One of the interesting parts of having Bipolar disorder(yes there are some) is that you can encounter something called hypo mania(elevated mood/excitement for no reason). This happens in those with Bipolar "2" disorder where as with Bipolar "1" disorder you deal with mania(elevated mood with psychosis). Or sometimes you're in a sort of "F it" kind of mood so you tend to do things that you wouldn't normally do like in my case, stay up way too late. Those with bipolar disorder know all about the creativity and excitement that can happen from staying up all night, or even for many nights straight. You just feel like you're bursting with all sorts of vibes, possibilities and probably even delusions.
And when you have a mental illness, getting sleep, especially the right amount of sleep is beyond super important. It's equivalent to taking your daily meds. However, every once in a while you encounter something like today(Christmas). My kids woke me up this morning at 5AM to open presents. In past years we would have yelled at our kids to go back to bed for another hour, but this year, we were just as excited as they were. Now waking up at 5AM is unbearable for some(people like ME!) but others might be able to deal with it no problem the next day. For me, unfortunately that lack of the correct amount of sleep totally made my anxiety come back today. I haven't been anxious in what feels like a month thanks to med changes and choosing to go to bed earlier. But being that I was up late last night, wrapping presents, and getting everything ready for this morning, I have spent all day with my old friend anxiety.
Unfortunately hot flashes are a normal and more inconvenient part of my anxiety. They make me very uncomfortable and I did have a few mini panic attacks today as well. My mind raced, my heart pounded, and there were a few moments when even the sound of a repeated question from my 6 year old was going to send me over the edge. But I made it through. With breathing, and affirmation reminders, I was able to get through another day knowing that no matter how bad I feel with my illness, my track record of success in coping and making it, is 100%! Which always brightens my way when I'm having a tough time. And believe me, those days do come. But as my eyes grow so heavy I say this. If we can be gentle with ourselves and know that we are doing the best that we can, we can do so much more than we can ever imagine. Good Night!
Wednesday, December 25, 2019
Thursday, November 14, 2019
Sleep
So I fell asleep sitting up on the couch last night and now I'm pretty tired today. I wish I were one of those people that I have seen that go to bed super early and are completely functional the next day. But alas I am not. Truth be told I don't even think I know anyone like that. And if I do know someone like that, well, I just don't think we should be friends anymore. Ha! Because I just can't compete with that. I used to use the old adage that staying up later was the only way I would have "me time". But that excuse isn't valid anymore because I hardly see my kids nowadays. My daughter who is 11 has grown really, really independent and likes to go for bike rides and spend time in her room. And my 2 young boys like to go outside and play with their friends outside or at their friends houses. So there's that excuse. The other "reason" is because I have bipolar disorder and my impulsiveness tells me to live a little and staying up late is about as exciting as it gets with breaking the rules around here. And frankly it's about the only decision that I can really make for myself. Everything is dictated by the clock. Breakfast, dropping kids off, cleaning, blogging, laundry, watching Netflix, picking up kids, making dinner and then the bedtime routine. I mean that's a pretty organized and busy day! I'm falling asleep as I'm typing this. ha! In any case we cannot control very much in our lives. Our schedules are made for us, our lives are full, obligations left to be met and people that need us. It's an intense, pressure filled life. So the night time comes, for me it's the most relaxing(for my anxiety) time because the kids are in bed, and safe. I get to sit down with a snack(or 2 or 3) and decide what "I" want to watch. I can get all cozy and warm under my blanket with my kitty cat laying beside me and watch my program or movie. I'm happy.
And then Zzzzzzz - Ya can't win!
And then Zzzzzzz - Ya can't win!
Friday, November 8, 2019
Loss (POSSIBLE TRIGGER ALERT)
So in June of this year, my family and I moved to Texas. I am happy to say it's an amazing place. I love it. And the transition has been great since we moved in the summer and our new home has a pool. We've also settled in quite nicely to our home, aside from some straggler boxes that we've kind of forgotten about. They start to blend in after awhile don't they? But all in all, things are, for all intents and purposes, good. But well, I am depressed. And the darkness has crept in just enough to remind me of my dear friend Claudia. You see, about two weeks before we physically got on the plane to come to Texas, in May of this year, she took her own life. It still baffles me to say that two weeks before uprooting my whole family and moving to another state even further away from my family and friends, I had to attend a funeral. Her funeral.
This is my first time writing any sort of blog about it too. I've avoided really examining and further processing it in any kind of depth, due to the fact that around 8 months before this loss, one of my sisters passed away from cancer. I was also already grieving the death of my mother in law the previous year and my own mother was diagnosed within that time with frontotemporal lobe dementia. It seems as though "Loss" was not going to let up regardless of whatever else was going on. And make no mistake there were many other things going on. I've even since lost another of my sisters this past August as well.
But in any case, 2 weeks before this huge move, I was faced with this. It was surreal. I've only ever known one person that took their own life and I wasn't close with him so this type of loss(suicide) was and is, new to me. And maybe some would say a loss is a loss, but let's face it, how a person passes away matters in the grieving process. At least for me. I also have experience with suicidal thoughts and ideation because I have multiple mental illnesses so even on days when my depression isn't severe, the thoughts can float up every now and then. This, unfortunately is what made me think of her on this particular day. I think of her in so many positive ways more often, but on this day, it was different.
There isn't a person who knew her that wouldn't say she was just the most amazing person. She was a helper, a doer, an encourager, loyal, faithful, giving, kind, loving, the list is endless. All the best things a person could be, she embodied that. And the quantity of people she helped, loved and brought her light to, is endless as well. There have since been organized races, and a multitude of events as well as a business that was started as a memorial to her and a celebration of how she would serve her community. The mayor of her town even named a day after her beautiful soul for the level of inspiration she provided to anyone she came upon. Just freakin amazing. She called me 'boo' which I'm sure was her way of being affectionate to so many but she just made you feel special. And her smile could light up a room. I miss her dearly. I couldn't believe how many people were at her funeral. But then while there I said to myself, "of course you can believe it, she touched everyone!".
In October of 2018, a mutual friend of ours took me and a few other friends to the beach for my birthday weekend. I really wanted her to go, but she couldn't for one reason or another and I so wish she could have. I envision the talks we could have had. But most of all the laughs.
Two months prior to her passing, her and I had been texting and trying to make plans to get together but they kept falling through due to illness running through my house. So after her passing, I re-read all of our texts from the past year. I could see that she was reaching out for connection and that she must have been going through some stuff. And it makes me feel like maybe if I would have seen something, or known how close she was to the edge, could I have helped pull her back from it? I know I am one of a very small piece to the puzzle that was her life, but I might have tried. The gravity of this situation is nothing short of an atomic bomb though. The shrapnel is everywhere. I am still picking some pieces of it out of me. Some pieces however, I don't think - no, I know I'll never be able to reach. I see her everywhere. One thing I find so hard to work through is that her and I were so similar.
Claudia had bipolar disorder and anxiety. So do I.
She had children, and a family that loved her. So do I.
She loved her family and her friends dearly, as do I.
She was a woman of deep faith. So am I.
She looked for beauty and fun and joy in everything and everyone.
I do the same.
Her birthday is 7 days before mine.
She loved music, and dancing. I do too.
We went to the same church. I could go on.
It's scary. It's sad. It's frustrating. And it's just not fair. I see her everywhere. She had unique hair so when I see that hairstyle on other people I immediately think of her. I see her name in places and I know that's her showing me she is there. And with time, with that pain, I can and will choose to take heart. I can choose to believe that despite her earthly burdens, she lives on; supporting and watching over us from the other side. Even now as I write this her spirit is pulling me out of my funk and into the sunlight. And I am so grateful to know that she is free, and at peace and with Jesus. I can accept that I will be sad that she is gone;
but am filled with overwhelming gratitude that our paths crossed in this great abyss of a universe.
And that even for a moment, she was able to share her sparkle with me.
"Shake it boo".
This is my first time writing any sort of blog about it too. I've avoided really examining and further processing it in any kind of depth, due to the fact that around 8 months before this loss, one of my sisters passed away from cancer. I was also already grieving the death of my mother in law the previous year and my own mother was diagnosed within that time with frontotemporal lobe dementia. It seems as though "Loss" was not going to let up regardless of whatever else was going on. And make no mistake there were many other things going on. I've even since lost another of my sisters this past August as well.
But in any case, 2 weeks before this huge move, I was faced with this. It was surreal. I've only ever known one person that took their own life and I wasn't close with him so this type of loss(suicide) was and is, new to me. And maybe some would say a loss is a loss, but let's face it, how a person passes away matters in the grieving process. At least for me. I also have experience with suicidal thoughts and ideation because I have multiple mental illnesses so even on days when my depression isn't severe, the thoughts can float up every now and then. This, unfortunately is what made me think of her on this particular day. I think of her in so many positive ways more often, but on this day, it was different.
There isn't a person who knew her that wouldn't say she was just the most amazing person. She was a helper, a doer, an encourager, loyal, faithful, giving, kind, loving, the list is endless. All the best things a person could be, she embodied that. And the quantity of people she helped, loved and brought her light to, is endless as well. There have since been organized races, and a multitude of events as well as a business that was started as a memorial to her and a celebration of how she would serve her community. The mayor of her town even named a day after her beautiful soul for the level of inspiration she provided to anyone she came upon. Just freakin amazing. She called me 'boo' which I'm sure was her way of being affectionate to so many but she just made you feel special. And her smile could light up a room. I miss her dearly. I couldn't believe how many people were at her funeral. But then while there I said to myself, "of course you can believe it, she touched everyone!".
In October of 2018, a mutual friend of ours took me and a few other friends to the beach for my birthday weekend. I really wanted her to go, but she couldn't for one reason or another and I so wish she could have. I envision the talks we could have had. But most of all the laughs.
Two months prior to her passing, her and I had been texting and trying to make plans to get together but they kept falling through due to illness running through my house. So after her passing, I re-read all of our texts from the past year. I could see that she was reaching out for connection and that she must have been going through some stuff. And it makes me feel like maybe if I would have seen something, or known how close she was to the edge, could I have helped pull her back from it? I know I am one of a very small piece to the puzzle that was her life, but I might have tried. The gravity of this situation is nothing short of an atomic bomb though. The shrapnel is everywhere. I am still picking some pieces of it out of me. Some pieces however, I don't think - no, I know I'll never be able to reach. I see her everywhere. One thing I find so hard to work through is that her and I were so similar.
Claudia had bipolar disorder and anxiety. So do I.
She had children, and a family that loved her. So do I.
She loved her family and her friends dearly, as do I.
She was a woman of deep faith. So am I.
She looked for beauty and fun and joy in everything and everyone.
I do the same.
Her birthday is 7 days before mine.
She loved music, and dancing. I do too.
We went to the same church. I could go on.
It's scary. It's sad. It's frustrating. And it's just not fair. I see her everywhere. She had unique hair so when I see that hairstyle on other people I immediately think of her. I see her name in places and I know that's her showing me she is there. And with time, with that pain, I can and will choose to take heart. I can choose to believe that despite her earthly burdens, she lives on; supporting and watching over us from the other side. Even now as I write this her spirit is pulling me out of my funk and into the sunlight. And I am so grateful to know that she is free, and at peace and with Jesus. I can accept that I will be sad that she is gone;
but am filled with overwhelming gratitude that our paths crossed in this great abyss of a universe.
And that even for a moment, she was able to share her sparkle with me.
"Shake it boo".
Tuesday, October 22, 2019
Traveling
I Love to travel. I mean I love being in different places. The traveling part, the getting from point A to point B part, leaves much to be desired. My anxiety pops up, and the next thing I know I'm on a plane sweating my butt off from all the hot flashes. It's interesting. If there is any doubt that anxiety is something apart from what I am wanting to happen to me, I can assure you I don't always have control over it. For instance I just got back from visiting my family in NYC. While on the plane, there was turbulence. No-one likes turbulence. Not even my anxiety. I started getting hot flashes. But instead of recognizing this as part of my anxiety, I assumed that the plane was hot. Which incidentally, it was. Very stuffy. Eventually I did realize the anxiety was acting up and I took a Xanax to calm me down. But in the meantime I'm relatively calm! I'm breathing slowly and smoothly but I am still sweating and am very uncomfortable. And I must have been moving around a lot because the woman sitting to the right of me kept looking over at me. Which was making my anxiety even worse! Ha!
Needless to say, it was not a fun flight! Once I'm where I need to be though, I will level out. But I'm going to act like a kid here and figuratively roll around on the floor taking a temper tantrum and say "it's just not fair"!. I know I have a mental illness. But I just want to be able to pick and choose what type of suffering I'm going to have, and when. But I just can't. And that makes me angry. Don't I deserve the right to have a good time, or to be at peace? I think I do. But I also know that real life isn't getting what we want all the time.
So for those moments, there's my meds, there's my therapy, and in dire situations, there's my Xanax. Because once I get to where I need to be, I can be me again. But also with that experience try to prepare for going back.
Namaste'
Needless to say, it was not a fun flight! Once I'm where I need to be though, I will level out. But I'm going to act like a kid here and figuratively roll around on the floor taking a temper tantrum and say "it's just not fair"!. I know I have a mental illness. But I just want to be able to pick and choose what type of suffering I'm going to have, and when. But I just can't. And that makes me angry. Don't I deserve the right to have a good time, or to be at peace? I think I do. But I also know that real life isn't getting what we want all the time.
So for those moments, there's my meds, there's my therapy, and in dire situations, there's my Xanax. Because once I get to where I need to be, I can be me again. But also with that experience try to prepare for going back.
Namaste'
Saturday, April 27, 2019
"On comes the rushing" (published 02/2015)
So lately I feel invisible. The snow has kept me in and I'm restless beyond words. I am feeling like a caged bird. I am entering the stage of my disorder that I actually hate the most. But, at least it is when I start to become the most creative. So I guess there's a rainbow in every pile of poop. HA! So this poem is meant to describe what my disorder is for me. Which is Bipolar 2 rapid cycling, mixed mood, with Generalized Anxiety Disorder. And just a touch of Obsessiveness. Not quite OCD. But just a smidgen. Just a hair. Anyway, here it is:
On comes the rushing. The fervent spinning of the wheel. The magnificent, beautiful rise. Of energy. Vibration...and life. When I can touch the stars with my soul. When I can see in my minds eye the dance my blood does as my heart beats it through my veins. The awakening is happening. The feeling of freedom.
Here it comes(whispering). The wanting. The heights. The desires. The thoughts. To brighten my way. Lighten my days. Making clear the blessed world until everything is shiny and new again. And it is glorious. It is Magical. For a day. A week. A month.......a minute.
Slowly though, the color begins to fade. Stability dulls with the decline. The blue skies begin to darken. The rich sunset hues of orange and yellow turn to grey and black. Important things and people become passersby. Dots in the background. Stillness becomes the norm. And the pileup becomes a comfort.
A sweet melancholy.
Of loneliness.
And the inevitable..........isolation.
Paranoia starts to creep in. Anxiety decides to come for a visit. Fear...grips. Intrusiveness, pollution. All I see is darkness. My chemistry has betrayed me. It has squashed my hopes. My ambition. My existence. For now.
Until the lightning strikes.
And then...On comes the rushing...
-V 2015
On comes the rushing. The fervent spinning of the wheel. The magnificent, beautiful rise. Of energy. Vibration...and life. When I can touch the stars with my soul. When I can see in my minds eye the dance my blood does as my heart beats it through my veins. The awakening is happening. The feeling of freedom.
Here it comes(whispering). The wanting. The heights. The desires. The thoughts. To brighten my way. Lighten my days. Making clear the blessed world until everything is shiny and new again. And it is glorious. It is Magical. For a day. A week. A month.......a minute.
Slowly though, the color begins to fade. Stability dulls with the decline. The blue skies begin to darken. The rich sunset hues of orange and yellow turn to grey and black. Important things and people become passersby. Dots in the background. Stillness becomes the norm. And the pileup becomes a comfort.
A sweet melancholy.
Of loneliness.
And the inevitable..........isolation.
Paranoia starts to creep in. Anxiety decides to come for a visit. Fear...grips. Intrusiveness, pollution. All I see is darkness. My chemistry has betrayed me. It has squashed my hopes. My ambition. My existence. For now.
Until the lightning strikes.
And then...On comes the rushing...
-V 2015
Therapy(published 10/2012)
So I've finally given in to my better judgement and realized that I am not super woman after all. I've started seeing a therapist. I guess the loss of self from being just a wife and a mother and having nothing else for myself finally got to me. Damn my parents for raising such an independent productive member of society!!! (shaking my fist). Of course there are other reasons. But every mom can attest to the stresses of raising children. I really don't know how parents of 4 or 5 do it, let alone 2 or 3. And the question may exist as to why I thought I was super woman in the first place. But that's a conversation for the therapist. :) However it brings me to my topic of the day. Seeking help in the first place. Everyone has their own idea or definition of therapist. It can be anyone. Someone that you trust that is willing to take on the weight of your life and your woes along with their own. A work counselor, AA, a general physician, a psychologist or a psychiatrist. Even when you're younger, school counselors are able to do the same. I would know. I relied on them heavily growing up due to my hard times. But whatever you choose to call it. Whatever you choose to seek. It's completely up to you. It doesn't matter. The point is that you do seek help when you need it without feeling guilty. The reason why I am talking about this is that I know how hard it can be to sacrifice so much of yourself. The more I think about it, the more I think I sacrificed so much of myself for other people or things in the past. And it has built up to this very poignant moment in my life where I am the middle of some pretty crazy important self discovery. And for me, it's necessary to talk to someone about it. Otherwise I cannot be responsible for what might happen. OK, that was a joke. :)
Why bring this up? Why does it matter? Aren't there more important things to talk about? Are you trying to tell me I need therapy? The answers are this. I am bringing this up because firstly, the statistics for depression in the US have not been updated for 12 years even with all that's gone on in the country. And why wouldn't it matter? We live in a media drowning matrix. And something has to give doesn't it? People die every day because they feel like they have no-one to turn to. No-one cares about them or their problems. Those in what would look on the outside like normal, happy families. And the fact of the matter is even with our progressive morals, seeking help is still semi looked down upon or seen as a tiny bit taboo. And I'm sorry there isn't much that tops the list of things that are important other than sanity. I guarantee that every 1 to 2 people you associate with either have a depressive/mental condition and/or have one and don't want to acknowledge it.
I was reminded today about the extent of the war. The suicide rate of soldiers is 1 per day since 2012 began. It's the highest it's been in 10 years. Those poor men are coming back from overseas and feel trapped. PTSD, depressions, alcoholism, drug addiction. God knows what they've seen. And sadly enough, that's just scratching the surface of what people are dealing with. That doesn't even include the physical illnesses that cause the latter conditions. Then there are the many post partum mental/mood disorders. I believe every woman should be screened for this before giving birth. There should be a survey to fill out with questions in every OB/GYN that filters out the women who are most susceptible to it. This way they can give the proper guidance and literature on the subject. I found out a year after my daughter was born that it ran in my family because none of my family members even mentioned it to me.
But there are more influences on us rather than just the ones you can see at eye level. The food we eat, and even the air we breathe. We live in a very toxic world. You can do the best you can with what you have, but you are not Superman, or Superwoman. And the fact is...that's OK. There is absolutely more strength in asking for help than there is in sitting in a dark corner, never living your life because you are afraid to be happy.
And in my experience the only thing that comes out of therapy and talking to another soul about your problems is progress. Whether is be positive or negative, it's progress. Through positive progress comes breakthroughs, better relationships with your family and friends and better functioning in society and at work. Through negative progress comes change. Which even though it takes work, eventually leads to positive outcomes. It leads to peace. It leads to happiness. Now I know there are those that have seen a therapist and still feel lost. No one circumstance is easily explainable nor is it easy to work through. But if you don't try, you'll never know. So despite the mole hills or mountains ahead of you you are NOT alone. There is hope and light through the darkness. There are days where I even have to remind myself of that. And it's true. So here's hoping you can find peace and happiness through all your dark days and hard nights. Regardless if you need it or not.
-V
"I became insane with long intervals of horrible sanity."
Edgar Allen Poe
Why bring this up? Why does it matter? Aren't there more important things to talk about? Are you trying to tell me I need therapy? The answers are this. I am bringing this up because firstly, the statistics for depression in the US have not been updated for 12 years even with all that's gone on in the country. And why wouldn't it matter? We live in a media drowning matrix. And something has to give doesn't it? People die every day because they feel like they have no-one to turn to. No-one cares about them or their problems. Those in what would look on the outside like normal, happy families. And the fact of the matter is even with our progressive morals, seeking help is still semi looked down upon or seen as a tiny bit taboo. And I'm sorry there isn't much that tops the list of things that are important other than sanity. I guarantee that every 1 to 2 people you associate with either have a depressive/mental condition and/or have one and don't want to acknowledge it.
I was reminded today about the extent of the war. The suicide rate of soldiers is 1 per day since 2012 began. It's the highest it's been in 10 years. Those poor men are coming back from overseas and feel trapped. PTSD, depressions, alcoholism, drug addiction. God knows what they've seen. And sadly enough, that's just scratching the surface of what people are dealing with. That doesn't even include the physical illnesses that cause the latter conditions. Then there are the many post partum mental/mood disorders. I believe every woman should be screened for this before giving birth. There should be a survey to fill out with questions in every OB/GYN that filters out the women who are most susceptible to it. This way they can give the proper guidance and literature on the subject. I found out a year after my daughter was born that it ran in my family because none of my family members even mentioned it to me.
But there are more influences on us rather than just the ones you can see at eye level. The food we eat, and even the air we breathe. We live in a very toxic world. You can do the best you can with what you have, but you are not Superman, or Superwoman. And the fact is...that's OK. There is absolutely more strength in asking for help than there is in sitting in a dark corner, never living your life because you are afraid to be happy.
And in my experience the only thing that comes out of therapy and talking to another soul about your problems is progress. Whether is be positive or negative, it's progress. Through positive progress comes breakthroughs, better relationships with your family and friends and better functioning in society and at work. Through negative progress comes change. Which even though it takes work, eventually leads to positive outcomes. It leads to peace. It leads to happiness. Now I know there are those that have seen a therapist and still feel lost. No one circumstance is easily explainable nor is it easy to work through. But if you don't try, you'll never know. So despite the mole hills or mountains ahead of you you are NOT alone. There is hope and light through the darkness. There are days where I even have to remind myself of that. And it's true. So here's hoping you can find peace and happiness through all your dark days and hard nights. Regardless if you need it or not.
-V
"I became insane with long intervals of horrible sanity."
Edgar Allen Poe
This Crap(published 2014)
I have just begun my journey in the wonderful world of being a BiPolar 2. It's so much fun!!....Yeah freakin right.
So far even stable days I have blips of ridiculousness. Not fun.
I want to see the future. I know there are people who would disagree and say I don't want to see that. But I really want a crystal fucking ball so I can see it and feel better about what is in store. My two Docs think the worst of this comes from the Postpartum issues and will resolve itself a lot once 'my' postpartum period is over with. (a year or year and a 1/2). I hope and pray they are correct and aren't just blowing smoke up my ass. My life has been turned upside down by this beastly shit of a thing and I can accept that I have lots of work to do. But it's very very difficult to accept the negative things about this disorder. In the meantime, I have to be strong for myself, and my family. Take the good days with my whole heart and tell the bad ones to go to hell !
My aunt gave me the best advice. She told me to take it day by day. And that's what I do. I'm a strong bitch when I want to be. Regardless of the hill I have to climb. Just keep on moving and like the Jay-Z song says, dust ya shoulda's off !!!
-V
So far even stable days I have blips of ridiculousness. Not fun.
I want to see the future. I know there are people who would disagree and say I don't want to see that. But I really want a crystal fucking ball so I can see it and feel better about what is in store. My two Docs think the worst of this comes from the Postpartum issues and will resolve itself a lot once 'my' postpartum period is over with. (a year or year and a 1/2). I hope and pray they are correct and aren't just blowing smoke up my ass. My life has been turned upside down by this beastly shit of a thing and I can accept that I have lots of work to do. But it's very very difficult to accept the negative things about this disorder. In the meantime, I have to be strong for myself, and my family. Take the good days with my whole heart and tell the bad ones to go to hell !
My aunt gave me the best advice. She told me to take it day by day. And that's what I do. I'm a strong bitch when I want to be. Regardless of the hill I have to climb. Just keep on moving and like the Jay-Z song says, dust ya shoulda's off !!!
-V
Diagnosis(published 12/13)
It has been 12 weeks since we were graced with the stunning, sweet, little munchkin of a boy Patrick. I look in his big (so far dark blue) eyes and know he is destined for greatness. Yeah so what I'm biased. And as a typical mother of a kind of a newborn, I am racing through this blog with fervor and speed because he's been sleeping in his swing for atleast an hr and a 1/2. So I know he's going to wake up soon and not know what to do with himself unless it's time for him to eat. Which is still every 3 hours.
Amongst all the joy, all kisses on those sweet chubby cheeks. This time has been darkened a bit by the fact that I have postpartum depression and anxiety.
And am also dealing with the new knowledge that I am a BiPolar 2. I was OK with it when I was first told about it. Because I felt OK. Until the world came crashing down upon me 2 days after my 3rd child was born. When I look back at the prior births, I can see how I probably did have this. Yet somehow came out unscathed only using antidepressants. Which could have been dangerous except that somehow it was not severe. But this time around? Well it has turned my life completely upside down. It's been a struggle ever since. When you think about it, we all struggle don't we? We walk around complacent and blind to others feelings, ailments, faults. We somehow think we are better than others. We judge, and we think of how grateful we are to be normal. But we are all really not so normal. We are so far from perfect creatures. And everyone has a burden to bear.
Some people have MS. Some people have Cancer, or the gout. Yes I said Cancer because if you have/had cancer you are suffering. And struggling, so it counts. Some people have ADHD, or autism, or severe food allergies. Some have PMDD. The one thing we do know is well over half this country is depressed and/or suffering from some type of mood disorder. More than we could ever have imagined. And I chose to talk about it because it's what I do. I talk about everything. I have to. It's just my way. I could hide away and pretend like it doesn't exist. Or I can accept it and fight it and share it. In hopes that my fight can help others know that they are not alone. That this 'thing' will not keep hold of me and my life and my children's lives.
I am aggressively treating it with meds and therapy and am looking so forward to the day that I can say I am 100% again. If you have ever had Postpartum issues ranging from just the baby blues to all out severe depression and/or postpartum anxiety or even Hypo Mania which I have had to deal with, then you know what it's like. It's like a war between the chemistry and gene pool against who you know is the real you. And it's not fun. It's an all consuming bitch of a situation that can pretty much take over if you allow it.
My irony is that I come from a history of suffering and mental illness. So I've learned to fight. I am insightful, and knowledgeable and resourceful. I am a survivor. I also know how to ask for help. I may not like help, but I am over the guilt I once felt when I was a mother of an only child. I am intelligent enough to realize that I can't do this alone. And I am thanking my lucky stars for all the wonderful people I've been blessed to come across that have offered their whatever to help us along. Having kids isn't easy. But having a baby when you already have bigger kids is even harder. Then you add on the trials and tribs of what this is. And talk about a mountain of anxiety and worry. For my future, my kids future and everything in between.
I never imagined I'd have a 'mental illness'. I mean I always knew I was different. But as to how different, well certainly not in the characterization of needing anti psychotics and mood stabilizers. I've asked myself 'Why' many times. But it's chemistry, and genes as I've said and I think look what you came from. So why not? So here we are. And I am thankful and grateful that I am stable right now and have been told by multiple sources including messages from beyond that I will be OK and that I have a long life ahead of me. I have my days, my moments, my hours. But I am doing the best I can with what I have and praying that my meds work like they're supposed to.
With that, In the realm of our current medical world, we are severely lacking in research and trials in psychiatry, and these illnesses. But I Thank GOD that we are still within reach of the technology enough to treat the illnesses at home and not have to lose time with our families. I hope that one day I might not need as many meds, or even need anything at all. But the reality is I might. Am I scared? Hell Yes. I don't want to lose myself. I don't want to go a day without seeing my babies grow up and watch them and find out who they will become. I don't want to forget important things, or have to end up in a hospital. And I will fight to prevent those things. For as long and as hard as it is, I will fight. Because that's what I do. I'm a fighter. Always.
Amongst all the joy, all kisses on those sweet chubby cheeks. This time has been darkened a bit by the fact that I have postpartum depression and anxiety.
And am also dealing with the new knowledge that I am a BiPolar 2. I was OK with it when I was first told about it. Because I felt OK. Until the world came crashing down upon me 2 days after my 3rd child was born. When I look back at the prior births, I can see how I probably did have this. Yet somehow came out unscathed only using antidepressants. Which could have been dangerous except that somehow it was not severe. But this time around? Well it has turned my life completely upside down. It's been a struggle ever since. When you think about it, we all struggle don't we? We walk around complacent and blind to others feelings, ailments, faults. We somehow think we are better than others. We judge, and we think of how grateful we are to be normal. But we are all really not so normal. We are so far from perfect creatures. And everyone has a burden to bear.
Some people have MS. Some people have Cancer, or the gout. Yes I said Cancer because if you have/had cancer you are suffering. And struggling, so it counts. Some people have ADHD, or autism, or severe food allergies. Some have PMDD. The one thing we do know is well over half this country is depressed and/or suffering from some type of mood disorder. More than we could ever have imagined. And I chose to talk about it because it's what I do. I talk about everything. I have to. It's just my way. I could hide away and pretend like it doesn't exist. Or I can accept it and fight it and share it. In hopes that my fight can help others know that they are not alone. That this 'thing' will not keep hold of me and my life and my children's lives.
I am aggressively treating it with meds and therapy and am looking so forward to the day that I can say I am 100% again. If you have ever had Postpartum issues ranging from just the baby blues to all out severe depression and/or postpartum anxiety or even Hypo Mania which I have had to deal with, then you know what it's like. It's like a war between the chemistry and gene pool against who you know is the real you. And it's not fun. It's an all consuming bitch of a situation that can pretty much take over if you allow it.
My irony is that I come from a history of suffering and mental illness. So I've learned to fight. I am insightful, and knowledgeable and resourceful. I am a survivor. I also know how to ask for help. I may not like help, but I am over the guilt I once felt when I was a mother of an only child. I am intelligent enough to realize that I can't do this alone. And I am thanking my lucky stars for all the wonderful people I've been blessed to come across that have offered their whatever to help us along. Having kids isn't easy. But having a baby when you already have bigger kids is even harder. Then you add on the trials and tribs of what this is. And talk about a mountain of anxiety and worry. For my future, my kids future and everything in between.
I never imagined I'd have a 'mental illness'. I mean I always knew I was different. But as to how different, well certainly not in the characterization of needing anti psychotics and mood stabilizers. I've asked myself 'Why' many times. But it's chemistry, and genes as I've said and I think look what you came from. So why not? So here we are. And I am thankful and grateful that I am stable right now and have been told by multiple sources including messages from beyond that I will be OK and that I have a long life ahead of me. I have my days, my moments, my hours. But I am doing the best I can with what I have and praying that my meds work like they're supposed to.
With that, In the realm of our current medical world, we are severely lacking in research and trials in psychiatry, and these illnesses. But I Thank GOD that we are still within reach of the technology enough to treat the illnesses at home and not have to lose time with our families. I hope that one day I might not need as many meds, or even need anything at all. But the reality is I might. Am I scared? Hell Yes. I don't want to lose myself. I don't want to go a day without seeing my babies grow up and watch them and find out who they will become. I don't want to forget important things, or have to end up in a hospital. And I will fight to prevent those things. For as long and as hard as it is, I will fight. Because that's what I do. I'm a fighter. Always.
Friday, April 5, 2019
Challenges
It's been a while since I've written on this blog. And for good reason. The hits just keep coming for us here at my house. And all of that affects me. But I am a warrior and I am persistent and resourceful so I am fighting and kicking serious ass. I am stable(for now) and although I am dealing with a lot, I am leaning heavily on my faith. But lately I've noticed something. I have recognized that as someone who has a mental illness, on any given day there can actually be too much information about it. Allow me to explain.
- I have a plethora of liked mental illness and bipolar centered Facebook pages.
- I have a subscription to bphope which is a magazine for those dealing with bipolar disorder(amongst other mental illnesses).
- I also get emails from bphope magazine, and the other organizations that I have on Facebook.
So sometimes I don't want to see the link to a support page on suicide when I am not suicidal because it can make me suicidal. I don't really want to get caught up with the links in my news Feed on Facebook about impulsivity or how spending(which is an issue for me) is affecting my marriage simply because it could trigger negative self talk or even trigger me to be impulsive. There are days if I am already in the throes of fighting against my feelings of ineptitude that I have forgotten to take my meds on time by taking your meds on time.
I don't want to see blogs about the wonders of mania when I am clearly not hypomanic seeing as how in the world of rapid cycling and mixed moods, not being hypomanic or at least the euphoric kind, is just no fun at all.
I realize that some might think that the easy solution to that problem is to just not look at it, or read it or acknowledge it. Yes, avoidance can help sometimes. But it's not recommended to avoid "all" triggers when you are cycling between moods. And it's insanely difficult in a digital and informational world to stay away from everything. As a matter of fact, it's just not really possible. I have to check my email. I tend to go on Facebook so I can keep up with friends and family when I'm in a tough spot as I don't have a ton of friends or a lot of family nearby. And of course I get the magazine because truth be told, it's kind of irresponsible to not keep finding ways to deal with my illness or find out what kind of headway we as a society of sick people are making in other countries. I realize I am backtracking, and these resources really are invaluable. And maybe on a different kind of day, when the wind is blowing just the right way all of this may be a non issue altogether.
But on the days or minutes or hours, where I am low and depressed and all I want to do is crawl into a ball and not be here, I mostly just need people support. I need encouragement, not education. I need a bit of a loving nudge, not a firm all consuming shove. Some days I just need to know "I" am loved. Not listen to other's stories about being in an institution and how they almost died. Because sometimes all of that information is useless anyway when put up against the broken chemistry that is affecting myself and so many others.
So listen. I guess this is my annoying blog to all the friends who are in a good spot. Who are open to listening to just another person yammering on about how I deal with my problems(or don't). If you know someone with a mental illness and they are having a hard time, just give them a hug. Send them a card. Just do that one little thing for them that will make them feel worthy of LOVE. Tell them how much they mean to you. Listen to them. Or just be there, under the covers, showing them that they aren't the crappy person they think they are. Who knows. It might just be enough to pull them out of their muck. I know they'd surely be grateful.
-V
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