16
Aug
10

Working with Bipolar

By Lizzie Leave a Comment
Categories: Work
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I really need to get this out. Two years ago, I went through a bad spot in my journey with this prison-like disease. I did not have but a few days left of sick leave. I had to work. One of the symptoms of those with bipolar is shopping. You know, buying useless stuff you don’t need, for know reason except it makes you happy-for a moment. I had bills and I needed to pay them. I also needed to have a semblance of a career. My desire is to live with my disease to the best of my ability. Sometimes that ability is small and other times it is vast. During this year-long travel with rapid-cycling, I found myself in a corner. I had wrecked some relationships at work. They (my fellow employees) were either frustrated with me or me them.

When the episodes first began, I had lots of energy and little tolerance for anyone who did not move at my speed. Then came the depression. I could hardly get out of bed. Working with all the massive energy was a big thing of the past. Everyone hurt my feelings. Every little thing made me teary. I think I got labeled as “unstable.”

I got overlooked for special assignments and leadership roles. Why want me to lead a group of people when I could not lead myself to put my shoes on? I understood and honestly was relieved.

Now, fast forward to now of my having a length of stability. Enjoying for the first time since diagnosis a correct level of medication, has made my personal and physical life worth continuing through.

My professional life is hanging together. I just want more. Not the I am hyper manic, but the I really feel balanced and want my career to progress more.

I need a plan. I am compiling a strategy. Any help would be appreciated.

02
Aug
10

Mistakes, The Why of Boundaries

By Lizzie Leave a Comment
Categories: Wellness Journey
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Robert Frost wrote “Don’t ever take a fence down until you know why it was put up.” It has been my experience before, during, and now after being diagnosed with bipolar disorder that I never do that. Nope, I don’t. I would never take fences down because I am to busy plowing through them. Now that I am at a more stable position with my medication management, I do recognize I am not finding self destruction as a means for living. It is a positive for me and those that love me. With every positive, there is always that negative. Mine is dwelling on those broken fences, eagerly trying to mend them, and not knowing how. If I go back to Frost I realize I have never tried to figure out why the fence I destroyed was there at all.

So I did some introspection. I like that word it feels theraputic. I took one beat up fence and the pain of what I did and looked at why the fence was there. Was it to protect me? Did I need that boundary? My best reasoning led me to the knowing that I felt the need to self destruct. The fence under investigation here was keeping me on a road to something better. I blew it all to pieces because I could not recognize it’s health.

I am slowly learning to recognize the boundaries of the good things I am given. I am learning to use the gifts that come along properly. These are new experiences for me. Mistakes have led the way to better understanding. I step back. I don’t move quickly. I ask why.

15
Jul
10

Me in a Musical

By Lizzie Leave a Comment
Categories: Creativity, Humor and Wellness Journey
Tags: , ,

Let’s admit it. We have all pictured ourselves in one of our favorite musicals. Whether it is a movie attraction or my favorite, a theatrical performance, we consider ourselves as one or more of the characters. I have always believed I could be Judy Garland in the Wizard of Oz. I can’t sing. At all. But I can still dream.

Being bipolar sometimes means we forget about our dreams. Along with our fears, we believe nothing great can happen to us. We are victim to a terrible condition that does not want to let go of us. You don’t just get over being bipolar like a cold. There is no surgery to repair it. Only medication and therapy bring relief to the symptoms. When my symptoms are more than my medication can handle, I stop dreaming. I am like Dorothy at the start of the movie. Everything I see is colored like the sepia tones at the beginning of the picture. When everything is working (the medication and therapy) my view is different and my dreaming contues.

We can’t stop dreaming. All we need is one idea or one question. Our life will then continue. The musical keep’s playing.

Here’s my question: How did Dorothy hang on to Toto during that tornado?

02
Jul
10

Which Way?

By Lizzie Leave a Comment
Categories: Uncategorized

It is amazing what I can find when I go back and read my journal. The following is an example.

When you come to a point in your life where you know things can only go two ways, you are screwed. Believe me it has happened to me on several occasions. The “occasion” has blasted itself into my life once again.
My mom used to make me take this “castor oil” once every six months. (You know, the kind of thing of “whether you need it or not.”) It was the sickest thing ever swallowed by me. I would see her preparing it and I would go to running. One day she chased me all the way to the end of the driveway spoon and oil in hand. I knew I had to stop running. I set the situation up, got my mind set, and then swallowed it.
Such is my life. I keep running from what feels like a spoon full of castor oil.

27
Jun
10

A Look in the Mirror

By Lizzie 1 Comment
Categories: Bipolar and Wellness Journey
Tags: , ,

After my mom passed away from cancer, I was relieved of the anxious worrying of relapse. She had been in remission for four years before her final prognosis presented itself. Many years before the cancer, my mom was diagnosed with depression. Together the cancer and the depression made her life a colossal journey filled with pain and despair. I have yet to find a word that would describe what taking care of her was like. After her death, my grief was coupled with guilt. I felt guilty for feeling relieved that I no longer had to worry about the effects of her cancer and the depression.

My new-found freedom was short-lived. As with any major life crisis, certain triggers can happen to its victim. Within months of the loss of my mom, I was diagnosed with bipolar. The psychiatrist told me negative life events can often cause a first episode. I was in my early twenties, another indicator of its onset. After wrestling with mania, depression came along to me. It presented itself as a formidable opponent. It took a year to recover. Medication and therapy kept me away from suicide. During my darkest hours I would lock myself in the bathroom. I would stare at my image from the mirror. Instead of seeing myself, the guilt I felt reflected my mother. For many months I could only see her. Slowly her image diminished and my own face, with its show of pain, was represented. It was months before I could see my actual self.

Since then, I have had more episodes of mania and depression. Each time my recovery is different. I still see myself. I believe I have finally let go of my guilt, giving rest to my mother’s illness-filled memory.

Today, getting ready to go out, I fixed my hair and make-up a little different. As I saw my reflection in the mirror, I noticed many features liken to my mom. It felt sobering. That reflection showed me more healing had come. It was this day 16 years ago she passed away. There is a settling feeling that comes from knowing I am living better.

In her memory, I live well.

02
Dec
09

Cognitive Behavioral Therapy

By Lizzie 5 Comments
Categories: Wellness Journey

Sleeping through the night has become a bit problematic for me. I find myself deep in thinking and having hang-ups on certain portions of my life. My mind makes certain assumptions which leads to panic. When I was first diagnosed, my beginning psychotherapy included cognitive behavioral therapy to help me get a grasp on my thoughts. Cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT) works for thoughts not caused by external sources. I get these ideas which have the capability to freak me out, from nowhere but my own mind. For example, today I start thinking my life will never change. My thinking went something like this: “I will always get depressed during the holidays and dread them like a case of the flu. Misery will accompany me and there is a probability I may never feel happy for any extended period of time.” Left untouched this thinking becomes a part of my belief system. It spirals me through the panic, anxiety, mania, depression cycle. My first therapist helped me to change my thinking: even if my current situation never changed. The CBT involved work. I had to work at changing the negative thoughts. I am not and never will be one of those who believe in the so called “power of positive thinking.” The change I used, stemmed from reality to reality in a continual process. Here’s how I learned to deal with some of my thoughts, like, “You should be ashamed of what you came from. Even if you did not do the things your family members did, you are still a part of the most awful people in the world.” “You are disgusting.” I would feel those lousy feelings then tell myself “I can’t control what my family did.” “Their behavior was disgusting, but I was not a part of that.” “The truth is I am in control of my now and my future.” “My history will always be painful, but it is does not determine my future.” I mentally separate myself from the behaviors of others and the feelings they open up. It leads me out of the shame. With the panic attacks, I could tell myself, “This is scary. I am so frightened. It will not last forever. Very soon the feelings will go away and I will feel calm.” It would not take the attack away. but it helped me through it.

My best work was done through accountability. I selected friends to help me during the tough times. They would tell me to “stop!” I would then begin to tell myself to “stop!” If I had to say it out loud I would. Writing was another way to work through the thinking. I would allow myself a rant in my journal. I would re-read and write in the margins the truth. Sometimes I did not do it right away. I wallowed in my feelings for a time. Othertimes, I could quickly relieve the feelings with better thought choices. It was work and it got easier. I have gotten away from the behavior management. My current therapists uses more “talk therapy” she leads me to come around to the answers I need on my own. It has been what I have needed. Now, I can add some behavior modifications and get some better results.

You, know I may never know true joy, true happiness, and true love. My life doesn’t have to be empty and I can navigate it to calmness and peace. See? I am aware and slowly I can get there.

25
Nov
09

Chances

By Lizzie 2 Comments
Categories: Bipolar

When my mom was given the diagnosis of cancer, it had spread and her health sped to a downward fall. As the doctors explained the situation, I knew by their faces her prognosis was grim. I asked, “What are her chances?” The oncologist replied, “There aren’t any, she will die and soon.” Two weeks later she was gone.

A year later, my dad was arrested stemming from what would be a chronic ongoing battle of addiction. The admission of it revealed years of a hidden war with himself and mistakes beyond repair. I asked his therapist, “What is the chance he will relapse?” I think I knew relapse was inevitable, I wanted to here the percentages. For some reason, I needed to hang on the 60% chance he wouldn’t return to the addiction that had destroyed his life and most of mine.

Then along came Bipolar. I was diagnosed while my dad was in jail serving out his mandated sentence. My family wanted to think it was reaction to the showck of my dad’s behavior. The psychiatrist said many people are diagnosed during a stressful event. For years you are able to prop yourself up and keep a hold on the disease. Along comes crisis and everything falls a part. I wanted to know my chances. Will the medication make it go away? Nope, it was mine now. Relapse would be chronic. Remission depends on correctly taking medication, remaining accountable through a doctor and therapist, and recognizing the signs. My chances are better if I am constantly aware of the triggers that hold me blind.

Next, came my husband’s illness. I stood against a wall in his doctors office sobbing as he went over the results of tests taken only the day before. The diagnosis what kidney failure. There is no chance of cure, only treatment options. Transplantation and dialysis were the only given opportunities. We chose the transplant. We are 4 years into a deceased donor placed kidney. The statistics say that kidney has a chance of living about 8 years with rejection always hovering waiting to pounce.

That is my future and those are my chances. Pretty poor future, huh? Currently, my dad has relapsed, mania is beating at my door, I miss my mother terribly, my husband has the flu, and I am thinking if I don’t start holding on the positive side of my chances I will fall head first into a major depression.

Franklin Roosevelt said, “When you get to the end of your rope, tie a knot and hang on.” I have never been great at tying knots. I’ll take my chances with what I can do. I still have some rope left, I won’t let go.

24
Oct
09

Panic Attack: A Description

By Lizzie 1 Comment
Categories: Uncategorized

Ever so often, close family members (like about four in all) who are aware of my illness ask me what a panic attack is like. Is like? I can only tell about one particular attack. I can’t really put it into educated words. It is my experience I am able to tell them. “Do you want to hear about a mild one or a wild one?” I always ask. “The “wild” ones are few but they are the one the ones I remember most. Of course they want to hear about the wild ones.
I ran to the bathroom slammed the door and began to eject the dinner I had just eaten. Slumping down on the floor, slowly from within, I begin to shake. I lean against the wall and started to cry. Their back. My husband is knocking on the door he thinks it must have been something I ate. “In a minute,” I muffle. I stand and wash up. As I turn, I feel my heat burn in my chest and flame to my face. I walk out the bathroom into kitchen with a lightness in my head. “I am here, I think.” I sit at the table and a rush of voices come.Yes, their back. Former attacks, bad memories, and future fears are behind the voices. I can’t think. In my mind I am unable to finish a sentence. I see my husband walking over bringing me a glass of water. He speaks and his voice is far away. I sip some of the water and close my eyes. Once closed, my eyes bring blurs of lights. My mouth goes dry and I begin to feel as though I am being choked. I run back to the bathroom. Again, the liquid in my stomach flies out. I am so hot I strip myself of my clothes. My head falls onto the seat and I continue to vomit. I am now to weak to get up. Once finished, I fall to the floor. The tile brings me a chill. As I lay there, my body shakes. Finally, my body falls limp and I slowly begin to recover. I find my purse, swallow down my “Panic Attach Medicine.” Slowly, I return to what is called an “old self.”

That my sister, is a panic attack.

08
Oct
09

Falling into Health

By Lizzie 3 Comments
Categories: Bipolar
Tags:

Autumn Within

It is autumn; not without
But within me is the cold.
Youth and spring are all about;
It is I that have grown old.

Birds are darting through the air,
Singing, building without rest;
Life is stirring everywhere,
Save within my lonely breast.

There is silence: the dead leaves
Fall and rustle and are still;
Beats no flail upon the sheaves,
Comes no murmur from the mill.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Last autumn I was a MESS. I was overly medicated and two steps away from being in-patient for my treatment. I did not know it at the time, but the ability to stay as an out-patient would be something I would later embrace. I see now, I gained another save. My medical costs have mounted over the years. While I have great insurance, there is still a cap on how much can be used for in-patient mental health treatment. I realized it was not the same as regular medical treatment. That’s not fair, but for another post.

I am just happy it is Autumn and I can think back to this time last year and well up with gratitiude. I am not there yet, never will be, but I’m not what I was. Can I go back? No. I can have another episode. Going back means going back to something that is the same. For me, every episode is different. When will another occur? Wish I knew. I could plan for it. Not just financially, but I could get my hair done, clean the bathroom, and wax a few things. My hygeine goes away when I am depressed. If it was the other pole-mania, I could bookmark all my new found shopping sites, warn the UPS guy packages are coming, and find out the sizes of all my friends. It is such a pain to guess.

But, that is not where I am. Did I already say how grateful I was? Happy Autumn.

27
Sep
09

Still Standing

By Lizzie 3 Comments
Categories: Bipolar
Tags:

Despite all my fears of undergoing the process of surgery, I managed to come out okay. The pain meds mixed with my bipolar meds left me feeling odd. I was told two different things about the medication. Either the bipolar medication would increase the potency of the pain meds or the pain meds would relieve the bipolar medication of its working strength. I still can’t figure out which happened. I did feel like some fog had settled over my brain. I tried to empty myself from the pain meds as soon as possible. Letting go of that medication was a mental relief.

Overall the whole ordeal was quite stressful. I survived and am still standing to tell about it. Anyone with a illness of the mind should always be concerned about other health procedures. It is so helpful when doctor and patient can communicate effectively. Finally, there has to be a letting go of any shame. I was and still am at times shameful of being Bipolar. For years I have battled this stigma that I have the crazies. When I went in for my surgery I had to tell what medications I was on to the equality of atleast four different times. Of course, they were all four different people. Most assumed, which is preferred by me, that I was bipolar and moved on. A couple asked, “And what are you taking this for?” I began to wonder if those askers had even been to medical school. I decided to answer, “Um, it’s in my chart.” It was a good assumption they could read.
I know it sounds judgemental, but I sometimes think when professionals ask about your medication they want you to elaborate on why you take it. Almost like, it is some juicy gossip.

I guess I took three posts to say, If you are bipolar and you have surgery. You will survive.

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