My Story Isn't Over Yet;

I have been so overwhelmed with working one job, training for another, finishing up my online math class, and a million other things that I decided to take a break from my blog.  So, I had my brilliant and wonderful mother write the blog post this week.  I absolutely refuse to skip a Thursday!

 

When Philip asked me to do his last blog post of the month, I thought, no problem. This is Mental Health Awareness month. I have soooo much I could share, but therein lay the problem. I have TOO much for a single blog post. So after debating all week over what I should write, allow me to share with you a single day in the life of someone with bipolar disorder.

Morning can be a struggle, even on sunny days. I fight with pain issues on a regular basis, but add just a little bit of depression to that, and some days I can hardly move. My limbs feel like lead weights, my eyes don't want to open and see the reality of a new day. I don't work, so often I feel totally useless as well. Why bother getting out of bed? Not a problem if I'm hypo(manic). I jump out of bed and rush around not getting hardly anything accomplished in my hyper disorganization. But there are some things that MUST be done. Having to force yourself to do the basics can be very discouraging.

Get up, get dressed, eat and TAKE YOUR MEDS. No matter how horrible you feel, no matter how scattered your thoughts, nothing will make it worse than not taking your meds. If nothing else gets done all day, you must take your meds. A regular (healthy) eating and sleeping schedule can help moderate your symptoms. But we all know that eating healthy is tough when the meds that are supposed to be helping you slow your metabolism and make you crave everything you shouldn't eat. I gained 90 pounds in a year on two meds that I have since insisted be changed. It's difficult to motivate yourself to take medications that put you at risk for heart disease and diabetes. Talk to you doctor. There are other meds to try. We finally got it right the third time around.

I have set up for myself a routine of what needs to be done during the course of the day. For me it's: dishes, laundry, plan/cook dinner, volunteer work I do on the computer (this is what gives me a sense of purpose.) In the spring and summer I also tend the garden. If I'm feeling good I will try to do some other additional housework, or maybe even go out in public. I must be very cautious with my moods and shopping. It is always best to have another person with me when I go to JoAnn Fabrics, or I might spend way too much money. Over time I have become much better about controlling my spending, but it can still be a fight.

A note about leaving the house. When depressed, I can barely get dressed, so going out is not likely. When I'm hypomanic, I want to go out and be with people and do things, but I have a constant fear of annoying them with my incessant jabbering or being inappropriate in some way. Saying the wrong thing, being arrogant, angry or judgmental. Being aware of these things helps me keep these rotten behaviors in check, but sometimes they still get the best of me. So I get embarrassed, and don't want to be around people. My meds make me air-headed and shaky, so that can be a bit awkward in publc.

There is one big thing that helps me get through the day. My dog. If you don't have a comfort animal, you don't know the benefit you can reap from their presence. My comfort animal is a two year old Australian Shepherd/Golden Retriever mix named River Song. She is very sweet and soft and cuddly, and she can make the stress ease away. Dogs love you no matter what. She calms me through tears, shaking, and uncontrollable racing thoughts. When mixed states threaten to rip me in half, River can cuddle up and ease the pain. A black cat serves as a comfort animal for one of my children.

By the time evening runs around I am often emotionally exhausted, though usually it's more physical. I try to get dinner on the table by six for my husband, succeeding some days, failing on others. If I have been having severe racing thoughts during the course of the day, nothing gets done. There are too many voices talking in my head, leaving me constantly confused. If I'm hypo I may start several projects but not finish them, adding to the mess that is my house. This is another area where I can see improvement, but it can still be a problem.

It is with great relief that my bedtime rolls around. I have a small snack and take my night-time meds. If the racing thoughts will let me, I fall asleep fairly quickly. But whether I sleep well or not, the next day I will have to face the chaos I left the day before.

A couple other thoughts. My bipolar treatment interferes with my pain treatments, so we have to balance the two problems and the medications I take. Not fun. Also, if you really want to know what bipolar can be like, read A Brilliant Madness by Patty Duke. It's terrifying, but so informative. It really helped me to see how bipolar was effecting me everyday, and thus allowed me to be on guard for when symptoms popped up. Recognizing symptoms, plus my meds, plus my wonderful supportive family (including the dog) have helped me function at almost a normal level. You can feel like yourself. As for me, my story isn't over yet;

Recycled Post

This is probably cheating, but I don't care.  This is a post from my photography blog that I absolutely love!  I still occasionally look at the pictures and think, Wow!  I took these?  So here is the link:

http://perfectkaptures.blogspot.com/2014/05/mental-health-awareness.html

Enjoy!

Anxiety: A Short Story

It is finished.  After months of waiting, the time has finally come.  I call in the Patient.  The Patient walks into the room, slowly, timidly.  A young male, exhaustion evident in its eyes.  The Patient takes a seat next to the table, taking in its surroundings.  It catches sight of the button on the table.
"Panic?" it says.  "Is this some kind of a joke?"
I smile.  "Let's get started, shall we?"
"What's going to happen?" the Patient asks.  "Why am I here?"
"Just for a little test," I reply.
"Will my fears go away?" asks the Patient.  "Will I be Re-established?"
"I'm afraid not," I say.  "You are a threat to society and to yourself.  Your weakness will be your downfall.  This test will not cure you, but it will help us better understand what you feel.  Let us begin."
I push the button.

I wake up in my bed, the birds singing sweetly outside my window.  The sun is shining through the white curtains.  I don't remember going to bed last night.  In fact, I don't remember anything.  Not to worry, I assure myself.  I probably just took one too many sleeping pills last night.  It'll wear off soon.
A knock at the door.  My body tenses.  Who could it be?  I hesitate a moment before heading for the door.  I open the door to find a young boy.
"What is it?" I ask.  "Shouldn't you be in school?"
The boy looks up at me with sad green eyes.  When he speaks, his voice is small and quiet.  "You forgot, didn't you?" the boy asks.  He beckons me to lean forward, as if to whisper in my ear.  He taps me on the shoulder, turns around, and walks off.
That was strange, I think.  Probably just a little prankster, sent to my door on a dare.  Still, I can't help but notice that my mood has changed.  I can't quite put my finger on it, but something inside me feels different.
I make myself a hot drink to help calm my mind.  I soon forget about the boy, distracted by my thoughts.  I have a case report due today.  I need to go to the post office before heading to the office.  I should pick up some dish soap on the way home.  I finish getting ready to go.
As I step out the door, I am overwhelmed by the sounds of traffic and people's voices.  Again, something inside me doesn't quite feel right.  I begin my quarter mile walk to the post office.
"Excuse me," comes a voice behind me.  I turn to find a woman staring in my direction.  She is dressed as though she is headed to a fancy party.  "You dropped this."  She holds something out in front of her.  It is my credit card.  I reach for her hand.  She moves to the left ever so slightly and taps me on the shoulder.  She then turns and walks away, my card still in her hands.  I just stand there, a strange feeling in my gut.  I begin to sweat.  My body tenses.  Why am I not chasing after her? I wonder.  I can feel my heart racing.
I turn around, looking for someone to help me.  But I forget why I need help.  I shake my head.  "I need some coffee," I say aloud.  I walk over to the nearest café and order a cappuccino.  When I open my wallet, I find that my credit card is missing.  My mind starts racing.
Where did it go?
What happens now?
I look like an idiot.
What if all my money is already gone?
"Are you alright?" asks the man waiting behind me, tapping me on the shoulder.  I jump, startled.  It feels as though a weight has been put on my shoulders.  In fact, now that I think about it, it seems as though my shoulders have been getting heavier and heavier all morning.  My body is so tense it becomes difficult to stand.  I rush out of the café, breathing fast.  I take in my surroundings.  Why is everyone staring at me?  Where did all these people come from?  Someone taps me on the shoulder.  I turn to find who did it.  Someone else taps me on the shoulder, followed by another tap, then another, the weight on my shoulders getting heavier with every touch.  I crouch down to the ground.  I think I'm screaming.  I close my eyes and let the fear overwhelm me.  In my mind I can see all the laughing faces.  I can see my regrets.  I can see my future crumbling away into nothing.  And then...

...I wake up.  The first thing I see is the Patient.  And he is smiling.

A Mental Note

Nothing irks me more than when people blame things on a mental disorder.  "I made this choice because I have a mental illness."  No.  You made that choice because there was a choice to be made.  As you may recall from a previous post (I Am Not My Body), you are not defined by your mental health problems.  You define yourself.
Having grown up with severe social anxiety, I know what it is like to make choices based on my feelings.  And I regret a lot of the choices I made.  I was too scared to do things that I probably would have enjoyed.  But I didn't make my choices because of my anxiety.  The anxiety certainly influenced my choices.  Now, as an adult, I still struggle a lot with my anxiety.  But I push myself out of my comfort zone.  I want to experience life, even if my brain doesn't.  I fight my anxiety.
Which is why certain illnesses becoming mainstream really confuses me.  All this talk about gender dysphoria (aka transgenderism), for example.  Gender dysphoria used to be labelled as a mental illness.  Now, it is a way of life.  It is a choice.  What does that mean for other mental illnesses?
Now, imagine a world where there are no mental illnesses.  Only choices.  Different ways of life.  Anxiety is socially accepted as a way of life.  I am free to never leave my house, to stay cooped up with my fears, terrified of the world around me.  But it's okay.  I made my choice to live with my fears.
What a frightening world!  It gives me anxiety just thinking about it.  Mental illnesses are...well, illnesses.  They are meant to be overcome.  A woman with breast cancer doesn't choose to accept her illness.  She fights it.  A man with diabetes doesn't accept his illness.  He fights it.  A child with the flu doesn't accept their illness.  They fight it.  It really frustrates me that certain mental disorders are being made mainstream while people are still fighting to overcome their own disorders.  I don't mean to start any arguments.  Everyone, including myself, is entitled to their own opinions.  (So please don't stop following me or unfriend me!)  I just want people to see my side of things.  I will respect other people's choices because they are free to make choices.  I can't decide things for others.  But please, don't let a simple hormone imbalance (serotonin in my case) be the deciding factor in your life.  Remember, I am not my body.  Neither are you.  You decide who you want to be.  Choose wisely.