The Real Deal.

I JUST CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE!!! I am sure this thought has dominated the thinking of those who experienced mental illness. It sure comes up in my mind more often than I would like. The recent suicides of Anthony Bourdain and Kate Spade make me wonder if they had this thought too. 

I have never had suicidal tendencies. Sure, I came to the place where I had had enough and was sick of the struggle. I have been in that place for at least 6 months and understand how those who come to the end of their journey feel. Yet I do not have suicidal ideations or have ever had a plan. I have never made calls to say goodbye or given warnings that I was at the end of mine. I am one of the lucky ones who experience mental illness and still hang on.

Bipolar disorder takes it's toll. I am 53 years old and feel much older. I get tired of living with a mental illness and childishly wish it would all just go away. Yet I hang in there. I guess I am curious to see how it all turns out. I have a tremendous support system, loving family, and a great best friend. I have two sons who love me. I have come to the point of quitting and have not because of these things. I have relied on the fact that life can turn on a dime and the very next moment may bring relief from the pain. I am sure those who take their lives have many of the same thoughts that I do. They just can't take the pain any longer, and I understand.

Mental illness is cruel. It takes without asking and is hallmarked by hopelessness, helplessness and worthlessness. It is a life killer and does not discriminate. It doesn't care what race, religion, gender, sexual orientation or anything else you are, it will still strike. Those who suffer from a mental illness are much more likely to commit suicide and it is no wonder. You feel betrayed by your own mind and at the mercy of disease that robs you of your very self.

So what can one do to hold onto hope? I find that it is a day to day fight to maintain my sanity. Hope is something I cling to in order to keep battling. There is for me the hope of a better day, a lighter load and a future filled with "good things". It is just a matter of waiting for the next moment that may be brighter. I think that despair is the enemy of hope so I am learning to catch my depression before things get out of hand. No easy solutions, no cliche' sayings no pat answers . Hoping is hard work, it is complex and requires an effort that is sometimes herculean. But I can tell yo

u this one thing, it is worth it. Life is worth it.

If you are reading this and struggling to hang on to anything that will give you one more day, I would encourage you to reach out and talk to some one about how you are feeling. We are not meant to go it alone and speaking to another about your pain can lessen your burden. The National Suicide number is 1-800-273-8255. If you are a person who needs to call this number I would say to you, "Hang on, ride it out and wait for the next moment, You are valuable and regardless of a mental illness you are needed here and not yet there. Be brave, Donna. 

 

Mental illness and me...

I haven't posted a blog in a long time. I have no excuse really. For a while there I felt I had nothing to say that would uplift or educate a reader. I was not suffering from depression, which is a definite creativity killer, but I was suffering from a feeling of disgust. You see, I hate bipolar disorder. I have in many ways not come to terms with the illness. I grieve the fact that I have to accept that I have a chronic mental illness. At times I just don't want to deal with it, so writing about my struggles is a struggle in itself.

I realize that my posts may help others, and because of that , will have some merit. I also have to acknowledge that writing these posts help me. It's a way to cope with the mental illness that so often leaves me numb and unable to communicate. Bipolar disorder has it's way of shutting me up. Talking about it brings up the utter disgust I have that I suffer from an illness so few people understand. Mental illness is surrounded by so many misconceptions and is stigmatized even in a open society such as ours. Perhaps if I open up about my journey it will shed some light on how it feels to be mentally ill and what others can do to help.

I do have a reason to write this blog. My son graduated from high school this month and it brought up so many emotions. I was bursting with pride as he accepted his diploma yet also sad that I have missed so much in his life due to my illness. Again I couldn't contain the feelings of grief. I grieve because I feel cheated of the everyday interaction with my children that was stolen from me because of bipolar disorder.

My ex husband and I divorced after trying to cope with mental illness for 11 years. He just couldn't hang in there. In many ways neither could I and the decision was made to divorce. He got custody of my two sons and I got visitation and not much more. It was a soul killer. It sucked the life right out of me, and over the years the loss of my boys devastated me. Granted, I kept involved in their lives and wore out my phone bugging them about what was going on in their lives, but it wasn't the same as being there.

Danny my youngest survived the trauma of the divorce and the loss of my presence. He had every excuse to turn into an angry kid but somehow reconciled his experience with a mentally ill mom and thrived. Now that graduation has past, he is looking forward to attending Oregon in the fall. He is amazing and is the source of so much joy. He stops my mind in it's tracks and forces me to look on the events of my life in a more positive light.

Jake, my oldest, has had his own struggles. Addiction is a disease that has affected him, but he is overcoming it by attending many groups and following the path of sobriety. He took the divorce much harder but is coming to understand that mental illness affects families as well as individuals. He is running a sober living house now and sharing his hope and help to those struggling with addiction. I am so proud of him and his efforts to overcome!

I guess I should count myself blessed and stop feeling sorry for myself based on what a treasure I have in my sons. My mental illness does not define me the way being a mom does. I am learning that bipolar disorder does not have to dominate my life and grief can be healed with time and the love of others. It is a hard lesson to learn especially when depression hits and takes your mind hostage.

I do believe that there is hope for recovery from mental illness and I am well on my way to achieving my goal of living despite bipolar disorder. I hope that those reading this blog will fight the good fight and deal with their own issues. I keep reminding myself not to give up hope, that tomorrow may be a better day and the day after that even better. The struggle is real, but with the help of professionals and loved ones I am able to see my way through the darkness.

If you or a loved one is struggling with mental illness, please reach out for help. If it get's to be too much call the National Suicide Prevention Hotline at 1-800-273-5255. THey are there for you to answer questions relating to mental health and to  listen even if you are at the a critical point.

I am hopeful that reading this blog helps those who are dealing with their mental health, I am glad I wrote it because it has given me the opportunity to share my struggles and also hope in the good things in life. Mo
st of all I am grateful for a venue in which to express my gratitude to those loved ones who are helping me keep my chin up! I hope to write again, and with that, wish you hope and healing.

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!