Let's Discuss Why I Haven't Been Writing...

Hello!

I very much doubt many of those who originally started reading this blog are still following it at all, since I haven't updated since February. Sorry about that. But, that explanation comes later.

First of all, a quick update. I went on a fantastic and wonderful roadtrip journey across the country, starting in Bellingham, WA, going down through California, across to New Orleans, LA, and finally ending up back home in Ohio. It was beautiful, humbling, and one of the best things I have ever done, despite my current financial issues that were not helped by this adventure. I am back in college, and Social Work has officially become my focus for my forseeable future. I am back with my oldest and dearest family and friends, and it is wonderful...it really is.

That being said, I am pretty spectacularly depressed.

It started when I was at the tail end of my journey, then went away for a bit, and then has continued to worsen over time. There are many reasons for this, I am quite sure, and many of them have become obvious to me through self-reflection and the never-ending observations of others (which are so crucial to me staying in reality). I think the worst part about being depressed is the complete lack of perspective that it brings. I AM HAPPY. No, really. I have the people I have loved for my whole life within reach, for the most part. I finally get to see my sister on a daily basis, a part of my life that I have missed so deeply. I feel at peace with my career decision. I'm being more open and honest about my Bipolar Disorder than ever, and I've even been taking the proactive steps to track my symptoms to better assist in my continued existence. (Moodtracker.com is awesome, but that's for another post)

And yet.

And yet I have been sleeping too much (14 hours) or too little (3 hours) at night, only to want to nap throughout the day, regardless. I am currently on the "too little" end of the spectrum, having woken up from a nightmare about an hour ago. I found myself thinking, (a dangerous past-time; I know -Beauty and the Beast ) and then I found myself remembering this site.

Its not that I forgot about it exactly. Its that I've been doing well, so it wasn't on the forefront of my mind. When I started it, I was entering into hypomania, which meant that I wanted to talk, and grow, and expand into the universe to be a part of everything...yadda yadda. I had a lot in my brain, and there was this PRESSURE to get it out. Then, responsibly, I recognized it and got help. Gradually, the NEED to write drifted into a desire to write, then into a mild interest, then into pretty much forgetting why I started this thing in the first place.

I started this blog first and foremost to purge myself of the demons that Bipolar has presented me with, as quite generous gifts. I wanted to educate myself and others about the disorder, and put a human face onto the disorder, as many that tried before and succeeded.

I want to come back to that. It was cathartic, and actually helped me realize that I was drifting into the "bad-place."

I am depressed. I'd go with mildly-moderately. Most days, mild. I am still taking my medications, but I need to change my antidepressant and my sleep medication, I think. In keeping with "needing to change" such things, I have an appointment to see a psychiatrist here. Granted, it was 3 weeks from the day I called to see him, but I'll take it. It was worse in New Orleans.

I cannot promise that I will be loyal in updating this blog again, any more than I can promise that I won't drop a glass full of milk tomorrow morning. But I will try. Being depressed makes it harder to want to dredge my mind for semi-interesting things, but I do end up with a lot of time at 3am to stare at walls.

Answers to a few questions you may ask:
Q. Where are you, on a scale of 1-to-Suicide?
A. Meh, about a 3. Honestly, that's really nothing to worry about. That basically means that I think about it a little more than usual, but do not desire to hurt myself, nor do I have any plans to do so. Still want to be alive. Would like things to be less difficult, but in the hey-I'm-still-breathing kind of way.

Q. Are you REALLY still taking your medications?
A. Yes, really. As prescribed, even. I hope to change a few of them soon, but I am not changing them on my own. Well, except for going back on Seroquel briefly to see if that would help with my sleep, but I was never taken off of it, and was left with the impression that it was on my discretion whether or not I should use it.

Q. Are you self-harming?
A. Except for the urge to smoke an occasional cigarette, no. I have put in measures to bring that down from about 4 a day to none, though. My sister has my pack, and I get one per day. Since I have no money, there is no concern about me buying more.

Q. Does anyone know?
A. Well, I hope you can keep my secret, internet...Shhhhh. Of course people know! That was the point of "coming out"! Silly internet. My sister, her mate, and many of my best friends are on the daily roster for checking in and processing. I feel horrifically guilty about this, but a majority of that is the depression talking, and I actually hope to get on that topic later.

Q. How's school going?
A. Fine, actually. I am taking the fewest credit hours of any semester/quarter in the history of my life (12 hours), but I'm enjoying it. The stress is both good and bad, but way more in the good than the bad.

Q. Where are you working?
A. Don't talk about that. Really, I might start getting upset. Suffice it to say, I don't have a job right now, despite many applications and an actual job offer that got rescinded by corporate because the company went into a hiring freeze. I hate, hate, hate not having work. This is the first time I've been unemployed since I was 15, and I am not handling it very well.

I think that about covers it for now. Thanks for being here for me, internet. And thank GOD you are not my only place to seek solace and help.

Be safe,
Z

Shiny Happy People Regimen

You know whats obnoxious? Your therapist/psychiatrist telling you to do things that make you feel like you're in the fourth grade. "Keep a journal, go to bed on time, make goals, get enough exercise, eat right,take your medications...and AVOID ALL STRESS. CALL ME if there is any change."

Pshhh. Seriously? I'm a grown-ass woman. I can do what I--

Oh. Wait. I can't, can I?

Because when I get stubborn, and try to pretend that these things don't make a difference, I DO get worse. I HATE IT. I hate that I now know that if I plan to go out, I can...but I can't drink much, and still need to go to bed at a somewhat reasonable time, so I can still get 7-9 hours of sleep. I hate that I HAVE A BEDTIME. Now, right now its all screwy because I am still coming down off of a bit of a sleep deprived state and my meds aren't quite right yet...but here soon, I'll have to hold myself to like a 10-11pm bedtime. UUGH.

And "avoid all stress"? Really? Has this woman ever seen my life? GAH!

Ok, enough whining.

So, I'm trying. I have a mood journal (the one I use I found here) and I generally remember to fill it out at least every 2 days. I have this blog to journal some of my thoughts, and I write the posts that I'm not sure I want to post yet in word and save them for later. I'm still terrible at actual "journaling"...but I think this is achieving the reflection that I need.

Goals-
a) be a good girl about my medication. if that means fighting TOOTH AND NAIL to pay for it, fighting with the insurance as I go than so be it. (there will be a long post about that in the future)
b) keep blogging or at least writing what could one day become posts
c) get the sleep I need, even if it means avoiding things I like (late night Dr Who marathons)
d) friggin get off my but and exercise at least 4 days a week, instead of my current 2.


Ok. See, I'm a good girl. I have my next appointment with my psych next week--Thursday @9:30 ("keep your appointments written somewhere you will remember to check")just to check and make sure the medication changes are going well. So far, so good.

I hate being treated like a child. But it would make ME childish if I didn't follow the advice. Especially when I see how well it works when I do follow it.

Ugh. Maturity sucks.

Stigma

Stigma is something that all people with mental illness have to face at some point or another. I am currently struggling with this in my own life from what some may consider to be an unlikely source.

Myself.

I still have days where I don't believe I'm bipolar, where I want to get off my medications and live my life like a "normal" person.

Then I have days like what happened last week. I am telling you this not to gain your pity, but to stress what I believe to be my main goal on this blog. To provide an honest account of what it feels like to be bipolar.

Last week, I had the flu. It completely sucked. I called off of work and stayed home. Now, two days into having the flu, I stopped sleeping and started feeling wired.

When I say wired, I don't mean "crackhead twitchy". I mean my thoughts were racing in my head a little more than normal, and I couldn't really lay down. I could sit and be still, but when I'd go to lie down, it just felt wrong somehow. I attributed it to the flu, and let it go.

That night, I'm barely not sleeping, and I'm going out of my way to talk to people. Texting, especially...I even joined twitter. Now, I never had a problem with twitter, but I never had the strange URGE to have more people available to converse with right-this-very-second.

I also started reading. I finished two of the Harry Dresden books in 2 days, without even noticing. That's fast even for me.

I also was getting sucked into deep documentaries about religion and physics. Hours of them. All hail Netflix!

The flu started on Tuesday. Over the week, I kept getting progressively less and less sleep. By Saturday night, things were getting weird in my brain, but I was able to keep myself looking normal on the outside. I had already decided to call my psych on monday to make an appointment, because I was recognizing my personal warning signs. (I am very proud of myself for that. I am known to be stubborn to absurd levels.)

Monday morning, 2am, I cant sleep. Its been just about 48 hours since I last slept, and I'm filled with anxiety. I'm not scared of anything specific, I'm just...racing. My body feels like I just narrowly missed getting hit by a car. I take a dose of xanax, which I did stubbornly avoid until I couldn't stand it anymore. Usually, a dose will take me down to a managable level with no problem. I have a very low dose perscribed to me.

Nothing.

It didn't even touch me. That is where things got stupid in my brain-parts. I started getting terrified that I was losing it, that I was headed for a huge psychiatric meltdown and I'd have to be flown somewhere for treatment and I couldn't afford it, and my family would worry, and blah blah blah blah blah. The thoughts came that quick. I couldn't even finish one paranoid thought before spiraling down to the next. So I did an extremely stupid thing.

I started driving around. This, my friends, was beyond stupid. I should never drive when upset. Many people have commented to this, and its true. Its not a good decision. The sad thing is, I KNOW this. I will tell people, I can't drive right now, I'm too upset. I have pulled over in the past to freak out, or cry, before continuing to drive. But in this moment, I...forgot? Forgot isn't really the right word, but I do not know how else to put it. It seemed like a small concern compared to the fact that I "had-to-get-out-of-this-house-right-now-or-something-in-me-will-explode."

So I drove around. For about 4 hours. Not straight. I would drive somewhere, then sit there for a bit. Drove to McDonalds, got a root beer. Drove out south end of the island, watched the sea. Back and forth.

At about 0830, I was at a loss. I didn't know what to do, and I felt completely unstable. I didn't have any more xanax after taking that last dose (I've been on the same perscription for 30 pills since August without a refill, don't start thinking I have a dependancy), and I didn't know what to do.

So I swallowed my pride and did the one thing I have always sworn I would NEVER do. I went to the ER. Even when I was suicidal, I didn't go this far--I had myself direct admitted. I do NOT go to the ER.

But go I did. I walked into a completely empty ER, and tried to tell my nurse what was wrong. I was so ashamed. I tried to poise myself to calmly tell her that I was bipolar, and I seemed to be having an anxiety attack that I couldn't break, or possibly the beginnings of a manic episode.

Instead, I stood there and cried. To her credit, she got me into a room right away, dimmed the lights just a little so they weren't in my face, and just waited. She didn't "Oh, HONEY, what's the matter?" she just waited patiently, and not unkindly. A minute or so later, I got myself together and explained that I was bipolar, and something wasn't right. She didn't let me babble on forever, though I would have in that state, just nodded, and left. An aide came in and got me registered and took my vital signs (elevated BP and heart rate, of course), and then the Doc came in.

Yes, you read those words right. A doctor saw me in the ER within 15 minutes of my feet hitting the door. God Bless small towns.

He asked me a bunch of questions, familiar to those of us with mental health history...to those who have not yet been diagnosed/are not effected, some of those are as follows:

-Are you thinking of hurting yourself or others?
-Are you pregnant?
-Have you been doing any drugs this evening? Pot, meth, crack, heroin?
-Have you been taking your medications as directed?
-Have you been sleeping?
-Are you hearing or seeing things that you suspect are not real?

Bipolar specific:
-Have you been spending a lot of moneyshopping, gambling, or giving large amounts of money away?
-Have you been having unprotected or unusually high amounts of sex?
-Have you been in any physical fights, or been irritable more than normal?
-Have you been having racing thoughts?
-Have you felt "high" or hyper with no explainable cause?


There are many more questions, but that about covers the basics. After I answered all of these, he suggested I have some xanax to see if we could break the cycle, and very kindly asked if there was anything he could get me to entertain myself with. I declined, deciding to focus on my breathing in some exercises I've been trying to learn.

I am so grateful that I could answer "no" to almost all of those questions. I fear one day I will have to say "yes" to some of those...and that completely kills me.

In the end, it took 2 doses of xanax, and a dose of Valium to bring me back to a "normal" level. Even with that, it was hard for me to sleep for the few hours before my appointment with my psychiatrist that had been set up in the ER for that afternoon.

We changed some drugs around in dosage, and she gave me a 4 day supply of Valium to get me through, as well as the Chloral Hydrate to knock me the heck out.

The first day I stayed home from the flu was Wednesday. I started going to a bad place mentally on Friday (that I noticed)...ER Monday. I came back to work yesterday, feeling much better. A little "off" in my head, but none the worse for wear. The side effects from increased dosage on my medications will fade soon, I hope.

The moral is this: Had I not gone to the ER to break the cycle, I could have hurt myself or someone else. I was driving while extremely agitated and afraid. I COULD not see what was wrong with my behavior. Trust me, I know how dangerous it was and I cannot understand why I did it at the time. Its like it wasn't me. And in many ways, it wasn't. But I am still responsible for my actions no matter what mental state I am in.

See, I'm learning. A year ago, I would never have done that. And despite the residual shame I still feel--despite still feeling weak in that mean part of my brain, I am really proud of myself.

To those who might be upset that I didn't call you or who I did call, but didn't really tell you what was going on, I am sorry. It is part of my pattern when I am manic or depressive. Part of that is shame, as well. I'm working through it. Please, don't think that it reflects on you, or that I didn't feel like I could trust you.

This isn't about you. Its the result of biochemistry and a lifetime of training myself that if it can be done at all, it can be done by me alone. I'm working on it.

Love you all,
Z