Make Your Weird Light Shine Bright
appreciation
The Black Wolf Blogger Award
First I would Like to thank TheSecretKeeper for the nomination. Although, I had stopped taking awards for my writing is somewhere between journal and clinical stuff (and things I have learned along the merry little way), I feel honored for this one (being a new award) as well as all that came before it. The awards belong to the blog as the act of writing is, for me, cathartic, and if people read it and continue to read it, I sincerely hope that they come away with a different idea of what mental “intrestingness” really looks like.
In the Secret Keepers words (largely because I was stymied):
The Black Wolf Blogger Award
I improvised on the introduction with the following:
“This is a new award, it’s the first time I’ve seen it.
If it is representative of the wolf, which is a positive symbolism:
the wolf has sharp intelligence, deep connection with instincts,
appetite for freedom, expression of strong instincts.”
Sited at spiritanimal.info
I would like to nominate the following sites, and if you do not accept awards, I understand.
Okay, I Am Starting To Get Nervous
My insurance company has been notified that I no longer have Medicare part B, and they sent out a letter about two weeks ago that I would no longer be eligible for the Medicare Advantage plan that I have been on for about six years now. My insurance (read: prescriptions) will end at midnight on March 31st. I have about 1.5 months worth of Abilify and about 3 weeks worth of Seroquel left. I am not going to be able to fill the Seroquel in April, and the Abilify is going to run out in mid-May, give or take. The two prescriptions combined cost about $1900.00 per month. That’s more than I get per month on disability which, if you have read the previous few posts, has been denied due to a resounding medical improvement. With all due respect to the Social Security Administration, when someone who has been on and relied upon disability to pay rent, pay for groceries, utilities and what not for about 9 years, this type of situation is going to cause a medical slide back down the hill. I do not think they recognize the severity of the situation. Since I received that letter notifying me that my benefits were to be discontinued, I have grown depressed, extremely anxious, panicky, sleepless (which really helps people with Bipolar….not), and a whole host of other symptoms that had become manageable. Now, I am back to crying at the drop of a hat, my Klonopin usage is back up to the prescribed dosage (I had managed to drop it to half), and I do not know what I am going to do when the Abilify runs out. I am going to be an untreated mentally ill person again, and that scares the living hell out of me.
I remember what it was like to be untreated. My moods were all over the place, I have been told that I could be quite the bitch, I abused drugs and alcohol in a vain attempt to regulate my moods on my own, and it just wasn’t a pretty sight. I am afraid that I am going to get suicidal again, not just of the ideation variety, but of the type that attempts it. I already have 7+ attempts under my belt, and the last one was nearly successful. I have been assured that my benefits will continue throughout the appeal process, and that data has been entered to resume my benefits. However, I have also been told that sometimes that data just kicks out of the system, and I won’t know that until April 3rd when the next check is to be deposited. This is going to be two weeks of extreme anxiety: will I get my check, will Medicare be reinstated as the liaison between the SSA office here and the Benefits Determination Services has assured me? I do not want to see what is going to happen.
Everyone keeps telling me that the Affordable Care Act is supposed to be in place to take care of these problems, but I have looked at the supposedly “affordable” insurance programs available, and unless you want a huge out of pocket expense, you won’t get a premium below about $250.00 per month. If you don’t mind having an out of pocket expense of around $6000.00, your monthly premium is going to be in the $350.00 per month range. Add $350.00 to the roughly $2100.00 worth of prescriptions I take monthly, and it is just not feasible.
Even the thought of trying to secure a job that has benefits gives me a panic attack. What if I have a depressive episode, and I cannot function at home or in the workplace? I’ll just lose another job, I guess. I have never been able to keep a job longer than two years because something always goes wrong; I make a stupid mistake, or the job is beneath my qualification level and I get bored and then I get depressed. Then I get fired for not being able to complete tasks on time, or finish them at all. I have a hard time following instructions (ADD) spoken or written. I have a huge problem with micro-management; just piss off and let me work, it will get done if you aren’t in my face every half-hour.
I am getting nervous to the point of actually being afraid for myself. How am I supposed to live? These are not entitlements. Disability benefits are paid out of taxes that I paid into while I was working for about 17 years. I earned these benefits. I also was doing some more reading on what types of conditions are eligible for benefits: if I was a drug addict or alcoholic, I would qualify for disability benefits. I am sorry, but drug addiction and alcoholism may not be conscious choices, but they are choices none the less. Having a few mental health issues is not really a choice. It just sort of happens to people especially those with mental health problems in their families.
My parents (my mom, really, because my Father is too narcissistic to think about much other than how he plans to retire with a few million under his belt) can only help so much and for so long, and I really don’t want their help. As it stands, my mom helps me more than I would like, but it is a necessary evil. I appreciate everything they have done, and I am extremely grateful to have parents that are living at my age, as well as, having the means to help to a point. It is a very fine line. My life was built on a house of cards, and the SSA pulled one of the foundation cards out so the whole thing fell. I am seriously beginning to freak out.
Mindfulness And Gratitude
How did the rose
Ever open its heart
And give to this world
All its beauty?
It felt the encouragement of light
Against its being,
Otherwise,
We all remain too frightened
Hafiz (13th century Sufi mystic poet)
The above words are so true. The only way that we can experience the world’s beauty and share our own beauty is when we feel loving encouragement in our hearts instead of the criticism so many of us are used to. I read that somewhere else, as well, but I cannot remember where. One of my Buddhist texts perhaps.
The words: “It felt the encouragement of light against its being.” describe what people need to open themselves to others and also to grow. Constant criticism does not encourage growth, it hinders it. For many, the Holiday season is a time when they happily spend time with friends and family and reuniting with friends in other places. It is a time of joy and happiness and connection. For other people, the Holidays can be a source of stress that reinforces depression and loneliness.
The Holidays provide a perfect time to practice gratitude and kindness regardless of how you experience the Holidays (I am one of those where it only increases my sense of isolation and loneliness as I am estranged or so it would seem from the majority of my family, and this disorder kills friendships). I am, however, extremely grateful for many things in my life: the friends who didn’t run screaming but simply accepted me as the me they have always known, my family who also didn’t run screaming but stood up against the challenge of coping with loving a mentally ill person, and the new friendships I have managed to forge in spite of being mentally interesting. There are many more relationships and things (not objects) that I am grateful for. This is a perfect time to practice mindfulness, gratitude and appreciation; actually mindfulness, gratitude and appreciation should be practiced at all times. The world would be a kinder, gentler place for everyone to live.
Here is a short way to feel the loving and kind encouragement that allows the beauty of you to shine through no matter where you are in life.
- Think of a person or animal that represents light, that represents a loving and kind presence in your life. It can be anyone or anything; your pet dog or cat, a good friend, someone who has passed, or even a spiritual figure such as Ghandi, the Buddha, God or the Dalai Lama. Whatever causes you to feel loved when you think of it.
- Take a moment to imagine that presence here now, with you and looking into your eyes.
- Now imagine that person or thing saying to you: “May you be happy”, “May you be safe from inner and outer harm/pain”, “May you be free of fear”, “May you be healthy in body and mind.” You can also create more wishes and affirmations for yourself.
- Now, turn toward that person and say the same things to them with the same loving and kind intention.
- Now, imagine your family and friends with you (those that you feel estranged from and those that are there for you) and with loving and kind intention say the same things to them.
Take a moment to actually do this even if you only read the words, and then just let the feelings of loving and kindness flow through you, and just sit and allow yourself to feel loved, just letting everything be.
While Thanksgiving is a time to feel gratitude and appreciation for what you do have (however little or great it may be), your whole life can also be a reminder to live with gratitude and appreciation for what you have, what you have lost that may have been causing you pain and harm, and what you may gain in the future. If you live your life with gratitude and appreciation for all that you have, you will automatically feel the encouraging and loving light written about by Hafiz, and your life will become a beautiful thing to be celebrated year round.
Living with gratitude and appreciation can also be a powerful source of psychological healing and feelings of well-being. When you appreciate what you do have in this world, you are expressing gratitude for your life, and those people and things that are in it. And, if you live with this in mind at all times or mindfully as some would put it, you can’t help but to experience the world as a much brighter and friendlier place. Living mindfully with gratitude and appreciation opens your heart, and the Universe can feel that energy coming from you (yes, I know that sounds new agey, but bear with me. I practice Buddhism which has a completely different way of viewing the world.)
So, while some may only feel gratitude and appreciation during the Holiday season, those who live it every day will experience healing and well-being all the time. Personally, I live every day with gratitude and the appreciation that I am still alive to write this post, complain about the bus, talk with family and friends, and just generally be content with who I am while at the same time working to become even more. Your life is precious, individual, unique while at the same time contributing to the whole.
Happy Thanksgiving!
Yesterday At The Bus Stop
Yesterday, I was feeling very down when I woke up at 3:45 in the morning. That feeling of depression lingered throughout the morning despite the fact that I had to do something about my hair and makeup as I had to go out into that feared realm: the public. And, I do mean the Public as I have no car and rely on my feet, legs and the bus to get around town. So, there I am at the bus stop waiting for the bus so I could get to my therapist’s office which is some distance from where I live. Fortunately, my abode is centrally located next to the bus stops going North and South as well as the office of my psychiatrist which is a five minute walk across the street (so is the ER, just in case I go mad, well madder than I already am).
There were several people already at the bus stop which was a little unusual for that time of day. It was about 1:30 pm, and the general malaise had yet to lift although it was quietly being joined by mania. There we go off into mixed episode world, again. I swear I never get depressed and I never get manic, I just stay stuck and somehow balanced in the weird middle ground. Anyway, the people at the bus stop were comprised of an older gentleman named Charlie who had an impressive white beard, his wife, Stephanie, and I am assuming her son as they both spoke with accents, and Charlie did not. Charlie was also Caucasian, and I am not sure where Stephanie and her son had come from originally. As it turned out, her son had just been released from the mental hospital where I go for psych appointments and used to be a “frequent flyer” in the locked wards. The man, Charlie, spoke to me right off even though I was lost in 80’s metal land. There was something pretty nasty beneath the bench; I will not speculate on what it might have been. Charlie pointed it out, so I took out my ear buds to respond.
Stephanie’s son picked up on the fact that I had these little ear buds, and made a point of showing me his head phones which he pointed out were much bigger than mine. As her son and I talked (I cannot for the life of me remember his name), it became clear to me that he was mentally “different” (the term illness has been talked to death over the past week). As it turned out, he suffered from Schizophrenia, Bipolar Disorder, Asperger’s (?) Syndrome, was also somewhere on the Autistic spectrum, some features of Borderline Personality, and ADHD, in other words, he had a multitude of mental “differences” that rendered him quite interesting and somewhat difficult to talk to (it helped that I have ADD, and Bipolar disorder that was slowly becoming manic) so I was sort of able to follow his train of thought.
This kid/adult was so excited to have someone to talk to, he could barely contain himself. And, not just someone to talk to, but someone who understood most of what he was thinking. He told me he sees and hears things that he knows are not there but he sees them anyway. I replied that I do not see things that are not real, but I hear things I know are not real. This young man was so hyper, I almost couldn’t take it, and I was becoming manic (and have ADD). I am naturally hyper, but this young guy had me beat. As he was also on the Autistic spectrum and had Asperger’s, he became fairly fixated on two things: his headphones being bigger than mine, and his dislike of his meds which he had apparently been off of for several months. It was obvious. I told him that I take medicine too to help me feel better, but that even when I feel okay, I still take my medicine because that is what is making me feel better. I gently told him that going off your medication just because you feel better is not a good idea, because after a month or two, you will feel worse and you are back to square one and the medicine has to build up in your body to make you feel better again. Charlie quietly agreed with me, and I told him the various anti-psychotics I had tried, and that a combination of Abilify and Seroquel had finally put me in the weird middle ground that is the true nature of manic-depression (you are one and the other at the same time).
I mentioned Zyprexa and Resperdal as being some alternatives if Abilify doesn’t work and Seroquel puts you to sleep which makes it a night time medication. Charlie agreed, and asked the young man if the Abilify had worked. The answer was an emphatic no, it had not worked. I am sure that his mother and stepfather accompany him to his therapy appointments. I suggested that maybe they could see what the doc thinks about trying another atypical anti-psychotic. He had apparently been on Haldol and Thorazine for some time. Which in retrospect explains his complaining that the meds made him sleep. I have taken Haldol, and been prescribed it for aggression (when I get overstimulated, I can get aggressive), and yes, it will calm you right down, but the next thing it does is make you sleepy. Add Thorazine to that, and yes, you will sleep most of the day.
What was even more curious was the man who came by stating that he knew bus stops were a good place to get spare change. I live on disability. I do not even make minimum wage for a 40 hour week. I have no “spare” change. To me, that’s currency, and I need all of it to get by. Charlie and his wife, Stephanie, replied they had no money and were about to lose their storage if they could not come up with the rent that day. They were homeless, and all of their possessions were in that storage locker. Charlie told the man that he was looking for money to save their stuff.
All of a sudden, my life shifted about 10 paradigms to the right. Here was this family with both parents using walkers and not terribly well themselves, and their mentally “different” son whose mother had cared for all of his life, and I was depressed about what exactly. The fact that my brain is chemically messed up and I have no real control over my feelings be them manic or depressive. I have a place that I can call my own. Granted, it takes more than half my monthly income to pay the rent. But, I have the knowledge that when I am done with my therapy appointment, I do not have to look for a place to sleep. My mother picked me up so I could buy some groceries; more than I could conceivably take on the bus or carry as I often do. What I do not know is where were these folks going to find food. They were truly the faces of the homeless. Not the homeless as our society thinks of the homeless as worthless drunks and addicts that are to be stepped over on the sidewalk or crossing the street when one sees a person coming and they can’t be bothered to say that they have no change, or if one does have change, to give it to the homeless person. Many times they are trying to get enough money to pay for one night in a flea-bag motel so they can sleep in a bed, and take a shower. There are those who have become homeless because of addiction, but there are also those who have become addicts because o
f their homelessness. But these people were clean, clothing intact (probably from a thrift store, but that’s where I shop), hair clean and combed. Even the ever so excited young man was clean with clean clothes, hair brushed. They were clearly not society’s picture of the homeless, but they do represent a good portion of people who have found themselves losing their jobs, then their savings, then their homes.
“Oddly” enough, my mood shifted. I no longer felt sorry for myself but rather hope that this family could save their storage locker, and hang onto their stuff for another month. Who knows, they may have been living there. That locker could have been “home” as there are a number of rescue missions that provide showers and other types of personal care. I have a friend whose dad (now deceased, too bad because he was a character) lived in his RV which he parked every night at his storage locker.
It is amazing how a random encounter with three people when you are feeling low and socially stunted can transform your day and your world. I am a practitioner of Nichiren Buddhism and we hold that all people are deserving of compassion,
respect and fundamental dignity. We believe that all people no matter what walk of life they may come from all have the heart of the Buddha (we just forgot, and have to find it again), therefore when speaking with people, you try to tap your own inner Buddha so that your heart meets theirs, and a dialogue between Buddhas occurs whether the other party knows it or not. I generally wear my ear buds with my music cranked up loud so I can ignore the over-stimulation that can be public transit, but something about this family really made me tap that inner Buddha. It is not that we had anything truly in common except that both their son and I struggle with mental issues. They just seemed like good people in a bad circumstance, and doing what they could to make the best of it and care for the young man (who is going to need life-long mental care). The bus arrived before any of us realized it. I do not believe in random encounters. I was meant to be on that bus, that day, at that time so I could meet these people so they could help heal me in a small way, and I could help heal them in a small way.
On Whether Manic Depression Is A Blessing Or A Curse Or Both
So, this is a question I struggle with periodically. Is Manic Depression a blessing, curse or both? There is no denying that my life has changed immensely both for the
good and the bad since being diagnosed in the early 2000’s. But, is my life really worse than it was before? Was I truly happy, or was it a semblance of happiness? Would my life have taken the same path regardless?
Now that I have been practicing Nichiren Buddhism for about 5.5 years, I can honestly say I really do not know. One goal of Nichiren Buddhism is to become indestructibly happy to the core of your being so that you can face the obstacles and struggles that are inherent in life with the knowledge that whatever life is throwing at you you can handle it with maybe not, joy, but not anger or blame either. Which brings me to the question of whether I was happy before the diagnosis, or was I operating under an illusion that I was happy?
Having thought about this quite a bit, I really do not think that I was a happy person before the diagnosis. I had moments of extreme happiness and joy which I do miss primarily because those moments involve someone I miss a great deal. However, in general, I do not think I was what I would call a happy person, and never really had been. I was not a popular student, although I was certainly a very dedicated student throughout Middle School and High School, but I had no close friends or a person that I could take my problems to. I buried them, and not very successfully either. I got better at that, though. Probably not a good thing, but a necessary defense mechanism. I was “odd” in some way, shape or form that kept the other students from wanting to be my friend.
This was my reality until I went to college, and discovered an entirely new world of people my age, older than myself, and all with different life experiences. I was truly happy in college. My therapist thinks I first presented with Bipolar in college (I had already been diagnosed with PTSD), and looking at my transcript, I can see some signs that there may have been a problem with my moods. I dropped in and out a lot, couldn’t decide on a major, and drifted a lot. I dropped out for two years when I was 19 to “sow” my wild oats because I had not had that experience in High School. I got myself in trouble; some of it serious. But, with the help of rehab, and outpatient therapy, I pulled myself back together and went back with a strong determination to find my major and to earn my degree. I met my ex-fiance, and he rekindled my love of bicycling as he was an avid cyclist, and I had always enjoyed cycling. So, yes, I think I was happy in college. I “fit”.
After graduating, I set out to my find my first real job (the kind that pays more than minimum wage, or relies on tips). I landed the second job I applied for with a salary of about $28,000 per year. Although I thoroughly enjoyed what I did for a living, I was not happy with my environment, my boss, and the way I was treated by some of the other employees. To clarify, I was the Payroll Benefits Coordinator for a 200+ employee hospital, and was frequently blamed for people’s paycheck errors. That’s what the time clock is for. To keep track of your hours; if I don’t know if you worked, I cannot pay you. Pretty simple stuff, and most people did it once because I did not go out of my way to get them special checks to cover their mistakes. However, my boss was a micro-manager and I do not function well under constant scrutiny. So, I was very unhappy with that aspect. Then, I was asked to resign after I made a mistake that in retrospect was a pretty big one. They kept me on to train my replacement. That was my first go around with almost unbearable anxiety, and prescriptions for Xanax. Fortunately, I found a position at the University doing the same type of job for about the same salary. I was over the moon! I was back at my beloved University. It was during my tenure at the University that I had the breakdown that led me to seek out a therapist.
Our whole office was under extreme stress for reasons that are too complicated to explain. I found myself doing the job of two people, and working 12 to 14 hours per day. It was here that I met the individual that was probably as close to a soul mate as I have ever found. He made me happy, and therefore the environment was bearable. Then I melted down, and after about 6 months of weekly therapy, I was diagnosed with Bipolar Type II disorder, and then bipolar Type I with Psychotic tendencies. My world came to a screeching halt. I was once again fired, and this time was very different because now I was clinically mentally ill. I became very unhappy, and became a “frequent flyer” at the mental health unit of a local hospital. I was up, i was down, I was drinking…..heavily. My whole world turned on its head again.
At this time, I would say that Manic Depression was most definitely a curse. The doctors were trying to stabilize me, and onto the med-go-round I hopped. Most of 
what I can remember about that time is very fuzzy as the doctors tried one medication after another attempting to return my moods to something resembling normal. I was very depressed, frequently drunk, and just as frequently, suicidal. I just could not see any way out of the hole I had fallen into. My whole life revolved around doctor’s appointments, medications that didn’t work or caused unacceptable side effects. I was miserable. I was most definitely caught in the “Why me?” trap. So, yes, I would say the first 4 to 5 years were a curse. And, then I reached the point I call stable madness. I was still a danger to myself, and now I had the means, and I used them. Then one evening, I took a full prescription for Geodon (an anti-psychotic) and one of Welbutrin (an anti-depressant), and I waited. Then the drugs started to kick in, and I got very frightened because I could feel in my gut that I had gotten it right (or wrong) this time. I called 911, and told the dispatcher what I had taken and how much, and the paramedics were there in about 5 minutes. I was taken to the nearest emergency room where they put about 8 IV’s in me trying to flush the now digested medications. I almost died that night. I made a pact that evening that if the Universe and everything in it that was divine that if it allowed me to live through this with no ill effects, I would never do it again. The 6 year anniversary of that pact is approaching in July. I have been suicidal since, but you do not break pacts made with the Universe so I have never tried again regardless of how much I wanted to. My whole view on life changed during the time I was hospitalized following the successful revival of my life.
Not long after I made this pact, I was introduced to Nichiren Buddhism. At first, I thought the practice was weird, and the tenets difficult to understand. But, I kept at it sensing that something greater than myself was at work. I have never been religious, but I have always been spiritual. As I gradually learned more and more, and began to be able to say the prayers more easily, I started to feel better. This was entirely foreign to me. Something was working. I was becoming grounded, I was becoming more stable. I began to ride again. I wanted to see and meet people. I was beginning to think that perhaps life was worth living if only to practice and study Buddhism. I began to see that my previous trials and difficulties had left me with a gift; I was becoming appreciative and grateful for things and people I had taken for granted. I was having more good days than bad. And, the most peculiar of all, my ability to sense when another person was hurting or struggling in their life was becoming heightened. I began to think of others ahead of myself. I still had to vigilantly monitor my moods, but I was becoming less restless and dissatisfied. I became the Vice Women’s Division leader for a group of fellow Buddhists, and then the Women’s Division leader. Things were becoming okay. I was beginning to accept my illness, and think of it less as an illness but as something medically treatable.
It was about 2 years into my practice that I began to understand the practice as being essential to my life, and to my satisfaction with the cards I had been dealt. This is about the time I began to wonder if Manic Depression was a blessing, a curse, or both. Today, and the reason I wrote this, is that I realized that it is both. It is a blessing in that I have learned to appreciate and be grateful for the things and people in my life who make my life worth living. It is a blessing in that I have learned that I am not nearly as bad off as others I have met. And, it is a blessing that I have realized that I truly enjoy helping relieve others of their pain even if it is just a little bit and for a short time. It is a curse in that my moods still fluctuate though not nearly as badly as they once did, that I will be on medication for the rest of my life, and that I will still experience bone crushing depressions from time to time and that I will still have a desire to end my life at those times. So, I have finally answered my question: yes, I am a happy person today. I am alive. No, I am not always surfing the perfect sine wave, but that is okay because the sine wave always comes back. Sometimes, it just hangs out off shore for a while.
Feeling Sappy and Reminiscent
I do promise to finish the series that led me from birth to Bipolar disorder, but allow me to engage in a bit of reminiscent sappiness. This song was recorded when I was three (3) years old in 1974, and has sustained me for the past few days where I have been depressed but not depressed enough to be “ill.” It is called “Let It Grow” and is by Eric Clapton. It reminds me that hope springs eternal, and all is not lost in love or war 🙂
Trying a Writing Prompt: Using A Line From A Song That I Really Love Or Connect With
This song is called “Thank You,” and it is from Led Zeppelin’s second album. It is a song that has always touched me in the tenderness expressed by the lyrics, but I am only allowed to use a phrase or two; so here goes.
“If the sun refused to shine, I would still be loving you. When mountains crumble to the sea, there will still be you and me…. Little drops of rain whisper of the pain of tears loves lost in the days gone by…” ~ Led Zeppelin II
This song has always touched me on levels that I cannot adequately explain (we are not, unfortunately, Eskimos with six words for snow). I think I first heard it when I was very young on the radio. This would have been about 1975 give or take a year. I remember feeling a longing in the song that I was way too young to process, but I heard it. There it was embodied by Robert Plant, Jimmy Page, John Paul Jones, and even John Bonham stopped his bombastic drumming for this song.
As I grew older, I learned more about human relationships, how they relate to happiness, sadness, joy, contentment, etc. Led Zeppelin had continued to be my favorite band with this song as one of my all time favorites. It expresses such a permanence to love (if it is real and true) which you can see when Robert Plant declares that his love for this person will continue regardless of circumstance. The song also speaks to the purity love has when there is no agenda behind it. It simply is, and that is enough. When he writes, “If the sun refused to shine, I would still be loving you. When mountains crumble to the sea, there will still be you and me…” He is writing and singing about the kind of love that goes on beyond eternity. The whole world may not stop spinning and imploding, however there is this precious moment when all is right with the world. Nothing matters except the lover and the loved. There is no outside world; the only world that exists for them is the one they create through unconditional and undying love.
The song does acknowledge that there may be sadness and a yearning for “loves lost in the days gone by’. He describes these lost loves as “…..little drops of rain whisper of the pain of tears of loves in the days gone by……”. The lover is not naive; he or she knows there have been others before them, but this time, it will be perfect and there will be no need for tears because this time the lover is prepared to stand with his or her beloved through thick and thin, good and bad, beautiful and ugly; and none of these events or in some cases, the beloved may be ill, but his or her lover understands this about them, and makes a conscious choice to stay no matter what.
This is the archetypal love that we all strive for but never seem to attain. I keep holding out hope though that my soul mate is still out there. I met him once, but I turned him away to marry someone else. It was not a good match, but I learned a lot about myself, so I suppose something did come out of it. I learned never to settle just because you do not feel complete without a man. Women do this all the time; instead of waiting fro Mr. Right, they go with Mr. Right Now. Having been truly and deeply in love with someone who understood me, and didn’t mind my mood swings but rather just let them slide right off of them, I frequently ask myself why I gave up this mutually satisfying relationship to marry a man that turned out to be not much of a man at all. He was not my knight in shining armor; the other man was. I recognize that now. Albeit a little too late.
Just Finished a New Book About How To Manage Bipolar Symptoms
I am sure that most people in the Bipolar world have heard of Julie Fast. She has been living with Ultra Rapid Cycling Bipolar II with psychotic features for about 15 + years. It’s not that far away from my own diagnosis of Bipolar I with psychotic features except i am usually in a mixed state which is just the worst. You are the most motivated depressed person and the least motivated manic person. They sort of bleed into one another.
Anyway, the book is Bipolar Happens! and it has a very unique outlook on managing Bipolar symptoms such as anxiety (I knew there was a connection), depression, mania, paranoia, and other subtle symptoms of Bipolar.
She starts the book with that familiar saying and complaint: “I just want to be normal.” She states that people are often taken aback by that statement. People often ask “What is normal?” or “is anyone really normal?” which personally I would find somewhat offensive because there is such a thing as “not normal.” She states it is not normal to not be able to hold a job for more than two years (hmmm, been there), or taking 8 years to finish college (hmmm, been there too). She says it is not normal to hear voices that tell you that you are worthless and you should just die.
She states in return to these statements that everyone is abnormal to some degree, but there are normal people out there. She knows that because she knows what it means to be NOT normal as I suspect many people with mental interestingness would attest to. She points out that “normal” people think about one or two thoughts at a time, not twenty (flight of ideas) whirling around inside your brain. Ms. Fast writes that it is not normal to break down every behaviour looking for the negative meaning. It isn’t about hearing voices that tell you that you’ll never amount to anything so why bother trying (I have experienced those voices for many, many years, and I would dare say that most people with Bipolar have also to some degree).
One thing that really resonated with me is her writing that normal people live day-to-day while Bipolar people have a tendency to live in the past and feel that there is no hope for the future. I am guilty of that. Especially of reliving my childhood where I was a weird kid, but not a Bipolar person, yet.
She writes a great deal on depression and how to combat it in the book (maybe because women are more likely than men to have depressive episodes). One thing that she talks about that I had already discovered on my own is how truly beautiful this world is. Instead of walking with your head down looking at all the garbage this world produces, look at the sky, the bees collecting nectar, the unsual arrangement of pots that make up a planter; of course it helps if you don’t have a car, but I have seen more beautiful things that I would have missed had I been driving. I have met some very interesting people as well.
She asks the question: are you looking up and seeing the beauty of the world and feeling better, or are you looking down and letting depression get you? I know it is hard when you are in the throes of depression to see any beauty in anything, however I have found that getting outside and walking can be very spirit lifting. Basically, she says you have to tell the depression NO! and fight it like an enemy. She suggests writing down the symptoms of your depression so you will know it is the illness talking and not something else. Basically, you have to learn your behaviours so well that you can feel them coming, and you can take action to stop them.
Another topic she writes on, which I think is terribly important, is for your friends and family to be educated about the illness so they can see when you are ill, and take steps to help you rather than as one person I know put it when I asked them to take me to the hospital, “I am so sick and tired of all of your drama and chaos!” That wasn’t what I needed to hear from that person. If a Bipolar is asking to go to the hospital, just take them. They know what condition their condition is in, and they are asking for help not being screamed at. At the time of the above occurrence, I had all my meds lined up in a row an the counter in the bathroom, and I was wondering if I had enough to kill myself. So, yes, I think it is extremely important for those who care about you and whom you care about to be educated about this sometimes fatal illness.
She writes on how to recognize the early stages of a manic episode and how to stop them. Of course, this is very personal in how the mania manifests itself. The are a myriad of ways that mania can insidiously crawl into your life. And, it can be a very destructive force in relationships, financial matters, work place etiquette, etc. It is important to know what triggers your manic episodes.
Basically, this is a fast read, and many of the techniques she describes are ones I have tried and been successful with. If you had asked me 5 + years ago how I was doing, I would have had to lie, and say fine. And, since I am really good at hiding my illness from others, people believe me, and are then rather shocked when I become so depressed I can’t get dressed or bathe. However, I find that sticking to a regular sleep cycle, always taking my meds, trying to eat right and exercise, and doing things I enjoy seem to help. All are mentioned in her book. I guess when you have been an untreated bipolar for 15 years and treated for 11 years, you sort of work out your own “health” plan. I do, however, recommend this book. It is short, simple and to the point. And, it makes a lot of sense. She does not claim to be “cured” just very well managed.
So Close, Yet So Far
My mother and I filed the final Divorce packet about two days ago. He never officially answered the summons alerting him to the Petition for Divorce action being taken against him. It was due at the Civil Relations or Domestic Relations clerk’s office 30 days after the summons and a copy of the “Lawsuit” (I guess is what it really is) were served to him. He said about 10 days after the 30 were up that he needed to get to court to file his response. I told him his 30 days was up about 2 weeks before. I do not understand this guy. He gets a traffic ticket in Los Lunas, and makes damn good and well he knows where the courthouse for that region is, and what time he needs to be there. And, he goes at the appointed time and date. What is so different about answering a Summons alerting you that your wife is leaving?
It is almost like he is a child, and if he puts his hands over his ears and eyes, it will all go away. I really do not think that he realized that I was deadly serious this time. He had said that I was all talk and no action when it came to leaving the relationship. Hmmm, I guess not. I spent about 2 weeks packing and moving, and I moved to an apartment about 10 days ago. My mom then discovered there is different paperwork to be filed in a Default Judgment scenario which is what we now have. So, with my mom helping (as a private attorney, she filed lots of Divorce cases before she moved to the City), I filed the Default Judgment packet asking the Judge to please dissolve the marriage, and return to me to my rightful name. I never did feel comfortable having taken his last name. Foreshadowing, perhaps? At any rate, those are the two things that I want: the marriage from hell dissolved, and my name returned to me.
I do not think he knows what he did with all his passive-aggressive and narcissistic behaviour. I have taken steps backwards due to his verbal and emotional abuse and neglect. I no longer feel a sense of self-worth (if I was worthy, then he would have not been on the Internet looking at and watching porn), I no longer feel I am attractive or even the slightest bit sexy (see comment above), I have lost self-esteem (whatever that is, i know that I have lost it), I treat myself badly, I feel very unlovable and not wanted in any way, shape or form,etc. And, all he had to do to keep his marriage was get out of Pornography “fun-land”, read a damn book about my main illness, Bipolar disorder type I, and show me that I was wanted and appreciated. That is all he had to do. Instead, he did the opposite. He would claim that only three things were important to me: my mental health, my self, and my cat. He left something out. He was important to me; I loved him (or thought I did), and all I really wanted was for him to be happy, but I am now guessing he is not capable of true and lasting happiness or contentment.
Hopefully in about 2 weeks, i will be rid of this foul and toxic relationship, I will have my name back, and I can go ahead with the work of healing and putting back together everything he undid. All those years of therapy, and this asshole wipes out about 2 years of progression towards my stable madness.
A Bipolar Journey Through The Rabbit Hole 