Mental illness and me.

Long time no write! Sadly one of the symptoms of depression is isolation. When I am depressed I don't want to interact, even in writing. I am realizing though, that that is a shame, because people want to see the dark side as well as the light. So here goes, a blog about my latest bout with mental illness.

Mental illness sneaks up on me. I start feeling a "little off' and then progressively get worse and worse. I lose my motivation, and functioning on the basic levels becomes a chore. I don't sleep the day away but instead spend my nights in an agitated state, Sleep becomes fit full, and my mind dwells on my worries. The thing is , I should know better by now the symptoms and warning signs of it "coming on"!

I have come to the conclusion that depression is sneaky and powerful. If I wasn't on medication I assume it would be worse. So I thank God for the pills. Along with medication, I need to do everything right in my battle with depression. I need to see a psychiatrist, a psychologist, attend a support group, eat right, make lifestyle changes, the list goes on and on. What I resent most is that during a depressive episode my ability to follow through on these things is limited at best. I just want it all to go away with little effort on my part. I know it's a child's response but there it is nonetheless.

So I am starting all over again in my dealings with bipolar disorder. I realize the changes I need to make and am willing to do the hard work to make it happen. Making the effort is the hard part. I have read that you should do the action and the feelings will follow. So, I am going to try that method.

It would help if I had a good therapist. My most recent spent most of our sessions talking about himself and I left most meetings frustrated. So I am seeking a experienced therapist who will help me face the tough stuff.

The most difficult aspects of depression are the feelings of helplessness and hopelessness. My thoughts turn dark and full of worry and there is seemingly no light at the end of the tunnel. I seriously don't know why I continue to fight the effects of my mental illness. Maybe I am stubborn but mostly I am unwilling to think or act on the alternative of quitting.

Maybe this blog will reach someone who is struggling with the dark side of mental illness. I would advise them to be honest with anyone in their lives will listen about the severity of your state of mind. Then, seek help. NOW! Don't let things progress and be proactive even if you are not motivated to do so.

I am not ashamed to be mentally ill. What does cause me shame is when I fail to address the issues that confront me. I cannot let this illness determine course of my life. It is my hope that I can share my struggles and pe
rhaps touch the lives of others. Above all I hope...

Never, never, never quit!

Depression wins many of the battles in my life. It dominates my thinking and sends me to a dark place where all hope is gone and a feeling of helplessness presides. I have lost myself to the symptoms of depression so many times that i have become battle weary. It is hard to keep your head up and your heart engaged when you are at a loss on how to cope.

I have felt this way many times in my struggle with bipolar depression. It does not matter what the circumstances of my life are, (good things can be happening) it is a force that dominates and needs to be dealt with in the most aggressive of ways.

Some say that acceptance is the key to dealing with mental illness. I do accept the fact that I am mentally ill but I don't accept the notion that I have to be a victim of it's power. I feel compelled to assess my life and see if their is any area that I am not addressing in my struggle with the disease. I need to fight on regardless of my feelings.

Recently I started getting an injection of Abilify. I needed to continue taking it in pill form for three weeks. It has been my hardest med change yet. I felt sick to my stomach, tired and as a result overwhelmed by the illness. It again brought me to my knees. So why do I continue to get up and live on?

I make no apology that I feed off the love, energy and vitality of others. The expectations of the possibility of wellness is motivation to keep on keeping on! My loved ones hold onto hope for me when I am at my wits end. They point out the good and make me take a second look a my attitudes towards life. Depression may take me to a dark and scary place, my supporters take me back to the light and calm my worst fears.

I am curious as to how my life will turn out. It is another reason why I hold on. I cannot tolerate a fatalistic perspective. I have to believe that I can win some of the battles I have with bipolar disorder. I hang on for one more day of clarity where I can appreciate and be grateful for the life I have been given. I don't quit because it is simply not an option for me. I want to be present when the depression lifts and life goes on.

I don't condemn those who have lost their struggle with mental illness. I do wish they had survived one more day. One more day to arrive at a place of peace and hope. It has taken everything in me to not quit, throw up my hands and say"I give"! I survive because of the grace, help, and love of others. I hope that if you are reading this and struggling you will realize that you are not alone. Hold onto hope knowing that you can recover and something or someone will meet you on the other side. Never, never, never quit. A new perspective may be just a day away.

You are not alone!

6 years ago I had a major break. I had a bipolar episode that landed me in a mental hospital for 9 months. I lost time, I lost my mind. Ever since it has been a battle to regain my sense of self worth, my confidence, my trust in myself. It is horrifying to lose all that but most upsetting to lose the belief that you can hold together through the ups and downs of life. I had come to the conclusion that I could not rely on my mind to get me through the vicissitudes of living a bipolar life. I crumbled. I succumbed to the weight of my bipolar symptoms and gave into the belief that my life was not worth living in the state I was in. I was devastated, emotionally , physically and spiritually. I had one thing going for me, I had people in my life that saw me through my darkest hours and waited for me in the light. They were beacons of hope. They patiently guided me  through the darkness and waited for me while I stumbled my way back to reality.

 I realized that though I felt shattered there was a life worth fighting for if I could only face my mental illness and accept my vulnerability to it's devastating blows. I didn't come to these conclusions entirely on my own. The people in my life had to point them out to me. Therapist challenged me to see myself in a more compassionate light. The love and care of those closest to me helped me come out of severe depression. Their counsel helped me navigate the churning waters of a recovery process.

I make no apologies that I relied so much on the hope and strength of loved ones in order to recover from my episode. I don't consider myself weak or needy, just a person in the throes of something too big to handle on my own. Bipolar disorder is a beast, and it cannot be slayed by the power of one. It takes a concerted effort of many to manage it. I rely on a psychiatrist, a psychologist , family, friends and a community of peers who also live with a diagnosis, to survive.

I am no longer fragile but I am still in recovery. It is evident to me that there is still a lot of work to be done to attain a life that is meaningful and stable. Recovery for me has been a steady climb into wellness. Slow but sure. There are still deficits though. I still find it difficult to concentrate. My mind gets stuck in a whirl of emotions when I am participating in the simplest of interactions. I feel vulnerable in relationships due to the shame I sometimes feel because I am diagnosed with an illness that is so stigmatized.

It is through this blog and on my facebook page, Donnas' Bipolar Buzz, that I wish to reach people who are struggling with the same feelings surrounding their mental illness. I feel less alone knowing that there are others out there who are fighting the same battles. I want to encourage those suffering that they are not alone in their pain. In forming a life that matters,

I want to reach out to those lost in the storm of bipolar disorder. I believe that there is hope for recovery and it is my sincere desire to let them know they are not alone in fighting the good fight!

Feeling not so groovy...

Mania is a tricky deal. It sneaks up on you when you are in a bipolar cycle. At first the feeling of well being is terrific. Gone are the grey clouds of depression and the struggle to get through the day. Everything is bright again, color returns, and life seems to be full of promise. Instead of each day starting out with a sigh and ending with a whisper of regret, manic days begin with enthusiasm and end with a bang. Some days don't end at all. Sleep is the first thing to go when you are manic. You can survive on very little when in it's throes and when full blown mania hits you don't sleep at all.

It is no wonder that those living with bipolar disorder love the state of being hypo-manic. (Hypo-manic is just a term to describe a slight mania). It is like the light switch is turned on and your brain functions again at a fast clip. Depression is slow, like swimming in mud. Hypo-mania is fast, everything moves at warp speed. Depression clouds your judgment telling you you are hopeless, helpless and better off dead. In mania, everything seems crystal clear, purpose returns and you feel able to conquer any task, overcome any obstacle. It is a high like no other.

I am on anti-psychotics. My mania turns into psychosis very fast. I can be hypo-manic one week, manic the next and by the third week in the throes of a psychotic episode. I have to be very careful when I start coming out of a long depression because I boomerang out of them so quickly and into psychosis. My speech becomes rapid, my vocabulary becomes expansive, I have an interest in EVERYTHING, and my outlook is beyond positive. I would even say my outlook is unhinged. My thoughts and actions are not based in reality and become more and more grandiose. I believe I can understand anything, find meaning in the smallest of things and achieve anything I set my mind to. Reality just gets in the way when I am manic. I can't slow down, I can't make it stop. It is a dangerous state to be in because it will end up in a full blown episode, ending in a hospitalization. Scary stuff.

The color returns....

Because psychosis is  misunderstood in our society, I am always reluctant to share my experience with it. It is reality though that I have experienced several psychotic breaks, the last of which lasted 9 months. When I became psychotic I was beyond manic. I literally checked out, left the planet, went into my own little world. I had delusions of grandeur, I was this, I was that, nothing based in reality. I was here but not HERE. I was unrecognizable to my family and had no contact with my children. I spent 6 of the nine months in long term mental hospital because no one thought I was going to come out of it! I remember pacing a lot, talking to myself and rarely associating with others. There were long periods of silence. I was stuck in my own head and it was a nightmare. When I did reach out it was in a panic, basically begging to get out of the hospital even though I could not function in the real world. Reality came back in slowly. I began to recognize my family, I remembered who and what I was before the episode, I crashed. It was the most destructive thing I have ever experienced. That 9 months is lost time and I grieve it just as if I had lost nine months to a physical disease.

I know the drugs I take are super powerful. I am so glad. They serve as a talisman against my mania. I only get so far into the feeling and then "boom" I hit a wall. Last night for example I couldn't sleep but eventually I felt my meds kick in and I was out. Before taking ant-psychotics my bipolar disorder would have kicked in after a couple of nights like last and propelled me right into a hospital bed. I am making a smoother transition from depression to stability now. I feel great but not too GREAT! I look forward to feeling even keel without the sadness of depression and the elation of mania. Stability and balance in all things is the goal.

During this month of may many are observing National Mental Health Awareness month.It is my sincere wish that while sharing my experience with bipolar disorder, I will add to the conversation surrounding mental illness. We must address the stigma that surrounds mental health and must talk about it until it is accepted as much as any of the physical illnesses we face. Telling my story breaks the silence in my circle. What happened to me, although horrific, is a shared story of many others. In reality those suffering from mental illness are our sons, our daughters our mothers , wives , husbands, friends and co-workers. One in four people are diagnosed with a mental illness in their lifetime. With such a great number it is time to shed our bias and shame and talk about diseases of the brain. I hope I can do my small part by writing about what I have experienced. My is going to be a great month. I just know it...

A Bipolar Motherhood

My greatest loss in my struggle with mental illness is the loss of physical custody of my two sons. Fourteen years ago my ex husband and I divorced following a tempestuous relationship and a marriage rocked by bipolar disorder. He was awarded physical custody and we share legal custody.

At the time of our divorce I had just returned home from a hospitalization and he simply told me he couldn't be married anymore. Looking back I don't blame him. Our 11 years together were hallmarked with my manic and depressive episodes. I had manic episodes after both sons and they required multiple hospitalizations. In between were periods of long, agonizing depressions that sapped the vitality out of our marriage. And so it ended.

My youngest son Daniel was 2 years old and my son Jake , 8 when the divorce was finalized. It was a crushing blow. I knew that given my situation I was not able to care for them, but the reality of that almost did me in. My moods did not cycle at the time, they remained in a deep depression. And no wonder! My motherhood had been questioned and a judge had deemed me unable to care for my boys.

For years after our separation the boys and I maintained our relationship on the phone and on visitations. It was a real challenge to stay connected. We are very close and it is a result of tenacity on my part and the willingness of my ex to facilitate my relationship with them. I give him a lot of credit for stepping up and raising our sons. I recognized along time ago that he was impacted by mental illness in ways that were devastating to him too.

So often we hear about the challenges that a mentally ill person experiences, but sometimes we neglect to realize the impact it has on the people that love them. My ex husband was a casualty of my mental illness. He just couldn't hang in there. However, there have been people in my life that have stood the test and have supported me in my bipolar struggle. My family surrounds me with love and encouragement. My oldest son Jake is always prompting me to aim higher and live beyond my mental illness. Daniel my youngest, makes me want to live in large part because he is just so darned adorable. I have friends who love me despite the illness and urge me to press on toward the goal of wellness. They say it takes a village, and it has.

Although I don't have physical custody of my children and I have lost many friends, the relationships I have now with the kids and with those who have remained in my life are strong. My children are, in my opinion, stronger human beings because of having a mother who lives with bipolar disorder. They have seen me struggle over the years and have gained a sense of compassion that is unique to their experience. They are educated about mental illness and will be a part of a new generation that is less apt to stigmatize it.

My children and I are becoming even closer . They are 16 and 23. Jake has a great new job and is growing as a young man. Danny is a junior in high school and is playing well on the school's golf team. Th
ey are both headed in the right direction and need their mother to be present. I feel like I am accomplishing that more and more. Perhaps the dark days are behind us.

Mental illness has impacted my life to the point where I am no longer the same person I was fourteen years ago. I hope I have grown because of it and not become stunted in my journey. I know for sure that the relationships that have endured are so much richer for the experience. It's a funny thing , but mental illness has given the gift of gratitude. I am so thankful for the love and support I have received and can testify to the healing power of family and friends!

 

My Bipolar Journey...

In 2011 I was released from a long term psychiatric hospital. I was given a hundred and fifty dollars and placed in a board and care in Long Beach, California. I had been in three different hospitals for a total of 9 months and was conserved for 6 of those months. Conserved means that I was considered gravely disabled by my mental illness and unable to care for myself. I appeared before a judge in L.A. county to determine if I could be released. She asked me if I understood that i had a mental illness and my answer was that of course I did.

What I didn't understand at the time is that a majority of  those suffering from a mental illness lack insight into their condition. Many just don't want to see themselves as sick. I knew i was ill. In fact I don't remember most of that court hearing because I was so in the thick of my bipolar episode. I do remember the judge wishing me good luck and releasing me on the condition that the next step for me would be a board and care. While in one, I would be given my medication and monitored.

The first place I lived in was called Scandia. It was beyond awful. It was filthy and the tenants were severely mentally ill as well. Everyone seemed symptomatic and most of the time everyone just sat around smoking or attempting to bum a cigarette. It was the activity of the day. So for three months I lived there not getting better. There was no chance I could in that kind of atmosphere. Finally my case worker got me into another board and care in Carson.

This one was better. It was clean and quiet. I shared a house with 5 others, and started to pull out of my bipolar haze. From there I transferred to a half way house for women in Garden Grove and got connected with a group called Telecare. I worked with them for 6 months setting goals and achieving some semblance of wellness. I was taking my own medication and attending to my own ADL's (activities of daily living). Basically I was starting to take care of myself and attempting to be on my own. Telecare eventually placed me in an apartment in Irvine. It has taken three years to fully come out of the episode and regroup while living here.

I am working , but not at a job I am challenged by. It is a grind. Although my job is tough and menial, I have benefited from it in ways that I couldn't have imagined. The day to day responsibility of showing up and having a schedule forced me to be present. In the moment, I could focus on repetitive tasks that healed my broken mind. I can see now how  crucial work has been no matter how small the task.The truth is when I first started it was a challenge. Concentrating was difficult and interaction with customers daunting. I was used to isolating and getting back into life with other people took a lot of work.


One of the hardest things I am trying to change is my approach to living with a mental illness. Stigma isn't just something from the outside, it is also imposed from within. I self-stigmatize. A lot. I limit my interaction with life because I think my mental illness puts me at a disadvantage. I am tentative in my interaction with others and reluctant to move forward into the unknown. Depression is familiar to me, I am used to struggling with it. What I am new to is stability. I need to believe that my mental illness need not hold me back. It is going to be a challenge to correct my thinking!

Sharing all this is not easy. We all want to be seen in the best light, but the reality is I had a psychiatric meltdown and it devastated my life. If only one person can gain hope in their battle by hearing about mine it will have been worth it. That is why I share all the ugly truths about mental illness and especially bipolar disorder.

So what now? I am in a new working relationship with a psychiatrist who takes a holistic approach to treatment. My first appointment was very comprehensive and resulted in the termination of two of my anti-depressants. I am trying a new drug called Aplenza, and after the initial side effects subsided I am feeling better physically and mentally.  Hopefully I am heading in the right direction with these changes and can thrive instead of just surviving. I guess one of the keys to living with a chronic mental illness is to just hang in there until help comes along!

Easter hope.

Easter is a time of hope. It is the time of year when winter is over and the promises of spring begin to bloom. Not only is nature mounting a fresh start, I find myself beginning again in many of the areas affected by my mental illness. This is the time of year when I bring fresh ideas to the table and try to figure out better ways to deal with a chronic illness. The winter of my mind is over and with the beginning of spring I feel myself drawn to new ways of thinking.

I recently sought therapy because I felt stuck in my thinking. I deal with a chronic mental illness and the stress of navigating life with it is overwhelming. How I think about it all is often tainted by the symptoms of depression. I try to cope but very often find myself exhausted by the effort.

When I am tired my judgment is off. I find myself in the vicious cycle of depression. Because I am depressed I find myself isolating, avoiding activities that would require me to engage with others. Life becomes stale and I get further depressed. And so it goes, on and on. I need help at these times to gain a new perspective and make a new game plan.

I seek therapy when I am discontented. I know there needs to be a change in my thinking and as a result a change in my actions. The thing about therapy is that it initially makes me even more uncomfortable. I am challenged to see things in a different light from the perspective of a professional. The status quo will no longer do, and painful changes need to be made. It's a sometimes unpleasant process. It has been my experience however, that if you stick with it, hope starts to take hold and gives you the courage to face a new tomorrow. 

My new therapist is challenging my thinking and offering new ways to approach my battle with mental illness. Sometimes I need to "borrow" hope from another. Depression is a judgement killer and it is the worst of my symptoms. I look to gain new strategies from a trained eye to help me bring my thoughts into order. From the foundation of clear thinking, depression and it's symptoms can be addressed and my life begins to resemble something I can be proud of.

Hope in my experience is not some thing that is easily attained. You have to fight to continue on. Easter for me, is full of the message of hope. After the grey of winter, light suffuses the longer days and opportunites for new growth appear. Depression can give way to clarity, and from a clear perspective positive growth can happen. Mental illness or no, isn't growth what we all seek? Isn't the message of Easter that life, no matter how difficult can be transformed by hope?

So, I am undergoing a sort of "spring cleaning" of my mind. The old ways of coping just won't do anymore. I look forward to working with a therapist to clean out the clutter in my thinking and gain a new, fresh clear way of being. In this season of hope I am grateful that I am being challenged by friends family to reach a new level of wellness! 

 

Motherhood and mental illness...

I remember when I was first diagnosed with bipolar disorder. I had a manic episode when I was 21 and was hospitalized for 3 weeks. My parents and I sat down with the doctor and he delivered the news, I had a mental illness and was to be treated with lithium. At the time we had little knowledge about bipolar illness. I had no idea what he meant or any clue as to what living with a mental illness would look like. We had no reference point.

I am now 51 years old and have dealt with my illness for 30  years. In all honesty my struggles with depression started when I was 15. At 21 we finally put a name to it, and I have been in treatment ever since. The road has been long and sometimes rocky. I have tried innumerable medications, have seen many different doctors and have been hospitalized more times than I care to count. Bipolar disorder has impacted my life more than we even imagined

When I was 26 I got married and started a family. When I was pregnant I had a reprieve from the symptoms of my mental illness. After my son was born however, I had a major manic episode combined with post-partum psychosis. Without the help of my family, I would have never been able to be a mother during that period of time.

At 35 I had another son and repeated the same experience. This time I had an even more severe break and it took me 3 months to come down from the episode. I remember not being able to hold my son because I had the shakes so bad from medication. I struggled to take care of him and my other son while going through the challenges of a major depressive episode. Again without the help of my ex-husband and family, I wouldn't have made it through.

I am often questioned about my choice to have children. Not only was it excruciatingly difficult on my mental health but the possibility that my children would inherit mental illness was high. I honestly didn't weigh the consequences of pregnancy and a motherhood impacted by mental illness. At the time we were somewhat ignorant to the dangers of both. In hindsight I can see how traumatic the events were

but I wouldn't change the outcome. I have two beautiful boys and I don't regret a thing. 

My oldest son was recently diagnosed with major depression and anxiety disorder. So my greatest fear of my children inheriting the illness has been realized. I feel like I have been punched in the gut. Do you know the feeling of waking up and realizing that something has gone drastically wrong, but in your waking moments can't quite recall what it was. Then when you come to, you are faced with the enormity of the previous days events?! That's how I have felt since the news of my son's diagnosis on Tuesday.  I am not surprised by the news , he has struggled for a long time. Putting a name on it though, solidifies the reality that he is suffering.

I want to make it all better, I want it to stop and I want to make it go away. Like all mothers I can't stand to see my child in pain and I am reeling from the fact that he will have to battle mental illness like I have had to. I had hoped that I would be the only one in my family to deal with a disorder, but now my son has been touched by depression. He is in for the fight of his life and I hope I can help him in his journey to wellness.

I sincerely believe that I am better equipped to deal with this than most. I have been there and done that. Above all I realize that he needs more than my advice. He needs a touchstone, someone he can go to to be reassured that this is not a death sentence and that he can survive and even thrive. I am so glad that I have hung in there and can serve as an example for him. We will get through this and we will get to the other side together. I am determined to not let depression have the last word.  

On the tightrope!

Life is hard. I get that . Bipolar life is harder and I get that too. It seems like the everyday struggles that one encounters are magnified when one is struggling with a mental illness. It is like you are being asked to run a race that everyone else is running except with a load on your back.

Lately, my struggles are more pronounced due to events happening in my life. Quiet frankly I am trying to keep it together.

My greatest fear has been that one of my children would develop a psychiatric disorder. My oldest is being evaluated on Tuesday by a psychiatrist. He is suffering from depression and experiencing anxiety attacks. I am heart sick. Having been there, I know I am in the best position to help him, but I would give anything to be able to be the only one in my family who has to deal with mental illness.

At the same time my brother is being released from a psychiatric hospital today. In my opinion he has no business being released. Insurance though kicks most out before they are even ready. This episode was severe and fueled by drug abuse. He has a history of non-compliance to medication and doesn't think he is sick despite repeated bipolar episodes. It is maddening being his sister. I want to shake him to his senses but it does no good. I only hope this rock bottom place that he has come to will force him to face the realities of his illness and his addictions.

In the midst of all this I am trying to maintain. The everyday stress of living with my disorder is getting me down. I try to keep things in perspective and realize that "this too shall pass" but it is an effort. Today I am going to my psychiatrist to check in. While there I am going to see a counselor to unload on someone! I tend to keep feelings pent up and just barrel through tough situations. That won't do. Somehow I am going to have to figure out how to cope with others situations as well as my own "stuff".

I have lived with bipolar disorder for 36 years now. It's a grind. Bipolar doesn't care what your circumstances are, it doesn't give you a break. If anything it makes a tough situation even worse. Not only are you dealing with the immediate, you are dealing with it with a mental illness to boot.

I wish I could say I have learned enough to know how to handle every challenge that life throws my way. At times like these though I feel very vulnerable. My
first order of business will be to seek the professional help I have so carefully garnered. Seeing my doctor today is the first step, talking to people will help. I'll thank god I have medication to take to keep me stable. I will try to breathe. Mostly though I will pray for strength to face the day. I am praying for peace, god granted, and much needed.