The "Kiddie" Rides

As I've grappled with accepting my bipolar diagnosis, I've been thinking a lot about where it came from.  Did it suddenly pop up in the last few years out of no where?  Did I "catch it" in my teens?  Sometime after my children were born?  But, the more I read about this illness and the more I think about my childhood, I have come to the conclusion that I was "wired" with bipolar from birth.  I may have managed it more or less effectively at various times of my life, but the symptoms have been present since before the time I was riding the little helicopter rides at the fair.

My earliest memories include the use of very "black and white" thinking.  If you do something wrong, you are bad and are not likeable or loveable.  This would make sense if I grew up in a household where this type of belief was preached, but I did not.  I have very loving parents who preached unconditional love.  I watched my brothers get in trouble all the time and end up having consequences, but always loved and accepted no matter what.  It was my own brain somehow that came up with this belief.  I was considered shy as a child--to the point of needing to see a social worker.  But I was not really shy, just completely fearful I would say the wrong thing--something that would offend on accident or not be polite enough.  I was an extremely anxious child, as well.  I never sat still--had to be moving and had a terrible time sleeping.  My parents tried to funnel this energy into gymnastics and dance classes for me--helpful, yet fed into my "black and white" thinking.  If I wasn't the best or could not do things perfectly, then I was an awful, bad person.  I would "read" coaches, teachers, parents, friends to see if I was "okay" with them constantly.  I remember following my Mom around the house for a month asking her "Do you love me?"  I'd follow her to the next room..."Do you still love me now?"  John McManamy, author of Living Well With Bipolar and Depression, recently blogged about the concept of a person with bipolar seeing 28 when others see 4.  What he basically talks about is that people with bipolar are not able to filter out a lot of excess information (usually emotions) and their brains jump to places further ahead than necessary or even logical.  If my Mom happened to have a rough day or was frustrated with something, my brain immediately jumped to "what did I do--what have i done--how will i live if she does not love me now?"  And this was all before the age of 5......

Despite my Mom's constant assurances that I would forever be loved, my brain and body began experiencing a new type of hell--panic attacks and insomnia.  I did not know how to turn off my brain or stop worrying.  Racing thoughts led to rapid breathing and heart racing and paralyzing fears of something happening to someone in my family.  Some OCD behaviors turned up--attached myself to family members--insisting I ride with them if they were going somewhere because my brain said they would be safe if I was with them.  And this was all before the age of 7....

On my next post, I'll talk about 7 on, but until then, be good to yourself......

Remember the funhouse mirror?

I remember standing in front of those mirrors at carnivals and fairs and being fascinated by them.  As a kid, I was easily tricked...."Am I really this tall?" "Am I really this short and wavy?"  I liked the tall mirror and hoped I could stay that way...

I'm being tricked again by bipolar.   I am still experiencing much of the rapid cycling or mixed episodes where I go up and down almost constantly within hours or even minutes or have both at the same time.  But sometimes there is a clearer distinction between feeling manic and/or anxious and feeling depressed and hopeless.  I get a lot of racing thoughts and some of them "pop" pretty positively during the manic/anxious times.  I'll start to think "Maybe I am getting better.  Maybe this newest medication is the one.  Maybe I'm really not even bipolar."  And then, the depression and hopelessness drops in again within a few minutes, the cycle starts all over again and I realize "I'm still stuck in this thing."

Part of what I believe is driving these "tricks" is the fact that I'm very anxious about beginning a new partial hospitalization program in August when my insurance approves it.  I have been in a holding pattern for a while now waiting for this and it seems to be finally getting closer and I'm scared.  I have been holding onto strong beliefs and faith that this program will help me, and as it gets closer, I think "What if it doesn't?"  I also am heartbroken about being apart from my kids the last month of summer.  Even though I am struggling right now, I still find pleasure in taking them to the pool and being outside and taking advantage of the warm weather with them.  I worry about the stress and exhaustion it will cause my parents as they take care of the kids all day every day while I'm at the hospital.  I worry about my husband and how my new schedule will impact him.  All of these worries make me question if I should go.  When I experience one of those "up" moments, I'm ready to cancel the whole thing.  Call the hospital and tell 'em I'm not coming.  But then my world or brain crashes and I see how much I need to go.  I can't continue this way.  I owe it to my kids, my husband, my family and me to do everything I can do to manage this disease better.

So, until August, I am going to try to think of those "trick" thoughts like those funhouse mirrors.  They seem real for a moment, but just as the mirrors don't make you stay "tall," the thoughts don't make me stay well.

Racing Thoughts

I wish there was a switch I could find that would link directly to my brain.  Not an "on/off" switch--I need more of a dimmer type switch.

I think I can physically feel, at times (like right now), the neurotransmitters firing and bouncing off of each other so fast that it hurts.  It's at these times that I have a distinct urge to hit my head against a wall.  I have no idea why that is my instant self-harm method of choice, but it is.  While some people think about cutting themselves or drinking themselves into numbness, I want to hit my head.  The funny thing is that I've only done it once--many years ago and it did not do anything but give me a giant goose egg and headache.  Still, I want to do it and always wonder if I could just hit it hard enough to shake things up and realign whatever is misaligned up there.  My brain is on overdrive and feels like a fuse will blow soon and everything will just shut down.

At other times, my brain feels like it is stuck in cement.  Everything is a chore.  Having to remember my own name feels as difficult as solving a quadratic equation.  Having to put on a happy face is torture.  Sometimes other peoples' voices sound just like the teacher on the Snoopy cartoons and I can't focus--it is too much work.

I want the dimmer switch that can bring me right where I need to be.  Alert yet calm and feeling connected.  I'll find it soon, but until then, I'm hanging in there--

Klonopin: Friend or Foe

I just returned from an amazing trip with my husband and my two little girls to be a part of my younger brother's wedding out of state. The weather was beautiful, the girls cooperated and were fantastic flower girls, I made it down the aisle as a bridesmaid without tripping or pulling any type of AFV stunt and the two families seemed to have a truly wonderful time together celebrating a young couple who, in my opinion, have all that they need to make it in the long haul. Through sickness, joblessness, joyfulness, ups and downs--they have endured already, I know they can handle anything--with a smile or a playful joke no less. My problem is that I felt as if I was watching the entire 3 day celebration (rehearsal, actual wedding day, and beach party afterward) in a dream state and remember very little of the details. I am uploading pics from my camera right now and they all look foreign to me. I felt like I had too much to drink all three days (I don't drink), and that either my husband, my Mom or my sister-in-law had to help me get where I needed to be. It's a horrible feeling to be in your mid 30s and feel so lost. My current meds (anti-depressant and mood stabilizer) leave me a bit foggy to begin with. I have the option to take Klonopin to help with anxiety when needed. My dilemma was this: let the travel, the being in the right places at the right time (particularly with little kids), the sleeping in a different place,the pressure to be social to both people you know and don't know, the regular strong emotions that sneak up on you at any wedding-particular a close family member over take me or let the Klonopin help me out. I chose to let the Klonopin help me out, but did it? I am so sorry to my amazing, loving brother and his gorgeous, most thoughtful bride that I was present but not fully "present" at their important day as they have played such large roles in big days in my life. Currently, I have 3 weeks until I can make an insurance change which will enable me to change doctors and enter an intensive outpatient treatment program and, hopefully, get all these medications straightened out. In the meantime, I'm going to keep remembering my little girls' faces and how much they count on me to get better. If you are reading this and have felt this way, hang in there. If you haven't felt this way, most likely you know someone who has. Either way, be good to yourself.

Sometimes the dips have to get lower...

...before they can start to rise again.  Other than times I've been hospitalized, I have to admit that I hit some pretty deep lows today.  This blog is not meant to be a list of complaints, but sometimes a girl's gotta do whatta girl's gotta do...

1.  Met with doctor who changed medications drastically, wrote on a pad of paper with fury, and walked me to the door with "see you in a month."
2.  Met with therapist and had to admit that symptoms are worsening.  Therapist added that symptoms look more like Bipolar I instead of II at this point.  Seems so much more limiting, real now--more like a Lifetime movie character than who I have always known myself to be.
3.  Had to get eyebrows waxed--never an an enjoyable experience--but the least I can do look semi-human at my brother's upcoming wedding.  Why can we not find a less painful system for this? :-)
4.  Made little headway at finding a new psychiatrist due to insurance hoops.
5.  Packed for upcoming trip to brother's destination wedding only to discover at 8:30 that my older daughter's foot had grown and sandals no longer fit--off to Payless we went!
6.  Up until 4:00 am and back up at 7:00 even with sleep meds---just because, I guess...
7.  Cranky, short-tempered, frustrated today yet can't stop moving because I still feel "unpacked"  and "unprepared" for the trip.
9.  Beautiful, generous cousin/godmother treated me to mani/pedi tonight--definitely soothed and calmed my nerves.
10.  Planning/hoping on getting actual night of sleep tonight--so will leave you with this writing I discovered recently by Edmund O'Neill:

Set yourself free from anything that might hinder you in becoming the person you want to be.  Free yourself from the uncertainties about your abilities or the worth of your dreams, from the fears that you may not be able to achieve them or that they won't be what you wanted.  Set yourself free from the expectations of others, and never feel guilty or embarrassed if you do not live up to their standards.  You are most important to yourself; live by what you feel is best and right for you.  Others will come to respect your integrity and your honesty.  Set yourself free to simply be yourself, and you will soar higher than you've ever dreamed.

Be good to yourself

In my daughters' tiny hands

If you are a parent, teacher, aunt, uncle, babysitter, big sister, big brother, grandparent ---most likely you have had that indescribable feeling when a much littler person grabs your big hand to take you somewhere, and if you are lucky, holds on tight to lead you somewhere.  When my little girls (3 and 4) take my hand this way, it is often followed up with "Let me show you something" or "Help me do something" or "I can't find..."  Many of you have often felt this squeeze and felt the joy of being "needed" and being "chosen."  

When I'm feeling good, (meaning either pretty calm or on the higher end of the bipolar spectrum) there are very few things that make me feel as good as those tiny hands.  I love that they are curious hands, learning hands, naive hands--so much left to explore hands.  They are soft and precious and somehow, with the grace of God, were created by my husband and myself.  I want to take those tiny hands on adventures--show them, teach them, help them find things, let them be messy and wild.  As my mood revs up, I want to see if their hands could touch animals at the zoo, sand at the beach, clothes at the mall, roller coaster at the park, water at the pool---all in the same day.  

When my mood shifts however, those tiny hands are suddenly frightening and difficult for me to handle.  A simple request with a hand to "Let me show you something" seems equivalent to "Climb Mount Everest with me."  My whole body feels stuck in cement.  I want to give their hands a quick squeeze and go to sleep until I can move again.  I look at their tiny hands and know that those hands will not stay tiny.  They will grow into big kid hands, teen hands and eventually grown up hands.  I examine the lines on those tiny hands closely and put my own hands together and pray that those lines will not lead to this illness--this illness that is so scary to me right now.  

I am so grateful that I have hands to reach out to for help.  Thank you for being there.  For those of you I may not know yet, reach out and be good to yourself.

Warning: too many rides can be a bad thing!

Since I'm sticking with this amusement park theme lately, I wanted to tie it in with one of my favorite written tools called the "Spoon Theory."  I did not come up with this theory and want to give all the credit due to Christine Miserandino, a woman with Lupus, who does an excellent job in her writing of helping others visualize and feel what it is like to have a chronic illness.  Please read her story at www.butyoudontlooksick.com.  I will do my best to paraphrase here.  She talks about having a certain amount of "spoons" available to you each day and they are nearly ever consistent when you are dealing with illness. Your spoons could be extremely low due to poor sleep or increased pain or possibly a rough conversation with a spouse.  You could wake up with more spoons due to the opposite.  The important thing to remember, however, is that your spoons must last you through the day.  there is no going back to "replenish" when you are out of spoons.  Some days it is 6:00 pm and I can feel I have 2 spoons left--literally--before I will break.  One to brush teeth and the other for taking medications.  That's when I get on my knees and thank God more than ever for family support.  To tie this all together, amusement parks--like holiday weekends--are spoon thieves.  While they may be full of fun, busy, family activities, they still use up quite a few spoons.  Remember to keep some in reserve if you can and be good to yourself.

Ripped off

At the amusement park, you pay big bucks to be amused, right? If you don't feel joyful and thrilled, you either feel like there is something wrong with the park or something wrong with you. You also feel ripped off.

Today was one of those days. I felt like I was in scenario after scenario--swimming and playing at the park with kids, catching up with friends, enjoying dinner with family where one typically feels good-great--maybe even energized. I was supposed to feel that way, but I didn't. I felt like a failure and I felt like everyone could notice.

I felt ripped off--a beautiful day--beautiful family--and my illness stole it from me.

On the flip-side, I continued my journey of doing at least one good thing for myself each day. I stayed open to letting a new friend into my life today instead of burying my head in the sand or pool towel as it may be. Please be good to yourself....

So, I have been waiting a long time for this roller coaster to end and I discovered an exit today. In fact, someone told me about this exit and how close it may be to me. I began to feel hope again--a belief that I can get through this without too many more bumps and bruises. However, I asked the ride operator and she says that the particularly exit is just too early in the ride for me. "Well, can you check with the supervisor, please?" "No, that is not just how it is done."

I have a really hard time understanding, as most of the universe does now, why a case manager from an insurance company can tell me what is most appropriate for me and my treatment instead of my own doctor. It is a rough day for any of us when we can't qualify to see a particular specialist or receive a specialized treatment because it is "out of network." It sucks, it's the truth, but it is my reality right now and I hope that if it is yours, you'll hang in there with me too. Be good to yourself.