Daily Archives: March 3, 2014

Writings from the Mother of Bipolar Bandit Part 4: How I deal with her Manic Episodes

pic for bb
Michelle has asked me to write about some times she was manic and how her dad and I had to bail her out. She said that there were so many that I could break them up.  I try to forget the bad things Michelle has done in the past while she was manic. In fact , it took some thought to come up with these.
The first time Michelle became manic she was at a friends and the friend called to say please come get her  as she was in bathtub and wouldn’t get out and had gotten into a cleaning frenzy and had made quite  the mess.
This was so heartbreaking. Both her Dad and I went to get her and it resulted in her first hospitalization.
I remember her Dad and I crying as we left her and headed home. We were relieved that we knew where she was and that she was safe, but it was so hard to see our oldest daughter who had always been so confident,smart and mature behaving in such a different way.
When we went back to visit her later, she was so child like- coloring in a coloring book and  wanting us to take pictures home to her younger sisters. Then her mood would change and she would be Jesus Christ. (In all fairness to her , she had been attending practices for the performance of Jesus Christ Super Star at local playhouse.) How quickly her mood would change. By the time of our visit she had been medicated for the mania but was still flying.
I must interject here that as a parent of three smart good daughters, I felt so overwhelmed wondering if we had done something wrong, or if our sweet Michelle would ever be the same.
We worried about our other daughters and how they would cope with all of this. I always worked hard and researched things and together with my husband we handled everything that we encountered.
My words of advice… share with those you love and everyone who will listen what you are going through. Do not be surprised that your help will not necessarily come from those you thought would be there for you.
Grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins,friends, and parents are are all dealing with what is happening on their own way. THEY DO NOT UNDERSTAND. Be forgiving. Know YOU did nothing wrong – neither did your child or loved one. It is a chemical imbalance.
Many brilliant and or gifted people are afflicted with this terrible illness. So kudos to you for having such an intelligent or gifted loved one.
Until next time- Gods blessings.
Sue aka Michelle’s Mom
Michelle has bipolar disorder and is willing to share her struggles in hopes that others will be helped by them.
Follow her on Facebook Twitter Pinterest

Writings from the Mother of Bipolar Bandit Part 4: How I deal with her Manic Episodes

pic for bb
Michelle has asked me to write about some times she was manic and how her dad and I had to bail her out. She said that there were so many that I could break them up.  I try to forget the bad things Michelle has done in the past while she was manic. In fact , it took some thought to come up with these.
The first time Michelle became manic she was at a friends and the friend called to say please come get her  as she was in bathtub and wouldn’t get out and had gotten into a cleaning frenzy and had made quite  the mess.
This was so heartbreaking. Both her Dad and I went to get her and it resulted in her first hospitalization.
I remember her Dad and I crying as we left her and headed home. We were relieved that we knew where she was and that she was safe, but it was so hard to see our oldest daughter who had always been so confident,smart and mature behaving in such a different way.
When we went back to visit her later, she was so child like- coloring in a coloring book and  wanting us to take pictures home to her younger sisters. Then her mood would change and she would be Jesus Christ. (In all fairness to her , she had been attending practices for the performance of Jesus Christ Super Star at local playhouse.) How quickly her mood would change. By the time of our visit she had been medicated for the mania but was still flying.
I must interject here that as a parent of three smart good daughters, I felt so overwhelmed wondering if we had done something wrong, or if our sweet Michelle would ever be the same.
We worried about our other daughters and how they would cope with all of this. I always worked hard and researched things and together with my husband we handled everything that we encountered.
My words of advice… share with those you love and everyone who will listen what you are going through. Do not be surprised that your help will not necessarily come from those you thought would be there for you.
Grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins,friends, and parents are are all dealing with what is happening on their own way. THEY DO NOT UNDERSTAND. Be forgiving. Know YOU did nothing wrong – neither did your child or loved one. It is a chemical imbalance.
Many brilliant and or gifted people are afflicted with this terrible illness. So kudos to you for having such an intelligent or gifted loved one.
Until next time- Gods blessings.
Sue aka Michelle’s Mom
Michelle has bipolar disorder and is willing to share her struggles in hopes that others will be helped by them.
Follow her on Facebook Twitter Pinterest

Beauty Bio: CC Creams

Curious about CC Creams? I was too! This is what I found out… Continue Reading →

Ten Days in Lockdown

I had six months of sobriety and was frustrated. I was struggling. I was a disaster mentally, physically and spiritually. Old time alcoholics told me that what I was going through was normal. My life was a shambles and since I was sober, I was looking at the disaster I created through clear eyes for … Continue reading »

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Defeated **Warning…contains thoughts on suicide"

I have already written on how this winter has been hard.  The medical treatment of my bipolar disorder is falling apart; I am suffering from side effects of having been on the meds for so long; I have other medical problems like Fibromyalgia, degenerative eye disease, and tooth/sinus infections; I'm just not doing well.

For a while I was manically throwing everything into feeling better:  getting on a healthy eating kick; following a walking training plan for the intent of running one day; changing doctors from a trainee to an internal medicine specialist; cleaning up my studio with the intent of painting again; getting back on the dating site in hopes of meeting someone; ...writing this blog.

None of it has worked.  And as bipolar disorder would have it, I am no longer manic but hopelessly depressed.  Looking back on the past week or so I see I have been getting my affairs in order; I quit my part time job; I gave away most of my paintings; I plan to give away my photography; I do not want or need it anymore.

Down through the years I have tried painting (never went anywhere), writing (never went anywhere), I was a programmer for 22 years (career aborted due to severe depression), I raised two children (but I have given both of them bipolar disorder.)    One person has commented on my blog (bless her heart.)  I am defeated.

Last night I gave my son my bottle of Lorazepam for safe keeping.  He did not take it.  I think he felt by not taking it he was diffusing the situation.  I felt not only defeated but dismissed.  I do not blame him.  He is young and not a professional at handling such situations.

This is not good.  I am alone in the house.  The bottle of pills is back in the bedside table drawer.

It is raining and cold.

I could call my psychiatrist or a friend or one of my children.  Or I could just check out the emergency room.

I do not want to die and cause all that trauma to my children and friends.  I just want to feel better.  I do not want to live this life anymore.  I want it to change.

Ugly American?

When I was a little girl, I traveled quite a bit more than in recent years, lucky enough to go to England at 10 or 11 to visit my aunt, […]

It’s A Family Affair

Sometimes I feel sorry for my kids, particularly the two who aren’t firmly attached to any one significant other right now. Actually, the one I REALLY feel sorry for is the new love interest they bring home to meet a family in which—as my younger daughter so delicately puts it—there are some ‘irregularities’. Actually, what she told her new boyfriend was that her dad’s got cancer, her mom is bipolar, one sibling’s doing well, one brother is doing God-knows-what, and the other brother is married to a fella. Nope, nothing to see here, move along please.

Which reminds me that this Friday marks the two-year anniversary of my diagnosis. During that initial evaluation, the consultant psychiatrist whom I’ve come to call Dr. Awesomesauce asked me a pointed question about whether there might have been any mental illness in my family of origin. Fiercely loyal to a fault even though almost all of them are long gone, I remember denying it, and rather vigorously at that: ours was a GOOD family. We were upstanding citizens who paid our bills and voted Republican. We had no skeletons rattling around in our closets, and if you didn’t believe it, all you had to do was ask us.

It never occurred to me then to think of my relatives with depression and anxiety as “mentally ill”. I didn’t see the family members who popped pills and drank like fish, the grandmother who spent time in what was politely called a sanitarium following a nervous breakdown, or the mother whose moods were every bit as mercurial as my own as “mentally ill”. I also didn’t understand that being MI has nothing to do with social status, or give myself credit for having the courage to become the first in my family to be labeled as such.

Now that I’ve had a couple of years to get used to all this and logged a whole lot of hours on Dr. A’s couch, I can see not only the crazy in the mirror, but the crazy that goes back generations. Better yet, I can forgive it because I know NONE of it is anyone’s fault. We were dealt some bad genes, and some of us didn’t do much to help ourselves when John Barleycorn called our names. But like Maya Angelou said, when we knew better, we did better…..today, both my sister and I are in therapy and on medication, and while the process slips from time to time, life has improved considerably overall.

I wish the one son who’s got mental health problems would extricate his cranium from his rectal cavity and do something about them, because I spent the better part of fifty years fucking things up so HE wouldn’t have to. But I suppose we all have to learn the hard way, and with the combination of his mule-headedness and his youthful stupidity, he’s got a looooooong hard road ahead. I can’t save him from it; hell, he hasn’t even spoken to me in five months. Even blocked me on Facebook. He knows what I have to say, and he doesn’t want to hear it. End of story.

For now.

In the meantime, this bag of mixed nuts will just have to keep doing the best we can to get through life without encountering too many disasters……or scaring the bejeebus out of the poor girl or guy the kids want to bring home to meet us!

 


If I Had My Child to Raise Over Again


“If I Had My Child to Raise Over Again”

by Diane Loomans
If I had my child to raise all over again,
I’d build self esteem first, and the house later.
I’d fingerpaint more, and point the finger less.
I would do less correcting and more connecting.
I’d take my eyes off my watch, and watch with my eyes.
I would care to know less and know to care more.
I’d take more hikes and fly more kites.
I’d stop playing serious, and seriously play.
I would run through more fields and gaze at more stars.
I’d do more hugging and less tugging.
I’d see the oak tree in the acorn more often.
I would be firm less often, and affirm much more.
I’d model less about the love of power,
And more about the power of love.