Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: Out of the Blue

It's funny how the mind works, especially if one is bipolar. It can turn on you in an instant, no warnings, no symptoms. One moment, you feel good. The next moment you can barely move, cursing the universe for your very existence. Suddenly, you hear the voices in your head, telling you how worthless, stupid, ugly and grotesque you are. They are voices from long ago, reminding you they will never go away.

 The trick is you must learn to turn them off. You must replace those old tapes with positive thoughts. You must constantly remind yourself that you are stronger, beautiful, smart and tough. Remind yourself that you have been here before and you made it through the flames. You held onto to God's hand, closed your eyes and walked passed the hordes of demons sent to destroy you. 

In the end, you open your eyes and find yourself in a field of wildflowers, a gentle breeze caressing your skin. You are yourself, the person that lives in your soul. For the moment, you are free. Feel it, live it, love it, because the darkness will come again. 

But, you know how to cope now, and maybe it won't last as long. You know how to love yourself now, and you like the way it feels. The next time the dark thoughts come, you will be strong and rebuke them. Maybe one day they will stop coming altogether. Then all will be well and so will you.

In the meantime, you must be vigilant, always on the lookout for that unexplained churning in your gut.  Is the headache from a physical cause or a mental one.  If one day you feel great, you must pay attention to the feelings in your body.  Are you restless?  Do you feel the need to clean everything in the house at 11 PM?  Have you unconsciously spent your rent money on a new pair of shoes?  

If that's the case, then your brain has sent you on the wacky, wild world of mania.  Sometimes, mania can be dangerous, as it causes one to be uninhibited and do things without thinking.  For some, mania is just a feeling of unmitigated joy.  

The worst thing about being bipolar is you never know how you are going to feel.  You can learn some of your triggers, but most of the time feelings come out of the blue.  You then have to decide how you are going to cope.  Will you stay in bed, or will you go for a walk.  Your path to wellness is completely up to you.  It may take years to find that peaceful place, but just keep pushing through.  One day you will find that field of wildflowers and then you can just breathe.   Peace, Joy, Love - B

Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: The Quest for Stability

On August 27th, I will be post-hospitalization for 1 month.  It feels like it was just yesterday that I walked out of those doors with a new attitude.  I have settled back into home life rather easily, and no longer feel like a guest in my own room.  I still am actively trying to do my ADLs (activities of daily living).  I am doing pretty well with that, although there have been a couple days when I spent most of the day in my pajamas.  But, what about now?  How am I doing as of today?

I am still making daily goals, and meeting them.  For example, today's goal was to see my doctor and take my mom out to run her errands.  I know that doesn't seem like much, but if you know anything about me, you know that only a few months ago, I was terrified to leave my house for any reason.  I was convinced that there was a man out there trying to kill me.  I didn't want anyone to see me, even my own family.  I tried my best to disappear.

Since getting out of the hospital, I go outside freely.  Granted, I am still cautious, but I am out of the house.  This past Tuesday, I started going to a place called Gateway House.  It is a facility that has day programs for the functional mentally ill.  You have to be referred by your doctor or therapist.  My therapist and doctor both thought it would be good for me to have something to do during the day. Gateway doesn't offer group therapy, but they do have certified staff on hand in case you need to talk.

There are jobs to do to keep the place running, and those jobs are done by staff and members.  We are called members, not patients.  It is not a medical facility, but just a place to go so you're not alone.  They keep attendance, so if you are not there one day, they call to make sure you are okay.

Gateway, my therapist, my doctor and my medication is all a combination to keep me stable.  My doctor told me today he can't consider me stable until I go a year without a medication change.  I am only 7 weeks into the changes made at the hospital.  That means that my medication isn't fully in my system yet.  Most meds take anywhere from 8 to 12 weeks to be fully effective.  The only complaint about my meds that I have is that they make me sleepy, and it is difficult to get up in the morning.  But, I can put up with that and adjust my schedule accordingly if it means I get to feel good.

It's been kind of weird to feel this good.  I am so used to being miserable, that I forgot what happiness felt like.  But, I promised myself that I would do all I could to chase the demons and monsters away.  They've popped in, don't get me wrong, but I learned how to get rid of them.  

I journal a lot on paper.  It helps me analyze my feelings, and my responses.  It's become a very important part of my day.  Blogging is important too, but there are some things I need to keep a little closer to the vest for now. So, I have been feeling good for almost a month.  That's another goal met.  Now, it's onto the next month and the adventures it holds.  Let's hope for the best. 

Peace, Joy, Love - B

Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: Birthday Girl

On August 17th 1965, on a sunny Tuesday afternoon, a little girl was born.  I was delivered by scheduled C-section in a classy part of Philadelphia.  This itself was unusual. You see my parents were poor, but my father had a decent job with low pay but good benefits.  So, my mother saw a private doctor throughout her pregnancy.  My parents named me Beverly Ann.  I was a tiny baby, only weighing 5 lbs. 7 oz. at birth.  I myself think I could have cooked a couple of more weeks.
There are no formal pictures of me.  I was the baby of the family, so the formal pictures had to go by the wayside for the sake of food and utilities.  There are some snapshots of me, which I treasure because they show a happy little girl.
We celebrated birthdays at my nana and poppop's house.  They bought the gifts, and my nana made the cake.  I loved them so much.  Anytime my dad went there to work on the car or help poppop with something, I was right there.  I used to play with the string mops sometimes while my dad was in the garage.  I pretended it had hair. I braided it and put it in pigtails.  Nana didn't mind, as long as I put everything back when I was done.
Birthdays at grandmom's house were good too.  We moved out of Philly when I was 5.  My mom would make me a chocolate chip coffee cake.  It's still one of my favorites.  She doesn't cook as much as she used to, and that makes me sad.  My best birthday gift was a 1969 Mustang that my father got for me.  My brother took it without permission, as per usual, and wrecked it.  My brother used to give me gifts, but I could never be sure if it was stolen.  He was a horrible teenager.  He got his life together after serving time, I am so proud of him and love him to pieces.
This year, I will be 53.  I feel good about it now.  4 weeks ago it was a different story.  I made the 4th attempt at taking my life.  I had to go to the ER.  I got medical clearance and off to the mental hospital.  After a 19 day stay, and journaling 2 to 4 times a day, I finally got a very clear vision of myself.  I loathed myself to the point where this disease was killing me.  I slowly found out that some things about myself weren't too bad.  I began by speaking to people.  I shared my story, the good times and the darkest of days.  I shared about my hallucinations;  The Shadow People and the Dark Man.  I told the stories of my night terrors, and how people were trying to kill me.  All of it.  They all told me not to worry, and that my doctor would figure out which meds would work for me.  It was very soothing to hear those words. 
Normal people don't understand how a person can be tortured by her own mind.  I am still quite vigilant about my moods.  I journal to understand what my moods mean, and what is the root cause.  Why can't I just be happy and celebrate my birthday?  Well, when you have bipolar, you don't choose the mood.  It chooses you.  I could be perfectly content and then something triggers me and I wind up lost in a sandstorm of feelings not able to find my way out.  I can't calm down, I can't concentrate, words don't make sense.  At least, I journal about it now.  Before, I would take to my bed, pop a couple of pills and sleep.  That behavior is now verboten.  Now, I find something to do to clear my brain of negative thoughts and behavior patterns.  For example, I have discovered the adrenaline rush that exercise brings.  I walk for 30+ minutes a day, and some weight training.  This is a recent event, so I am still in baby steps, but it's working.
So, what will I do for my birthday this year?  I will meet this months goal of getting some work on my car.  It's part of my promise to myself to take better care of myself and my possessions.  I will have a nice meal with my family, and have some cake.  I will go to Mass and thank God for saving my ass once again.  Then, I will sleep a night feeling safe and loved.  I realize that my existence is worthy and will tell myself that I am beautiful, kind, loving, and I will keep saying it to the hateful mirror until I believe it.  Peace, Joy, Love - B

Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: Are You Mad At Me?

I was supposed to see my friend Don today. But, I had to take my mom out to the hairdresser and then grocery shopping.  So, I called him and told him I couldn't make it.  I think I hurt his feelings.  Anyway, my mom changed her mind about going to the store, so I called him to see if he still wanted to get together.  He said no, and he had made other arrangements.  I asked him about tomorrow and he said he would let me know.  I am now racked with guilt, and my gut is roiling with anxiety. 

Feeling this way is an old pattern, and I'm not exactly sure what to do.  I HATE when people are made or upset with me.  It makes me feel so bad about myself, like I am a big fat disappointment.  In my mind, I am still a little kid who desperate tries to get everyone to like me.  I know it's not rational, but that is a pattern of thinking that I am working to change.

I am writing about it, so that takes care of journaling.  I want to eat something.  I guess I will take a walk to burn off my anxiety and get my exercise in for the day.  That's the healthy coping skill I learned in the hospital.  I don't know why I am fighting it so hard.  I need to walk.  I went on a diet the other day.  I'm trying to get down to 160lbs. by this time next year.  I'm currently a round 246 lbs. Gross isn't it?  My body mass index is 44.6.  Half of me is fat.  I am trying to improve my self esteem, and it is a work in progress.  I am hoping it will get better as I work toward my goals. 

I met my goals for the week;  sorting and filing my papers.  Maybe after my walk I will go to Walmart and buy a scale.  Not much of a reward I know, but I do need one.  After that, I think I will take a nap.  It's been a week since I got out of the hospital.  I am feeling better.  I am fighting to practice my coping skills, and not let the negative thoughts creep into my head.  I better go before it starts raining again.  Peace, Joy, Love - B