Mental Illness

Bipolar Struggling

/ Robin

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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.

Thanks and Being Graciousness

/ Robin / 2 Comments

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Did you know that if you are in a vehicle during a tornado you should leave the vehicle running so that if you’re hit, the airbags will deploy and give you a better chance to survive. True story. Thank you Weather Channel.

That has not a thing to do with anything, but I thought it was interesting

My son moved out a few weeks ago you may know, leaving me home childless after raising three kids on my own. Suddenly I have no one to take care of or to take care of me. It is at times unnerving. There are some things around the house that I can’t do. Kyle has to come home and do some things for me like mowing my lawn. I am physically unable to do it. I’m thankful that he’s still willing to do that for me. I have arthritis and chronic pain and am unable to do a lot of things. One of the funniest is opening a bottle of water. I have to use one of those bottle opener handle things.

After arguing with my mother yesterday, and talking to Kyle this morning, I realized something I had not been doing and should be doing. I realized it because Kyle isn’t doing it and he should be doing it. It’s being graceful. Gracefulness is what I should be exhibiting after my mother does something for me that is surprising and completely unnecessary. If I don’t practice gracefulness, I can hurt her feelings and she may not be so nice next time.

Gracefulness, according to Dictionary.com means:

  1. pleasantly kind, benevolent, and courteous.
  2. characterized by good taste, comfort, ease, or luxury: gracious suburban living; a gracious home.
  3. indulgent or beneficent in a pleasantly condescending way, especiallyto inferiors.
  4. merciful or compassionate: our gracious king.
  5. Obsolete. fortunate or happy.

The idea is that when Kyle does a dump run for me (takes all the stuff to the dump in my brother’s van that I’ve gathered together to toss before I move) I should thank him, which I always do, and he should in turn be gracious and be kind (say you’re welcome). If he’s not, I’ll probably have my feelings hurt, because, you know, I’m sensitive like that.

It’s one thing to be bipolar bitchy, it’s another to ignore situations where you can control your emotions and your mouth and say something that is helpful and kind. This is where habits come in. But that’s for another day.

I want and need people to help me. I don’t want to piss them off so that they won’t help me anymore or only do so with a really bitchy attitude. When I’m able to choose to behave in a gracious way, I need to make the choice to do so when I can. Today, I can.

Why Do We See Therapists?

/ Robin / 2 Comments

Lucy Therapist

In my experience therapists and counselors are working there to work with me to help me get through the day, the month, and even the year especially in the midst of a depressive episode. They are there to try to teach me how to handle my episodes. They meet with me to teach me how to work with medicines for treatment, to use self-management methods to deal with mood cycles that always plague me, and to teach me how to function better in both work, family, and other real world settings.

Therapists help me learn what to do when I’m depressed, which is difficult to do when I’m depressed. It’s so hard to be objective about whether my medications are working when I feel like I need more of everything or something new when what I really need is a little tweak in dosage or patience to let a new medication have a chance to work.

They try to help me see myself for who I am beyond my illness and to work with me when I’m manic and have delusions of grandeur. I admit it’s hard for me to listen to them when I know I’m right about everything. I have a friend that also suffers from severe mental illness, she has found the same problem that I have found, that when we’re manic it is difficult to find a therapist that you respect enough to listen to.

For the last year I’ve been lucky enough to have a therapist that I respected me and I think knew me fairly well. She was always supportive and encouraged me to believe in myself. She never let me bamboozle my way through when I was trying to get away with acting badly.

She just retired so I start with a new one in a few weeks. I’m hoping that I’m humble enough to believe that she has something to offer me. Otherwise I’ll go and sit there for an hour and think about how dumb she is while were talking. Has anyone else experienced anything like this?

Because I’m on disability I have very few choices on where I can go for treatment. I think, I hope, I’m going to the better of my two choices. Unfortunately I’ve gone through four therapists and am soon to see my fifth at this place. Two retired, one went into private practice and I fired the other. Sometimes you have to take drastic measures like firing the therapist to make sure I get the help I need. The reason I did was that she was really new to the job and she kept reading to me from her computer and printing out things for me to take home to read. We didn’t have any dialogue. I made the hard call and asked for a new therapist. I’ve never had the courage to do that before.

My new therapist’s name is Rebecca. I’m already working on my attitude and trying to prepare myself to be open to her being able to help me. I’ve committed myself to not judge her before I even meet her. I need to give her and I a chance to get to know each other and see if she can help me survive and even thrive.

I welcome you to leave your opinion. Do you find that you experience the same things? Or have your experiences been vastly different? I hope to hear from you.

If you’re interested in the books that I refer to the most visit my books page.

Bipolar: Possessed by Demons?

/ Robin

demon

I’ve sat around on disability for years now. I raised my kids working very little because of my mental health issues. My behavior let’s just say wasn’t conducive to working with other people. Aside from melting from stress during the time I was attending college (I’m still planning on going back in the fall.) I’ve been pretty stable for the last year or so. I feel like I’m ready to move forward. I also feel like it’s risky to try to do something. What if I explode like I did when I had my business? During one of my manic phases I was inspired to start a small company that took off really fast. I did a good job. I was making money. Then I had an episode and exploded the business. I think it’s time to start over. I hope.

Time to focus for a sustained period of time and control myself and start a new business. I’ve got the company figured out and a loose business plan. Now I just have to supply the product. That’s what’s going to take the most time.

Speaking of which, did you know that if you have been diagnosed by a mental health professional with bipolar disorder you’re not possessed by demons? (Just my opinion.) It’s true. For years I thought I had demons or at the very least I was committing sin after sin. I couldn’t stop being angry and doing all the things that go with anger and rage. I felt so guilty.

I attended Bible College in the 80’s. While here I sought help for my demons of rage and anger and other unhealthy sins. I underwent sessions where professors would lay hands on me and “speak” to the demons. They would demand that the demons respond. I couldn’t very well not have anything happen so I started saying the first thing that I thought of. I didn’t want to look like a failure and not have any demons. Unfortunately, I never got better.

Many, many years later (like this year) I learned that bipolar disorder is actually an “abnormal functioning of brain circuits involving neurotransmitters such as dopamine.”

Now I’m not saying only mental health professionals can diagnosis a person with bipolar disorder, but it is the best way to get an accurate diagnosis.

If you have bipolar disorder you do not have brain damage. You are not a condemned lump of flesh that has no hope of having a normal or productive life.

You, just like everyone else, has the opportunity to be successful and reach your dreams.

I am going to put my life out there and see if I can be successful. Thus far I’ve had a lot of very tiny little starts towards my goals, but I’ve fallen off my path every time. I believe I have the knowledge and determination this time to not only set goals, but to reach them.

I know stress affects how my brain functions so one of my main missions is to live a balanced life and that includes not setting myself up to be trapped in extended stressful situations. I can do that. I know what my triggers are.

My goal: Reach complete financial independence in one year, by April 17, 2017. I have other goals too, but that is definitely the most important and easiest to measure.

Time to get busy working on my plan and putting it into play.

Remember, if you have a mental illness you do not have it because of an unknown influence upon your brain. You are not helpless, hopeless and unable to deal with your symptoms for good. Work with your mental health professionals and actually expend effort to be less depressed and control your mania.

I believe there is hope for each of us. Whether you believe you are being helped by a higher power, God, medication and/or psychology it is possible you can live a productive and fulfilling life.

(Note: If your faith says that your mental state is because of a spiritual battle I’m sorry, but I disagree. After chasing God for over 25 years I turned to science for answers and finally started changing my behavior and my thoughts. My advice is that you follow your heart and your intelligence. You may disagree with me about what causes bipolar disorder, but you can still learn about goal setting and being a successful person. They are not mutually exclusive.)

(The quote is from: “The Bipolar Disorder Survival Guide: What you and Your Family Need to Know,” by David j. Miklowitz, PhD)

My First Day as a Grown-Up

/ Robin

maks balloon

Apparently I set my alarm wrong or didn’t set it at all because at 9:32 my youngest daughter Sydney called and scared the snot out of me. I was so confused and I dropped the phone and missed the call. Oops. I got the phone off the light stand and onto the bed with me so I could call her back but she beat me.

You should know that while I’m only 53 I have rheumatoid arthritis, osteoarthritis, and I’ve had cataracts removed and I wear full dentures. I ain’t got no choppers. This is interesting to know because of what happened next. Getting the phone in the first place was painful and I almost dropped it behind the bed because of the arthritis in my hands. Morning is especially bad for my hands.

Sydney called before I could call her. She was very excited and upset. I was still effectively asleep. She launched into her problem which has nothing to do with my morning in general so we’ll skip that.

I was trying hard to sound like she hadn’t woke me up, but it was no use. In morning especially trying to talk without my teeth in is like talking to me drunk with mashed potatoes in my mouth. Fortunately Sydney can translate most of what I say so that’s good. Thankfully I don’t have to make up a story of why I sound like I’m drunk.

Next I try to get out of bed. This is not as simple as you would think. I’ve had my right knee replaced twice so I’m careful getting out of bed because I don’t want to skip forward in time and have to have the other one done especially since I live alone now. I tried to get my feet to the floor but I couldn’t slide off the bed.

During the day, I can sit on the side of the bed and my feet dangle a good ten inches above the floor. On a normal morning I can’t find the floor. I couldn’t find the floor today. I swear this bloody memory foam mattress conforms to where I’m sitting and won’t let my butt go. So there I sat, trying without success to scooch over to the edge of the bed where I could work at getting off the bed. No luck.

So I try switching it up and go for trying to get just one bun closer to the edge. Finally, a little movement. Slowly I start the long and slow effort to the edge, all of four inches to the edge. I made it! I was finally sitting with my legs dangling over the edge of the bed. I leaned back and started the fearful journey of trying to fall towards the floor. It always seems like it is farther away from my feet every morning.

Yeah!!! I make it to the floor.

Next, the pain and stiffness of the arthritis in my legs and ankles speaks up and rudely tries to make me stand there like an old woman frozen in place. I wonder how my hair looks.

Eventually I make it to the living room and sit on the stool and slowly put my shoes on. It’s painful to bend over and pull my feet up on my knee to get my shoes on.

Eventually, success!

Why am I putting my shoes on without socks on and teeth in? Gotta take the doggie out to do her business. Then she wouldn’t poop. I’m out there getting my feet wet in the lumpy thickish dewy grass and fast getting annoyed. I give up and we go back in the house.

Ah ha! I remembered to feed the cats when I came back in the house. They’re food is downstairs so it’s not like I normally think about feeding them, which, is now my job.

The cats were Kyle’s job. Of course, now that job falls to me. None of the kids took a cat with them. I want them to take the cats with them! I tend to forget to feed them and when that happens Maks, the older of the two, goes in the kitchen and opens and closes the cabinet doors and lets them bang shut and do it over and over until you get up and feed them. Little asses.

My dog is a heeler/kelpie, meaning, she’s a herding dog. She loves to herd the cats. Somehow she knows when they cats are doing something wrong and chases them downstairs at full speed. It’s pretty funny. So if I’ve gone to bed all I have to do is open my bedroom door and poof! The cats are downstairs. Then I go feed them. If I have to be woken up it’s good to know the culprit that woke me up is getting theirs for doing it.

Sometimes Maks (cat) plays with helium balloons. I got one for Valentine’s Day from the kids. The cat takes hold of the string and takes it around the house. When I had my first knee replaced he started bringing all the balloons to me at night. The record of overnight balloon commando maneuvers was 15. He grabs them by the bottom of the string and carries them into a bedroom. The balloon in the picture ended up in Kyle’s room all the way downstairs this time. I don’t know why he does it, but it is so funny.

Now that my Oxycodone, Ritalin and my other pain pill have kicked in I feel like a human. Now would be the time to take Bailey out, but she can’t wait this long.

My first night alone was good. My two youngest kids both called to make sure I was okay. I love them. Kyle reminded me to feed the cats, which I had already done. Yeah me! We’ll see how I do tonight.

What am I going to do today? I’m going to work on my writing projects. I’ve been neglecting them. Fortunately, using the computer isn’t impacted by my prematurely aging body. I wonder how my brain is doing. I do have some mental health issues, a whole bowl of alphabet soup full of them, but I don’t have any old people brain issues. I’m awesome!

And thus began day one of my new life living on my own.

Ew, now it’s my job to do the litter box. I hate that.