Daily Archives: July 21, 2014
Allo allo from the land of… something… something. Yeah, I don’t even know right now, ha ha.
Things continue to stay afloat, for which I am grateful. I’m especially grateful because I am having the worst luck with taking my Seroquel at night. If I take it around 8 or 9, it punches me out in a few minutes. If I take it any later, it doesn’t kick in for a few hours, and then I wake up even groggier in the morning. There’s going to be some amount of groggy just because, yanno, I don’t get on with mornings, but there you go.
Still, there are good things to note amongst the spots of bad. This morning, I caught myself feeling very self-pitying and abrasive because of stupid things, like forgetting to do the dishes last night and wanting to blame every one in the house for this apparently heinous oversight. My dear husband had also left a bit of rubbish in the bathroom that my brain decided was ire-inducing as well, and I just… powderkeg much? Except it wasn’t. Somehow. I told my husband the things I was cranky about and that I loved him and valued him, and felt like I’d managed to healthily emote my ire without trying to take everyone in range down with me.
Still, I’m wary of my state of being, and am doing my best to keep myself occupied. Whether it be work, or Minecraft (which I am currently calling my second job), or knitting — I am doing my best to keep my hands busy. I am not completely sure that my brain is behaving right now, you know? The Seroquel does a splending job of quashing most of the intrusive thoughts, but a few are getting through. It might be that I will need to ask my psychiatrist to up my dose, but I am not quite to that point yet.
And I do have another biggun to keep my brain occupied — moving day is finally night! The rest of the carpet goes down oxt Thursday, and the removal men are booked for the week after that. That should give the paint time to dry and air out too, so much excitement in the land. Well, until I have to start cramming things into boxes and sorting them out, ha ha. But I have a lot of experience with it, so it won’t be that big of a deal once I get going.
But we’ll see! I’m just taking it one day at a time for now, and doing my best to be grateful for how good things are.
There are times when you are Bipolar that you can literally and physically stop yourself, flip through the pages of your mind, and come to a conclusion. I am OK. Right now, at this moment, I have all I need, and I feel good. You put away all of the what if thinking that has you worried what tomorrow will bring. You live in that moment, and damn….it’s a good feeling.
My OK Day was yesterday. I stopped for a moment and remembered how completely in love I am in with my husband, and that through everything, I will forever be grateful for his presence in my life. He had just left the house to run an errand, and I needed him to know that I was OK. I sent him a text thanking him for being my knight in shining armor. That is what he is to me, and he is my everything.
So, now that you have found your moment of bliss, the next thing you or your loved ones say is, “Let’s hope it lasts a little while.” It’s a normal reaction. It would be phenomenal if the path to a happy life was paved with hope. Once that statement is made, the tiny little bit of logic I have resting somewhere in my brain reminds me to stop. Don’t hope for more. Live with what you have right now.
I learned a long time ago that one of the biggest traits that my depression brings out in me is the fear of failure. One thing goes wrong, and that’s it….I failed…..AGAIN.
So, I say to myself when I am fortunate enough to realize I am on that path, don’t hope. Ironically enough, most people reach out and hold onto hope like it’s their life line. I cannot. What happens if I don’t have another good day tomorrow? What if I spent my one good opportunity just hoping for the next?
It creeps up on me slowly, but it’s always there. The F word. You failed. Another hope, dream, goal, and plan for your future is unattainable because you let your depression steal it from you. And whether this makes sense to the average person or not, our brains will turn this into our biggest failure yet.
Regret and guilt will soon follow, and you wonder if you were ever really happy at all. I know how “crazy” it all sounds. When I say crazy, I mean silly, odd, strange, and even peculiar. Not mentally ill. Even as I write this, I wonder who will truly understand.
Everything I write has a purpose, and because of that, I feel like everything I write has an audience. Even if this blog reaches ONE person who has felt as I have, I’ve succeeded in what I was trying to do.
And for that reason, and many others, I finally had my OK Day.
I have been scared in my life. There was the time I foolishly ended up alone in the car of a guy I had only just met at a disco (when I was in my teens)! There was the time … Continue reading
I am writing this because I want you to know how important it is that as a family member that you never give up on your loved one with a mental illness and that your being their advocate is so very important.
Our daughter’s first struggles with weeks of depression was when she was in 8th grade.
She would be too depressed to go to school and would stay home. Then it was like a light switch was turned on and she would catch up on all her homework assignments in a few days. (she was always very smart) This was told to many doctors over the years and knowing what I know now , at least one of them should have recognized this as manic behavior.
I went to school asking to speak to all of her teachers after her absences became more frequent.
We were hopeful that perhaps her depression was environmental and had been taking her to environmental Dr for allergy shots.
This was helpful and I researched as much as possible. Food allergies were discussed and for awhile things seemed to be going better.
However, what teenager wants to give up pizza and coke and going with friends for ice cream?
This is a very difficult time for children in general- struggling with identity. Each time she was absent it seemed she lost more and more of her friends.
Some kids were very cruel- taunting her and saying unkind things.
I don’t blame kids… all were trying to survive and find their place. I must admit, I was disappointed in some- especially ones whose parents we were friends with., and or went to church with us.
The principal told me that 8th grade girls are the meanest creatures on the face of the earth. To this day, I truly believe this smart man.
We some how got through each episode and Michelle was involved with music and horse back riding- 4H group so she had an outlet.
One of the things that was hardest on Michelle was that due to absences kids she sat with at lunch no longer wanted her to sit with them . I am not sure if this was true or if she just felt this way.
She was lucky that the guidance counselor let her eat in her office.
This was all before anti- bullying talks and procedures were set in place. Despite many conversations with principal re:cruelty -nothing was ever done by the school to prevent or help in the situation.
We just kept keeping on. Taking a day at a time. Lots of talks, walks and reassurance that she would get through all this.
Lots of holding when tears came, lots of trying to explain disappointments we feel when people we thought were friends doesn’t just happen to her age group but happens at all ages.
The thing that I had hardest time about was lack of support from family members and”good” friends I had always been there for.
Let me say, SHARE WHAT YOU ARE GOING THROUGH WITH OTHERS. . The thing that amazed me most were people I thought of as acquaintances who became great friends and avid supporters. I call these my Christian friends. Not all Christian friends were nice or supportive but this is when I realized that some people just give lip service to being a good Christian. You never know who might be your lifeline.
If you try to hide your difficult situation – I feel you are doing two things that could be detrimental. You are losing out on chance to gain support and you are telling your loved one that you are embarrassed or reluctant to share their illness with others.
Caution here- You must determine what it is your loved one wants you to share and be respectful of that when possible. On the other hand do not let them fall into the trap of stigma and all that entails.
High school and college brought many ups and downs. Stay close, be as supportive and loving as you can be. Make your loved one contract with you if they feel suicidal. Make them promise they would not try to kill self and promise to tell you if they are feeling hopeless or suicidal.
You may be the only thing that stands between them and suicide.
This is not to say parents are to blame if child does commit suicide. Often times the discussion that you would not be able to live without them and you would feel like such a failure if they didn’t tell you and contract not to go ahead with their suicide plan is just what they need to hear.. Explain How sad and empty your life would be without them.that it would hurt you and their siblings immensely and forever.
Talking about suicide does not give person the idea but it can make the difference of them not acting on deep depression and thoughts of ending their life.
Hang in there. Life gets better… Just get your child through enough life so they can know that things get better and they will experience wonderful friendships and things if they just keep keeping on. A day at a time.. and if that is too overwhelming then an hour at a time.
Why a Fitness Update on a Bipolar Blog? Over 80 percent of people with serious mental illnesses, such as schizophrenia, bipolar disorder and major depression, are overweight or obese. Much of this has to do with medicines that reduce the metabolism. This contributes to them dying at three times the rate of overall population. Therefore, […]
For someone who usually doesn’t take narcotics—even when prescribed and encouraged—I’m somewhat amazed that I’ve given myself permission to do so this time. The belly pain is still there, although it’s much better than it was and I’m sleeping great. The main problem is, I have become…..well, as your grandma would say…..bound up. It’s a common occurrence in people taking pain meds, and as indelicate as the subject is, I’m still a nurse, and nurses aren’t the least bit afraid to talk about these matters.
Not to put too fine a point on things, but doing business these days feels more like bricks making their way out sideways. Anyone who has ever experienced this phenomenon knows what it’s like to sit there for 45 minutes and sweat buckets while trying to relieve the pressure, and then when you finally do offload, the result is the size of…..a walnut. That’s it. Oh, you may THINK you need to do more, and you do, but that’s all you can manage. So you go take a swig of prune juice or Milk of Magnesia if you’ve got it, make a wry face because of the taste, and hope for the best.
Well, the “best” hasn’t happened yet, so I’m trying to be a good sport while feeling like I’ve gained 50 pounds in two days. In the meantime, I think I’ll lay off the Vicodin and bring on the Dulcolax. I hate sitting on the throne feeling like I’m giving birth. In fact, I’d rather go through unmedicated childbirth again than deal with this…..at least I’d get something good out of it.
You ever notice how your values change when you can’t “go”? I don’t CARE about the plane crash in the Ukraine or the fact that I am in desperate need of a shower. I don’t care that I just sold my seldom-used bike and made $40 that I didn’t have before. I only want to get the mail moving again.
So Will is out getting me some stool softeners while I look longingly at the Vicodin bottle, needing to take some but fearing the consequences. Hmm, maybe I’ll try some Motrin instead and see if that works. I don’t want to be in pain, but I also don’t like feeling as though I’m sitting on a bowling ball. Nor do I particularly appreciate the fact that this never used to happen to me when I was younger. In my 40s I could take Percocet for a week after a kidney stone surgery and never have a moment of trouble with my plumbing; obviously that is no longer the case. Phooey!