hi.” The more time I spent around others, the more invigorated I felt. My personality test solidified my self-confidence.