Sex, Bipolar & Videotape

OK, maybe not videotape, but it's a certainly a catchy title, right? A little homage to the 80's movie, Sex, Lies & Videotape, so why not? I bet it caught your attention either way.


If so, then my ploy worked.


I talk about sex and bipolar simply because I have found in the last several months, my libido has diminished a great deal. Now, this is not typical of my behavior so I attribute it to my new medication. I have talked about this before with my "drug dealer" to no avail. He even tried decreasing my medication dosage but then we found it wasn't working for my mood stabilizing. Which is better to give up, my sex life (or lack thereof) or my moods and depression? Well, clearly I chose the former but I still miss the sex life nevertheless.


Am I the only one who experiences these changes with bipolar disorder medication, or should I just chalk it up to my aging and menopause? Aside from the guinea pig disorder that I have been associating with lately, I don't know which to blame it on.


At this point, does it matter? Probably not. Either way, the outcome is the same.


For me, it's easier to blame it on my meds, because let's face it, do I really want to condemn my increasing of age? Probably not. But it sounds damn good, doesn't it?


Perhaps this is an inappropriate personal 'problem' to discuss out here in the blogosphere, but since it's an anonymous blog, I think I'm safe here. Where else can I be honest and upfront about a situation such as my lack of sexual desire?


As if my life hasn't been altered enough as it is, now I have to worry about a decreased sex drive? How can life be so cruel? I love my husband very much, and I am still very much attracted to him, so I know for certain that making love to him is something I still enjoy doing—on a regular basis—but lately, that hasn't been the case. Perhaps I should just make a "date" with my husband and see where it goes? Spice things up, if you will.


I won't go into detail about how long it's been, but trust me when I say, it's been a while. Damn you bipolar medication! How could you do this to me!!!


I think as I try and succumb to the quintessential aphrodisiac—oysters, anyone?—perhaps that'll get me back into the groove of things and renew my aging as something exciting—not scary—and maybe even an attempt to play the cameo of promiscuous behavior? Obviously, I don't intend on cheating on my husband, but I have recommended a little role playing here and there, just for fun. Not sure that's his thing, but I think at this point, he'll try anything.


I'm game for whatever, so for now, I will just lay low and see where it takes me.


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Bipolar Menopause

You got it—I found out last year that my blood levels were consistent with menopause.


Oh crap.


In the midst of my bipolar madness, I am also experiencing the "joys" of menopause. At first, I thought wow, maybe it's the menopause causing all of my depresson, sadness, crying and hitting? Nope. Although it does contribute to menopause, it's not the sole reason why I am suffering from my bipolar disorder. It definitely accentuates it, but not the cause of it.


Ugh. Damn.


As I continued to enjoy my period-free bliss, I quickly realized that menopause wouldn't be as easy as I had hoped. Aside from the occasional night sweats (at that point) I figured it would be a positive step for me as I embarked on 'womanhood.' 


Yeah, right.


I hated it—hated every minute of it. I knew what going through menopause meant. It meant I was getting old; to the point that I had already reached middle-age. So to add to my lovely mid-life crisis, I was going through menopause as a constant reminder of my "old age." In my mind, I felt deprived and basically screwed.


It's tough, with the flowing of emotions circulating through my veins, it was a harsh reality for me. I wanted to embrace it, but I just couldn't. I wanted to wake up and know that I was 30 years old again, not late 40's. Why do I feel like my life has passed me by at a rapid pace? Why do I feel like it was wasted? I should be wallowing in this peaceful tranquillity of no longer suffering from menstrual cramps every month since the age of 15. I should be finally moving forward with my life instead of dreading it. But I just couldn't. I didn't want to. I wanted to drown in self pity and the dream and hopes of going back in time. Time machine anyone?


What was wrong with me?


As if my bipolar disorder wasn't bad enough, I had to deal with my flooding of hormones on a daily basis as well? I hate my life and I hate this disease. I hate how women are constantly reminded of growing 'old.' Tell me, what do men have to deal with? Baldness? A rounded gut to remind them of eating a bit healthier and working out until they're sweating profusely? Gray hair? Umm, we have to deal with that as well. No pass there. At least we don't look ridiculous when dyeing our hair to cover the gray—but I only attribute that to wearing makeup to mask our pale skin. Unlike men who think the comb over will only enhance their hair, instead of looking hysterical and foolhardy? Still, that's a personal choice, not something they can't avoid. 


Is life contemptible? It only reminds us how cruel life can be to a woman. Aside from the joys of pregnancy (ha, not me) and creating a new life, it basically sucks. Oh, and let's not forget the sagging and heading 'south' of our breasts. Gotta love gravity!


Lovely.


All I know is this, I can't go back, regardless of how often I pray and wish, but I can move forward with my life. Or at least try to. Can I change my life? For the most part, yes. We are in control of our destiny and our dreams—well, to a certain extent of course. I'm hoping that someday soon I will climb out of this mid-life funk and move forward and embrace my aging instead of crying over it—ugh, that word again—instead of being depressed from it. It's a part of life that I can't wriggle out of, and I can't escape it.


I love my wrinkles. 


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