Friday, February 29, 2008

The Sound of Music

I'm peeking my nose out of the tent.  I'm looking around at the wasteland around me. Observing the debris from the storms.   It's not over yet, but there's a break in the winds.

I don't want to come too far out, having tried that before and was thrown mighty hard.  I know that when I do come out, I'll be vastly different from when I went in.

But, since no one is watching, I put on some background music.  Something that speaks to me. Something that gives instead of takes.  Something that sustains me.

It's been a long time since I heard music in this place.

I wrap my faith around me like a blanket to keep warm.  I'm fed from my beliefs.  And the soundtrack to my life is gospel.

Tuesday, February 26, 2008

Inspiration

I'm sitting at my computer with my sick, lice ridden daughter is playing on the floor.  Looking for inspiration on what to write today.  I guess today what strikes me is two things:  1) isn't it a bummer when "real" life gets messy and ugly and you still don't feel well, and 2) how am I going to know exactly when I will feel better or normal.  Everyone says that I'll know, but it's been so long I'm really not sure.  And of course, I'm not sure I believe everyone, even with the recent improvements.

My therapist, however, did a good job yesterday of actually convincing me that I was sick.  That's not an easy thing to do, but she's a good therapist.

And yes, life moves on whether you like it too or not.  Maybe it's a good thing, may it's not.  But I don't really have a choice.  I will nit pick again, and tend to her sick belly.  I will make dinner, and smile at the dinner table.  I will clean the bathroom, and review my work e-mails from home.  Because none of these things care whether or not I'm bipolar and symptomatic.  They just keep piling on.  Maybe that's why folks go into the hospital.  Not just because they need to be safe, but also to rid themselves of the strain of daily life.

So, on my first point, will I know that I'm better when I can slog through all this with a smile? Can anyone?  What does it mean to be happy?  Is that the same as having my symptoms under control?  Is happiness everyone's normal state?

Monday, February 25, 2008

Bipolars to the poles!

Oh my God, oh my God, Oh my God.  I just found out about the coolest thing.  Totally.  

A group of young folks from "all over" Australia have put together an expedition to the two "poles" to raise money for research about and awareness of bipolar disorder.  

I love these folks.

What a fabulous idea.  A trek to the North Pole or a cruise to the South Pole.  If I didn't get so very seasick, I'd so be on that boat.

Here's the web-site:  www.bipolarexpedition.org

Yahoo - you go bipolar folks!

Where is God in all this? (Thoughts on faith and depression.)

Jesus wept.

The shortest sentence in the New Testament. Sometimes when things are really powerful, they take less space to tell. Think about how much the impact would be diminished if it took a paragraph to describe it in detail.

Jesus wept.

Jesus wept for you and for me. Jesus felt pain. Jesus felt anguish. Jesus looked at mankind and realized how screwed up we all are, and he wept with the intensity of it all. Jesus was just reflecting the pain that we all feel. The basic gut wrenching sorrow. Even if you don't believe, you can acknowledge the commonality of the human condition that is reflected here.

Jesus wept.

OK, it's really easy to loose your faith when the going gets hard. I know I did. Of course, the old adage is true: you can't be mad at God and say you don't believe. I didn't believe, but I also went through the whole "why would God allow this" crap. Even going through it I knew it was bullshit.

Jesus wept.

Because in my faith, God is there to be with you in your pain. To weep for your pain. To give you solace if you choose to embrace it. One of my campers slipped a book about hope and faith into my purse when I wasn't looking. It was a wake up call. It gives me strength every time I read it. Because I believe (not I know) that God can be with me in my suffering If I choose it. I also believe it may not make a huge difference. But I choose to believe in what I can't see. Sometimes it helps and sometimes it doesn't. But, I do remember that:

Jesus wept.

Saturday, February 23, 2008

Fatal Attraction

My husband recently reported to me a conversation he had with a co-worker.  That co-worker knew I was sick, and was concerned.  My husband told him that I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder.  The co-worker remarked that "It's not fatal or anything."  Now, I have no issue whatsoever that my hubby is telling folks.  It's his story too.

I do take issue with the thought that this is not fatal.  According to my reading twenty percent of folks with bipolar disorder commit suicide.  That's right.  One in five.  And that's not including all those poor folks who weren't ever diagnosed but still felt the pain.

To give you some perspective, this is a worse rate than the ten or twenty year survival rates from prostate, thyroid, testis, uterine cancers, as well as melanomas.  To give you more perspective, the five year breast cancer survival rate is eighty six percent.  

Another statistic - people with bipolar disorder more frequently attempt to commit suicide and more frequently are successful at it.  We are better at it than others.  No joke.

And I can tell you why.  It is mighty seductive.  It's like some diaphanous Shakespearean creature from a Midsummer Nights Dream.  Beckoning.  All your troubles could be over.  All your pain will end.

Damn right this thing can be fatal.

Weathering the Storm

Well, my friends, I've been away for a while.  Trying to "fake it until I make it."  In other words, trying to pretend I'm normal.  Didn't work.

Anyway . . .

In my last post, I reported that I was starting to level out.  While I was away, my mood continued to sort of stabilize, or as my pdoc said, the drugs are starting to dampen my cycling. Think of it this way:  I'm a boat in a storm.  The storm is wild, waves crashing all over the place. Now after the drugs, the waves are smaller and predictable so you know when to put on your life vest (ok, really you'd keep it on all the time.) But it's still storming.  And my feet continue to stay wet.

Also as I mentioned in my last post, it has stabilized on the low side.  Not a good thing.  But, as we say around here, at camp, and everywhere else, "it is what it is."  

Monday, February 18, 2008

Tricycles

All folks who are bipolar experience some kind of cycling. For many folks, that means months of one mood, then flipping to another. As I've discussed before here, I'm a rapid cycler. Which means I cycle every few days. And my ups are "mixed states," which means a little of the up and a little of the down, all at the same time. In order to see what's going on, my doctor has me charting my moods. In order to picture my chart, think about a wild roller coaster ride that goes non-stop. And, yes, it is exhausting.

In order to stop cycling, I am on three different mood stabilizers. That's right, three. And none of them have seemed to put a dent into my mood. During my last doctors appointment he noted that I was on three anti-cycling drugs, and I was still cycling. Three drugs - so that makes my cycles tricycles!

This week I had a few days in a row that were the same mood. From a cycling standpoint, that's a good thing. However, the mood wasn't up to a normal mood, so that was a downside. It's hard to know which is better, dealing with the roller coaster - in which case you know the down won't last, but also know the up won't either. And the up isn't that great. Or staying stuck in one place.

This, my friends, is one of the main dilemnas of bipolar disorder.

Maybe someday I'll graduate to a bicycle.

Sunday, February 17, 2008

What do I want to be when I grow up?

When you are in your early 20s, the world is your oyster.  So many career paths to take, and so little time.  However, being young you often don't know what you want, and feel battered about by life.  You don't understand the opportunities you really have.

I guess being bipolar makes you young again, because I'm there again.  As a result of being so majorly unstable for so long, I am now without a job.  They didn't fire me, because that would be picking on the disabled chick.  However, they clearly didn't have any idea how to handle me.  I had ceased to become me, and I didn't want to want to work with folks that treated me like someone fragile and incompetent.  

So now I need to find new work.  But my pdoc doesn't want me to work until I'm stable.  Really stable.  Not just the improved state I'm in now.  I have lots of time to ponder my next career move.

I figure I have nothing else to do, so I'm trying on lots of hats.  But it's hard to find one that fits my bipolar skull.  And will pay the rent . . .

Wednesday, February 13, 2008

Who's driving this boat anyway?

I was talking to my therapist today (camp, alas, has ended.)  We were talking about how to balance being bipolar with life.  When do you say "I'm not going to let this illness run my life. (stomp, pout)."  And when do you say "I have an illness that needs me to make different choices than I might otherwise make. (sigh, look down to the ground.) "

Because I have bipolar disorder (so my doctors say.)  There is no cure for what I have.  Now that this has awakened in my brain, I'm stuck with it.  I wish it had stayed asleep, but we don't get to relive our past.  As much as we might like to.  

So we can only mold our future and try to learn from the past.  What did I learn?  Don't make hasty decisions.  Clearly communicate.  Don't make assumptions.

So how do I make decisions going forward?  What do I do now that I've quit my job?  What kind of trip should I take next week?  How am I going to structure my days without work? What should my relationships look like?

One good thing that has come out of this is a reinforcement of my spirituality.  This load is too heavy to carry alone.  But even if God is a co-pilot I still struggle with who is driving this boat - me or my bipolar bear.

Sunday, February 10, 2008

My eulogy

One of the books I'm reading speaks of drafting your own eulogy as a way of determining your priorities and goals in life.  You are supposed to write it not as you are but as you would like to be.  I have been mulling this around in my head for weeks.  I couldn't get started on this exercise no matter what.  I was stuck.  

Also, since I'm getting on a plane in a week and since I have an enormous phobia about flying, I am convinced that doing such a thing will make the plane crash.  Seriously.  That's just the way my brain works.  I should add that going to a doctor can also make the sickness real.  This I believe.

But back to the eulogy.  It's really been bugging me that I couldn't put pen to paper on this one.  Then last night at a hockey game with my husband, of all places, it started to flow right out of my head on into my hands.  So there I was amidst the cow bells and shouts writing down what I wanted to be remembered for.  Here goes:

She faced adversity with perseverance and wit.  She paid her dues.  She endured more than most in her lifetime but she didn't allow it to detract from the simple pleasures in life.  She appreciated that happiness can often flow from the small - the sound of a hard rain, good food, good company, a beautiful flower or a good book.  She loved to read and write; she treasured the written word and helped others understand adversity through it.  She wasn't afraid of looking like a fool.  She wouldn't pass up the opportunity to try something new because she might look awkward or incompetent. 

She strove to better the world for the people she loved, and those around her.  She had a strong sense of right and wrong, and always spoke for the unjust.  Her professional life embodied these principals, but family was her center.  She made her loved ones feel total affection and a deep, abiding love.  She will be remembered for her laugh and twinkling smile.

She died peacefully in her sleep, surrounded by her children and their partners, her grandchildren, and her great-grandchildren. 

Let's hope I get there.  Over and out.

Saturday, February 9, 2008

Cycling, weight gain and other fun with bipolar disorder

I don't really know what to say.  I just knew it was time to write.  So this isn't a coherent one subject blog.  But that probably fits my current mental state anyway.

Let's see, what's been happening here?  Well, I had a really good stretch, and then crashed. Fetal position on the couch crashed (which is one step up from fetal position on the floor.)  My doctor says that's what happens with bipolar disorder.  You don't just wake up better, but as the medicines kick in your cycling should be more days in the up and the downs shouldn't be as bad.  Still working on that not as bad thing.  And whoopee!  Lots more cycling in my future.  My therapist said I'm getting good at containment.  That means people around you can't tell when you are in immense pain. It's a good skill if you want to work.

So, that will mean more tweaks with my meds.  Not a bad thing.  Other than the weight gain side effect of two of the drugs I'm taking.  Good thing I haven't had to wear my work clothes lately.  Sweats are us.  It's amazing, I'm eating less and gaining more.  Love those side effects.

Also, I'm back on the wagon of not being sick.  I think this is just a really really bad case of heartache.  Tragic love story, so to speak.  'Cause, as I've said time and time again, if I was sick, the medicine would make me better.  After seven months something should be working.

Speaking of working . . . well that's another blog for another time.

Over and out.

Friday, February 8, 2008

To vent, perchance to vent, perchance to vent some more

(I really hope somebody out there gets my cultural references . . .)

I hate this disease.  It stinks.  I am not one to look at it in a positive light and say "Oh look at this golden opportunity to better myself, take my life in a different direction."  Bull @#$.  I could do that willingly without the pain, thank you.

And everything has changed, and everything is different.  And you can't be the person you were before, and you don't like the person you are now.  And you have no idea what person you will turn out to be.  You feel hopeless, and helpless.  And yes, we're working on this in camp.  But, man, does this suck.  

Today I just want to stamp my foot and throw a tantrum because I am so fed up with this.  And I'm terribly scared too.  

Man, life is so not fair.

Thursday, February 7, 2008

For the ladies only

So, girlfriends, we've all had that time of the month.  Even more so, we've had the time before the time of the month.  That's right, PMS. (OK any guys who didn't heed my title warning can stop reading now if they choose.)

PMS strikes without prejudice - all walks of life, all sizes and shapes.  Except that it really really likes folks with mood disorders.  Nothing like a few hormones to monkey with any mood stability.

Then I was told about B6 from my pdoc.  He said try 200mg of B6 the week before your period.  I was skeptical at best, but had nothing to loose.

OMG what a difference.  I've only tried this for one month, but I'm ready to go buy a carton of this stuff.  It seems to be a miracle pill.  

So, B6 B4 its 2L8.

Wednesday, February 6, 2008

Out of the Mouth of Babes (Take 2)

My youngest daughter has lice.  OK - there's a whole blog in that alone, but I'm not going there today.

Anyway, I was brushing her hair this morning and the topic of lice came up.  I said - "You're not out of the woods yet."  To which she replied, "No, but I'm on the edge."

So well said.  I've had a stretch of stable days.  With no big crashes in about 5 days.  So maybe, just maybe, I'm on the edge of the woods.

I hate to get my hopes up.  I'm kind of superstitious.  And I believe that if I expect the worst, I'll never be really disappointed.  But you guys can hold my hope.

The stigma of mental illness

One of my fellow campers had a great line - "I'm going through stuff I wouldn't want on a t-shirt." We all chuckled because we immediately understood.

But at the same time, we've been told that there is nothing wrong with being mentally ill.  That it is not our fault.  It is our genetic make-up, our inheritance from our genetic background. Therefore, there is nothing to be ashamed of.

OK, don't you see the massive inconsistency.  If there is nothing to be ashamed of why don't we have t-shirts and fundraisers to find a cure.  Why don't we have plastic arm-bands, along the lines of "feel strong."  And if we do have them and I don't know about it - why is it so hidden that I haven't found it.

And if there is nothing wrong, why is my work place - which shall pointedly not be named - treating me so differently than folks with other disabilities or medical conditions.  Why do I have extra hoops to go through, extra pressure put on me, and a total lack of understanding and empathy.  

Because I am mentally ill and that scares people.  Because mental illness has been made fun of for way too long.  Can you imagine making fun of someone with breast cancer?  You'd be shut down mighty fast by the posse.  But making fun of the mentally ill, the crazies, the loonies, that's still socially acceptable.  How often have you heard someone say - "She's a head case."  Or "He must be manic."  It's OK to ridicule the nut jobs.  And every time we do, we erode their sense of self worth, and degrade the public's opinion of mental illness.

But of course, those of us that are mentally ill - we can poke fun at ourselves all we want. Because we need to lighten the load.  And hey, we're all crazy anyway.

Tuesday, February 5, 2008

Growing Pains

At Camp yesterday during arts and crafts time, we had to choose an animal that we felt represented ourselves, and then choose animals that represented the major players in our lives.

I selected a butterfly for myself - because I am trying to view this as a metamorphosis instead of the nightmare it often feels like.  Butterflies are beautiful and emerge from a long sleep completely transformed.  But a butterfly is very fragile and can't take a lot of weight. Particularly when learning how to fly.  I choose another butterfly for my mate - since I believe we have a lot of growing to do together.  As the closest one to this crazy ride, he will both be the most affected by it and the most changed by it.

So, there we are.  Floating with no place to land.  Trying out our new wings.  A partnership but not a merger.  Growing together - will all the growing pains and struggle that usually accompanies rapid change.

Sunday, February 3, 2008

Books

Since I've spent some time bashing books on bipolar and depression, and since a commenter mentioned a couple to me (one I had read and one I had not), I thought it might be helpful to tell you the books I do use.  It is also worth noting that nothing - not even these books - helped when I was in fetal position on the floor.  (OK, sedatives helped a little bit) Ironically the self-help books only seem to help when you are on the path of recovery.  That's why I had such a negative reaction to them for so long. Here goes:

"Why am I still depressed?" by Jim Phelps, MD
This is the best book I have found on Bipolar II.  It really helped me understand the illness, and is particularly good on describing the medicine side of things.

"The Mindful Way through Depression" by Williams, Teasdale, Segal and Kabat-Zimm
Think calm, meditative thoughts.  Learn how to live with the pain and keep it separate from yourself.  Learn how to use your senses to alleviate suffering.  I'm still working my way through this one.

"Take Charge of Bipolar Disorder" by Julie Fast and John Preston
Julie Fast is one of the queens of bipolar disorder.  In addition to this book, my husband is reading one of her other books: "Loving Someone with Bipolar Disorder."  They have a "4-step" plan, which I normally hate and don't hesitate to ridicule.  However, some things in this books really resonated with me, particularly some of the ways they explained certain symptoms.

"The Bipolar Workbook" by Monica Ramirez Basco
Pretty basic kind of cognitive behavioral approach stuff.  But, again, I have found some of the passages helpful in that I could see myself and my symptoms.

"Anxiety and Depression Workbook for Dummies" by Elliot and Smith
Yes, it's part of that series, and yes, it's good.  Some of the better written exercises I've done come from here.

And of course - 

"The Unquiet Mind" by Kay Jamison
This is like the bipolar bible.  This was the first thing my doctor suggested I read - right after he had given me my diagnosis.  It's her story and it's worth a read if you are bipolar, or if you love someone with bipolar.

So, that's my Sunday book review.  I've got a larger stack of of books in the basement that I might pull out and try again - books like "Feeling Good," books that are standards for depression but ones I haven't gotten into yet.  The books above, however, I just pulled from the side of my bed.

Happy Reading.

Saturday, February 2, 2008

Symptoms

I was reading some of my bipolar books yesterday - and I have quite a few - and something jumped out at me, even though I'd read it before.

Hopelessness, being needy and suicidal thoughts are all symptoms of bipolar disorder. Apparently our brains are so messed up that this becomes a norm.  Almost a common place thing.
Like ear pain when you have an ear infection, or shortness of breath when you have asthma.   When you have bipolar your symptoms are emotional, and thus impossible to differentiate from other emotions.  You actually have to learn whether it is the bipolar talking or you talking.  I know I've blogged a bit before about this - but it always strikes me as particularly cruel.

Meanwhile, I still am trying to continue to separate from my illness.  To see if getting up and going instead of giving in helps.  Sometimes it has, and sometimes it hasn't.  Because I still have symptoms of bipolar disorder.  


Friday, February 1, 2008

Progress?

Rome wasn't built in a day.  One step forward, two steps back.  It's always darkest before the dawn.  Time is a great healer.  (OK - I'm really hoping He who laughs last, laughs hardest.  That would work for me.) Maybe even slow and steady won the race?  Certainly tomorrow is another day.  

And in the words of Amy Grant - "It takes a little time to turn the titanic around."

I was optimistic after a couple days that were more stable than most.  Apparently I follow directions well and when I was told to separate from my illness I did.  Because, by golly, I've never not gotten good marks in class.

But I guess my illness missed me, because it decided to visit this morning.  Can't really say the feeling is mutual.

But here's some of the lyrics from the Amy Grant song that keeps running through my head (at least when I'm trying to be hopeful):

"It takes a little time sometimes
To get your feet back on the ground
It takes a little time sometimes
To get the titanic turned back around
It takes a little time sometimes
But baby you're not going down
It takes more than you've got right now
Give it time

. . .

You can't fix this pain with money
You can't rest a weary soul
You can't sweep it under the rug, now honey
It don't take alot to know

It takes a little times sometimes."