"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

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

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

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.

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.

Thankfully we are in an era where there is more awareness(mostly,) and there is more of an open dialogue about mental health in general. But.... if I am at the lower end of a cycle, I am affected by everything I look at, read and am exposed to. I even have to moniter closely what I am watching on TV because negative images, crime, and bloody scenes can affect my depression and take my mind into some unwanted territory. 

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

Lawdy, Lawdy, look whose forty!!

Holy crap I'm 40! 40 years and 4 hours ago I was thrust upon this earth. I was a "change of life" baby. My mother was 39, was in menopause and it just so happens she got pregnant with me.

Me !!

Which is just further proof, that GOD wants me here.

When I look back on my life, there have been many situations where I was, or could have been in very real danger. But somehow, I came out semi unscathed. So I have seen his work firsthand. He has protected me and guided me. Although I've resisted at times, he never did. He has never failed me. He was there through it all.  So today I am full of gratitude and happiness that GOD chose me to make a life on this earth and make people smile.

Spreading love and light to you today

Bipolar 2 disorder + Postpartum depression

He was born in 2013. I had had 2 children already and had my share of issues after each. After my first however is when I had my first hypo manic episode. The Doctors mistook it for severe anxiety, postpartum depression and sleep deprivation. Little did I know it was only the beginning. But even after my 2012 Bipolar 2 Disorder diagnosis and becoming pregnant with baby #3, I still thought to myself ‘I got this. I’ll take the antidepressant right after the birth and I’m good’. I thought I was informed enough about my illness to know what to expect.

But as we all know life is and always will be, unpredictable.

The birth was very traumatic. We barely made it to the hospital with my water breaking in the car. Had I pushed correctly while on the drive I would have given birth in the car but thankfully we made it. With zero time for meds, within 3 pushes he was here. 8 lbs, 8 oz’s. He was beautiful.

Very soon after the birth I had the typical exhaustion that comes after such a traumatic event. And the pain was no less than overwhelming because I had a level 4 tear (front to back). After about 30 minutes or so I started to feel like I was unraveling a little so I asked my husband to get my meds. In the meantime I loved on my new munchkin. He was absolutely wonderful and I was so in love with him. I still am. Later in the night I began to notice that I couldn’t concentrate on any one thing for very long. I also was having a hard time going to sleep. I just assumed it was normal ‘postpartum stuff’. All went well and then it was time to go home. I was so stoked to get out of the hospital. On the way, I remember looking out the window and feeling so euphoric. I should have seen the signs, but the insight just wasn’t there. I truly wasn’t prepared. Once we got home my Mother who was visiting agreed to watch the baby so I could nap. Which I did. But when I woke up shortly after, I knew my world had come crashing down. I felt just as I had after my first. And now that I knew I had bipolar 2 disorder I knew this had to do with that. I called my psychiatrist and he told me I was having a mixed hypo manic episode. The anxiety was so severe that my stomach had a permanent knot which kept my appetite hostage. I didn’t know why this was happening when I had taken the meds as planned. I had no clue what bipolar disorder really was. Until now.

After becoming hypo manic I couldn’t continue on the antidepressant alone because it would surely make the mania worse. But what that meant was that postpartum depression was inevitable and it would come quicker. Which it did. Hard. It was the first time in my life that I understood what ‘major depression’ really was. I was in a bubble of suffering that I could not get out of. It was the first time ever; that I thought about dying by my own hands. Those thoughts pestered, harassed and enveloped me so much and so often that on more than a few occasions I wondered if I could do this. My psychiatrist could time my daily phone call by the second.

Once I realized that I was in ‘this thing’ for the long haul I decided I was desperate. It was ‘survival mode’. I had to form a battle plan. I knew my Mom was leaving soon because she had come to stay earlier. The baby ended up being a week late. I dreaded her leaving. So my first line of defense was not being alone. I couldn’t ask my husband to take any more time off then he did, but he would be able to come home earlier. So if I could be with another or other adults until he got home then I knew having that support system was going to be invaluable. Plus it would make time fly for me in order for me to get well faster. I had formed a connection of people and friends where we lived so I asked ‘all’ of them(yes, ALL) to come visit me in shifts so I wasn’t alone very often or for very long. A few of them did not step up but one friend in particular actually changed my entire viewpoint of friendship altogether when with 3 kids of her own she made it her job to come and take care of me and even help with my kids almost daily. I am eternally indebted to her.

What’s more, I was also able to convince my mom to come visit twice within a two month period so that I could get help with the baby, sleep, and also get out of the house to go to therapy or the store (and with her as well). I made a spiral notecard book with affirmation quotes to refer to when I was having a bad moment, hour or day. I was determined to pull myself out of this crud come hell or high water. And it was a long, hard, crawl. Most days I didn’t want to be alive. I would drive my son to pre-school and vent to the parents there but then dread the drive home and being alone with my baby who needed me 24-7. I envisioned horrible things with everything I looked at. It was the darkest my mind had ever gone. I began spelling things out loud to keep my mind distracted. So if a thought would come I started to spell the streets I passed. Or my name. Anything. Just to keep my mind distracted. I also drank a ton of water. It was something to do with my hands to keep me busy. If I could keep moving, I was golden. And then joyfully, and by the grace of GOD the fear began to subside, and I could begin to see the sunlight through the clouds. I actually felt bored. Which is the brains way of telling you that it is healing and you aren’t afraid to be alone anymore. I prayed, meditated, did yoga, read and learned about my illness. My husband and I took turns getting up with the baby for feedings in the night which was also amazing and allowed me to get more sleep. It made me feel loved and taken care of. It took 18 long months. But regardless of how bad it was I thank GOD every day for this horrible experience. Because it awakened my humanity. It made me see things I was complacent to before and made me realize that you can never possibly know what anyone is going through. I made it. And it is sad that so many Mom’s don’t after they have babies and mental illness is involved. Just know though that there ‘is’ hope. There is a way to beat it and come out on the other end with your fists in the air and a smile on your face knowing you fought to get your life back and won. But most importantly to know that you are never alone.

-V