Anxiety

Bipolar – Fractured

/ Robin

I don’t like to talk about the spin, the time when I free fall and cannot make myself stop. When anger and grief and pain explode in my life… not just my brain. What I think, this is what and who I am.

For the moment. Sometimes these moments can draw on for the proverbial eternity and we try to think, if we could, that we’re coming near the end, that we cannot stand this anymore.

I didn’t have more than brief moments of these things. Most of the time I have been so manic that I thought my brain would implode from shear spinning. You see my friend, I’m a mixed Bipolar 1. Those of you who aren’t familiar with this condition, congratulations. Today you win the lottery. This last few weeks have been terrible. I have been very depressed and unable to see it or deal with it. When it was suggested that this might be where my massive irritation was coming from I had a difficult time admitting that it probably was. (See how I did that? I still skirted around it.)

I have exploded, with my kids present, too many times. Recently, too many times. Okay, not exactly always at them. Sometimes just when they’re around. When I’ve considered my past I worry for the times they’ve been exposed to my insanity. Being a single mom and going ballistic for what seems now like for no reason at all leaves a mark on kids. They say it’s worse than divorce. I’m both. Bipolar and divorced. I worry for they scars they carry… because of me.

I’m a mixed state depressed and yet manic Bipolar 1. I have two kids still at home. I am alone. I have no friend to speak of accept one and we met on line and don’t speak of these things. I’m glad for that. I can be normal with her. She knows I’m Bipolar and she doesn’t care. I act rationally if a little meanderingly with her. And yet, I fear I’ll say something and she’ll walk away too. So many have that I’ve quit trying to find friends.

My family doesn’t (beyond my kids) understand. Not at all. When they care to try to… they… well they don’t. Recently I learned that when my mother took home stuff to read about Bipolar she never read them. She’s never looked it up on line. She’s now 72. She has no excuse. She knows how to use Google.

Yet we all know that even the great Google cannot explain this that we are. We are ourselves. We are great in mental volume, if not in order. We excel in emotion, if not in control.

I spent a lot of time this last few weeks in grief, anger, fear, irritation and depression. I suppose, don’t understand why I avoid that. I think it seems to my fractured mind that admitting depression means loosing the last bastion of my mind. Confusing, I know. New meds sedate me too the point where I simply cannot not sleep. This frightens me as well. You see, as my med provider put it, “We need to get your nerves calmed down.” Now, when I’m not so calm as to sleep, I’m not calm. There must be a middle ground. I must give my mind time to heal. Be patient.

My kids suffer I think. They are afraid they may have inherited my genes too much. But you know, after all of me, all of living with me, they still believe in themselves. They have ego. EGO. All three believe in themselves.

See you thought I’d never finish the “pride” letter didn’t you? Ha! They have pride in themselves that is good. It isn’t forced. It’s part of who they are. Part of their hardwiring. I asked them how they each manage to be so sure of themselves. This is what they said, each one said this:

“Mom, you taught us to believe in ourselves. You drilled it into us. You, you did this.” I did. I made them who they are. (Give this wording to me for now. I deserve it.)

I have my own ego. Ego born of an accurate estimation of ones abilities is a good thing. I’ve struggled with this thinking I’m really stupid because I never finish anything. But I have. I’ve successfully raised three amazing kids (young adults). I know what I’m good at and they are many things. I finish things when my brain lets me. One thing.

I’ve raised three amazing kids. I’ve been a wreck this week. But, I started on Lyrica for some of my physical pain. I should be scheduled soon for a shot in my spine and that should alleviate a lot of my other physical pain. My additional meds should mitigate some of my mental pain. Even though I’m up in the middle of the night again, I feel restless, but hopeful. For the moment. These moments will grow longer, this much I know from experience. I must stay the course and take all my meds every single bloody day.

I have one thing to say to you and I hope you will listen.

I’ve raised great kids. Awesome kids. I love them beyond words. I… have raised awesome kids despite myself.

My friends write to me and comment on my letter. I wish to read your thoughts. You too are important to me. Till the nest time, be well and be patient with yourself. Give yourself a chance to heal.

(Oh, and there are now 23 pot shops. (Oy veh)

Bipolar – Insurance

/ Robin

I’ve been on the phone last Thursday, Friday and today with people of perhaps challenged intelligence trying to un-mess my daughter’s health insurance. No luck so far. Maybe tomorrow.

The thing that kills me about being Bipolar and insurance is not having or not having it… I mean insurance. The thing that kills me is that being both Bipolar 1, ADHD and being able to become depressed in the barest moment is that despite finally succeeding in getting my prescription for Lyrica cleared for my FM (Fibromyalgia) I’m depressed. (I’m a mixed state Bipolar so I’m very good at this little trick of the brain.)

I’m frustrated and angry and depressed and frustrated and angry and depressed…. I haven’t experienced more than a few minutes of gladness for the Lyrica victory. I’ll have to focus on this more and try to let the victory overtake me by it’s great possibilities for relief for me.

If you have BP or other such thing, you may find that you have difficulty with your health in other areas. I was reading an insurance fact sheet today that said that disabled people (of which I am a subset of) tend to neglect their health… Google it darling. ;0)

I have my father’s teeth. Neither of us have any. I’ve not been able to wear the standard dentures that the State provides to those on disability insurance. I’m hopeful (I hope) that my insurance will cover more costly ones including posts that will done at the University of Washington. I think it’s the School of Oral Surgery. I have complicating issues so I think, rather, I trust and hope, that the new face will be covered.

I have to be honest, the fear that insurance won’t cover a new face for me terrifies me. I’m 51 years old and I have no teeth. I cannot wear regular dentures.

Add my lack of ability of what I consider the ability to smile a truly joyful smile to my Alphabet soup and you have a mixture that’s hard to swallow. So to speak. Well, I did choke on a blueberry muffin this morning at breakfast.

And now… I simply cannot reread this. I hope that it is at least a little understandable. I’m very frustrated and irritable and need to explore my current method, well, my current exploration of a way, to reign myself in so I can slow down, if not be peaceful before bed. I’m speaking of something called Mindfulness.

Mindfulness… Do you know it? So far my friend it seems a good thing to hedge my bets by. (Or is that “with”?)

Good night.

Please write. I reply to all letters.

Bipolar – The blow. . .

/ Robin / 1 Comment

There isn’t any good way for me to tell this to you. I can’t think of a single way to soften the blow. . .

The blow. That’s funny. We’ve counted 3 times. Today I found another one. There are 21 medical marijuana shops traveling from my house, down a major arterial into the city,  and ending downtown.

Twenty-one gigantic green pluses (+) all along the road. These mark the blessed spots where the water grows greener. The pot shops.

There are more pot shops in this 5 mile drive than there are coffee shops. I live near Seattle. Go figure.

My Primary Care Provider (read… doctor) has tried to convince me to use the green lung goo for several years. I suppose he feels that Bp 1, OA, FM, anxiety, and ADHD are a bit much to handle. Hmm… and chronic pain from bulging disks and arthritis (specifically in my lower back) and that it might relieve my pain (read “issues”, loving referred to as my “alphabet soup”).

Nah, I don’t think so. I visited an old work friend who has been on the stuff for years (beginning before it was legal here) and I tell you after I visited her and her husband at their multi-generational home… I think not.

That’s a NO.

I’m not going to go into my specific reasons about this issue because I’m only writing to tell you this one immutable fact:

THERE ARE 21 POT shops BETWEEN my HOUSE and DOWNTOWN.

5 miles.

21 pot shops.

Forget my alphabet soup my friend.

That’s a bit too much.

21.

 

{If you disparage of my use of the term “pot shop”, you are thinking this thing through way too hard.}

Bipolar on the Lawn

/ Robin

As it happens with so many “normal” events in life, I made certain that I was taking all my meds on time and the correct way during the week before and the days of… the nasty garage sale. I say nasty because we had maybe a dozen people stop by. Most of them bought something. Most spent about $2, which I’m thankful for. I think I have $270 more to save up before I can go see my eldest daughter in the Air Force over in Florida. I’ve not had a vacation in… um… I dunno. Doesn’t matter really. I want one really bad. I miss her and want to go see her. She’s having trouble swinging time to come home right now so it seems like it will be easier if one of us go to her. Me!!

I do wish the sale had actually SOLD more STUFF. Well, books mostly actually. Yes, like many other folks who dance the Bipolar dance I have my manic bits about me and inevitably one tenant of my mania tends to extend to …….. BOOKS. It has always been so hard to part with my books.

The weather today and yesterday was pretty perfect. So far this summer each time we tried to have the infamous sale either the weather thought it was in Washington (which it is, the state) or my other two kids were off doing things. There was no way in Liverpool that I was going to do this all myself.

So we get it all out there after I tolerate their not being able to wake up “hitting the ground running” and they’re enduring my lack of silence and immense energy. Yes. We are polar opposites. We annoy the heck out of each other. Since I talk the most I am the most likely to announce that I’m irritated that they seem dead for the first 3 hours they’re “up” on any given morning. Their faces silently curse me out. I know they’re thinking something like that. I know I would if I were they.

We got on each other’s nerves all morning. Till sometime around the 11 o’clock hour I think. I had a free mocha coming from one of the dozens of coffee shops, so I left them to their silence for 15 minutes while I went and got one. The pain meds I was going to have to take so I could work the garage sale would kick my butt soon after I took them. Best to have caffeine now and be prepared.  I picked up a blueberry muffin and had it warmed for Sydney, hoping it would cheer her sleeping psyche up. Nah. It’s her “time of the month”. Nothing is going to help a sleepy teenager when that second blow of the double whammy hits. Said it was good. Made her feel sick. Yeah.

To add to the excitement my service doggie in training, Bailey, who isn’t used to people coming and going so fast nor her humans being outside and her being inside all day. We closed the curtains and put the TV on a country music station and turned it up a bit. This way she couldn’t see us and hopefully, not hear us too much either. She calmed down pretty quickly. But indeed, she did need to come out to do her business. And then she took the opportunity to bark and whine and do somersaults and tie her leash around me and Kyle letting her trip me after hog tieing me.

Bailey has finally devoured every toy we’ve bought for her and even all the ones we’ve invented, like empty “Simply Lemonade” containers. They’re nice and sturdy and …. she eats them now. I used to put treats in them after she’d smashed them up good and stand them up in a group in the living room. She’d sit quietly by (after I told her to). Then I say, “Go!” and she’d leap into action. Oh all kinds of inventive ways to empty those treats out would then come forth. Let me tell you… she’s one smart cookie. I swear she’s ADHD just like me.

The kids’ grandmother on their father’s side came today and brought Bailey a new toy. Everything we’d tried the last few weeks has seen the inside of her stomach far too much for our liking so when she arrived with a potentially workable toy we were overjoyed.

At the time of this writing, Bailey and I are on the back deck. She’s going from one lawn chair to the other. Back and forth. Her toy tags along. It’s a rope with … I mean a ball with a rope toy going through the center. The ball is just hard enough for her to only pierce it a bit. The rope makes it easy to handle, sort of. That’s the fun of sitting in the camping folding chairs on the deck. She keeps bringing it up with her – and losing it as soon as her feet let go of their death grip on it. Yes, feet. How they use them like hands I’ll never know.

It’s all very funny.

We’re out here alone… nope. She’s gone in to eat. Anyway, reflecting over the day. Okay, maybe I’m just wanting to be outside a little longer and listen to all the strange birds and frogs. And airplanes. And cars. And rabbits.

Kyle torqued Sydney and I off by bugging out at 2 o’clock to go babysit my parents dog. Not puppy. Dog. This i find always annoys me. It’s usually when I need whatever child they steal from me when they snag them. Like today. A huge table full of books is still outside waiting for Kyle to come home (maybe around 9 o’clock) and cart them all in. Sydney’s knee and girl parts ran out of gas and into the pain danger zone and my back (degenerative disk disease from the top to the bottom) shot past said zone and into the “I’m going to throw up soon” level of pain. Yeah. Does wonders for my state of mind.

I started my day off making sure that I ate breakfast and took a chill pill before anyone else got up. And I took another one mid day. And another one when we came back in afterwards.

Sydney fell asleep on her bed wrapped in a pile of blankets hours ago. I’m finally able to rise from my ice chair with minimal pain levels (ice and pain meds make a nice kick) and I don’t want to puke now.

Bailey hasn’t stayed still in either of the two camping chairs nor the deck nor her very own large cardboard box for more than perhaps two minutes at a time thus far. I think two minutes might be generous. She’s finally left her new toy on the deck. She’s trying to keep her eyes open and listen to all the sounds around us. She’s fading. Me too. Been a long weekend.

I met my goal of not losing my mind and hollering at the kids. Yeeeaaahhhh!!! Ah, but now I’m slapping bugs. Time to go in. Oh man. Bailey just settled down in a chair next to me and is asle… nope. She’s just pretending to be asleep. Oh little bark. Sydney just popped her head out and startled Bailey. Time to go in. I think a bug went down my shirt. Little bugger. Now that, will piss me off.

Thanks for the meds doc. I’m feeling better.

Drop me a line! I answer all msgs. Let’s kick things around a bit.

And… Tell your friends!

Robin