When It Gets Real – Bipolar

Two days ago, I was notified on my phone that a comment had been made on a post I had originally made on this blog (REDUX) over a year ago. I try to always reply to any comment left on my blogs no matter how long ago the original post was, and to do so as quickly as I can. I believe that when a Reader goes to the trouble of commenting, that we have entered into a conversation and that to be polite, I should reply. It’s the polite thing to do in conversation, right? And, I’m honestly interested in what Readers have to say.

The person implied that they had read the post. Cool…um, not cool. This is what the person said: “This gives me no hope and makes me want to die even more.”

I immediately stopped what I was doing and read the original post. It was heavy. I’ve never hidden the dark days from you. I’ve also never hidden when the dark days change to grey, and then to blue and sunny.

I want you to know that I struggle. Sometimes I struggle every day. Sometimes my heart is full of light and I feel peaceful.

I am linking that original post Original post. I’ve gone back and put some things in bold/italics. I’ve not changed anything else. I did try to reply to the person as quickly as I could in an effort to reach them. I don’t know if they read my reply.

Please feel free to read it. You’re welcome to comment on it here. I stand by what I wrote. It is all a part of who I am and what I struggle with. Bipolar Disorder is not like some diseases that go into remission or go completely away. I will always have it. I will always search for ways to live better with it and to faithfully and consistently practice the things that help me.

Am I better than I was when I wrote that post? I don’t really know. I’m different. My life is different. My world is different.

I just bit the tip of my tongue. That’s different.

Everything is relevant and always in flux. It is what we do in the darkest of times, in the best of times, in every single moment of time that is what makes the difference in whether I live, or I die.

Today, just like yesterday, I choose to continue the fight. I choose to live.

That’s all I can do. For myself. But I can ask that of you too.

Choose this day… to live.

Bipolar – Med Provider Day

I’m unstoppable.

I’ve been trying to sleep, but it eludes me like a chicken running for its life.

I’m going to see my med provider at 10 in the morning today. I hope she listens this time. If she doesn’t I’ll be requesting someone else and informing them of why I’m choosing to under go all the stress that comes with a decision like that. I’ve had enough.

I’m going to confront her with the facts. I’ve been keeping a list of my symptoms since I saw her 30 days ago. It has grown quite long. It looks even worse than before I was being medicated.

I’m unstoppable.

My pain management guy and I had to ween me off one of the long acting pain killers I’ve been taking for a couple of years because of supply issues. I went from 100 mg twice a day to 50 mg over night because there wasn’t anymore to be found anywhere. No one knew it was going to happen so there was no helping it. It didn’t feel so great. Then we kind of gradually weened me off the rest. Now my pain level is constantly higher. Also, the torn fascia in my foot still isn’t healed. It’s painful. I got special shoes for it today. But as the compassionate woman said while I walked around and around testing shoes, my foot was going to feel soar and tired. It still is. It wasn’t fun.

All this has added to my overall stress level, as you can imagine. Withdrawal is never a good time, nor is added pain.

I’m unstoppable.

I will be thankful if my counselor, Arthur, can make it to my appointment. He said he’d try. He feels it is important for her to understand my mental state from his side of the equation. He’s been with me two previous visits.

It hasn’t helped.

I’m still choosing to be unstoppable.

I may stumble, and I may fall over and over, but this damn illness is not going to continue to run my life. I’m very ill. I’m too exhausted not to fight anymore. I feel like my life has been a waste.

I’ve had enough.

I’m unstoppable.

Help me. Or, stay out of my way.

I refuse to stop!

The Aftermath of Latuda & Despair

solar flareThe Latuda that was destroying me is gone now, though it has left a lasting mark that lives on within me. It no longer provides mood stabilization for my overloaded brain. The good that it may have done is far outweighed by the damage that it has left behind. Often, I cannot speak for long before I lose the ability to be understood. My speech becomes silenced and my face jerks and spasms as though in pain. Large muscle groups jerk and move without my involvement. It all devastates me. I feel locked inside my body, my brain unable to freely communicate even with those who are closest to me.

I’ve recently come out of a period of not feeling anything but anxiety. My actions indicated that I was depressed, but I didn’t exactly feel depressed. Recently, that has changed.

Last week I crashed. I felt the old familiar feelings and thought things that hadn’t consumed me for some time. I looked at all my pills (I have many) and considered how easy it would be to stop. Just to stop.

But, I didn’t touch them. I called my children and I reached out for help. My girls both came to me and loved me… they helped put away those feelings of purposelessness and thoughts that I have no reason to live.

Why have I not taken all my pills? I have no purpose, no reason to burden those around me. You see, I want to have a purpose. I want my life to matter. While I currently feel I have nothing to offer the world… I think, if I don’t give in to the depression that loves me without reservation, that it might be possible to find that singular purpose that is meant for me.

I suffer from Bipolar Disorder Type 1 with rapid cycling and mixed states. Perhaps I am able to find this ever so small spark of desire to find my purpose because in my manic delusional state sometimes I have delusions of grandeur. Who knows, maybe my periodic delusions will give me my missing purpose. I hope so.

I need a reason to carry on. For now, the love of those who care for me is what I am holding on to. I have to wonder… how long it will be before even that is not enough.

At this moment, I don’t want to die, but I am encompassed by a cloak of useless despair.

I desire purpose. I want inspiration. I resisted the urge to give in and bring this fight to an end. Intellectually, I want my end to be celebrated with the acknowledgment of a fulfillment of purpose and leave an honorable legacy that says my life meant something, that I lived with purpose and left a remarkable mark on my world.

I don’t want to be an unnumbered footmark in the annals of the world, but I can’t seem to master what my brain chemistry is doing to me.

Now, it’s time to start my two-hour ritual of preparing to sleep. Maybe I’ll get lucky and I’ll have a temporary respite and I’ll sleep an emotion free night.

Bipolar – Learning to Live with Anxiety

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Bipolar anxiety is no joke. I already live with a wicked mix of depression and mania and when you add to that general anxiety, well, I feel like I might just be out of luck. I was. For several months the pressure in my brain was so bad that I could hardly talk. I couldn’t get myself to go to the new grocery store near the house I’d just moved into by myself. Week after week I convinced my kids to go to the store with me even though we didn’t live together.

It couldn’t last forever. I knew I’d have to go to the store alone one day soon. None of the counseling was helping. I was walking and playing with my dog. That wasn’t helping. I was eating and cut caffeine out of my diet. Nothing. I took all my meds as prescribed every single day and I stopped taking my Ritalin—just in case it made some small difference. I started trying to meditate and practice mindfulness to no avail.

If you feel like you’re holding on for dear life… you are. Don’t let go. It can get better.

I was at the point where I felt like I couldn’t do it anymore. I was overcome with despair.

I started taking Gabapentin and my symptoms got worse. My face developed Turrets like symptoms. They were violent and I was biting my tongue and cheeks. I couldn’t talk normally. I was scared. I know that ticks caused by medications can quickly become permanent.

I couldn’t get into see my doctor or my med provider. I was starting a new term in college and I was freaking out. I’m still trying to relearn how to learn. I went to community college some 30 years ago. It’s difficult.

I talked with the triage nurse on the phone since I couldn’t get in to talk to anyone. She told me to stop taking the Gabapentin immediately.

Then the med provider told me to take my chill pill twice a day if I needed to and to go back on the Ritalin at least once a day. Slowly, day by day, and doing all the other things I was already doing to help myself, I started to calm down. The Gabapentin scare really freaked me out. I thought I was losing my last hold on reality. I felt like an alien, unable to breathe the air around me.

I suffer from chronic back pain and I’m see a new pain management doctor now. While all this was going on she was treating me like she was going to take away my pain meds because she thought I was abusing them… which I wasn’t. They just counted the pills wrong. Not my fault. That added a massive amount of stress to me too.

Today I go to the grocery store—when I’m totally out of everything, but at least I go. I’m not freaking out about school, not yet anyway. And I’m finally sleeping a little better.

Then I was in a car accident on my way to a school event. Side swiped. My car is totaled. I like my car. It’s a good car. I know I won’t get enough money from the insurance company to get one as good as this one. Stress. Anxiety. Take a pill. Remember what it feels like to calm down. Never abuse my meds. Especially not my chill pill or my pain pills.

It’s time for me to do homework now. I stress and have anxiety over homework. I’ll take a chill pill and wait for it to work before I sit down to do some serious writing.

Anxiety is like a beast that has already pounced and has its claws plunged clean through you. Believe me when I say that the claws can be removed. It is slow and painful, but it can be done. So don’t give up. There’s hope for you too.

Bipolar – Dealing with Emotional Pain

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There are any number of examples I could talk about concerning dealing with emotional pain. I’ve been going through a lot the last year and a half. This last week was one of the worst weeks that I hope I have for a long time.

I had to put one of my cats to sleep. She had advanced and wide spread cancer and was voiding all over the basement carpet. I was moving to a new home in a week and it just became necessary to quit avoiding it and stop putting off the issue and take responsibility for what I needed to do.

Her name was Siberia and she was our family pet for about 12 years. That’s a long time to bond with anyone, animal or human.

I was expecting to be sad, to cry, and to be upset. I was all of that. Now it’s been more than a week and I was up late last night crying hysterically and saying to my other cat how sorry I was and that I’d killed his friend. It was horrible. I eventually had to take a chill pill because I couldn’t stop myself.

Anyone who has not had a pet won’t understand the loss of a loved companion, but if you have you know what I’m talking about.

Feelings of guilt, denial, anger and depression have plagued me and I’ve wondered if I’m going over the top and am heading for an episode. The truth is, for me right now, I think I’m experiencing normal emotions. It’s hard to tell the difference though isn’t it?

When are my uncontrollable feelings of depression and anger caused by my Bipolar Disorder and when is it just from normal feelings that come after great loss?

I think that it’s hard to tell. It’s new right now so I’m inclined to think I’m feeling normal feelings, but a little deeper than maybe my children are.

I have just moved a few days ago and the stress from that is immense. I’m making sure to take my meds and using my chill pills when I need them. I haven’t been out walking because I’m kind of scared in my new neighborhood and it’s so very hot. Next week I see my counselor. It will be good to talk to her about what I’ve been feeling.

In the meantime, it’s time to try to go to bed. It’s only 81F in here now. At least I’ve stopped sweating for a little while.

Good night Siberia. I love you. I will honor your memory and play with Maks (the other cat) more than I had been doing. I miss you.

Bipolar – Magnificent Obsession

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I believe that I, a person with Bipolar Disorder, can have a definite purpose in life. I believe although I have Bipolar Disorder I can have a main goal for my life and I believe I can reach it. I believe I have the ability to find a magnificent obsession, an overwhelming passion to dedicate my life to.

The illness ate year after year of my life, but now I understand that it doesn’t have to get a free pass to destroying me. I say this although I suffered for years of feeling like I was being ravaged from within. I can remember doing things, thinking things, and feeling emotions that were bipolar even when I was a young teen.

My poor mom. I was a devil to live with growing up. My depression often expressed itself as vicious anger. She tried to help me. She knew something was wrong. Some of the things she tried included counseling, religion, hypnotism, and sending me to live with relatives for the summer hoping that they could get through to me. Nothing helped. I once tried to kill my brother by bouncing on his chest till he turned purple. I only stopped because I knew that I would get in trouble if I actually killed him.

I knew something was terribly wrong with me. In high school I started actively searching to help myself I started going to church and there began chasing hard after God for the next 25 years. During my most devoted years I attended a Bible college and earned a bachelor’s degree.

Still, I suffered.

Many of my symptoms of bipolar disorder presented looking very much like sin. I couldn’t stop being bipolar and I couldn’t stop the “sinning”. No one knew I was sick and even if they had, I don’t believe they had the tools to help me. At one point some of the missionary staff tried to cast demons out of me.

Years later when I was a single mom and had left religion far behind me I no longer felt like a condemned sinner. Having that weight lifted off my shoulders did a lot to enable me to get out from under some of the self-created depression and condemnation. I had been obsessed with trying to stop sinning and all I succeeded in doing was make my condition worse.

I suffered and slowly died inside as I impacted my three young children with the violence of my inner turmoil. I said things, I threw things… I did a lot of things I wish they had never experienced.

I learned about success teacher Tony Robbins on an infomercial and began on my quest to be successful. I hoped that “success” would give me the strength to not give in to the urges of my illness. I thought that if I could be successful, I could be in control of myself. If people could use these principles to get rich, maybe I could use them to be successful in controlling my bipolar. I ordered the material he was selling and set to work enthusiastically doing the 30-day program.

Something amazing happened to me while I was going through the program: I learned how to think before I reacted and I learned I could preserver when I failed and I could try again. I learned to never accept defeat. I learned I could choose how I wanted to behave and I could actually behave that way. I was able to change the way I thought about myself, who I was and what my future might hold. I learned to have hope.

I’ve worked for years to follow certain success principles. I’d go for long periods of time when I forgot about them especially when I was depressed. The illness is still with me, my companion for life.

Today, I believe I’m successful. I’m doing what I love every day. I’ve taken the additional success materials of Napoleon Hill and Clement Stone and found that I could have a purpose for my life, regardless of who I am, and I found principles to help me achieve it.

These principles help me get up in the morning and do things that I know will fight my depression, my mania and all that lay between so that I can function and keep chasing my goals and be successful. I refuse to lose to my illness. I may have setbacks when the illness does overtake me and I will tell you that for many years I lost the fight against it and realistically I will probably have times when I feel I’ve lost to it in the future. Right now, I’m taking my life back. That’s why I blog. It is one way I’m taking back my life back.

I still have to take chill pills daily along with all my other meds. I’m not anywhere near perfect or even functioning at my best. But, when the hill has been climbed and I’m back among the living I still have my purpose to drive me. I’d like to say it’s a reason I get up in the mornings, but I’m not there yet. Yet.

I have a magnificent obsession I’m focused upon. I have goals and dreams that I am working on so that they will come true. I believe I can be even more successful than I can possibly understand today.

I have Bipolar Disorder and I’m amazing.

 

Bipolar Struggling

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I’m struggling. I want to be successful, but I have this illness that makes it harder to succeed for me to do so than if I didn’t have it. I just get going, and then I get depressed and circle downwards further away from my goals. I feel sad and unfulfilled. Tired. And then I blame my lack of success on the fact that I have Bipolar Disorder. The blame game. But there is truth to it.

I know intellectually what I need to do to be successful, but I feel like haven’t the strength right now.

Have you ever felt like this? Sounds like a broken record to me I’ve said it so many times. I know the feelings so well it’s like embracing a lover comfortable, warm, and familiar.

I tried to walk Bailey (the dog) around 5 this evening. My right knee felt like a vice grip was clamped on to it so I did one lap up and down the road and had to stop. I’ve had this knee replaced twice. (I had it done at a much younger age than most. Thought I’d do it a second time just to see if we could get my foot to point the right direction.)

It is 9:41 p.m. and I just realized why I feel like I should have gone to bed an hour ago. I forgot my afternoon meds. My son was over mowing my lawn around lunch time and I guess I got off schedule.

You know what? I have goals that I’m passionate about and I want to succeed in achieving them. However, I’m somewhat depressed right now and I’m not believing in myself the way I need to if I’m going to be successful. And I’m being scattered. Forgot the Ritalin. I’m blaming the illness. Now that I’ve figured out why I got more depressed today I can fix it tomorrow by taking all my meds.

It would have helped if I’d taken my meds. I’ve taken my p.m. meds already. I talk about how important it is to take your meds. This is why. My just missing one afternoon’s meds cost me my afternoon and evening and I feel more depressed.

Tomorrow is a new day. I’ll stick to my morning routine. I’ve got a morning routine. If I deviate from my routine, the rituals, I usually forget something. The rituals make me feel comfortable and steady.

I forgot to feed the cats this morning so Maks, the younger of the two, went into the kitchen and opened the cabinet doors and let them slam shut. I’m sure he knows I hate it when he does that. My dog Bailey chased him downstairs. That’s what happens when you have a cattle dog without cattle. She reverts to herding the cats.

I’ll take all my meds tomorrow. I’ll have to take my afternoon ones just before I leave to go to our family BBQ for Mother’s Day at my brother’s mid-century (I watch HGTV) home overlooking Puget Sound. It has a beautiful view. We’ll eat and play cards. I’m sick of playing cards but at least we have something to do. It can be fun. Depends on my attitude.

Time to take Bailey out. Then I think I’m going to journal for a little while.

My youngest daughter got hired Thursday to work at a car wash that her brother works at ($15 an hour plus tips!) and she worked today. That was fast. I’m so proud of her. I’m so proud of all my kids.

Yep, time to put this to bed.

My Best Friend Has Borderline Personality Disorder

When I look at this I can't help but be amazed!

When I look at this I can’t help but be amazed!

What do you do when your best friend is near rock bottom and has Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD), and you have Bipolar Type 1 and you’re doing pretty well. At least, when I compare how we’re both doing I’m doing better than she is I’m doing better than she is.

Do I avoid talking about how I’m doing and play down my successes? Do I focus on trying to help her feel better (I don’t think it’s possible to talk a person who is BPD into feeling better.) There are a lot of ways to approach this problem.

I decided to step up to the plate as it were and take a chance on getting more involved and trying to understand her illness more so when we talk I can have a better chance of understanding what’s going on in her head.

We were texting on Facebook yesterday and she wasn’t doing well (as is her normal state). She was especially down because she was ruminating over her wife divorcing her. She couldn’t let go of thinking about it. I know for certain that rumination is one of the worst things anyone can do especially over something like that.

I was reading one of my blog visitors blogs today and she was talking about how stupid her doctor/psych is and how impossible it is to get help from (I’m taking liberties now) someone you don’t respect intellectually. My friend feels that way too. (As do I)

I can’t talk her down. I’m not able to do that. Yes, I can “just be her friend and listen”, but when you’re very depressed you often don’t feel like talking. Anyone agree with that? I do. Texting seems to give her the ability to respond. Maybe because I’m not right there and there is emotional physical distance. I’m not an immediate threat. She can just close her laptop if she doesn’t want to talk.

I’ve decided to dig deep and try to help her and not just listen. That means I have to spend some time learning about her condition and understanding how it’s different from mine. Do I really want to give up my “feel good time” to expose myself to someone who is so very depressed? Yes, she’s my best friend.

The first thing I thought of was that we needed some kind of common ground. I realized that with her on the other side of the country maybe the best way to do that might be a book. I have a book that teaches mindfulness and it occurred to me that this might be something that might work for her to. It turns out we have the same book: The Dialectical Behavior Therapy Skills Workbook: Practical DBT Exercises for Learning Mindfulness, Interpersonal Effectiveness, Emotion Regulation & … Tolerance (New Harbinger Self-Help Workbook). As you can see from the title it has a section on mindfulness. Now I haven’t been tremendously successful practicing mindfulness, but it gives us something common to talk about even if it’s just talking about how bad we are at it.

It’s important for me not to abandon my friend. Right now, I’m doing pretty well. It’s a good time to give her a hand to grab on to. She’s been there for me when she’s been down. I don’t know how she’s managed it, but she has.

She read my post on AWE and said her mother says something similar to her. She thought it was a good thing to do. I don’t know that she CAN do it right now. But cognitively, she understands it.

She said something that gave me insight into myself that I’d not thought of before and it’s a big difference between the two of us and may be why I’m more likely to be doing better than she is. She said that when I have problems. I work through them. I’m a problem solver. (My words) I don’t just sit there overwhelmed. As soon as I can I start looking for answers and try to fix myself. I fight back. She can’t do that. She just gets overwhelmed and sits there and talks herself into feeling worse.

She’s right. I do like to problem solve. While I’m dedicated to working to deal with my bipolar, I’m willing to try to help her however I can. And if right now that means just sharing how I’m dealing with my problems, then that’s what I’m going to do. She’s better than I am at reaching through my personal crap to help another.

What have I learned recently that I think can help her? That I need to identify my triggers and when they happen I need to take action and keep them from making things worse. And, look for awe. Be amazed by the love that her dogs look at her with. Watch the sun go down and be in awe of the beauty of it.

I don’t have a medical degree, but I have over 50 years of dealing with bipolar, ADHD, anxiety, and more recently PTSD. I presented with bipolar in my teens but wasn’t diagnosed till after I had all three of my kids. It explained so much.

I love the way the community here reaches out to one another. I appreciate it whenever I hear from any of you. If you have any ideas on how I can help my friend other than just being a good listener (and I try to ask good questions) please let me know. I’d appreciate the input.

Meeting the Triggers with Awe

I’ve been thinking a lot about what to do after I encounter a trigger and my bipolar or one of my other difficulties (like anxiety) are “activated” so to speak. I can’t just ignore it.

First I guess I should explain what I mean by a “trigger.” When I say I’ve been “triggered” I mean that something has happened that causes my bipolar to come out of balance or remission and become active, and there is a good possibility that I might become depressed or manic. Just like the other day when my daughter pushed my buttons.

This is the moment I’ve got to be ready for. I can’t just ignore it and hope it doesn’t become a full blown episode. It is so easy to be overcome by bipolar disorder. I must always be vigilant. I have Bipolar Type 1. I experience mixed states and cycle rapidly. I don’t enjoy it when it is running rampant. Sometimes in the past I haven’t wanted to live because it has been so devastating. I will do whatever I have to to avoid that from happening again. I want to live.

I was reading in Psychology Today yesterday in their March/April 2016 issue and I found an article on “awe” called “It’s Not All About You!” by Carlin Flora. The article talks about “rumination—or mulling over worries—is the biggest predictor of depression and anxiety” (52).

Wow is that ever true for me. I waited till my son got home and told him about it, then I blogged about it, then I talked to Kyle about it some more. And of course I thought about it in the in between times. What about you? Have you found that when you ruminate you are in more danger of having an episode? So what to do.

Awe. The article goes on to quote a study that says, “Awe is the opposite of rumination, it clears away inner turmoil with a wave of outer immensity.”

So I decided to do a little experiment. We live near Mount Rainier in Washington State. It’s only an hour to the park entrance from our house. I used to take the kids to the park when they were young all the time for a break from school and so we could have time away and together. Family time.

My experiment consisted of looking for “awe.” It included my son Kyle and my dog Bailey. We drove for 30 minutes to get to beautiful Alder Lake which is on the way to Mount Rainier. We enjoyed the drive and taught the dog to fetch in the lake and swim. She’s never been swimming before. She never hesitated. Then we played fetch with an old black and yellow football we found in the garage the other day. We spent time alone together, away from the normal stresses of daily life. We were gone for 2.5 hours.

I found AWE. It wasn’t hard. It was like it was waiting for me to notice it. I found it in the beauty of nature, laughter and the love of those I was with.

How do I feel now? Honestly, I feel good. I don’t know how long it will last, but for right now, I feel like I’m back in control.

Look for awe in your daily life. Whether it is in the eyes of someone you love or in the colors of an amazing sunset, look for awe. Maybe you’ll find it stopping you from ruminating too.

Preparation for a Bipolar Episode

I wrote this a few days ago. Today, I’ve just returned from walking my wonderful dog out in the beautiful sunny day and now I’m experiencing a sudden downward swing. Time to see if I can follow my own advice…… Stay tuned….

How can I prepare how to deal with an episode when every single one is different and while in one I generally can’t control my emotions? That’s a good question.

The first thing I’ve done is to make sure I always have enough meds on hand and that the boxes I put them in are always filled. This way when I start not remembering whether or not I’ve taken them I can just look at the box. I take meds in both the morning, afternoon and the evening. I have the most trouble remembering to listen to my alarm reminding me to take my mid-day meds.

Second, I try to live in such a way as to not provoke myself into going bonkers. When I do go off my already teetering rocker I have to fall back on my intellect and take my meds when I’m supposed to. Today I went for a walk in the beautiful sunny weather. 30 minutes later I feel sad.

Third, I tell a safe person what’s happening. I don’t have friends who I can call and tell I’m cracking up. And I’m getting another new counselor (my fifth at this clinic) because this one is retiring so I’m not likely to call her. Besides, even if I did the clinic is so busy I wouldn’t be able to talk to her or get in to see her sooner. So, I can talk to my Mom although sometimes she’s part of the problem. How can I talk to her and it be helpful rather than make things worse? We have a prearranged thing where I get ahold of her and ask if she has some time to listen because I need to dump. Usually this helps take some off the top and I know someone knows I’m having a hard time and that she’ll keep in closer contact with me without bugging me to death.

My three kids are my other safe people. They are all old enough to help walk with me while I’m in a “state”. We talk and they talk back. I usually let them talk to me rather than making them just listen. They usually have good ideas. Mostly, they don’t let me wallow in my own mental and emotional pool of piddle. Sometimes they bully me and sometimes that’s what I need.

Fourth, I give myself some space. I give myself permission to be who I am and accept that I have these times I go through and I also remind myself, if I can, that it will pass. It always passes.

Fifth, I never put myself in a situation where I can injure myself if things really go south. So, no guns or extra meds in the house. I may even have one of my safe people come over and watch me fill my pill boxes. Sometimes I’ll even have them pick up something from the pharmacy for me. They know when I’m depressed, it’s sometimes hard to get myself to do that.

I’m sure there are more but that’s what I can think of for now. I need to call my daughter. Maybe asking about her day will help me be lifted up a bit.