Kids

Preparation for a Bipolar Episode

/ Robin / Leave a comment

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.

Bipolar Parent – Are they what they seem?

/ Robin / 1 Comment

Now bare with me I’m going to talk about two sets of parents and kids. Let’s begin briefly with my parents and then dive on into what’s happening with my Bipolar family as a direct result.

I was at my parent’s house waiting for my father to re-emerge from the bathroom. There was some discussion of sitting or standing but that’s neither here nor there. See, he falls asleep on the pot. . . .

Later we’re discussing who the woman in the pink coat is in the kitchen. “It’s mom, dad.” “Oh, okay,” he says, “it must be that pink hat.”

Sometimes so lucid. Sometimes not so much so.

I’m ok. I’m as confused by his confusion as I am by my own confusion.

I’m exhausted. I’m starting to sound stupid and I’m repeating myself all the time to my kids. It’s getting mentally and emotionally painful for me to be me because of the stress. I mean, the feeling stupid, the missing my counseling appt. because I overslept (I really need her now), the not knowing what I’ve said to which kid… I’m the Bipolar parent. And I’m so tired. I can sense that the next thing could be to make bad decisions… like when talking with my dad or other family things get confusing and I don’t remember important things. Simple and complex things.

In the past I’ve been on Ritalin when I can’t hold my attention like this. When I’m off trying to do something different in my head than catch my father from sneaking down the hallway without his walker. My brain is trying to process too much. Focus on dad or whatever it is I’m trying to do… stop trying to do both. Woe that I could.

I could pay for the Ritalin myself. I may. I’ll give it one more day and I’ll go get it. I need to be focused for my kid’s sake. I have to help them through this terrible and difficult time. I need to be a strong Bipolar daughter because my brother and mother probably won’t be. I’ll cry. I’ll grieve. I’m not saying that I won’t. But hard things have to be discussed and decided among the adults. Then I come home and explain it to my kids at different times of the day (because of high school verses UWT) what’s going on.

I take it in and am still keeping my head mostly above water because I’m taking my meds. Let me say it again. I’m taking my meds. I think that’s the first thing to go. We forget or we choose to be “bad” just “one” time. Right. Don’t forget. Figure a way out. My way works for me for now. It’s kind of complicated, but it works and I’m in control. No one (especially my kids) ask me if I’ve had my meds today. Though, I may volunteer that I haven’t just for the sake of confession my indiscretion. And I only tell one of my kids.

If I’ve left you confused you know how I am right now. Know what? It’s alright. I’m heading to bed and this can just be confusing as hell and I’ll probably forget by tomorrow.

Good night my Friends

Bipolar – Handling an Insane Schedule and Still Having Fun

/ Robin / Leave a comment

I tend to forget a very important fact when I’m busy and especially when I’m going to be driving… I have chronic pain in my back and I tend to forget to take my Oxycodone. Or, if I’m going to be driving, I don’t take it. Late this afternoon I remembered I was in pain (I also take Lyrica for FM and have OA so go figure with all the pain right?), I remembered and I took my pain killer. Quickly I was able to do house work and things I had stopped doing again, like moving around like I’m not a super old and very cranky woman.

I’m not high. Just experiencing less pain. It’s makes such a difference with the Lyrica and Oxy and the anti-inflammatory they have me on for my OA.

Back to the really important stuff: The Magical How to Be Too Busy and Still Have Fun.

Since my last post things have gotten more complicated and because I neglected to take some of my meds as prescribed I started being angry for no good reason and wanting to lash out. Took my meds…. I’m ok now. I can’t stress enough that we have to take our meds. You don’t think you need them? Especially during this next 30 days or so then you are nuts and a dope. Take your meds.

Starting last
Saturday  – Afternoon at my parents just to visit (my dad has stage four cancer and they “say” he has 6 – 12 months left) My brother and I are trying to spend time with them as much as possible.

Sunday (today) – Early family dinner at my parents with Tony and Mat too (my brother and his partner)

Monday – Take Kyle to the bus at 7:50 (the transit bus line stops exactly 8 minutes before our house)
– Take Syd to friend’s house so friend can get Syd to work on time (Kyle and I will be heading to Seattle)
– Pick up kyle at UWT at 11:00
– Arrive at UW medical center to get my new dentures (only Kyle and Syd know I’m getting them now)
– Drive through Seattle/Tacoma traffic through rush hour home. Usually takes 2 to 2.5 hours. Crazy drive. Seatac is almost that far.
– Pick up Sydney at end of bus route at 6:00 or find her a ride home

Tuesday – Sydney Braces for teeth…. orthodontist appt. at 7:50 a.m.
– 3:00 Sydney works till 5
– Kyle school then works till 5
– My brother’s birthday – at Bob’s Burgers (Where everyone will see my new teeth and that I cannot work them very well yet. So funny!)

Wednesday – Pick up “Carol”, my friend for lunch at Seatac during her layover. Actually, I’m picking up Jessica (my other daughter) from the airport and sneaking her home to surprise her sibs. 1:15 p.m.
– 3:00 Sydney works till 5

Thursday – Thanksgiving where I will again try to eat and talk with my new face. I anticipate talking funny for a bit and eating… carefully. lol
– Dinner at my brother and Mat’s at 4:30. It will be a banquet for kings and queens. They always throw amazing parties. The food is amazing. But then, they have lots of money.

Sat – Sun Syd is supposed to work on a project with a girl from school…. only she doesn’t know her sister will be leaving Monday. OMG!

I think those are the highlights. All the while I will be thinking of my dad and how he’s doing. And that the stress of all these secrets is making my brain burn like a torch lighting the way to a wondrous gift: family… and taking my meds as prescribed every day. Even the stupid ones that want to be taken 3 times a day. Uh. Don’t you hate those? Makes me bonkers.

My friend Carol and Jessica are the only ones that know what’s going on. No, Jessica doesn’t know I’m coming to the airport with my face in (dentures, it really changes your face).

Now more how to survive Thanksgiving tips that I use myself:
Play games – I don’t care if they’re card games with others or computer games by yourself. Play something!
Breath – from deep down in the belly when you feel the stress monster coming for you.
Ask for a hug – you don’t even need to say why. Just ask for one… or give one, maybe more than one!
Eat properly, and drink lots of water. No booze. NO BOOZE. Seriously. Don’t drink it.
Get enough sleep.
Smile. Smile for others if you can’t for yourself. Don’t bring your world down to your mood if you’re cranky.
Meditate, pray, be still… recharge yourself. Go to your happy place.
Oh, and do not over eat.

And then the next day will come and what you did the day before will still be with you so make wise choices.

Lastly, if you have a service dog avail them of their services. It’s what you have them for! Mine is sleeping soundly in her place at the foot and her side of my bed. Even with her cone on she knows when I need her. (She had her girl bits removed and wants to lick it too much) So that damn cone  is another stressor for us all. It makes it very difficult to train her with it on.

I’ve taken on a lot this week. I’ve decided I can make it work if I take my time and keep things separated. I believe I can do this. I even have a separate schedule in my desk in my room for Jessica coming. If I mess that up the game will be blown. Normally, I wouldn’t do this much, but Jess and I decided she should come home for a quick visit now and a longer one in December in case something happens with my dad; her grandpa.

She just became a Senior Airman in the USAF. I’m so proud of her! Her new stripes and all that are so cool. I can’t wait to see the picture of her in her blues besides her selfie. lol

And now the test. Can I follow my own plans to succeed? Have I set myself up for a huge fall? I don’t think so. I’m having to focus on others;  always a good thing. Focus. That’s important. I’ve got to stay focused and balanced and ask for help when I need it. Sometimes that’s hard to do.

Let me know how you fair this week my friend. I’ll tell you how I do when I’m through next Monday.

May you escape the nibble of a turkey on the end of your nose. May you eat said turkey instead. May you stuff your bird with stuffing . And may you spend time with loved ones, even if it’s only by phone or Hangout or… thinking of them. A little bit of love goes a long way. May you succeed in all your goals

Ciao,

Robin

Bipolar – You Seem “Normal”

/ Robin / Leave a comment

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 – Fractured

/ Robin / Leave a comment

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)