Archive Page 2

19
Sep
09

Control

By Lizzie 2 Comments
Categories: Bipolar
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When my regular doctor began preparing me for the surgery I knew would be inevitable, he did not realize how worried I was about its effect on my bipolar illness. Worry that was left unrealized from my lack of its admission.

Individually, most of us have our concerns when we are about to undergo some knife work following the major drugs to knock us out. We don’t want to wake up during surgery and feel the whole thing. Certaintly, that has to be accomplished. Many of us fret over how we will wake back up. Stories of some yelling, cursing, and crying post- op have all found their way to our ears. Basically, by having surgery we are giving up control of our bodies.

I gave up control of my body years ago. I surrendered it to the diagnosis of bipolar. I had to, it was the only way to gain back some order in my life. I didn’t give up, I just gave in. I know that sounds like the same thing, but . . . Realizing I’d have to lose my life to save it, became my reality. I had to give up the life I had before my bipolar diagnosis. My life before the diagnosis was crazy. I was up. I was down. I was angry. I was sad. Spurts of energy led to bouts of sleeping. Finally, I decided I would rather die. I did not just have bad days. I had bad years. When I finally was told what was wrong with me, it was the first time I had felt hope in quite a while. Knowing there was a means to fixing myself, provided reason for a fight. I had to fight for my life and I needed something or someone to help me. Therapy showed me how to defend myself, but it was the medicine that gave me the means to box. The medication and therapy allowed me to punch the mania and depression right in the face.

My surgery doc knew about my medication. He was aware of all the bruising and near death conditions being bipolar had given me. I had fought and won. I was enjoying my victories. There is always that sleeper punch. Mine is admitting to what frightens me. I think if I say it aloud it might get bigger. I never told my surgery doc or my pdoc of my fright.

Would I continue to win my battle or would the surgery keep me down? It takes a lot to get me to sleep now. Without my antipsychotic drugs I can stay up for days. Would they not be able to get me out? Or would I get out and stay that way?
The sleeper punch was wide awake and heading straight at me. These were all the questions whirling in my mind. The closer the surgery got, the increasing anticipation became unbearable. I knew there would be no control, but would I stand back up?

14
Sep
09

Surgery and Bipolar

By Lizzie Leave a Comment
Categories: Bipolar
Tags: , ,

Having this blasted illness of bipolar, I often wished their was some kind of surgery doctors could do to rid me of it. But, that would have to do with the brain and I am just not going there. I had surgery about a year ago. It was on my bladder. I knew the surgery would be invasive and I’d be down about three weeks. That was no big deal to me. Having bipolar, my episodes have kept me down for months at the time. I was not worried about the surgery. My worries came from having the surgery AND having a propensity to implode or explode at any giving moment. I was afraid the anesthesia and pain medication would mix with my cocktail of bipolar drugs and create some kind of eruption. After finding out I had to have the surgery, I had a few weeks to let my mind prattle on with ideas of destruction.

First thing, I went to the net. Always my first stop. I really didn’t want a doc’s opinion on the matter. It was like child birth. I wanted to hear and maybe talk to someone who went through it AND survived. It did not have to be the same surgery, any surgery would suffice. I just needed to know that I would come out with my mental status resembling something like sanity. Forget the stitches and swelling and a little thing called a catheter. I needed mental assurance.

Interesting, I got nothing. When I say I searched, I totally mean it. Of course, I Googled. I refined my search. I checked out the archives of all my favorite comrades in the blogging world. Still, not a thing. Not even a had-to-get-my-wisdom-teeth out post. It was a bummer. So I stumbled my way through major surgery tugging the my mainstay of mental uncertainty with it.

For me and all the others who might face surgery while being bipolar, I am going to tell my story over the next few posts. I hope it helps someone. At least I will have it to go back to if the old bladder needs to be repaired again.

28
Aug
09

Spiders with Bipolar?

By Lizzie 3 Comments
Categories: Humor and Uncategorized
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The Brown Recluse

The common name, brown recluse spider, pertains to only one species, Loxosceles reclusa. The name refers to its color and habits. It is a reclusive creature that seeks and prefers seclusion.

Brown recluse spiders generally occupy dark, undisturbed sites, and they can occur indoors or outdoors. In favorable habitats, their populations are usually dense. They thrive in human-altered environments. Indoors, they may be found in attics, basements, crawl spaces, cellars, closets, and ductwork or registers. They may seek shelter in storage boxes, shoes, clothing, folded linens, and behind furniture. They also may be found in outbuildings such as barns, storage sheds, and garages. Outdoors, brown recluse spiders may be found underneath logs, loose stones in rock piles, and stacks of lumber.

The brown recluse spider is not aggressive, and it normally bites only when crushed, handled or disturbed. Some people have been bitten in bed after inadvertently rolling over onto the spider. Others have been bitten after accidentally touching the spider when cleaning storage areas. Some bites occur when people put on seldom used clothing or shoes inhabited by a brown recluse.

Okay so, I am seeing some likeness between the spider and me.

23
Aug
09

I Mow Grass

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

This is weird I know. I measure my health and wellness on my ability to cut grass. Not the smoking kind, the up-to-your-knees yard sort. It was mania that brought me to cutting grass. I wanted to prove I could do the work of a man. I think cutting grass is the ultimate male chore. To master it meant I was tough. During my mania I need to be tough. When I am depressed I am so weak. Not just in mind, but body also. Most depressives feel as though they have the flu. The weak feeling makes it almost impossible to get out of bed, let alone accomplish any other chore.

Mania also brings impulse purchasing. This episode produced a new lawnmower. I walked into my local Feed and Seed store declared, “I need a lawnmower that will crank every time and cut grass all day if I need it to.” Within 15 minutes I was loading it in my Jeep. I mowed my lawn as soon as I got home. When I was finished I can’t describe the high I felt. It was kinda like spending time with the other grass. . .

Of course, depression always follows my mania. I am always unable to complete chores. If I get dressed and out, that is a good day. This depression was no different. I would stare out my window watching my neighbors cut their grass and wishing. I remember telling myself, “As soon as I am better I am cutting the grass.” Then I began to believe getting better wasn’t a possibility. I apologized to the lawn mower.

As with all episodes, I slowly get better. Even with better feelings, I feel as though complete health will not define my wellness. Yet, I always find myself better without warning. In my lawnmower episode, I wake up one day and get dressed and pull the crank-every-time lawnmower out the garage.

All my senses come alive. My feelings of weakness trickle away. “I’m back,” I tell myself.

09
Aug
09

Writing for Wellness

By Lizzie 1 Comment
Categories: writing
Tags: , , ,

In “Writing Magic” by Gail Carson Levine, the author gives her secrets for how she has written such great books such as “Ella Enchanted” and “The Two Princesses of Bamarre.” In the beginning of the book, she gives her “vows,” an oath for writers (Pg. 6).

The Writer’s Oath
I promise solemnly:

1. to write as often as I can,
2. to respect my writing self, and
3. to nurture the writing of others.

I accept these responsibilities and shall honor them always.

Through this journey with bipolar illness, writing has been the one thing enabling me to express myself. It is the means which I express my concealed feelings. Newly diagnosed, writing was the first suggestion my therapist offered me. She had no idea of the number of years I spent quietly scripting my thoughts in notebooks, journals, and whatever scrap paper I could find. I generally keep my writing hidden away. I do not make and keep relationships well. Writing is my only one constant relationship. Opening it up could thwart my secret friend.

When I read the aforementioned oath, I promised myself I would honor it. The most necessary sentence for me is “to respect my writing self.” I do not consider myself a great writer or even a good writer. My desire to write comes from my desire to heal and stay away episodes of my illness. My need to respect myself is defined as: The certainty writing is an element of my overall wellness plan. As I have read and re-read the oath, saying it and believing works better in the first person. I apologize for liberties taken with the words.

1. I write as often as I can,
2. I respect my writing self, and
3. I nurture the writing of others.

I accept these responsibilities and shall honor them always.

28
Jul
09

My Meds . . .

By Lizzie 3 Comments
Categories: medication
Tags: , ,

Necessary. Important. Responsibility. Costly. Life-Saving. Side Effects.

Those words come to mind when I think about my medication for bipolar illness. The first I have agreed upon. Oh, and the second one too. This past year I have been learning that my medication is a responsibility. To myself and others. It keeps mania at a far away stay. Going off because “I feel fine” is not responsible, destruction will follow. Costly I see each month. Do I buy those shoes I want? No. I have to get my medication. Plus, shopping is a no-no. It either is triggered when I a manic or it triggers mania. I still can’t figure that out.

My medication has saved my life many times. There are three times I know, for sure. Once from the highest level of mania ever experienced and twice from the dark hole of depression. I think everyday it keeps my life going. But side effects? I hate them. From shaky hands to a mouth with no moisture, they are part of my life.

My meds are there. I love them and I hate them. Life saving or side effects, I know just which one I choose.

18
Jul
09

Metaphors

By Lizzie Leave a Comment
Categories: Wellness Journey

In 11th grade English Composition I learned how to use metaphors in my writing. I love hearing them. They are engaging. For instance, when we see lines as . . . “Life is like driving a long nail into a thick piece of wood, you just keep tapping at it.” I can picture myself with a plank, like the ones used in building docks. I have a tiny hammer. I stare at the nail, then at the wood, and keep going. (Sometimes, I see myself looking for one of those super-powered nail guns.)

If you ever go to one of those large home and garden chains, you are bound to find a million shopping carts- all with some sorta of dysfunction. The wheels either screech, wobble, stick, or bump over the flooring. We are like the carts. All with problems, dysfunctions and issues. Our situations are unique. We never know exactly how we and others will respond.

So that’s the metaphor I was thinking of today. I am like a broken shopping cart. I probably can’t be fixed, but I can keep rolling.

14
Jul
09

Alive With the Senses

By Lizzie Leave a Comment
Categories: depression
Tags:

The book, “The Things they Carried” by Tim O’Brien, is an outstanding account of the struggles of war, specifically the Vietnam War. The author not only retells the conflict, he shows what can only be a glimpse into a soldier’s reckoning with possible death. He writes, “You are never more alive than when you are half dead” (pg.81).

I have never been in the military and I know expanding my story to include one’s account of their war experience appears indulgent. So it is with humility I say the author’s words filled me with familiarity.

From a war only with myself, I have felt half dead on several occasions. Mine came from the consuming emotions of my illness. I attained from the O’Brien read the mental aspects of war most often catches it’s goal much faster before any sight of injury to the body. I learned it was a silent killer, most often not discussed. From fear of death or wishing death, to it’s dooming appearance, we are always more alive. Our senses are engaged and we feel all with more magnification.

So, for the times when dying has overwhelmed me and I have felt half dead, I can take comfort in believing I really am alive.

08
Jul
09

Bipolar and a Long Flight

By Lizzie 1 Comment
Categories: Uncategorized

My first reality break occurred 12 years ago while on vacation. Thus every vacation forward from that event, has been met with much anxiety. It has gotten easier. I have learned some healthy skills to cope and I try to only travel where I would feel comfortable. Last year was a troublesome one and I was not able to travel at all. Now better, I was looking forward to this year. I had been invited by a friend to Hawaii and it was her treat. My first feeling was exhilaration. On a whim I accepted.

Then came the doubts and the what ifs. My biggest concern was my medication. The flight to Hawaii is quite long. Flying has always been a bit unsettling. Plus, I did not know if I could keep on track with my medicine. My daily takes are my life line. Last year I was sent another psychotic episode, I am currently on more medicines that ever. These medications are bound by time. Taking them as prescribed has kept break-through moods from silent.

Well, I did it. The plane trip was terrific. I took enough books and magazines my carry-on could hold. I brought things that were familiar to me such as: a small pillow, my favorite water, and a blanket. I kept myself organized. The flight back from Hawaii, not as equal to the beginning one, still went without incident. A sense of fatigue hit me when I was back home. I reasoned it came with sticking to my medicines regardless of the change in time zones.

While there, the trip was lovely. In the last 12 years since my diagnosis, I only had a great flight and trip one time. It was this time.

02
Jul
09

Writer’s Block

By Lizzie Leave a Comment
Categories: Uncategorized
Tags: ,

I have been writing for most of my life.  There are probably atleast a dozen journals hidden within my bookshelves.  I have even more in my attic.  Small notebooks with scribbled phrases are tucked here and there waiting to be formulated into a story. Expressing myself with words takes me to a special place.  It is my gift to myself and my gift to others.  I cast myself fortunate that I am able to verbalize the words in my head.  Communicating in written word as well as oral, provides me with comfort.  I happen to feel they are both for me.  If someone else finds my small utterances significant, I receive even greater pleasure.

Lately, academic writing has kept away other intentions.  I’ve had hours of research time invested in my products.  Now, with my time being released from this genre, it is hard to find where my creativity left off.  Finally, I just took a break.  When I woke up this morning, I decided to return, yearning to “bang the keys once more.”  It is almost as if I have kicked the block down. Returning to the place I know best.

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