Bipolar – What to Do When the People Who Check You Take Your Meds Are Growing Up?

/ Robin

The idea of living on my own with no one to check my meds over to make sure I’m on track and taking the right dose when it gets changed or starting something new….  terrifies me.

Jessica, my beautiful 22 year-old is living at the AFB in Tamp, FL. She’s about as far away as she can be and still be in the states. Years, for years she kept an eye on me. It was especially so much so when I had my first knee replacement, replaced. I was in far too much pain and the meds weren’t helping. It was so horrible. I don’t know how she managed it all. And she pretty much ran the house (younger brother and sister).

When the kids were a bit younger we made a very unusual pact. The pact was about my not reliably taking my meds and knowing how I’m doing and such. My moral compasses, that’s what they have been. My psych ones too – especially so.

This was the pact: I would live with one of them (or very near) so they can keep me safe. Let’s face it. Over the years I’ve come to admit that I could hurt myself if I let myself go. I wouldn’t. I’d been relying upon that and that makes me feel safe. And that’s super important.

Problem: Jess is in the AF, Kyle is a full-time student at UWT in downtown Tacoma and Sydney likewise is a full-time student, and has a part-time job. Sydney plans to move out and onto a campus as soon as she graduates and gets accepted at one of her chosen colleges. Kyle is a Tacoma boy and loves it here. He’ll probably do all of his Bachelor’s degree at UWT.

Jess gone and living on MacDill AFB. Syd will be gone. It will be myself and Kyle. I don’t mind living with my handsome boy (Sydney would the other two a run for their money in the looks dept I say with motherly intent), but, I don’t want him to be the college kid who lives with mommy. Know what I mean?

Kyle’s friends and I get on well generally. I don’t want to be a burden.

Then there is the pack. One of them will always “take care” of me. I don’t trust myself alone. That’s just the truth. Neither do they.

I don’t think we considered the time between high school and real jobs.

And my dad is dying. I’m getting new teeth being made at UW School of something something.

And I’m a bit terrified.

My tick reached epic proportions when last afternoon I couldn’t speak at all. If my extra dose of Diazepam had not worked we were heading to the ER. It was time to get it under control. After the long wait for these beautiful teeth… I’m going to potential be biting myself everytime I open my mouth.

Damn the stars.

These ticks really are devastating. I always hand the phone to a kid or don’t answer. Talking with my mom about other non-essential issues set me over the top yesterday. I lost my cookies and completely melted down  as evidenced by this violent inability to talk.

I’m thrilled for my kids and to get new teeth. And I’m also terrified.

Can you relate?

Your friend,

Robin

Bipolar – Ignorant Med Providers

/ Robin

I am a mixed state Bipolar 1 with ADHD.

Yesterday I saw my Med Provider. We’ve been working on adjusting my meds for some time now. A month or so ago I said something about how this one thing in my life was mentally and physically causing me pain and contributing to my depression. Okay. So far so good.

This time I referred to the same thing only I said it was going to be taken care of… but that it scared me (It will potentially cause a great deal of physical pain at the beginning).

She said, “You’re all over the map. First it was horrible and depressing. Now it’s getting taken care of and you’re still not happy.”

I wanted to say…. “First off, I’m here because I’m Bipolar 1…. and my statements support that I think. You’ve never gone through the procedure I’m going through. It’s not fun. It scares me because last time it failed. It’s can be very painful. And… it takes 2-3 hours round trip every Monday for 6 weeks to complete it. I’m at week 4 next Monday.”

Do you think what she said was appropriate? Or am I just a “normal” person who shouldn’t be all over the map?

Then… she increased almost all my meds.

Bipolar – You Seem “Normal”

/ Robin

It really is difficult to know what to say. Should I begin at the beginning? When I knew something went “wonky” with me? Should I share some of the ways I’ve tried to improvise to survive myself? Perhaps just today?

I saw another new counselor this week. I like her I think. Today.

I mentioned to her that yes, I am on disability… as in collect disability, and that I was approved within minutes it seemed of walking into the interviewer’s office. My new counselor said what so many others have said, “You are one of the lucky ones.” Most people don’t get on disability and they should be. (See note below on defining “crazy” and similar words)

I imagine that to her, on that day this week, that I seemed like I’m pretty well together. Life is giving me a crap load of stuff to deal with at the present time, but I seem to be dealing with it. How, she asked, could she help me?

Teach me to know when I’m having normal feelings. Please… please help me to know when I leave the area of normal grief and loss when my child goes to basic training and when I’m crashing. I have to know. I have to be able to get help. I need to know when to stop. I want to know if it will ever stop.

My eldest daughter is coming home for a few weeks from where she’s stationed at MacDill AFB in Tampa, FL. She’s recently received her certification and is a real, honest to goodness… wait for it… air traffic controller. I’m certified disabled, a single mom, food stamps and am supported financially (Only to pay my bills, not to do anything like buy my cats a toy, but I am very thankful for what they do do. do do? due duo… lol) by my parents who are in their 70’s. My kids are Sydney 17, Kyle 19 and Jessica 22 and they are all amazing. And I’m amazing too. AND, so are you.

When they were young and I was already bonkers. I didn’t know it then, but I was. Sometimes religious experience can mask what is really mental illness.

I admit to being very intelligent. Not always smart or having the commonsense of a turnip, but I’m intelligent. I realized when I divorced my kids’ father that being Bipolar and being labeled “crazy” could possibly allow my ex-husband to have custodial rights over my kids. There was no way in whatever hell that that was ever going to happen. I wouldn’t allow it. Not on my watch and my watch is every moment of every day.

Let me cut to the chase. Because I’m “intelligent” (ehem… little pride check) I realized that there was a possibility that he could “take” the kids from me, that they would live with him and visit with me. I knew absolutely that if that came to pass I would crack and I might not come back from that broken place. I …. I raised them. All by myself. Without a job. Without money to speak of. Without so many of the normal “stuff” kids get and have today.

I was the only parent I know (still know) who couldn’t take my kids to fun and often expensive places (I’m talking about the local zoo here, not Disneyland). We live near Mt. Rainier. I had a reliable Ford Explorer (till it was repossessed…. you Bipolars out there might identify with that) and we used to pop up to the mountain and have a snowball fight, have a meal of summer sausage, cheese and crackers; then head home again. We counted deer too. Got something like 17 or so in one trip. We did these trips in under 3.5 hours. Then they’d do homework, eat and pass out.

It was pointed out to me was that I was building memories with my kids and that is the most important kind of “gift” I can give them. I’d never thought of it like that.

I coached sports teams and did all the “normal” things a “normal” super mom would do. And you know… no one in my family ever told me that hauling the sports equipment to the baseball field was NOT supposed to leave me collapsing in a chair trying not to cry before I was full of joy and energy and the person those kids needed me to be. I tried to be that person very hard. Now I  realize that my perception of doing a great job might not be the same as the two women over yonder not cheering for their kids but doing a lot of talking. Normal. Who the hell knows or cares anymore?

No I don’t.

Then I went far far beyond that. My days and nights have been full of the pursuit raising my children, of making them into the adults they are now. Yes, yes… all the other factors. Sure. But I have always been there. I am still here. I will always be… BE.. for them and be here for them. They know I would fight the legendary devil, Satan himself, to protect my babies. Heaven help you if you get in my way.

My pursuit of seemingly being normal today is a direct product of the hysteria that accompanied the thought of loosing my babies.

You all, my friends, you probably know what may lay beyond the surface of my “normalcy”. If you do… it should terrify you and, or because, you know it too.

Back to the counselor – “How can I help you?” she asked me gently. “Help me to know when I’m feeling normal feelings. Help me stop when I cross into the uncontrolled feelings that can destroy me.”

I look normal.

How about you?

Bipolar – Mother and Daughter, I Am Both

/ Robin

My father has stage four terminal cancer.

He is also an ass.

We’ve been getting along. Mostly because we don’t talk… especially me.

We went to dinner tonight my brother and his partner, the kids and myself, and mom and dad. Dinner was good. Conversation light.

I explained to my mother a few days ago that I wanted to know that my father somehow was proud of me in some way, that he approved of me. She said my kids are terrific, they’re great.

Not what I meant. Me. Myself. I.

I shared at dinner something I thought he might be proud of me about. I found a dog trainer that might help me turn Bailey into more than a pet. That’s always been the plan. I’ve saved up for a trainer to help Bailey and I learn. He thought it was a stupid idea and I can teach her to sit by myself. Then my brother’s partner piped up and offered to give me a book and learn from that. No one wanted to know I was being serious or what I was talking about.

I mentioned she was to be trained more than a pet because she’s a service dog (in training). He laid into me about that too. I was going to do it illegally and I didn’t know what I was doing. I was going to get into trouble.

I tried to explain, calmly I thought, that I know about licensing service dogs in this state and there is no regulation or anything in this state. You can register your service dog, but it isn’t a law. It’s really just cool right?

I might be a little old to want my father’s approval before he leaves us for good… but I don’t think so. It’s always been this way with he and I. He always expects and thinks that I make bad decisions. I don’t know why I open my big mouth and give him the opportunity to emotionally smack me around again.

I was giving up on trying to explain things to him when he piped up and said, “We just have to stop talking now or we’re going to fight.”

Ass hole.

Sorry my friends, but that’s what I think and how I feel. I reach out from time to time. He smacks me back. It’s about time I stopped giving him the opportunity. He’s not even impressed that I have a patent pending. Wow right?

On that note let me sign off by saying I am the inventor of the:

Ice Glove, the only glove that ices your whole hand.  (Patent Pending)

Robin Paterson…. That would be me. ;0)