What happens when you're no longer in recovery

I like to say I'm in recovery from my bipolar disorder. I'm stable, I have a job, I take care of my family, and I am able to function somewhat successfully in society.

I've probably been on this glorious plateau for about 2 years now.

What does recovery look like? It looks like you or me, to be honest. It looks like an average Joe going to work each day. It looks like your typical mum cooking dinner for her kids. It also looks like doctor visits every month and lots of pills. It looks like long hours on the couch with a therapist.

In the midst of this recovery, I've been a writer, and have blogged my journey to where I am now. However, I haven't always been honest in my writings, which is out of alignment with my core values. I believe in being authentic, and telling the real story, no matter how ugly I think it is.

I've been a mental health advocate for several years now, and I know people look up to me for how much I've overcome. And since I know this, sometimes it's been difficult to ask for help when I've started to decompensate. I don't want to look like a failure, or no longer seem like a role model.

When I've gone the solo route, and kept quiet about my internal struggles, shit got real, super fast. There have been times over the last 5 years when I've quit my meds cold turkey, and well, I'm sure you can guess what happened. I ended up in the hospital after a suicide attempt. There have been times when I've felt the darkness, which is similar to the Nothing (cultural reference), take over me and take away everything good I've ever known.

And the worst part about these struggles? I didn't share them. I kept quiet about them, like it was something to be ashamed of. I honestly felt like a failure because I had slid backwards. There's no logical reason for that, relapse is always a possibility with bipolar disorder.

I never shared my struggles while I was in the midst of them. I only would share once I'd recovered and was stable. I feel like this is a huge disservice to others.

I should've shared my struggles as they were happening. That is what an authentic person would do. People need to see the dips of mental illness just as much as they need to see the highs.

I feel I can give hope to others if I'm struggling myself, yet I continue to reach out and help others.

I'd like to make a pledge. A pledge to be more real in my writings, and more real of how I'm actually doing. It's not fair to the people who look up to me to only see the best I have to offer. They need to see that I'm human, with fallibility, and I can fall as well.

I think it's just as important for people to see me struggle because then they get to see me rise as I regain control of my internal demons, and take control once again.

Who will join me in pledging to be a more genuine person in regards to your mental illness. Who will be more candid about their struggles, and more open about their demons?

Now, I'm not recommending you blast your story all over the internet, (unless you want to of course), because you should only share your story with the people who've earned the right to hear it. What I'm saying is be more open with these people. Be more open in general.

You might be surprised at the connections you make with this new level of authenticity. 

Questions you should ask before vacationing while depressed

When I'm depressed, I often dream of running away to an exotic place, in the hopes that it would help dissolve the hazy fog I find myself in.

Last November I found myself in the deepest, darkest of depressions. I actually attempted to take my life, which was ultimately not successful, in case you couldn't tell by me being the one writing this. And I couldn't shake the fog. It darkened everything I did. I had the chance to go to California and see Tony Robbins live, which is quite the experience I tell you what. Even with it being quite the experience, I still came home glum, depressed and blue.

So, I stayed this blue for another week and a half, until my husband took me to Disney World. Now, I love Disney. All things Disney. And I'd never been there before, even though I've visited Disneyland a few times. You'd think this was enough to kick that depression's ass, but no. I tried my hardest, my very hardest to enjoy the trip. And sometimes it worked. There were glimmers of my old self at times, but they didn't last.

Going on depression, even to those two amazing places, didn't pull me out. So once I got home, I thought of some questions to help me decide when going on a vacation while depressed would be right for me, just for future reference. I want to share them with you.

What does my treatment team think?

For me, I didn't make the decision to go lightly, I discussed it with my treatment team beforehand, and had they been absolutely opposed to me going, I would've missed my trips. So, I would recommend discussing a change of scenery with those who care about you before booking the next flight out. Making an informed, rather than rash, decision is almost always the best course of action.

Where is it I want to vacation to?

If you're normally a party girl, or thrill seeker guy, you might think New York City is the place to be. But if you're not that person while depressed, NYC could potentially make you feel worse, by reminding you at every corner that you don't feel well. Also, a high impact vacation is going to wear you out, and leave you drained, much more so than a nice relaxing vacay by the beach would.

I know this because I was fighting this depression with everything I had in me. I knew I was super fortunate to be in these awesome places, and that I shouldn't feel depressed, but no matter what I did, I couldn't stop it. In fact, I was beating myself up even more than if I'd been at home, because who gets depressed at Disney World?

Now, I didn't take a vacation to Jamaica, or Hawaii, or another relaxing sandy beach. I can't speak for what vacations to places like that would be like. I imagine that depression is depression is depression, as in, you'll be depressed no matter where you rest your head at night. I could be wrong though. Maybe it's worth going on that trip even if you're feeling blue.

What's the end game I'm trying accomplish by going on vacation?

Am I trying to 'snap out of it' by being somewhere new, or am I going simply because I think it'd be a nice change of scenery?

Your mindset as to why you're going matters. If you've got pie in the sky hopes of magically feeling better just because of where you are, you're absolutely just setting yourself up for disappointment.

Are the travel plans flexible, or stringent?

Do you have to go the week of the 3rd, or can you play around with the dates, just in case your depression is worst around then? Try not to pin yourself into a corner if possible.

I know for me, I'd have much rather preferred to change my dates because it wasn't a game-changer in my depression. I recognize that I had no control over the timing of my Tony Robbins trip, and had to go to that happy or sad, but I wish I could've waited on my DW trip. The colors would've been brighter, the experiences more memorable,  and I would've been better company all around.

What's going to be different once I get home?

Are you going right back to work full-time, or are you easing into it? Will you immediately be overwhelmed with household responsibilities. or can some of it take the back burner? What I'm saying here, is that if going on vacation is going to ultimately lead to more stress when you get back, it might not be the best time to go, especially if you're in the deep dark pit of despair like I was.

I don't know if these two vacations helped me stay stable or not, I was so depressed I wasn't looking forward to anything. Maybe if there's something you're really looking forward to, it would make a difference, but that wasn't the case for me. I appreciate the fact that I had a chance to put my coping skills into practice, and show that I could practice self care under challenging circumstances (such as being away from family and no one to hold me accountable). I didn't give into the depression, I still forced myself to get up and go each day, even when it felt overwhelmingly impossible. I don't know if I would have been able to keep fighting against it like that had I been home. So there is one positive, at least, lol.

All in all, vacationing while depressed is a very personal matter, and unique to each person. Traveling can be fun, but you always want to be in the best possible health to go!

Telling my story...

I feel like there has been a lot of attention lately on people with mental illness. There has especially been a focus on overcoming stigma in the world, to help people who are struggling, feel safe talking about it. We all know the statistics. We know that because of stigma, people are less likely to seek treatment, less likely to follow doctor's orders, and less likely to see a therapist. We know that there is no cure for most, if not all serious mental illness. And recovery can be so fleeting. We know that despite sensational media reports, the mentally ill are far more likely to be victims of crimes than perpetrators. These are sobering facts. Even with these sobering facts, I feel like there is still a disproportionate shortage of hope being spread about serious mental illness, and that's why I'm writing today.

I have a serious mental illness. I've lived with it for most of my life. I've been diagnosed with bipolar disorder type I. I go through extreme mood swings, varying from periods of mania, where I'm euphoric, and make really poor choices because I feel indestructible and on top of the world, to periods of severe depression, where I feel utterly worthless and like life is meaningless, and my family would be better off without me. I manage to stave the worst of these highs and lows off with medication management and therapy.

What do I know about hope and mental illness? I was once a trainwreck of a typical case. I was untreated, court committed, in and out of hospitals, and well on my way to being another statistic. I hit rock bottom in my life about 10 years ago, right when I was first diagnosed actually. It was about this time when I lost everything of value to me. I lost my car, I lost my apartment, I lost my job, my family shunned me, and I lost custody of the one thing that meant the most to me, my daughter. I literally lost my will to live at this point. I earned myself a 6 week stay at the local psych ward during this time, and I had a lot of time to reflect on just how much I'd ruined my life. I finally got out close to New Year's, and as that year drew to a close, I knew without a doubt that I was closing a chapter that had been the worst of my life, and I was never going to repeat it again.

I woke up to a new year, and I was a new woman. I was determined to get my life back together somehow. So I did. Very slowly. My family unwillingly had let me come home, and I had determined that the first thing I needed to do was find a job, so I immediately stated putting out applications. Once I got my job, I got a phone. Then, a car. I also made sure my daughter was back in my life too. After I got into the groove of working, I decided to go back to school. Now, I'm not saying this all happened smoothly, but it happened. I still continued to struggle with my bipolar episodes, but I had a lot of support from my friends and family to help me through them when they happened. I stayed mainly unmedicated during these couple of years, and it was tough, but I did it.

A few years after I had my epic breakdown, I met a really wonderful guy, who treated me amazingly, and we got married. He's been a great support to me as I've had my ups and downs with my bipolar disorder moments. We have 3 kids together, in addition to my oldest. I may have bipolar disorder, but I'm doing something right by these kids. I send my kids off to school every morning, and not one of them will leave until they get a hug and kiss, and my oldest won't go to bed without telling me I'm her favorite mommy.

Now here's the important part. I still struggle. I've been hospitalized more times than I care to admit. I'm not perfect. I still have moments where I don't know if carrying on is worth it. But I know I'm in a good place. I'm doing good things. I have a part time job that I've had for over a year. I work at a place where I actually feel like I make a difference. I write articles that I feel are helping people and have the potential to help a life. I'm constantly improving myself. I know myself, and I watch myself constantly for fluctuations in my mood, and am on top of seeing my doctor if I sense a disturbance in the force. I regularly see my therapist and am dealing with the issues that I need to overcome that have been holding me back all my life.

I may have bipolar disorder, but it doesn't have me. I'm not defined by it. I have value and I see that. I may need medications for the rest of my life, but that doesn't make me 'less than'. Considering the weight gain it causes, it actually makes me 'more than'. I jest, I jest. I like me. I've been told I'm an innately likeable person. Being bipolar doesn't take away from that. It doesn't take away the fact that I'm a very authentic and real person, or that I love serving others, or that I love writing and being creative.

There is hope after a mental illness diagnosis. I lost hope after I got my diagnosis, I think. I felt like I would just be a waste of space, and why try because I was just going to be a label that no one would ever see past. I'm happy to say that I have so much evidence to the contrary that people all around me see past that label, all the time. My boss sees past it. My coworkers see past it. My husband sees past it. My friends see past it. People who know me just see Tricia, not bipolar.  If you're struggling to find yourself in the midst of an mental illness identity crisis, I promise you, you're in there. There's nothing wrong with needing help from a support person to find yourself, or perhaps needing help from medication to find your best self. Just keep reaffirming to yourself who you are, and keep hanging on.

Is coming out about having bipolar disorder ever a good idea?

Is outing yourself as a person with mental illness ever a good idea? Is there ever a good time to admit you've got a mental disorder? And where? Should you do it in person? On facebook? In a blog?

I'm open about being bipolar everywhere. I may as well wear a scarlet 'B' for the world to see. The people in my real life know it, everyone on facebook is aware, I blog and write about it, using my own name even.

I've seen this question asked many different times over the years, and even though I chose to open up about it, I don't think there's a clear cut right or wrong answer.

I do have some guidelines that I've cobbled together that might help a person deciding whether or not to go public about their mental health. These are things I wish I'd known before I started blogging about bipolar disorder years ago.

Are you in a stable place of recovery?

I can not emphasize this enough, being manic or thoroughly depressed when you decide to go public will almost definitely be detrimental to your health. You will get stable and be mortified that you decided to share such a private part of your life with the world, especially when you weren't in the best state to do damage control on what people saw. I am eternally grateful that I was in a stable place when I first decided to start blogging about mental illness, but looking back, I cringe at just how not put together I really was. There were times I wish that I'd had a person veto my writing privileges because I'd decompensated. That being said, I am a big believer of the mantra 'time heals all wounds' because yes, I put some random, poorly put together stuff on my blog, but the world was rather forgiving of those errors.

Can you handle the trolls?

Going public, especially going public online, can open the door to all sorts of trolls, who want nothing more than to tear you down. Oh, they may think they're helping, by making you question your medication choices, or question your treatment plan, but all they're really doing is dragging you down to their level, where you'll (hopefully, in their eyes) be as miserable as they are.

Are you ready for the (possible) notoriety?

Going public on facebook can be a gamble. You don't know what the person that's reading your status really thinks of mental illness, or what their preconceived notions are, and you may receive backlash. You'll almost always definitely receive positive statements and love, but like I said earlier, there are trolls out there, and I'm sure you know some irl. If you don't receive anything uplifting, or fear you won't, then going public right now is definitely not the best thing for you. Personally, I'd recommend finding a new social circle if the one you have is full of people who tear you down, too.

Does your employer know you have a mental illness?

This is a big one. Most employers search your name periodically, and most new employers almost definitely do. Are you ready to have the risk of losing your job, or the possibility of being discriminated against when it comes to a new job due to stigma and fear? Now, I know this is a very valid concern, and one of the reasons to think about outing yourself very carefully. I've had several jobs since I started writing online, and have not yet once been discriminated for being bipolar. However, I've had several job interviews, and no job offers, and I will never know why I didn't get those jobs. My last job knew I was bipolar, and supported me fully. My current job doesn't know, but I've only been there a week, I'm sure it'll come up at some point.

Are you okay with your name forever being linked to your disorder?

If you google my name, my author page with The Mighty is the first thing you see. My blog is further down, but it's there too. It's blatantly obvious that I write about living with bipolar disorder. To be honest, there have been times when I've struggled with this degree of disclosure to the world. I've always overcome those feelings because deep down I believe in what I'm doing, and am 100% committed to fighting stigma no matter what. It's also been years since I've struggled with being out of the closet in regards to my mental health.

So where does this leave you? Ultimately, I think it's no one's business how open or not open you are about your illness, and you should never feel pressured into telling your story when you're not ready. I think you'll know when you're ready, too. I think if there's even an ounce of doubt, or a feeling of hesitancy, or a pinch of paranoia, then now isn't the time to come out. But, each person is different. Maybe you have these doubts and still want to open up, and figure you'll deal with the pieces where they fall. More power to you.

I know for me, coming out has helped on a therapeutic level, and being able to see my progress over the years has been astounding. I'm grateful I have this platform to speak on, but I recognize it's not for everyone. If you don't feel like you'll ever be ready to come out to people, that's okay too. Like I said earlier, it's no one's business but your own, and you're in control of how you share that info. I am sure that if you're on the fence with this decision, you and your treatment team can come up with a palatable answer. I just wanted to provide a little extra food for thought.

What other considerations did I miss? Why else should a person not open up, or why else should they? Is one avenue of sharing potentially better than the others? I'd love to hear your thoughts!

Loving someone with bipolar disorder

How do you love with someone with bipolar disorder?

It's hard af.

I struggle to love me, and I have bipolar disorder.

I've got friends who love me though. I asked them what makes me so appealing, and they had some surprising answers,

One of my friends told me she loves me because I'm funny, I'm creative, and I'm kind. She loves me because I genuinely want to do good in the world.

My other friend had similar answers; I'm funny, honest, and compassionate.

I was once told that even though I'm a difficult person, there's still something innately likeable about me, and well, my friends' answers prove that's true.

My daughter loves me because she relates to the mood swings, and understands when I'm struggling.

My husband shows his love for me by being kind, compassionate, and understanding.

What does that compassion look like?

He knows I love Robert Downey, Jr, so when I'm in a funk, he'll turn on movies with him in it. I just recently watched Sherlock Holmes, and snuggling my husband and enjoying the movie really helped me know I'm loved.  He forces me to talk when I want nothing more than to clam up. He takes me out on dates when I want to curl up in bed and sulk, He surprises me with trips for just the two of us, to help me get out of my head, and to have something to look forward to.

So loving a person with bipolar disorder isn't easy. We're unpredictable, there's a chance we might hurt you when we're hurting too. I inadvertently hurt a good friend of mine with my last suicide attempt, and I'm having to suffer the consequences of that right now. But I'm still innately likeable. I'm still a good person, even though I do have mood swings, even though I have rages, even though I cry and sulk.

I also delight in making people happy, and serving others. And people see that about me.

I'm loved because I'm quirky.

So to love a person with bipolar disorder, you have to be willing to be hurt, you have to take a chance, You have to be prepared to roll with the punches (not literally, I hope). But there are so many good sides to loving a person with it. We're usually quite creative, and can help you get your house beautified, or help you with a DIY project you're stuck on, We can chatter your ear off for hours, and yet we can also turn around and listen when you need someone to lean on too.

Loving someone with bipolar disorder is chancy, and can be scary, but the person behind the disorder is usually worth the trouble. Like an ogre, (and an onion), there are layers to a person. And peeling back the layers and starting to love someone with bipolar disorder is a beautiful thing.

Like people say, if it's difficult, it's usually worth it. And a friendship with someone with mental illness can be difficult, but is so worth it. 

What is Mania Like?

I think many people relate to depression. Lots of people have been sad before. Many people have fallen into the dark pit of despair and managed to climb out of it. But I don't think people really have a grasp of what mania is like.

Mania is incredible. Mania is destructive. Mania is the highest high of your life, yet it's also a cliff and you just jumped off into the abyss.

People think mania is just happiness, giddiness, and euphoria. While those emotion can happen at the beginning, it doesn't stay that way.

Mania also includes psychosis, grandiosity, and delusions.

The less commonly noticed symptoms include less need for sleep, rapid speech, inflated self esteem, poor concentration, racing thoughts, risky behaviors, and excessive energy.

I've suffered from mania, and I've done incredible things while manic. I have created amazing things, yet while in the throes of mania, I've destroyed relationships.

You become another person while manic. You're high, you feel like you can control the world, you're going to accomplish great things. You become delusional, and can't see reason anymore.

You might feel like creating an online business and spend your life savings buying things for it. Or you might decide you need a brand new wardrobe for the new you. You might decide your partner isn't enough sexually, and go on the prowl for a new one. Or you might just become promiscuous when you're usually not.

The worst thing about mania, is the hypo-manic phase, when you truly are amazing. When you can still listen to reason, when you feel on top of the world, and you have ideas that are brilliant. This phase usually doesn't last long, and before you know it, you're into full blown mania.

And then there's the crash. It usually feels like you've literally hit a brick wall going 100 mph. You might wake up in the psych ward, you might wake up on the streets, you might not wake up at all. But it's there, and there's usually the deep depression that follows, where you're in a shame spiral because of all the incredible things you did while manic.

I remember the last manic episode I had, I was convinced I was going to start a jewelry making business, and sell my wares to my friends. I bought necklaces, and lockets, and trinkets with money I really didn't have. I was obsessed. I was crazed. I was fixated on this one thing. I felt amazing. I was in control. Until I wasn't. I couldn't tend my kids because I'd flown into psychosis, and wanted to kill myself because I wasn't a size 6 anymore. I was barely holding onto reality, and it was terrifying. I finally went to my doctor sobbing that I needed help, and I was admitted to the hospital.

I know a lot of my bipolar friends miss the mania, and struggle with medication compliance because of that. I miss the hypo-mania, but not enough to risk full blown mania. It's fun for awhile, but it becomes horrific very quickly.

Mania is an uncontrolled beast that resides inside every bipolar person (well, bipolar I person), and it is something that will never be tamed, at least, not without proper medication and therapy, IMHO.

So although there is some 'fun' included in mania, it's doesn't stay grins and giggles, which is an excellent reason to try and keep it tamed. Even when it's hard because you miss the euphoria, you have to remember that it's not just that, there's also usually a side of remorse and embarrassment included with it. 

The is Hope After Addiction

I'm an addict. There. I said it. I'm saying it to the world. Not only am I an addict, but I have bipolar disorder as well.

Why am I telling you this?

I'm telling you this to give you hope. I was once a trainwreck. I hit rock bottom. I was homeless. I was selling myself on the street to get by. I had no real friends, no one to turn to for advice, comfort, support. All I had were my drugs.

Oh, I denied being an addict for a long time. I couldn't possible be one I rationalized. My meds were prescribed by a doctor. I didn't get them from a dealer off the streets. I got them from a pharmacy. Legally.

But the drugs were ruining my life. I managed to claw myself up from rock bottom, even with the drugs as my support. I went back to college, I got a job, I won back custody of my daughter. I got married. I had more kids. But I was only a shell of my former self.

I denied that there was a problem so well that I even believed it myself. I totally rationalized the needing of more meds than prescribed. I rationalized the burning desire for 8 PM to hit every night so I could take my Ambien. I rationalized everything away.

I explained away my odd behavior to everyone. The falling asleep at inappropriate times. The slurred speech. The glazed over eyes. It was all a side effect of perfectly legal substances. Legal substances that I was abusing.

I struggled. My bipolar disorder didn't help me at all to get over my addiction. In fact, the two disorders competed with each other for my attention. I was having an anxiety attack? Pop a few Xanax. My back was hurting? Pop a couple roxicodone.  I couldn't win for losing.

With each drug of choice, there was tipping point for me to quit it. My pain specialist prescribed me suboxone finally for my pain, and on the package it came in, it read 'to be taken for opioid addiction'. What the hell? How dare they accuse me of being an addict! Fuck them. I quit the suboxone and roxicodone there and there. I'd show them. I could manage just fine with Motrin from there on out. And I did. I've taken oxicodone a handful of times since then, and only for extreme situations (read: kidney stones).

But the addiction was still there, and I was still in denial over having it. So I continued to take the Xanax. I mean, it was prescribed, right? There was finally a day when I was super late to pick my son up from the bus stop, because I'd popped a few too many of them, that I realized things were out of hand. I still couldn't quit though. It took a hospital stay because of an overdose on them that I was finally able to stop them.

But the addiction was still there. And I still had my beloved Ambien. Oh Ambien, what a nightmare you are. I would have never quit the Ambien, until my husband left me over it. He had begged for years for me to quit taking it, but I couldn't. It wasn't until he finally left that I woke up from the foggy haze I'd been in to quit.

I quit that shit right then and there again, Cold turkey, never again. It took a few months for my husband and I to work through the varied issues at hand that we'd both contributed to the dysfunction in our marriage, but we did it.

I can now say that I've been clean from everything for 18 months. I don't even have a desire to take anything addictive. I refuse to have it in the house. I take naltrexone for my weight, but also for the added benefit that it is an opioid blocker, which discourages me from even trying to get meds I don't really need.

So what's happened in the last 18 months? I've gotten my life back. I'm in tune with what my children need. I'm able to enjoy my children more fully. We're close as a family unit. My husband and I are closer than ever. We've been married 8 years, and this past year has been our best year ever, even with the dysfunction we had to work through. I got into treatment for my bipolar disorder, and yes, the addiction as well. I thrived there. I graduated from it with a good handle on myself, and had everything in check.

Life is amazing now. I would have never realized just how wonderful life can be without struggling in the depths of hell beforehand. I just want people to know there is hope. You can rise above the addiction and be more than just an addict. You can be a writer. A mother. An aunt. An advocate. A person with worth and value. I know this is all true because that's me now. I'm all of those things and more.

I'm not saying it's easy. It's harder than hell to rise above the shame and guilt over being an addict. It took me a lot of intensive therapy and the support of a loving family to do it. And you'll need support. I definitely did. It takes a village to help an addict recover. But it can be done. I know this is true because I did it. And I know others can too. 

Why the justification?

Why do people feel the need to justify their medication usage? Is there some shame involved there? Shame of having to be on those particular meds? Shame of really being what they call you? If a person were on Metfomin for diabetes, no one would bat an eye. But the second you mention lithium, Prozac, Ativan...people lose their shit. 

They seem to get especially mean when you mention the drugs Valium, Xanax, Klonopin, Ativan, etc. Why is that? Hmmm, I wonder.  These are in the 

benzodiazepine family, and they're great drugs, but also super dangerous. 

What I feel so many people are overlooking, is that benzos are addicting...and that many people who start out taking them as prescribed, then start struggling with the the med not being effective, and then suddenly find themselves locked into taking more than prescribed. Unfortunately, I can absolutely relate to this scenario.

I've shared this story before but I feel it bears repeating, even with the risk of being told, "It's people like you that make me furious because I can't get my drugs because of you." 

I was once a happy-go-lucky 20 year old who happened to have crippling anxiety (and undiagnosed bipolar disorder among other things). My doctor tried the usual cocktails; SSRI's, buspar, vistaril, etc. None of them worked. Finally, my doctor tried me on Valium, and oh my gosh, it was as if the seas had parted and I was set free. It did that much good for me. I was able to go out in public, I was able to sleep, I was able to raise my children. 

But. (There's always a but isn't there?) But, fast forward 6 years, and I'm not on one dose daily of 5 mg anymore. I'm now on 2 mg of Xanax 3 times a day. And frequently took more than that to keep the edge off. I was a wreck. I finally had my wake up call, and realized I was, indeed, an addict. I'd gotten hooked from perfectly legal drugs, all perfectly prescribed by my doctor, for perfectly valid medical conditions. I started out taking the meds as prescribed, until they weren't working at optimal levels anymore, and that's when I started taking too much. 

Sooooo, these drugs are dangerous af. I've now been clean for almost 2 years, and you know what? My anxiety is better controlled by Neurontin than it ever was by Xanax. I'm so much happier at this point in my life than I thought would ever be attainable. Without benzos. 

Now, in regards to other psychiatric meds, I'm on 9 different ones, and I don't care what people think of them. Because of my experience with benzos though, I advocate heavily for people to work on coping mechanisms in therapy. I once thought coping mechanisms were bullshit and refused to even try learning them, and thought, 'well, why should I? I can take a pill and it'll go away', and that's 100% true...popping a pill is days more easier than learning ways to deal with anxiety, but ultimately, life is better when you're not dependent on a crutch like addictive substances. 

Before anyone starts out with torches and pitchforks to find me, I don't have problems with people taking meds for psychiatric conditions, but I do have concerns with people who take addictive substances for psychiatric disorders. 

These drugs are dangerous. They are lethal. They can hurt as well as heal. And I feel that the people who get so furious about your medication usage simply care, and they know just how dangerous these drugs are. I know how dangerous they are, and I advocate heavily for people to only use them as a last resort, and not the first line of defense. 

This is just one woman's experience of course, but after living that experience, I don't think I'd go near benzos again, not even with a 39 1/2 foot pole. 

Why I can't just 'get over' my mania

Doesn't having an elated mood, possibly for weeks at a time, sound wonderful? It certainly doesn't sound like anything you need to see your doctor over, right? What about having a sense of confidence in yourself? That you are born to succeed, and can't fail. That sounds like it'd be a great trait for an entrepreneur to have. But what about impulsivity? Or racing thoughts? These sound less fun, don't they? How about engaging in risky behaviors, such as having unprotected sex, gambling, or going on huge shopping sprees? That doesn't sound fun at all, does it?

Out of any of these, which do you think I can control? Which do you think I can just 'get over'?

Moving past a manic episode is almost a Herculean task. You do stupid, shameful things while in a state of mania. It's easy to hold a grudge towards your manic self because of all the suffering it brings on.

And why should I have to 'get over' it? Being bipolar is who I am. Yes, I want to control my mania, just as I want to control the depression, but do I really need to 'get over' it? That's  like telling me to 'get over' my arm, or my left pinky toe.

I understand that people want me to get better, but I'm not going to get over bipolar disorder as easily as one gets over the cold.

It's impossible to 'get over' some of these things. Maintain and control yes, but eliminate completely? Not likely.

Mania has such little good to it, yet many people with bipolar disorder are addicted to that sliver of goodness. The rush you feel, the on top of the world high, those are difficult feelings to voluntarily banish. The colors you see, the creativity you have, why would anyone get rid of these things? Because there's more to mania than just that high. And I can't get over it without help.

I can't regulate my sleep cycle, eat this diet, and take those herbs to feel at optimal levels. It just doesn't work that way.

It also doesn't work by using sheer willpower to control the symptoms. If it did, everyone would be doing it, and bipolar disorder wouldn't be considered a serious mental illness.

For me, staying sane includes therapy and meds. It includes getting enough sleep, and eating regular meals. It includes having a support system to rely on. I have to know my triggers, and learn to cope with my stressors.

There's no 'getting over' mania, but there is 'living with' mania. And thriving. 

What not to say to a bipolar person

I've had some incredibly touching experiences in the midst of my struggles with bipolar disorder. Unfortunately, it's also par for the course that I've had some really shitty ones too. Over the last decade, I've heard so many things, like 'There's nothing really wrong with you, you're just an attention whore" or 'It's all in your head", and to that I cheerily reply, "Of course it is happening inside my head, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?” I feel like Dumbledore would be proud.

I've come up with a list of phrases I've heard over the last 20 yeas or so that you should never say to someone with bipolar disorder, and why it shouldn't be said.

"Snap out of it."

I really hate this expression because it insinuates I'm choosing to act this way, whatever way that might be. That I have a switch I can flip to go back to 'normal'. Fighting the struggles of bipolar disorder is an all encompassing job, and to imply that I'm not doing all I can to feel better is insulting. Sometimes all I can do is make it from my bed to my couch, which is the equivalent of a hike up Mount Everest when I'm depressed. When walking 20 feet is too much to handle, 'snapping out of it', is an even more impossible task. 

"Why are you doing this to me?"

Talk about a guilt trip from hell. I really despise this because the person is making you feel even worse about something you can't control, by implying that yo're doing this on purpose, to be vindictive, or for any other reason. They're trying to make you own their emotions, and give you weight to carry that you don't need to carry. 

"Happiness is a choice."

Oh. Ohhhhh, This one really gets to me. Yes, there are choices you can make to lead to happiness, but there is more to it than that. There are other people that can affect your path to happiness. There's neurotransmitters that affect your happiness. There are situational factors that affect it as well. I'm a fan of Viktor Frankl, who was able to find happiness in the most extreme of circumstances, the concentration camps of Nazi Germany. He even created a school of thought from what he learned there, called logotherapy. He knew that you couldn't just choose happiness, you had to work for it. Albus Dumbledore once said, "Happiness can be found in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light." I love this quote because it reminds me that what I focus on is what I see best. If I'm dwelling in the dark, I'm not going to find happiness. 

"Have you thought of trying <insert random herb here>?" or "You should get off all those pills."

I know this one is well meaning, and usually brought up in a loving manner, but to me, it's still patronizing AF. It hurts because I have a doctor, and 99% of the people in my life know I have a doctor, and we work quite well as a team to keep me stable. I'm not going to risk my stability on an herb that could have grave consequences should I try it. And quitting my meds? I've burned so many bridges that the people suggesting me didn't know me when I was off all those pills. They wouldn't want to see that, ever. I know I don't.

"You've got it so good, why are you depressed?"

This one hurts, probably the most to me right now. I am fully aware of how incredible my life is, how blessed I am, and everything I have to be grateful for. I still cry big tears of sadness, and feel like I don't deserve any of it. It's possible to have a great life and still be depressed when you're bipolar. Pointing out everything great doesn't make the depression go away, it just makes me hate myself more for being an ungrateful brat. 

So, what CAN you say to someone with bipolar disorder? You can say, "I see you've been struggling lately, what can I help with?". You can say, "I see you, and am here with you.". You can even just be silent, and sit, and give your presence as a show of solidarity with the person struggling. You can just listen, instead of talking. You can offer a hug. I know for me, I had one experience in the psych ward where I was just devastated, and the tears wouldn't stop coming, and the nurse on duty just came and sat with me. And listened. And just her presence was enough to calm me down. She then gave me a hug and gave me an encouraging platitude, and it was enough. I've never forgotten that, even though I'm sure she doesn't remember this at all by now. Never underestimate the power of silence. 

We just want to be accepted as we are, warts and all. Treat us as you would want to be treated. And remember this above all; in a world where you can be anything, be kind. 

A Stranger’s Act of Kindness Towards Me and My Bipolar That Surprised Me

I hit rock bottom in life a little over 10 years ago. I lost everything that was important to me, from my child, to my car, to my house...to my dignity.

This is when I was finally diagnosed with bipolar disorder, and ended up spending 6 weeks in a short term psych ward. The average stay there was 5-7 days, I blew that average right out of the water.

I made a lot of poor choices before that hospital stay, which ultimately cost me custody of my child, and for a time it lost me my family and friends.

When I was staying at this hospital, I had no friends or family to come visit me, everyone had written me off. I had no one to call during open phone time. I had no one to bring me money to get a soda, or something besides the semi-edible hospital food.

That kind of isolation will wear on a person, until they begin to truly believe that they are nothing more than a mouth breather taking up space. This being a very difficult point in my life, I actually contemplated ways to end my life while in the hospital. I hated myself, and felt like no one should waste their time on me.

And since I had that attitude, several of the nurses and techs treated me as such. There was one who didn't though. He treated me as if I were a person. As if I mattered. He was always subtle in his approach to letting me know I had value, but it was always there. It was the little things like getting me a soda every week or so, or buying me french fries from the cafe downstairs because he knew I wasn't getting that stuff any other way. He would let me choose the radio station and encourage me to rock out.

These don't sound like huge things, but they were life altering for me. I was able to slowly come back from the brink of the dark abyss because of his actions. I started writing while in the hospital, to get the words that were poisoning my soul out. I started trying to live again, even though every day was like having a glass shard in my heart.

I learned a valuable lesson from this man's treatment of me. I learned that you never know how much of a difference you can make in a person's life by being kind, so be kind, always. He'll never know that he helped save my life, just by treating me as a person. Now I try to pay that forward whenever I can. Random acts of kindness are my favorite things to do. If you're ever in a position to either be kind, or say something hurtful, always try and choose the higher road. You never know when you'll be saving a person's life by doing so. 

Three Resolutions of a Person With Bipolar Disorder

It's the end of the year, and what does that mean? It means it's time to start thinking of New Year's resolutions.

My resolutions tend to stay the same every year, none of that 'I want to lose 30 pounds by bikini season' crap, or 'I'm going to run a full marathon by the end of winter' phooey. Good on everyone else who makes those promises to themselves, but it's not my scene. Though, it could be because I don't run - unless a zombie is chasing me.

No, my resolutions are a little more serious, and have far more lasting consequences if I don't see them through. You see, I have bipolar disorder, and I have to think carefully on my resolutions each year.

Take my first resolution for example, it is to stay medication compliant all the times. This is way harder than you'd think. I'm on 10 different medications; two of them cause weight gain, and with one of them I have to go in and get my blood checked frequently. I get so sick of taking 5 pills in the morning, and 5 at night, plus 15 more over the course of the day. When you have a hard time swallowing pills, 25 of them gets to be a bit much. And this is every day. I don't get weekends off, or holidays, or sick days. But I do it. I've had so many epic fails when I've decreased dosages without my doctor's knowledge, or just straight up quit meds without my provider's blessing. I've learned the hard way, again, and again, and again, about messing with my meds without my doctor knowing about. So, medication compliance, that's resolution number one.

Resolution number two is to put myself first, always. Many people think self care is selfish, but it's the most important thing you can do to help keep yourself stable. I have to take time every single day to make sure my needs are being met. I love to color, or crochet, or be able to take a long enough shower to have time to shave my legs. (With 4 kids, this is harder than you'd think.) Self care also includes reaching out to friends or family if you need to talk. There's an age old analogy that I share, about airplanes - if the oxygen masks come down, who's do you put on first? Yours or your child's? You put on yours first of course! Because if you pass out, you're of no use whatsoever to that child. This is an excellent analogy to life, you can't properly care for others if you don't care for yourself first.

Resolution number three. I have to be resolute in my decision to see my doctors and therapists regularly. I hate seeing my doctor every month, he's out-of-network, and it's pricey to see him every month, but we've tried pushing my visits out to every 2 months, and I decompensate every time. So, I go see him. I also have to stay regular with my individual therapist because I start to go downhill when I begin skipping appointments with her too. And then there's marriage counseling; we see him PRN, but I have to be honest with my husband about how I'm doing. So if my individual counseling isn't being effective on its own, my husband and I can go in as a team to our counselor and get extra coping skills from him.

I have to say, keeping these resolutions is not as easy as you'd think. There are months that I don't want to pick my meds up from the pharmacy because of how much they cost, which would put me out of compliance with them., Putting myself first isn't always easy, I have a history of low self esteem, and learning to care for me has been a challenge. And honestly, I get sick of all the doctor and therapy visits I have each month; I get tired of going in and seeing them so frequently. I feel like they're probably sick of seeing me so much or something.

But I keep those promises because I have to. My good health is one of the most precious things I have, and stability is worth the price of feeling like I inconvenience people. (I also recognize that this is probably a negative thought distortion, and I probably don't really burden people.)So if you live with bipolar disorder, and you haven't figured out what resolutions you want to make for 2017, maybe my list will be a springboard for you to jump off of and find some ideas that fit your situation too!

What You Can’t See About Living With Bipolar Disorder

There are so many things that people don't see about living with bipolar disorder.

No-one sees the anguish of knowing you're cycling, and feeling helpless to stop it. No-one sees the crushing weight of the depression. No-one sees the drug-like euphoria of mania.

People don't see you curled up in a ball on the edge of your bed as you hold your pill bottle in your hand, trying to convince yourself not to take them because you just can't take life anymore.

People don't see the shame spiral you fall into when you wake up from the mania haze and see the path of destruction you've left behind.

People don't see how deeply sorry you are, and how you'd give anything to not be like this.

No-one sees the difficulty of having to explain that you really are sick, even though you look totally healthy. Or the shame that can come along with looking totally fine, yet being broken into a million little pieces on the inside.

People don't see the internal struggle, the often daily internal struggle of living with this. Sometimes it feels like things will never be right; when you're feeling great, you have to worry if it's mania, or if it's not mania, you're worried about how long it'll last. Then when you're depressed, you have to try and hold on to the hope that there will be brighter days ahead, even though your head is messing with you and screaming that there will never be a light at the end of this tunnel.

No-one sees the tears, because you get tired of sharing them. No-one sees the haunting sadness, because you don't want to scare people away.

People see the beautiful smile, and hear the, 'I'm fine.', and leave it at that.

On the other hand, people don't see the compassion, the sheer empathy, and the love that people with bipolar disorder have for humanity.

We suffer, so we are more in tune with others' suffering, and want to alleviate it.

People don't see the absolute genius that is in our brains, usually because we're too disorganized to bring it to fruition, or too scared of failure, or for any other number of reasons.

People don't see enough stories of hope in bipolar disorder. They hear the horror stories, the untreated souls who are suffering, and think that's all that's there.

There is hope. Medications aren't fun, but they bring you peace and relief from the dark roller coaster ride. Therapy helps you understand yourself better, and gives you practical skills to use when you're struggling. Maybe what people need to see, how hard people with mental illness work to improve themselves.

It's a long uphill battle sometimes, but it's certainly not a death sentence - unless you make it one. And people can't see that without help.

Remembering the importance of stability even when it's boring

It's hard being well. It's hard to continue to take the same meds; day in, and day out.It's hard to 'keep your nose clean', and stay out of trouble. It gets boring.

Living with bipolar disorder is much like walking a tight rope. Too much 'fun' and I'm manic; too much 'down in the doldrums', and I'm depressed. God forbid I have an emotion that is human because it will be analyzed to pieces by myself, my husband, my doctor.

And staying out of trouble gets hard to do when you're bipolar. Many people, myself included, get an adrenaline rush like no other from the heights of mania. Giving that up for stability sometimes looks like a poor choice. You can feel as if you've lost your creativity, your 'spark', your muchness, to quote the Mad Hatter.

So what's a person to do when boredom strikes, and it starts looking like a good idea to 'poke the bear', as some would say?

The biggest thing I do, is talk to someone. That's the number one most important thing you can do when you start thinking stirring up some trouble would be swell. Talk to a trusted family member, or your therapist, or your psych, or even a member of the clergy, if you're so inclined.

Use your emergency contingency plan. I've had to make one every time I've been discharged from a psych ward, and they all look similar. It details what behaviors I exhibit when I'm starting to relapse, who to contact first, and things I can do to prevent things from deteriorating further.

The next thing you should do is actually use those coping skills that are talked about so frequently. For example, I color, I find something to clean, I pull out my Cricut and create something new. I write. I do something, anything, to keep my hands and mind busy.

I certainly don't ruminate. Those voices in my head love trouble, they thrive on it. If I listen to them, I'm headed for disaster.

I suppose the most important thing of all that I do, is not quit my medications at this time. If you're doing well, but you're bored with being well, quitting your meds is one of the worst things you can do for your continuing recovery.

Boredom is okay. In today's world we're taught that boredom is the worst possible punishment you can give a person, and that we must be entertained at all times, but it's not true. Sit with the boredom for a little while. This is super DBT-ish, but let the boredom flow through you like a wave. Acknowledge it is there, and then let it pass on by. Don't hold on to it, but don't push it away either. Soon the bored feeling will pass, and you'll be eternally grateful you stayed true to the course of recovery.

If none of this works, you may well be struggling and need a med adjustment, or a new approach in therapy. But you'll be ahead of the curve by being able to recognize a trigger for you.

I'm not going to lie, allowing myself to be bored sucks. I hate it. I don't like feeling like I need to stir up problems for entertainment. I know myself though, and knowing is half the battle, right? It's hard to admit when you're struggling, at least, it is for me. Don't be like me, who has too much pride to ask for help sometimes. Be yourself, a person who has learned from my mistakes. 

Self compassion when you're a bipolar parent

I've made some pretty poor choices as a mom over the years. And because of this mom guilt thing that is so permeated in our culture, it's been damn hard to forgive myself and move past it. In fact, I can't say that I have moved past a lot of the mistakes I've made. Add in a mental illness like bipolar disorder to the mix, and you've got a perfect storm of shame and remorse waiting to drown you in it's waters.

Late last year, my husband and daughter went out to the movies so I could stay in and have a relaxing night to myself. Unbeknownst to my husband, I'd been struggling quite seriously with suicidal thoughts and while he and my oldest were out at the movies, I made the very poor choice to take a few bottles of pills and attempt to end my life. Fortunately I'd been talking with a friend that day who was able to realize that I was in a very dark spot and she sent the sheriff's department out to check on me. This led to my husband getting a phone call as he was leaving the movie from a deputy letting him know that I'd attempted suicide and was at the local ER. Like I said, I've done some terrible things since I became a mom.This was one of those terrible things.

Having a serious mental illness like bipolar disorder and trying to be a 'good' parent can often feel like an effort in futility. Why should I even try because I'll never be good enough. I'll never be as good as my coworker who manages to get to work on time every day, I'll never be as good as my neighbor who gets a cooked dinner put on the table every night for her family. I'll never be as good as the PTA president who volunteers every week at my kids' school. When am I going to wake up and see that my good enough is enough? That all these 'never enough's' is destroying my self esteem? I have a job, that is enough. I feed my family, that is enough. My kids are doing fine in school, that is enough. I can't look at everyone's strengths, and feel less than just because it's not one of mine. I mean, there's the saying, "Everybody is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid." That is so applicable here.

So where is the lighthouse in this storm of shame and remorse? I know for me, it's self-compassion. Treating myself kindly, and with respect, and with empathy when I mess up is the key to helping me get through a shameful moment of treating my children poorly. When you've practiced self compassion and have told yourself you're still okay no matter what, then you're making progress. Shame is when you are telling yourself 'I am bad." Guilt is when you're telling yourself 'I did a bad thing'. See the difference? Even though I missed the school play because I was in the hospital, or because they saw me laying on the couch for days on end because I was too depressed to take care of myself, or because they had to shoulder on too much responsibility around the house as children, I'm still not a bad person. 

Although I'm talking about self compassion here, shame thrives in secrecy, and can't abide being brought into the light of day. Once you've told yourself you're okay, if you can, find an empathetic person that you trust to be vulnerable with, and share with them how you're feeling. Share these experiences with them, with someone who will listen empathetically, someone who will hopefully simply say, 'me too'. This will help you overcome the shame you feel and make you realize you are okay and make you feel worthy of the love and belonging you deserve to have. 

What does isolation look like with bipolar disorder?

Imagine a desert. A hot, empty desert. A hot, empty desert full of sand and mirages. Nothing else.

And you're there. Struggling to find the oasis. But there's all these mirages throwing you for a loop.

What do you do?

Do you curl up and assume all is lost, or do you press on, trusting one of those mirages will end up being the water you so desperately need?

This is my life with bipolar disorder. And those mirages are the voices in my head telling me I have no-one, and I shouldn't even try reaching out, because even if I did have someone, no-one cares anyway.

When I'm feeling alone and like I need to reach out for help, suddenly I'm thrown into the desert. And I can't find an oasis because I've curled up and assumed all is lost.

Fortunately, I'm not really alone. And people do care. A search party has been enlisted to find me in that desert, and the oasis I need is super close by. Even if I've laid down belly up, the people around me haven't.

Isolation in the real world, desert aside, doesn't look like it does in the movies. There's no freedom there, no moving image of me high in the mountains, all alone, breathing in that crisp mountain air, being rejuvenated. In all actuality, I'm trapped. Trapped in my head. With the negative thought distortions there to make sure I stay put.

And to stay trapped, my body cooperates with those evil thoughts telling me to not reach out. I become a recluse. I stay under the covers of my bed all day reading Orson Scott Card novels. I listen to Tori Amos. I don't hold my morning socials at my house. I stop doing the chores that need to be done to keep my house clean. All minor things in and of themselves, but when combined, it's a sure sign I'm isolating.

How can I stop this from spiraling from simple isolation to full blown depression?

For one, people notice when I start isolating. And they don't let me mull with my thoughts very long. My support team, the one consisting of my family and close friends, force me to go out and do things, even when I'd rather do anything else in the world than be with company.

And for another. I reach out in small ways. I don't lie when people ask me how I'm doing. I let them know that I'm struggling with the 'voices' in my head.

My one random thing I do, is when I start isolating and feeling like I don't matter, I read this list of wonderful things about me, that a friend and I compiled several months ago. It makes me smile every time I read it, and it reminds me that I do have worth, and don't deserve to be alone.

And lastly, I accept people's concern for me, and recognize that even if I don't want to do what everyone is inviting me to do, I know deep down I'll feel better for having gone out and done it. So I force myself to do hard things.

Letting people close to you know that when you start isolating it is a red flag for more a downward spiral, can help a lot. It's what I've done, and now my husband s very vigilant in helping keep me afloat, even when I want to submerge below the cool waters. I know for a fact that he's helped keep a minor hiccup from turning into a major episode.

So, when you find yourself in that desert, hold on fast to the knowledge that there is a search party that's been deployed. And you will be found. 

Struggling with winter

When the seasons change, what do I do with as a person with bipolar?

Seasons changing is a dangerous thing when you live with a mood disorder.

When the weather gets colder, and it starts getting darker earlier, there is a good chance your mood is going to shift as well.

I know this because I live it every year. I don't struggle with Fall, or Spring, but I'll be damned if I don't get knocked down every Summer and Winter...especially Winter.

There's just something magical about the dark nights, the bitter cold, and the holidays arriving. Something magically dark and dangerous, much like the Nothing from the Neverending Story.

I do wonderfully up until Halloween, and then on November 1st, it's like a switch goes off in my brain that says 'Holy shit! You're doing awesome! Let's wreak some havoc!'. And then I spiral downward, in a rapid succession.

How can you prevent the most tragic of spirals during the winter months? I don't have all the answers, but I have discovered some techniques that have really helped me the last 3 years.

First of all, I discuss it beforehand with my therapist. We know what to watch for with me months in advance. I don't surprise her with my internal struggles once they're at a crisis level.

Second of all, I have a game plan that my entire support team is aware of, and on board with. My therapist knows what my psych is thinking, and my husband knows what everyone is thinking. And vice versa. There can't be deep dark secrets when it comes to staying safe during a potential time of difficulty.

Third of all, I make time to do things that I value, and decide (before the crisis hits) that I will do them no matter what obstacles I may throw up. For example, it's a very important tradition to me to take my kids to go see the lights at Temple Square in SLC each year. It's one that me and my kids both treasure. We make the journey no matter what. Since that is such an important tradition to me, I make the decision beforehand that no matter how I'm feeling, or how my husband is feeling, the kids and I will make it there.

Fourth, I extend myself some leniency from the hustle and bustle that can happen during the winter months. I know that I'll need to take it slower than the average person, and might have to risk offending someone by turning down an invitation. But that's okay. It's me practicing self care.

And fifth, I try to go with the flow. I can't control everything. And that's okay. I want to control everything, that's something I'm aware I struggle with, so I fight it. The kids don't want to go caroling around the neighborhood? I'll sit down with them and color some cute pages out of our coloring books instead. I can't fight my 4 year old into her adorable new Christmas jumper? I'll softly sigh, 'Let it go" to myself.

Although this won't work for everyone, following this suggestions kept me out of the hospital last year for the first time in 3 years. It was beautiful. I fully plan on doing this again this year. In fact, preparations for my sanity have been underway for the last month now.

Of course, if you find yourself in a crisis situation, don't bother with these suggestions, seek medical care immediately. There are people who care, and want to help. Seek them out.

I wish all who struggle with mood disorders the best of winter seasons. Let's all make this year the best one yet!

Thank you to the therapist who really saw ME.

I was recently hospitalized for suicidal ideation, for the fourth time in 2 years. I was really struggling with myself, with my identity, my values, my beliefs. I didn't like myself. I honestly thought the world would be better off without me, and especially that my family would be better of without me. I live with bipolar disorder type I, and I go through some extreme mood swings because of it.  I had also made the poor decision to quit my medications because I was so sick of the way I looked. I was doing phenomenally mood wise. but I hated the way I felt about myself physically.

I was rather bitter about this hospital stay because my individual counselor had sent the Sheriffs out to find me, (I sent her a suicide note by text), and she responded appropriately by doing a welfare check. I didn't want to be found though, I really wanted to be dead; at least I thought that was the case. So I spent my first couple days sulking about how miserably unfair my life was. The therapist in the hospital was amazingly kind those first few days. I thought he was great until we had a therapy session with my husband. That's when he seemed to turn on me and laid it all bare just what type of person I really was.

He told me in no uncertain terms that I had a problem with always having to be right, and that I was annoying, and he thought I'd be almost impossible to live with, and that he didn't know how my husband did it.

He also told me though, that I had something innately likeable about me, something that made all those other qualities seem to diminish, and make me a wonderful person. He also said that even with me being a incredibly difficult person, there was something that was just charming about me, that radiated from me, even when I annoyed the hell out of people.

Of course, all I heard from that in those first few days was that I'm a terrible person who doesn't deserve to have anything good happen to her, but eventually it dawned on me that he had basically seen my soul, laid it bare, put words to it, and still found me a good person. And that changed my life.

Once I got through the processing of the hurtful things he said, I realized that he had said some wonderful things about me as well. And that was incredibly freeing.

The shocking thing about all of this is that I believed him. I honestly believed what he had told me because he was one of the most genuine people I'd ever met. I knew he wouldn't say something if he didn't think it to be the truth. And because of that, it sank in.

I changed because of that comment he made to me in our therapy session that day. I began to believe that I have value, that I have worth, and that I'm a good person. I know deep inside that although I can be an incredibly difficult person to handle at times, I'm still innately likeable. And that's enough for me. It doesn't matter if everyone doesn't like me, I still believe and hold onto the thought that I'm charming. Of all things, charming! I'm someone that deserves to be treated well and treated with respect because I am worthy of those things.

I don't know if this therapist will ever know how much of a profound effect he had on me, and how much he's changed my life, but I want to thank him. I want to thank him from the bottom of my heart for seeing ME, the real me, the me hiding behind my layers of sarcasm and mean words.He had the audacity to tell me straight like it really is, and I admire that kind of bravery. He has given me the backbone to be myself, in all things, at all times, and in all places. I don't have to people please anymore. I know that I'm enough, just as I am. And his words helped make that a reality for me. And I am so grateful. So grateful. Thank you dear therapist, for giving me the courage to be authentic myself.

I'm doing it!

Hi everyone! I know, I'm a total slacker when it comes to my blog...but it's for good reason! I've been super busy writing my autobiography, doing IOP, and...getting articles published on news sites! It's hard for me to blog when I wonder every time if what I'm writing could be an article instead.

But anywho, IOP. It ends tomorrow, and I'm super nervous about it. I've spent the last 8 weeks working my ass off in intensive outpatient therapy, and I'm really scared that the progress I've made in there is going to fade once I leave. It's been an  incredible experience. I first started out nervous as hell because I was surrounded by recovering drug addicts, and I felt completely out of my element. But I stuck it out, and I'm so glad I did. Many of these people were awesome human beings that I just had to get to know to help me overcome my bias towards addicts. I've learned so much about myself, and feel really good about the path I'm taking in life.

And my articles! So, Josh signed me up for an online course taught by Brene Brown, and I reluctantly started it. It's all about daring greatly, and stepping into the arena and being seen. I've worked so hard on me, and learning about me, and dealing with my inner shit that I've stuffed down for years and years, that I finally felt like I was in a good enough place to start writing again, And it's been amazing! I've written 4 articles since I discovered Daring Greatly, three of which I've done in the last 2 months. If you're interested in reading them, they are here, here, here, and here. I've also written another article and submitted it to the Huffington Post for consideration. I've got my fingers crossed that they respond favorably.

Speaking of daring greatly, and stepping into new arenas...I applied to be a speaker at the TEDx conference here in SLC. I'll know something by the end of April. I really hope I at least make it through round two of evaluations.

So good things are happening, even though I don't post blogs as much as I used to. I'll try and post at least once a week from here on out, just to give updates. We'll see who's reading, eh?

Broken, again

I've got writer's block.

And I'm on a precipice.

I'm always on a precipice; it feels like.I'm constantly walking this edge between stability and falling into oblivion. I'm getting so sick of this constant battle between staying sane and letting go. You've no clue just how much I want to let go, and let the chips fall where they will sometimes.Every time I get into an argument and I feel myself getting closer to snapping, I wonder, 'Is this it? Is this going to be the final straw?'


Although I really took what Finnick Odair said to heart, 'It takes ten times as long to put yourself back together as it does to fall apart.' God knows I've fallen apart and put myself back together enough times to know picking up the pieces frickin blows, but this staying strong when it feels like agony is for the birds. Endure til the end. That's what I'm taught. But this just feels like it's never going to effing end.

I'm trying so hard to feel things, and I get awful close to an emotion, and I almost feel it, but then I recoil, super fast. It's torture.

So my blog is struggling, once again. I want to write, every day. But because I'm having so many issues with my emotions, and being vulnerable, the words can't come out of my brain onto the keyboard.

In exciting news though, one of my articles is going to be published! I dared greatly, and The Mighty picked it up to feature! I can't wait! Well, I can wait, I'm terrified, but I'm so excited at the same time! And I'm continuing to step out and be seen, although Scary Mommy rejected my other article, I submitted it to HuffPo this morning, and I'm nervously waiting to see what happens there.

I think I'm going to start my book. I've got a few chapters outlined. And I've got my journals from my teens out in my garage. I kind of want to go through them. I'm not sure if I'm in a good spot emotionally yet to handle that or not, I'm going to talk to my therapist about that, but I know I'm getting closer to being ready. That's always good right? I want to get my charts from my hospital stays from the last decade, and go through them, and start writing. This is the closest I've ever been to being really serious about getting it done. It feels scary, but doable now. And that's huge for me! Wow.

Hopefully this writer's block lifts soon and I get my ideas back. I've got so many ideas I want to touch on, but the words just won't come. I'll get there though, I'll get there.