Driving Blindfolded: A Tormented Mind

By Amy Ry

Driving Blindfolded carries the reader through thirty-five years of Amy’s experiences with Bipolar Illness. It follows the author’s countless euphoric manic escapades and sleep-filled deep depressions. Amy does not hold back in confessing her erratic thought process. She considers her brain to be fragile and conflicted. Missing one dose of five nightly medications or even a hopeful sunshine filled day can send Amy into mania.

Many of the years recorded were chronicled from journals. A few haphazard vacations are also relived. The author’s poetry is recorded throughout.

Driving Blindfolded may be suspenseful at times and sad at others. The reader will get an inside view of the writer’s brain and learn all of the demented visions, the anxiety, and the pure craziness of this never ending illness.

Through the years Amy has managed working part time, volunteering at soup kitchens and shelters, raising a family, and staying married to her husband, Kraig.

If you met Amy you would not know she suffers from mental illness.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Oct 27, 2016
• ISBN: 9781512757965

Amy Ry

Soon after graduating from college and marrying her high school beau, Amy began suffering paranoia and felt one of her co-workers was out to get her. She began having hallucinations and asked to be taken to the hospital to find out what was wrong and fix it. This was the beginning of a lifetime struggle. Although Amy was diagnosed with Bipolar she has managed to work full time or part time, volunteer at soup kitchens and homeless shelters, raise a family, and stay married to her husband, Kraig. The good times far outweigh the bad and although the highs feel great, Amy would never choose Bipolar.

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Copyright © 2016, 2021 Amy Ry.

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Names and places, including cities, hospitals, pet names, and schools have been changed.

All poetry is written by the author unless otherwise noted.

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ISBN: 978-1-5127-5795-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5127-5797-2 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5127-5796-5 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2016915857

WestBow Press rev. date: 01/26/2021

I

dedicate Driving Blindfolded to my husband, Kraig. Thank you for staying with me through the many hard times, even when you did not want to. And thank you for not walking away from our many years of memories. You have been there to help pick up the pieces time and again. We have been on our own in this journey, and I cannot imagine where I would have ended up without you. I am not your ordinary girl, but I am blessed that you believe the vows we took so many years ago. And I love the faith you have in me, which has helped me pursue some of my dreams.

I am extremely grateful to several friends who took the time to read Driving Blindfolded and help with grammar and punctuation. I will ever be in debt to my long time friend who was willing to dig deep and make Driving Blindfolded a much better read. And I am grateful for another friend who used his expertise in designing the classy cover.

I hope you, the reader, learn something to make a difference in the world of mental illness.

Some details I share sound quite foolish. The illness is often comprised of poor decisions based on skewed thinking. The illness is not who I am.

My purpose in sharing Driving Blindfolded is to help others better understand the thoughts behind the actions.

Philippians1:20 ~ I eagerly expect and hope that I will in no way be ashamed but have sufficient courage so that now as always Christ will be exalted in my body.

What I have referred to as Bipolar Illness is now titled Bipolar Disorder.

I am applauding! I don’t know how you did it! Especially being the kind of person you wrote about. If your purpose was to help others you certainly succeeded. Sometimes I stopped after a chapter or two because I pictured myself trying to function in such a setting. It was almost more than I could handle emotionally.

—Dr David Mains

An interesting look into the inside of mental illness. Amy did a great job at documenting her long journey with Bipolar illness. She does not hold back her struggles and rather embraces them which show-cases her strengths and character. The acceptance of mental illness and treatments can help others remove some of the unfortunate stigma that still surrounds mental illness. I wish Amy continued strength and peace through this journey.

—A special but anonymous psychiatrist.

The many faces and facets of the human condition include those special few of us who navigate life with the dual blessing and burden of mental illness. The descriptive insights you offer in your writing may serve as signposts for those traveling that byway, or those who seek to better understand the journey. I hope in your efforts in putting ‘pen to paper’ to tell YOUR story, you found self-acceptance and pride in perseverance, and in the telling of your experience you reach that unknown reader for whom it may be a ‘found treasure’.

—Dr. J

Words convey

The world complex

Hope I have some

For success

Life is hard

Can be a mess

Want the right ones

To express

Words give hope

Or words can pain

Lets just pray

Kind words

Remain

Contents

MISFIT

LIFE BEFORE BIPOLAR

CONFESSIONS OF A SANE BIPOLAR

BRAVEHEART

SECRETS

FAMILY

FREEDOM

SALLY’S SOUP KITCHEN

PRESSURE COOKER

VICIOUS CIRCLE

SEEKING SOLACE

TIGHTROPE WALKING

RECURRING VISION

FITTING THE MOLD

MEANDERING MELANCHOLY

HELPLESS

CAMELOT

SPEED DEMON

AN UNWELCOME DETOUR

LOCKED UP

BEIGE

ONLY IN AMERICA

TAKING CREDIT

MANIA’S NEMESIS

THE NEVER ENDING STORY

THE WISHING WELL

TORMENTED DANCER

RAGING SEA

SIGH…

MOSTLY BLUE

A VIAL HALF EMPTY

STIFLED

WEATHER WOES

FRUSTRATION FACTOR

GIVING THANKS

SIMPLICITY

CHOOSING JOY

IT WILL NEVER END

UGH

EPILOGUE

APPENDIX A ~ WARNING SIGNS

APPENDIX B ~ A MOMENT ON MEDS

APPENDIX C ~ RESOURCES

APPENDIX D ~ LET’S GO TO THE MOVIES

Misfit

A dancer out of line.

A poet out of time.

Too late for balance beam,

A stitch yet to seam.

Waiting all these years,

Never shedding tears.

A player from the past,

Want to make it last.

Wounded once again.

Just do another spin.

Some days I feel special. And some days I feel mistakenly special. Most days I am quite mediocre, but occasionally I think I am extraordinary. At times, I feel convinced that I’m talented—even destined for greatness. These feelings are so strong that my mind and body are overtaken and overwhelmed. This uncharacteristic confidence and charisma charms friends and strangers alike. Or so I think. Actually, my manic thoughts are so delusional that I have learned to keep them to myself so I don’t end up locked up.

Diagnosed in my early twenties, the madness has continued to overtake me for more than three decades. Sometimes this leaves embarrassing memories to interpret or unravel.

I hope you won’t think less of me if I share my innermost thoughts. Please try to comprehend that the thoughts of a person with bipolar are not of his or her choice. When manic, I feel undefeatable, successful, and victorious. On the other hand, my confidence and self-esteem can easily erode when the mania leaves abruptly.

When the highs overtake, my temperament is shaky with excitement and my hands are warmer than usual. My thoughts and actions are unpredictable. When manic, I imagine myself a trendsetter, although my fashion choices might seem peculiar compared to my usual conservative nature. My mannerisms are bigger, louder, and definitely less reserved. I feel a bit of genius, although I normally consider my intelligence to be average.

I would summarize mania with the following: dangerous, euphoria, unrealistic self-esteem, whirlwind of thoughts, continual motion, dementedness, a competition of highs and lows, uninhibited behavior, and plain madness.

Depression is made up of everything opposite of mania. I feel I have nothing to offer anyone. I speak little and I feel little. I only want to disappear. And most times I think it will never go away. I wear worry on my shoulders. Problems and fears of the future overtake my brain. Below are some traits of clinical (as opposed to what I call situational) depression.

The depressed list includes melancholy or sadness, dark thoughts, highs replaced by lows, gloominess, temperamental behavior, and easily angered. The list of the clinically depressed also includes hurting others or oneself, pessimism, a lack of energy, low self-esteem, and poor hygiene. A glass half empty is the view through their eyes.

If you recognize several of these emotions and actions within yourself, in friends, or in family, a professional’s opinion might be required. Manifest signs of severe depression or mania may call for an intervention. You may have to deal with privacy procedures and waiting for an open hospital bed.

The resource section at the close of the book includes an expanded list of bipolar symptoms.

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Music continually affects me. I will try to explain how media pulls me into mania.

Hopefully you, the reader, can eventually understand how alluring and defining subtle messages are to me. The mania triggers my thinking process, and I am taken to another world against my better judgment. Bipolar is not a game I choose to play. It may sound like fun, and it can be, but it traps me in its web as I make choices that are unlike the middle-mood me.

I have a habit of listening and evaluating lyrics. Aubrey by Bread is one of my many favorite songs. The writer mentions listening too fast. That’s me. I think and do things fast when in an elevated mood. As a matter of fact, it has been said that a person with bipolar is like two people, or specifically two employees. This exceptional achievement must take place during a manic moment. My experience is the longer I live on warp speed the more bad choices I make.

Although my faith usually gets in the mix of the melodies, my faith is my rock through highs and lows.

Life Before Bipolar

MEMORIES OF CHILDHOOD

Balancing on fallen limbs,

Climbing up trees;

Entertainment simple,

Resulted in skinned knees.

A caterpillar funeral;

So regretfully squished.

All experienced with a friend

I fondly called my sis.

Riding on a motorbike

Alone and deep in woods.

Found myself on the ground;

To walk, no longer could.

No swimming, biking with friends,

A summer spent in bed

With a fly named Fernando

Who buzzed above my head.

This is a true story,

But Fernando’s pen name is Fred.

And sadly three days later,

My dear friend Fred was dead.

Slumber parties, boyfriends,

No memory did I miss.

But big dreams took a different path,

And I was soon remiss.

Life before bipolar,

Special in every way.

Wish that I could go back

And spend another day.

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The story of my high school sweetheart started when Kraig called to invite me out for bowling and pizza on Valentine’s Day. I was a junior in high school. He was a towhead blond with piercing blue eyes and a physique that turned heads. Not only was he strikingly handsome, but he was honest, goal driven, kind, and athletic. Most importantly, he had a strong faith in God.

One attribute that Kraig was attracted to was my confidence. Sadly, that would dwindle.

My beau was two years older and already attending State University which I had also chosen to attend following graduation. We had a long-distance romance during my senior year in high school, exchanging letters that now fill a treasured box. We did encounter difficulties. Kraig had a temper that flared at the least likely moments. He would holler and explode when angry. Since I was unused to yelling, I broke up with him the summer after high school.

That fall, I began studying at STATE UNVERSITY where I would receive a degree in business. A high GPA was my motivation, and I put in more than my share of studying. I surprised myself when finishing with honors, and I proved that hard work can pay off. This would not be the case today. I now struggle with both long-term and short-term memory. This past week I couldn’t even remember who I had lunch with the week before.

To me, independence was the greatest highlight of attending college. The freedom of selecting courses of interest, choosing how to spend free time, and making friends were a real plus. I also worked in my dorm’s kitchen to make spending money. My partner in scraping dishes, who we nicknamed Spunky, made the job a lot of fun.

I loved my schedule, but my psychology course was at senior level. I was a freshman and not interested in the science of the brain. That may have been helpful later. I was blessed to pass that class! Since stress is mania’s biggest trigger, it is unreal that I never had a full-blown mania while pursuing academia.

My attraction to Kraig was more powerful than his anger flares. After I had been at State University for several weeks Kraig wooed me back. It all began on a date to what would become our favorite coffee shop. Sometimes I wonder how much of his temper was a result of my varied moods or vice versa. I dealt with his blowups by shutting down rather than by shouting back.

What stands out of my time at State U was the privilege of attending its satellite school in London for three