216 days

 It's been 216 days. Since my mother left. And I still have trouble some days accepting that she is gone. Some days I can feel her presence. And it's amazing. I see her in the sunrise. In the sunset. In the flowers, in nature. She sends me visitors. And beautiful signs. I have so many pictures. I have videos. I have her voice recorded. What blessings. Other days it's unbearable that I can't call her, or feel her face on mine from kissing her cheek. If I close my eyes though I can feel it. I can feel her soft skin. She always swore by Mary Kay. I can see her beautifully manicured fingernails and feel her wrinkly knuckles. I see her smile and hear her slight giggle when I talk about something funny the kids did. I know exactly how she liked her tea. I know she hated the smell of pickles and would twist up her face at the mention of mustard. "Blech"! she would say. Ha! I remember how she always caked on her dark blue eyeshadow and used her pink lipstick as "rouge" as she called it, and brushed her long blonde hair. And no matter what temperature it was outside she wore flip flops. I see them in the store all the time and think of her every time. Sometimes even though I know what happened to her, I find it so hard to accept and understand why. Why something so cruel had to happen to such an amazing, kind hearted, giving, wonderful person. The woman who would find things, fix them up and give them to people. To some that might seem lowly but to me it speaks highly of a humble person who came from nothing and understood what giving was all about. She gave what she could, when she could. Her love, her heart, and her time. Especially to my children. She was the BEST Grandma. She was always a big kid with her obsession with Winnie the pooh. So when she had children to play with, her playfulness fourished. And so did our relationship. After having kids I had developed a newfound respect and appreciation for my mother. I started to wonder how she was able to do all she did for everyone and me growing up. I learned things you can only learn as an adult with kids of your own. Which is such a harsh reality because by then sometimes it can be so late. Too late. I'm grateful it wasn't too late for me. Even if it was only for a short time. In the grand scheme it's all just a short time. A short ride of making memories, and just trying to appreciate the little things. The daily mundane life events of eating together, watching someone hang laundry out the window. Watching TV together. Having family over, watching fireworks on the 4th of July while family is over for a BBQ. Even the bad stuff like family arguments. Adolescent rebellion and then gravitating back toward each other when life shows you how much you need each other. For a brief moment before it's time to say Good-Bye. We have to treasure it all. I miss it all. I have a cute memory of the night of my bachelorette party. I was in the bathroom in the bar pretty drunk, and my Mom came in the bathroom with me because I wanted to keep an eye on her to keep her safe. (A grown woman, haha!) So I got nervous for a second and I looked over the stall and was like Mom?! In a little bit of a panic. She looked at me and said "I'm here" but the face she made was a sweet smirk face like she was happy that I needed her. At that moment I realized even in my drunken stupor that we had reached a different level in our relationship and I had grown a lot as an adult. I needed my Mom. And we were best friends. And that never changed. It only deepened. And I am so grateful for that. And although my heart is shattered and I will never be able to put it back together the way it was before, I know that one day she will meet me in the light with open arms. It will be like no time has passed. Until then it's my turn to be the giver. To be the memory maker. And I will do my best to make her proud. 

I Love you Momma....

Living without therapy

I got a call a few weeks ago about having my weekly therapy session, but this time it was about having 'teletherapy'. Basically therapy over the phone or on video chat. The assistant wanted my email address to get it up and running, but the fact is, I had to reject it. I have 3 kids at home. In the midst of this virus we are homeschooling which I can safely say I've NEVER anticipated ever doing. But we have no choice. What that also means however is that I can't do teletherapy. My husband is working from home, and I have no way of being alone in a private situation to talk openly about my issues. This is going to take a toll. It's already taken a toll. My anxiety is at bay for the moment but it's still simmering below the surface. But I've had moments, or hours and even days where I feel like I could jump out of my skin and others where I was a hair away from having a full on panic attack. All I can think about are all the people out there going through this as well. All the people that are living lives in a constant state of 'pause'. Living in a constant state of fear as we watch the numbers go up and hear about more and more people that are getting closer and closer to us. I am thinking about all of the people on the frontlines, the Dr's, nurses, assistants, techs, police, fire, that are risking their lives for others. All the while just hoping and praying we don't get the virus ourselves. I have asthma and a few other health issues so I am high risk and I've never felt like this before. So I need therapy. But I can't. I just have to suck it up for now and keep moving. In anticipation for the day when we all can 'un-pause' our lives and continue where we left off. God Willing.

Aye Corona

 I'm sitting outside on my back patio and my head is starting to hurt. It's beautiful out, the sun is shining and it's 84 degrees. A welcome change from the almost 2 weeks of colder, rainier, nasty weather. Thanks to the Coronavirus, or COVID-19 as it's being referred to, we've been self isolating. Being stuck inside is hard enough, but now it's gorgeous out. Why am I complaining? Because there is pollen everywhere. All over everything. I have allergies and asthma and the tabletop where my laptop is sitting on currently is a bright shade of yellowish green. And I can feel my nostrils tingling, and the mucus building a bit as the crap makes it's way up into my sinuses. I'm going to suffer later. I'll be surprised if my asthma doesn't get activated and I'm forced to give up my after dinner walk, a habit I've started since being forced to stay in my house.

The truth is, I'm desperate. For fresh air but also for freedom. I know one day this virus will go down in the books, but in the meantime here we are in a semi mandatory quarantine situation. It's pretty traumatizing. Especially for someone like myself with a few diagnosed mental illnesses. The depression is looming and I am fighting tooth and nail to keep that mother at bay, but it's not easy. My anxiety is peeking around a corner too, just waiting to pounce and my hypo mania is just starting to tickle me. I'm not laughing though.

When I type it out, it all sounds so trivial given the state of things. But in this moment, it's my reality. And all I can do is stay home, and pray. Pray for my father who is at high risk but still has to go to work as well as anyone else affected. Pray for mine and so many others' sanity. Pray that I blindly make my way through this situation. But the most important take away is that I may still be stuck, with a headache and allergies and asthma issues. But I'm still here. Be well.

Return

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!

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!

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".

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'