Can I...?

Some are quiet, but they're always present. Some are just there... Then, there's the screaming. Each scream speeding so quickly through my head that I can't understand a word. All one on top of the other.

Once there, they don't go away. They chatter incessantly- taunting- laughing at me. Building on each other- growing louder and louder- clouding my ability to think- or sometimes judge- clearly. They are my constant companion, my ball and chain- always talking- always yelling conflicting ideas. I didn't agree to this. The noise becomes so loud in my head that I get irritated at a mere whisper around me.

The chaos is unbearable.

I try to catch each thought as it rushes through. I chase them all over my head- grasping every which way with my bare hands- reaching to the uncatchable, hopelessly missing by mere seconds as they rush by.

I go to bed exhausted- just by trying to make sense of all the noise in my head. It may look like I did nothing to anyone else, but I fought a battle today... One that most won't understand... But I have no choice but to fight my own thoughts- either to understand them, or to go against them- and hold on for dear life.

And then, every now and then, there's a spark. A small ball of light- like a firefly, or a pixie. She takes pity on me, and slows just enough to be seen- or even caught... And I get to see things that many can't; maybe just a glimmer of hope, maybe it's validation... But this time, it's an idea- one that holds a crystal ball- one that will drive me to a successful future.

Now it is up to me. Time and time before, I've seen the fairy with the crystal ball, but it is taken from me time and time again. Either the screaming gets too loud and drowns out the drive... Or another fairy entices me with another idea, and I forget the first. I am easily excited- and the noise in my head tends to control what happens next.

Can I do it this time? Can I hold to a dream? Can I follow through with the promise of a brighter tomorrow? One that says I'm in control of my future and not so much the noise in my brain?

It might have to be both... But I've got to at least try.

Watch out- I'm moving in

Moving can be a lot of things: exciting as we start a new chapter in our lives, yet tiring as we pack and move boxes from one place to another.

The thing I've noticed that moving can do to me is completely debilitate me. I'll be fine and then out of nowhere, I can't think straight; I can't think at all... And I can't move. I just stand there- frozen- staring at everything that needs to be done; yet not able to do any of it. I see everything at once rather than being able to break it down into smaller doable chores.

I've always had difficulty prioritizing. Instead of putting things from most to least importance (vertically), I put an equal amount of importance on everything (horizontally). Not on purpose... But it all needs to get done, so that's what I see: all of it... At once... Taunting me.

At least this time, I've been able to find some useful tools in the process: taking breaks, and organizing room by room.

I know. Kind of obvious, right?

Don't judge. This is huge for me.

In the past, what I did for my "breaks" was merely changing projects- do a little here, a little there. But I didn't see the progress that way. I still saw everything as one giant "to do list"- and giving up way too soon because I was too overwhelmed.

So, I've learned to pace myself a little. This time, I've been a little more realistic on what I might get done in a day... And on those days I do have a ton that needs doing- I take a break: a complete change of focus that can restore my sense of routine instead of chaos. Sometimes, I stop packing (or unpacking), and just play with my kids- or cuddle with them. It's soothing.

This time, you are my break. Instead of lifting and moving, I sit still, completely change my mental focus, and talk to you. This allows my brain to breath and reorganize in order to face more work.  Thanks for being there.

Speaking of organizing, that's another thing I've tried to focus on to get me through this process. We're moving to a smaller house (with my parents). So, I'm having to be creative while we figure out some good storage solutions for all our stuff... (Besides just getting rid of things- which we will have to do, too).

I think I saw these two ideas on Pinterest a while ago, but I don't know for sure:

First is finding shelves to help stack things so they're more easily accessible. Also, I got a bunch of baskets to help me separate things into various categories and get them out without having to dig.

Next is using an over the door plastic shoe holder to organize all of our medicines. I'm pretty proud of this one. I got the clear one so I could see exactly what's in each pouch. Finding the right medicines was a saga in our last living situation. Word to the wise- just because you have space doesn't mean you're living "smart".





Getting organized outside my head helps me feel a little more organized inside my head. I only hope we can get back to a routine quickly so I can feel a bit less foggy...

Scatter-brained

We're moving this week; so my posts this week will be short and unplanned. But, I wanted to be real and guest with you-- and real honest with you... So here it goes.

I'm experiencing some serious scatter-braining the last few days. I think since we're experiencing another big change (with another pending till Jake finds another job), my brain is trying to organize too many things in my head. I'm kind of obsessing (feeling like it's necessary) about my new career choice. My head jumps from one question to the next- not giving me enough time to resolve any single concern.

Then, there's the emotional reaction to my anxious brain. I feel panicked. I feel desperate to have an answer- any answer to our up-side-down lives... But no answer comes. Yesterday, as I was trying to resolve things in my head, I had a small anxiety attack- my breathing got really fast, and extremely shallow. My brain started going so fast, it was impossible for even me to understand its needs. Tears welled up and I started crying. I tried pinpointing what it was that made me cry... But it was like grasping at straws. 

Then, I tried going to bed at a decent time. I slept all night (and kept the cpap on all night- good for me. This usually means I have more energy the following day. But that was not the case this time.); I've been so tired today, I had to have a nap at 8:30 in the morning.

So, I guess I'm unsure if I'm experiencing anxiety, or hypomania with mixed episodes. Maybe both? I'm just trying to take it easy today to give my brain a rest... Though that doesn't feel like it's working. So, I thought journal writing- which is what this is- might help me sort things through... Not sure this is working, either. Maybe another nap- and Hurray! I get to see my therapist this evening. I look forward to her analysis and any homework she thinks might help. (My honest opinion- EVERYONE would benefit from going to therapy.)

Seasons of Change

My life is in flux. Everything around me is changing- and I find that I am participating in that change.

For 6 months, I was the primary care-giver for my mother-in-law who has Alzheimer's. We were living in her home, and had to adjust to her level of comfort. She was angry or suicidal a lot of the time. She hated taking the pills her doctor prescribed- and would frequently take her frustrations out on me. She would tell me I was a horrible mother, and try to give me parenting advice. When I tried to give her hope or comfort her when sad, she would tell me to "shut up, because it makes me throw up". Was it always this bad? No. But it made life hard. A sharp word always seems to linger longer than a kind one. AND it wasn't her fault- so I couldn't (and don't) blame her. It was the disease talking.  Alzheimer's is a hard thing. It changed me.

We're now moving in with my parents. Learning to live with a new roommate (even if you've been with them before) requires a little adjustment and a lot of patience. This will further change me.

I exercise - it took a while, but I think it's a habit now- a lifestyle change. Though my weight is still fluctuating, I usually feel better when I go to the gym- even if it's just cardio. I'm going to be a healthier me; this includes physical health, but also mental health. It helps me release tension and focus on the present. Next to doing a meditation (which I do every night) exercise (which I do in the morning at least 3 times a week) clears my head and helps me start the day on the right foot.

I'm fixing my sleep. About a year ago, I started waking up during the night in a panic because I couldn't breath. Really. I stopped breathing. I thought it was mania, which can also interrupt my sleep, but I wanted to be sure. So, I did a sleep study and learned that I have sleep apnea; my body wakes up frequently and doesn't ever really get into a good recuperative sleep because it has to stay awake to breath. I got a C-PAP machine. I go through phases where I rip the mask off during the night, so I'm groggy the next day. But, when I keep it on- I notice how much more energy and alertness I have the following day. Fixing my sleep has changed me.

I am more accepting of my body. It's the strangest thing. I only weigh 10 pounds lighter than I did when I hated my body, so it doesn't really show... But it's not so much about what I look like as it is about accepting where I am. I'm a mom- so my body is a mom body- that's nothing to be ashamed of. I'm older- so my metabolism has started slowing down. I'm on medication that makes it difficult for me to lose weight- but this isn't a race, it's a process.

I'm starting down a career path. This isn't just a change because I have ideas for a career- I've done this plenty of times before. This is a change because I've only just started the process, and things are falling into place to make it happen. My husband is on board (he's generally very supportive, but until now, he has always questioned how Bipolar was playing into it). I have found books to help me learn and help prepare me for what is to come. If you know me, you know this is huge for me. I love books... But I have a really hard time focusing on reading- id rather be moving. I've also always said that I don't care for the business side of business- but now I'm trying to soak in as much as possible to make this thing work. I'm building on something that I'm already doing. My girls will be starting preschool in the fall- which will allow me time. I can use those few hours a week to focus on working. It's already giving me a level of confidence I haven't had in a while. This is a change.

For quite a while, I have looked in a mirror and not know the person staring back at me. She had been worn down- without identity. She only survived. She was a stranger to me. Now, I see a new me in the mirror. Because of change in circumstance and surroundings, I have had to live- not just survive. I have had to ... I have realized that to live, you can't wait for the world to give you what you want- you either go out and make it happen, or you change your attitude about your circumstances and surroundings. (Yes- easier said than done. But, I have been the best mom I've ever been while in difficult circumstances. It is possible.) i see a new face in the mirror; and my thought changes from "who are you?" To "there you are!" I know her... And I like her. I am changed.

Mad Hatter Tea Party

I turned 35 this year. I have no problem saying my age. Why should I feel bad about not being in my 20s anymore? It makes no sense to me. I have some wrinkles and my hair is starting to gray (which I'm actually really excited about; gray/silver/white hair is beautiful).

I decided to throw myself a big birthday party. We usually do small family get-togethers to celebrate adult birthdays, but I wanted a big party: I wanted to feel like I had a lot of friends, even though we've been here less than 10 months, and we're moving again next week.

It was during the preparation for this party  that I had my genius idea that I wrote about a few weeks ago. Yup. I threw myself a Mad Hatter Tea Party. Most of the ideas I used for the party were ideas I found on Pinterest. (I love Pinterest. I mean, really love it.) I knew it would be an open house style party- I wanted it to be relaxed, but fun.

First is first: what will it look like? I gathered several tables from family and friends and made a huge long table with different colored table covers topped with lace tablecloths (we ended up using lace curtains... Which I think added to the feel of the whole thing. Then, I printed out some fun Alice in Wonderland pictures and quotes and put them in Dollar Tree frames- sort of matchy, but all different. I found some cute little hand mirrors that I thought would be appropriate since I would watch "Alice Through the Looking Glass" the night before the party. I also picked up some easels to hold a couple giant pocket watches (made by printing large images, gluing them to foam board and crocheting or finger knitting the "chain"). 

The table had lots of mini things to eat on trays (mostly from the Dollar Tree and Walmart), 3 different drinks to choose from: pink lemonade, orange slush, and water bottles in ice. I found these cute tags to use both on the table, and around the table:

Then, the question became: What are we going to do? I didn't want people to get bored... But I'm not the biggest fan of planned "party games"- where everyone is forced to play even if they don't want to. Pinterest, again, came to my rescue- this is what I found:

AND, I remembered that my parents still had a croquet set from my childhood. So, I set that up, and grabbed a bunch of art/craft supplies- and made an entire table devoted to decorating hats. I made the basic hats using plastic cups (I admit the paper ones look more like hats, but I got the plastic ones for cheaper, got a whole lot more for my money- and it came in 4 different colors). I cut circles for the bottom, cut slits to hold the headband (which came from Amazon for super cheap), and glued the cup to the paper. They were a huge hit!

And as far as the photo props were concerned, I decided not to do them. We weren't sure if the weather would even let us be outside, and if that was the case, we wouldn't have room for the photo booth- and I was already starting to stress about having everything ready (and perfect) in time. But when a friend heard about the idea, she ran out and bought a foam board so I would at least make a frame. It didn't take too long. In addition, my mom loaned me a giant caterpillar, and I had way too many giant pocket watches to just put on the table. So, I printed an image of the Cheshire Cat, and put these all in a tree.

Not only was the day clear and sunny (until the second we finished clean-up), but some of my absolute favorite people came! It all turned out great. There were times I wondered if anyone would even come... I doubt myself like that... In the end, though, I was pretty spoiled.

My Heart--The Arts

Good art reflects the individual- not just the creator, but the observer. It allows each individual to bring their life; their struggles, their viewpoints, their existential questions- and find themselves clarified and validated within the art. One example I can think of is when the movie "Frozen" came out. In Elsa, I saw someone who struggled with a mental illness- like me. Her words reflected just how I felt about being/having Bipolar. I wrote a blog about it here.

Last night, my husband and I watched The Tony Awards. Though I always forget to plan for said event, I always enjoy watching. I love the special appearances; I love the dresses- the colors, style, uniqueness; I love the gratitude and the stories that have people their strength and inspiration; but mostly, I love the performances. 

I know I was never a professional performer, but Jake and I have had our share of performance experience. We both grew up doing community theatre and were involved in high school productions. I was always drawn to musicals. I was good at the dancing part, definitely teachable in the acting part (I want to say I was better than okay, but that's my own opinion). I got an Associates degree in Musical Theatre, and a Bachelor's in Dance (which included both the practical and theory aspects of stage performance). I was a model for a while (One of my favorite gigs was portraying Barbie for a Toys 'R Us event unveiling of the Nutcracker Barbie), and was in several commercials. I took a professional course in film acting- which really helped me understand the differences and similarities between the stage and the screen. No matter how hard I tried, though, I could never get past my "chorus voice". I can keep a tune- I can even harmonize pretty well, but I lack the individualized power voice you need to really have a future in the business.

I sometimes wonder what would've happened if I had given more attention to developing my voice, but I have no regrets. I had a lot of fun at the time. And In any case, that's not where I landed. What all this experience did give me was, I think, a better appreciation for the talent, mental/emotional/and physical discipline, and raw hard work it takes to put on a really good show.

The Tony Awards is a show that culminates the best of the best in this discipline. To make it here, you have to be a triple threat, or in Steve Martin's words: "already famous". Jake and I found ourselves in tears throughout the show just by the mere greatness of it.

I probably already knew this about myself, but something about the Tony's brought it to the forefront of my attention. I think it was while watching "Hamilton"- a quick and rap opera about the founding fathers of our country- can't wait to see the whole show someday- that I recognized something about my personality. I learn way more by watching people's movement: from the grandiosity of the choreography and stage movement to the simplicity and subtlety of a hand gesture or facial expression; AND by musical cadence; than by the words- especially if the words are fast and complex. I'll tell you, there was a reason that Hamilton was up for 16 Tony awards- and I haven't even seen the show!!!

This is probably due to my background. I've been dancing since I was 3, piano lessons since I was 7 or 8, and was a part of several band and orchestra groups throughout junior high and high school- learning both the flute and the French horn. Music and movement are so deeply rooted in me that those are the things I notice first- and when it comes to a performance as high quality as those participating in the Tony's, my breath is taken away by them, and I forget to pay attention to the words- not through any fault of theirs... Only mine.

All that to say, I give my congratulations to all nominees and performers of the Tony Awards. It was well deserved for all of you. I especially thank "Hamilton" for presenting a mirror through which I can more fully understand and appreciate myself. And for your passion, which allowed me to remember a dream and embrace new ambitions.

Stress Eating

To manage well a mental illness, one must be very attentive to overall health; mental health and emotional health are vital, but so is physical health. Caring for my body includes ALL of my body, not just my head. Each part connects to the other, therefore affecting every aspect that makes up me.

I've been working very hard this past year to gain a greater physical health. Though "losing weight" has never been top priority, it has always been a hope that taking care of my physical health would result in fewer pounds. After so much work (and with the aid of a weight loss pill- as much as I hate to admit it), I finally dropped 15 pounds- and since being pregnant with my girls, got my weight below 200.

Unfortunately, the pill had to stop (after a certain time, the body gets used to the energy and suppressed appetite to the point that it no longer works). As a result, my eating returned to previous bad habits.

What do I call it? Stress eating? Yes. Comfort eating? Yes. I often have a need to feel productive- always doing something with my hands. If I'm not otherwise occupied, I grab some food- usually something sweet.

Whatever the reason, I return to the feelings of helplessness. I have again gained weight to 200 pounds. I know my eating habits and nutrition need to change- a lifestyle change, not a diet. But a lifestyle change takes longer to adjust for than my patience seems able to handle. I am at an impass.

PTSD

I was at the gym, trying to check in and get my kids situated with kidcare, and a conversation strikes between me and another mom- who we'll call Rose. We talk about our kids and how they adjust (or don't adjust) to babysitters and day cares. She asks me how young my girls were when I started taking them to the gym. Specifically- how they did when they were 6 months.

At first, I gave her the simple answer- "I had emotional issues and was not well enough to come to the gym". I don't remember if I volunteered further information, or if she asked... Either way, the conversation continued. I told her about Bipolar, and how that made me more prone to having Post Partum depression, how I had started planning my suicide, and how my husband and I decided to commit me to UNI (The University of Utah Neuropsychiatric Institute), to help me get better.

I really don't have a problem talking about this kind of thing. Rose sympathized with me, explaining that her sister was also hospitalized for Post Partum Depression and a suicide attempt. She then further described her sister's experience. Even though it's been 6 plus years, her sister experiences PTSD because of it.

We most often associate PTSD with soldiers who have seen death, or had a near death experience. Though this does happen often, PTSD is not restricted to a soldier's experience only. Rose's sister experiences PTSD when she is reminded of her suicide attempt.

My husband also struggles with PTSD because of his cancer experience. At one point during his treatment, he found that he was having symptoms similar to that of the flu or bronchitis. We took him to the doctor, who told him to go to the ER. (We were used to ER trips by this point- we had been several times before- you have to be extra careful with any symptom a cancer patient might have.) He was admitted to the hospital for pneumonia. It ended up being a bad reaction to one of the chemo drugs. It took them a week to figure that out- while he stayed in the hospital.

One particular evening, Jake called me saying he was having a hard time breathing and added he was "afraid to die, and (he) didn't want to die alone." I called my sister to come stay with my son so I could be with Jake. While I was on my way, Jake called the nurses in for help. He couldn't breath. They checked his oxygen levels, which were way below normal. Anything below 90 is concerning- Jake's was 71. He said it felt like the movies: nurses rushing left and right- going as fast as possible to hook him up to oxygen and keep him conscious.

PTSD has followed Jake ever since. He feels extremely high levels of anxiety, sick to his stomach (and otherwise ill) and has to stop whatever he's doing (including pulling the car over if he's driving), just so he can focus on breathing. That day at the hospital was the same day that Micheal Jackson died- every channel at the hospital was tuned in to his life's work. To this day, Jake can't listen to a Micheal Jackson song without feeling the anxiety and flashbacks build.

For the longest time, I didn't realize that anyone other than a soldier could experience PTSD... That is, until Jake was diagnosed. Pretty much anyone who has a psychologically traumatic experience may also have PTSD.

Having PTSD is nothing to feel ashamed about. Get help. Surround yourself with support and love. The effects of PTSD are hard- and real. Know you are not alone.

Anxiety

I've been feeling very weird lately. It's almost like a mixed episode in that I have excess energy, but feeling negative. My stomach is churning and my head is swimming. I feel the constant physical need to sleep, but when given the chance, my sleep is very light- I can't get comfortable and my brain won't shut up! In fact, my brain and thoughts are going so fast and are so disorganized that I can't really think. I'm not able to slow down despite my efforts doing meditations, deep breathing exercises, etc. Might this be what torture feels like?

Our lives have been in constant flux for a while now. I've been thinking/hoping that we'd have a solution by now, but we were just told the opposite. We are losing stability and control, despite our best efforts- and I'm at a loss.

I do my charting every night like a good girl. I keep track of my medications (which I take faithfully every day), my mood swings within a day, when I go to therapy, my menstrual cycle, my irritability levels- and something that I've never really noticed until recently: anxiety. My levels of anxiety have been crawling upward.

But- Knowledge is empowering; my husband and I are starting to understand how anxiety can play a role in my bipolar state of being. It's never really been an issue before, but our lives are so up in the air lately that I think it has finally made its way into my disorder. As we have read today, it's possible for anxiety to replace depression in a mixed episode. So I'm having symptoms of hypomania and symptoms of anxiety. I really don't like this feeling... This racing of my brain that's so disorganized and unfocused I feel like throwing up because there are no answers. At least with hypomania, I have a grasp on (and find answers to) my racing thoughts. But I guess it's another facet of Bipolar that I get to learn about. Gee- lucky me.

Genius idea

I've seen research through many sources that express a link between Bipolar and creativity... Especially during a manic or hypomanic episode. My therapist even said that some companies will specifically  look for a Bipolar employee just for their "creative genius".

Every now and then, I have what I call a "genius idea"- at least it feels that way to me in the moment. I want to keep track of them, and re-evaluate them later to see if they're as genius as they feel in the moment.

Anyway...

I'm throwing myself a birthday party- is that tacky? I feel like it might be a while before I can do something like this for myself again. I'm inviting a lot of people- so that no one gets their feelings hurt, and so I can pretend I have a lot of friends. (I've never been very good at keeping relationships going- is that a Bipolar thing?)

For a long time... Years, even... I've wanted to do an Alice in Wonderland themed party. I'm calling it my Mad Hatter Tea Party. Oddly appropriate, wouldn't you say? Some things the Mad Hatter says are so perfect:

I totally agree.

I'm also making a bunch of decorations, have a fun craft activity planned; I even borrowed my parents croquet set- how perfect is that?

And today, as I was framing some Alice Images for decorations, I had a signature Bipolar "genius idea". I'm thinking a lot about having a mental illness, and how some might seriously call that being "mad" or "crazy". I believe we all have a little "crazy" in us, whether it's certifiable, or just qwerky. But, not many know how to handle their own mental health issue... And I thought- "GENIUS!!!" I would LOVE to travel around and teach people about mental health, and how to manage any issues that may arise (depression, anxiety, etc) I'd love to show them an attitude of- "you're still a normal person", and "dealing with any mental issue is doable- and it's okay. You're okay." "Stigma has no power over you". And I would do all of this in a "Mad Hatter Tea Party" setting with lots of colorful decorations, and teacups and me in a giant Mad Hatter hat- to make it fun and optimistic and normal. I hope this could help to lessen the stigma, help change people's attitudes towards mental illness, and have a greater desire and understanding of caring for their own mental health.

My first impression was to do this for the Relief Society (the organization for women in the LDS church). If it went well, I'd take it anywhere that would have me.

Mixed Episodes

What you just "witnessed" through my last entry was a full-blown bipolar episode. I have been slowly coming down from the 6 months I've been in hypo mania. One can only sustain that kind of energy level for so long. But then, something happened that "triggered" something in my brain- and on came the distorted thinking patterns.

We've been expecting an episode for a while now, and because it was so short (though it felt like forever), I expect another one will come soon.

It's different than you may think. It was obviously not a manic, or hypo manic episode, but- NEWS FLASH- it wasn't a depressive episode, either. What you read was a mixed episode. It contained elements of both depression (like the feelings of worthlessness, pain, helpless, hopeless, etc) AND hypomania (lots of frantic energy, a sense of urgency and importance blown out of proportion).

(A side note: I've been told that mixed episodes are the most concerning to doctors. In a mixed episode- though not every time- it's easy to feel horrible about yourself, and still have enough energy to "do something" about those feelings. Result: suicide.) (No, I'm not in that place, but you should know it's a very real issue.)

Don't misread this like I did as I learned about Bipolar- just because this episode was triggered does NOT mean my feelings were not real. The trigger merely brought those feelings to the surface, and amplified them a bit. I'm not "being dramatic", I'm not "trying to get attention"; when in an episode- how I think and feel is very real. And they are at least partially true. Maybe it seems silly to you, or superficial, or dramatic, or whatever. But my brain, at that time, is telling me it is more dire/serious/hopeless as I say it is. If you can't believe the seriousness of what I feel, then believe that bipolar has a very real say in how I feel. I say all the time that perception is reality- and that's true for everyone- not just those who have a mental illness.

My wonderful husband frequently tries to bring me closer to reality by questioning where those thoughts come from. Overall, presenting different perspectives and pointing out distorted thinking can at first, piss me off, but in the end, it helps because I want to be well. It's an agreement that we have to help me overcome an episode more quickly. It's kind of like he's my life coach. He knows I might bite his head off for any feedback he might give me- but it helps me question my thoughts- which is a necessary step to regaining a sense of stability.

Another thing mixed episodes do is make me extremely irritable. I've talked to people about this before- irritability levels are a hazard to us. Yes- I know that everyone can get irritable, but I'm not talking about those times you have a bad day and yell at your kids. I'm talking about in those mixed episodes, it can be like PMS times 100 for the entire length of the episode. 

My diagnosis includes "rapid cycling", which means I can have several ups and downs in a single day. My depressive episodes last the longest, as I've been in single episodes that can last for several months. Hypomania is similar, though it's rare, I can maintain hypomania for more than 3 or 4 months (except for now, since circumstances have driven it forward out of necessity). For me, mixed episodes are fast- they cut me deep, but they usually don't last very long.

Here- let me emotionally vomit on you

There are those people who seem to get the easy life- their trials are seemingly non-existent- he (and maybe her, too) have careers doing what they love- they've got beautiful healthy children- a house with enough room to do their hobbies and have more kids, if they want- the picture perfect life. (And don't try to lecture me about everyone's trials are different, or that their trials are as hard for them as yours are for you... Sorry- not buying it. Not today.)

And then there are those who just get hit with trial after trial- and BIG ones, too. 

BOOM- your husband has cancer.

BOOM- you can't have any more children.

BOOM- did I mention you have Bipolar 2?

BOOM- Post-Partum Depression is very real.

BOOM- did I also mention suicidal thoughts/planning?

BOOM- you have no house- live with your in-laws (which in and of itself was fine, but then....)

BOOM- goodbye father-in-law

BOOM- take care of your mother-in-law who has Alzheimer's and vascular dementia and depression including suicidal thoughts and planning, help her deal with grief of losing her husband, as well as losing her mental capacities, give her her medications, make sure she eats, get her to all her doctors appointments to get a sure diagnosis to know how to help her, all the while being ignored for any thoughts you might have about her care, yelled at for being a bad (fill-in-the-blank), and being hated by others every step of the way.

BOOM- remember- you have bipolar and have to raise your own family at the same time.

And there's not many people you can talk to about it... So no. You keep it to yourself, Michelle. Nobody really cares about you or what you're going through. They don't know how hard it's been, and why should they go out of their way to understand? They're too busy with their picture perfect lives to reach out and support. You're meant to do this alone. Maybe someday you'll understand why.

In the meantime, all I can do is pray... But even He seems far away: my Lord, my Lord- why hast thou forsaken us? We are doing everything you are asking of us- the least you can do is remind us you are still there and aware of us. I plead with you to let me take my little family and disappear somewhere- where I may teach my children respect and compassion and be free of such trials for a season.

But even in this plea, I ere. Many trials will come and go in their time, but I know I will never be completely free of the demons of Bipolar. No one will ever, despite their best intentions, understand what it is like to be or to feel in my head. It will follow me till the day I die. Then maybe I can know what it's like to deal with things "normally". Maybe then, I can look back on these trials and see how "easy" they would be if I weren't so screwed up- so flawed. Maybe that's why nobody cares- cuz to a "normal" brain, these would be easy? Maybe with a "normal brain", I could handle them instead of trying to develop a harder shell or crying so much because something cut too deep or I didn't know if I could handle another day- literally.

I guess I just feel too much- that's what happens with bipolar. It's very rare that I feel "normally"- I get more excited about good things....and I get hurt too easily at the bad things. Every day is a fight for me to react "normally"- to try to be like everyone else... Unfortunately, it seems that even in my efforts to appear like the picture perfect, I am destined to always suffer- whatever the trial.

Starting again

Yes- I have failed yet again to be consistent in writing my blog. Part of it is because of the personal things going on in my life, but part of it is also just the nature of bipolarity. I haven't done any research on it, but I've just noticed a sort of ADHD affect when it comes to my resolve in finishing/continuing my projects. I can't tell you how many I've started but can't stay focused to finish. 

My therapist has been on my case about my journal writing (which makes way more sense when I think someone else will read it). Also, my husband (upon hearing that my therapist recommends writing) tries to support and reminds me as well. 

Somehow, if I do a blog at all, my brain tells me it has to be big, detailed, intense, and with enough unique insight that it can change someone's life. (stupid distorted thoughts) But the thought of doing a huge cerebral blog overwhelms me right now. Jake reminds me that it doesn't have to be any of those things. So, here I go; just a short check in to keep my head a little more organized.

Let's just say I'm stressed and a little hopeless, too. Life threw us a curve ball, and I don't play baseball. I've been doing the best I can, but feel that most people don't understand the kind of extreme effort I have to put into coping as well as managing my disorder and taking care of my family. I can only do so much, and in this case- I can't fix it. But I still have to try to cope and cope, and manage, and cope, and de-stress (unsuccessfully, I might add- this has never been an ability that I have)... And manage some more.

So here's a question for my readers: how do you know when you're stressed?

My son's baptism

Jonas, I am so proud of you for deciding to follow Jesus and be baptized. I wish I could tell you that it's all a bed of roses from now on, but I can't. Because it's not. Quite the opposite. Every time we strive to come closer to Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ, Satan and his angels strive to pull you further away- or distract you at the very least- from your journey.

The key is to keep trying; to get up after you fall down; to utilize the gift of the atonement to keep becoming a better and more Christ-like person.

You are not alone. I am here to help- so is your dad, and your grandparents, leaders at church and school. There will always be someone you can reach out to. Most importantly will be your Savior Jesus Christ. He knows you best; probably even more than you know yourself. He will know how to help if you let Him.

This was only part of what I wanted to share with my son. But he's only 8. And I only have 2-5 minutes to say something. I didn't want my words to go over his head, or scare him. I wanted this to be a positive experience. Besides- there is so much good and positivity in the gospel- THAT'S what I wanted him to have today, so I asked my mom to make me 3 circles (one red, one yellow, and one green) to be a fun visual aid, and this is what I shared:

Jonas- I am so proud of you. You have made a decision that will change life for the better.  You got baptized. You decided to follow the example of Jesus Christ; AND you have promised to follow Him for the rest of your life.

This is a big decision. Heavenly Father does not take this lightly- so he wants to give you a gift to help you on your life’s journey. Can you guess what that gift is called? That's right- it's the gift of the Holy Ghost.

The Holy Ghost has many jobs to do: he’s a comforter, he’s a teacher, he’s a protector. You will learn about all of his jobs as you grow in the gospel. For the sake of time, I want to teach you about how he works.

Recently, Jonas and I have been teaching his little sisters about traffic lights. There are three parts to a traffic light: red, green, and yellow. Jonas, what does green mean? Go. What does red mean? Stop. Let's practice: green, red, green, red, red, green.

The Holy Ghost works in the same way. The D&C teaches us that the Lord will tell us in our minds AND in our hearts by the Holy Ghost. Sometimes, he tells us (green) go. He’ll tell you this is good and right and you should pursue it. It will make sense to our heads, and it will feel good in our hearts. Other times, he tells us (red) stop. He’ll tell you that it's wrong, and that you should NOT pursue it. Our heads might be confused, and we won't feel good about it.

But the Holy Ghost doesn't tell us everything to do. We are still expected to make our own decisions, and we may not get a yes or a no. We may get a yellow light. What does a yellow light mean, Jonas? Good. It means “be careful”. When you don't get a sure yes or no from the Spirit, we move forward in the best way we know how- always dcareful to listen to  what the spirit might tell us- which could be at any time.

You're a good kid, Jonas. I am so honored to be your mother. Feel free to talk with me or daddy you learn how the Spirit talks to you. I know it will help you in your life. It has helped many of us here. The Holy Ghost is very real. I testify of that In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.

Wonder Woman

I grew up feeling invincible. I had it all together. I always got above average grades. I was super involved in extra-curricular activities in high-school (dance, orchestra, marching band, musical theater); some turned into my majors in college (where I got even better grades). I got my Young Women's medallion in church. I was outgoing, and I was under the impression that most people liked me (I may be wrong about that, but just let me believe it.)

Things started changing on my mission. Things weren't going perfectly- and my mission, of all places, was supposed to be perfect.

I started seeing a therapist. He gave me homework to do. I didn't do it. Deep down, I still wanted to believe that I was fine, and it was everyone else that were causing problems.

I had a companion who had more patience with me than anyone else had (not including parents.) I had so much love and admiration for her that when a disagreement came up, I couldn't keep blaming her. For the first time, I turned my eye around to look at myself. Maybe I'm the problem? Maybe my perspective was off? This made more sense. But I didn't know what to do about it.

I talked with my mission president. I cried as I confessed that I just can't do everything; that I maybe was not good enough; that I'm no Winder Woman. He smiled and told me that I was Wonder Woman, and that I was doing exactly what I was sent to do.

How could he believe that so strongly? 

Life continued. I tried to get back into my pre-mission mentality after I was done, so I could accomplish anything and everything. But I couldn't. I was different. How much I tried to ignore it- it was still there. How was I supposed to accept these changes when I didn't like them? My memory was skewed. I felt alone all the time, even while trying to make friends. The only real friend I had was my husband to be. He was the only one who made me feel like I was worth something- and he fought hard for me. All I knew was I HAD to keep him- he was, and continues to be, my anchor in an unpredictable storm.

Starting birth control pills threw me even more out of whack. I felt dark and angry all the time. Over time, I evened out some- I switched to the Nuva ring, which turned out to be the best decision for me... But I still had issues.

Our marriage was far from perfect. We had a lot of speed bumps and a lot of mountain to climb. Jake frequently wondered about my emotional state. He would point out odd behaviors... The problem was that, as one with bipolar, everything I was saying and doing seemed perfectly normal and it just felt like he was being too picky or trying to control me. It took multiple efforts and the right circumstances to get me to the doctor the first time.

It took cancer. Jake was diagnosed with Hodgekins Lymphoma in March 2009. Watching him literally fight for his life scared me. I realized how much I needed him. I watched his hair fall out. I watched how sick he got after his chemo treatments. He shook sometimes. He would spend some days in their totality slouched over the toilet. He lost so much weight (he really didn't have that much to lose).

And I had to consider the possibility of losing him. I thought about how I sometimes treated him, and I was ashamed. I hadn't been a very good person- let alone a good wife, or friend.

When he was told the cancer was in remission and he no longer needed treatment, I crashed. I spent two weeks straight doing nothing but sleep on the couch. Maybe the high energy (looking back, I know it was the highest level of mania I had ever had) during Jake's treatments completely drained and humbled me... After my serious crash, I realized my behavior wasn't normal, and I finally consented going to get checked out.

My family doctor listened very carefully as I described my concerns. He was pretty sure then that he knew what was going on, but he had me go back home and keep a mood journal for a while, so he could be sure.

Upon returning, he was convinced I had Bipolar 2 with rapid cycling. I was willing to accept depression, but bipolar? That means I'm crazy. That means I don't know how to care for myself or anyone else. Yes- even those of us with mental illness fall prey to stigma; especially in the beginning.

I hated myself. I started retrospectively noticing those awful things I said and did (because bipolar makes you feel like you're always right). I became timid and angry. I still get in that mindset, especially when Jake tries to give me feedback on my behavior (understand, though, we have mutually agreed this is necessary to helping me remain stable). I frequently feel that I'm less than because I have this disorder that makes me human.

What about that high-school version of me? I miss her. She was so happy and accepted. She did everything she wanted, and got constant validation. She could conquer the world.

During all this, I thought frequently about how wrong my mission president was in saying I WAS Wonder Woman. If he could only see me now- in all my flawed glory- he would never say I was her.

She was perfect.

Wait a minute- no, she's not. Give me a little nerd credibility- I married a comic book writer. 😜

Wonder Woman loses her abilities- including her super strength- when her wrists are bound together.

We all know the Superman has his Kryptonite. Green Kryptonite takes away his superpowers; and there is Kryptonite of other colors that mess with him, too.

Green Lantern’s flaw or weakness is the color yellow, which eventually was made into the manifestation of fear on the light spectrum (and is the opposite of him, with Green light being powered by will).

Martian Manhunter’s is fire.

The Flash will die if he runs too fast.

Daredevil’s is too much noise pollution. 

These are just examples!!! Even superheroes have issues. The Super heroic part comes when they fight for the good, in spite of their difficulties.

Is it possible that my mission president knew that all along? That superheroes have flaws just like the rest of us- and if we keep fighting through all the opposition we face in spite of our difficulties, we are just as powerful as them.

It took me a long time to I had to learn that my trials were okay- they don't say I'm a bad person... Just that I'm a fighter. And maybe I don't have the slick black hair and tiara, but maybe I am a pretty wonderful woman.

Refiner's Fire

  Malachi 3:2-3

We've all been through this- and we'll be through even more; the Refiner's Fire. I'll never forget when I first learned what a Refiner's fire was. It was so real and made so much sense. I love when the scriptures come to life as they did to me here.

Someone who is a refiner of gold or silver has to take a raw, very coarse piece of the metal and push it into an extremely hot fire. This fire forces the metal to be submissive, malleable, ready to be molded. Not only that, it pushes imperfections to the surface (in this case, those imperfections in the metal are called dross). If left in the fire long enough, those imperfections fall off, leaving the metal more pure, valuable, and beautiful. The Refiner knows his metal is ready when he can see his reflection in the surface of his gold or silver.

So- let's look at this as we are the silver. It sucks. We're not hurting anyone, but out of nowhere, we are thrown a curve ball; taken from where we are (where we're perfectly comfortable, thank you very much), and pushed into a whirlwind of hard things.

I believe I am in yet another Refiner's Fire. Without giving too many details (too personal and uncertain to share at this time), let me break it down for you. First are the trials that don't go away- Bipolar; figuring out how to be a good mother (include things like trying to potty train, teaching to read, etc); sleep apnea (YOU try sleeping with a million straps around your head). Almost a year ago, my husband and I decided to sell our home in the hopes we could pay off our medical debt (caused by previous refiner's fires: Jake had cancer, we struggled with infertility, my Bipolar diagnosis and trying to figure out how to treat/manage it). But by the time our house sold, we still didn't feel right about buying a new (smaller) home, so we didn't have anywhere to go. We ended up moving in with my in-laws. Now, while I have the best in-laws on the face of the planet, it's still hard when you don't have a place of your own (especially when you're used to running your own home). You have to do things by someone else's rules and try to keep your stuff (and kids stuff) strictly in very small, out-of-the-way spaces. Honestly, I cringe every time the girls dig into their toy-box.

And that's just the beginning. After living at my in-laws for about 2 months, my father-in-law passed away VERY unexpectedly. So add grieving to the list. And because my mother-in-law has some medical issues, and can't do some things on her own, it falls to my husband and me to care for her. My husband goes to work to provide for everyone, and takes care of legal stuff together with his siblings, and I take her to multiple doctors appointments a week while we try to figure out what she needs; while also finding multiple babysitters a week for the girls, and driving Jonas to and from school every day (he's doing a Spanish immersion program, so his school is a little further away). While I believe that God obviously placed us at my in-laws house to be here when we were needed, it is still difficult.

I have also recently learned that my Grandma has stage 4 cancer, and my Grandpa was just diagnosed with dementia. It kills me to watch my mom try to be strong and do and say "what you're supposed to" when you're a devout Mormon, but not know yet what it feels like to lose a parent. I know she's hurting while she serves where she's needed/wanted. I also know I can't take that hurt away- I can't fight this battle for her (as much as I wish I could).

And while none of these things are necessarily hard on their own, together they are overwhelming. I stress enough just not being in my own space- let alone making sure I'm doing everything I can for all my other family members who are also suffering. I'm doing the best I can, and hope that the Lord will magnify my efforts.

I want to know a timeline. When will we have our own house again? (Or will we?) How will my mom-in-law's health progress? How long will my Grandma last? I wish I just knew- so I could pace myself better. I don't know how long I can keep this up.

I expressed my frustration and stress to my therapist, who was very understanding. The thing she kept repeating to me is my need to take all of it one day at a time- even one step at a time. Less important things will fall off my daily to do list- which I should keep short on purpose.

Other thoughts that have come are as follows:

Whom the Lord calls, He qualifies.

If He brings you to it, 

He can bring you through it.

 Footprints in the Sand 

By Mary Stevensen

One night I had a dream.
I dreamed I was walking along the beach
with the Lord..

Across the sky flashed scenes from my life..
For each scene, I noticed two sets of
footprints in the sand,
one belonging to me, and the other to the Lord..

When the last scene of my life flashed before me,
I looked back at the footprints in the sand.
I noticed that many times along the path of my life
there was only one set of footprints.
I also noticed that it happened at the very lowest
and saddest times in my life.

This really bothered me
and I questioned the Lord about it:
"Lord, you said that once I decided to follow you,
you'd walk with me all the way.
But I have noticed that during the most
troublesome times in my life
there is only one set of footprints.
I don't understand why
when I need you most you would leave me."

The Lord replied:
"My precious child, I love you and would
never leave you.
During your times of trial and suffering,
when you see only one set of footprints, it was then
that I carried you."

Although for me, it might be more like this:

In the Malachi scripture- the Lord is the refiner's fire. He is the one who pushes us into difficult times in our lives- our own personal (shall we say hellfire?)- not because we did something wrong, but simply because he loves us and wants us to return more noble and ready to enter His kingdom of heaven. So, he forces us under fire, until we become ready to be molded by Him. And He knows we are ready when He can see his image in us. Have you seen His image in your countenance?