Gratitude in all things

It's been a rough couple of weeks for me. I made it through though. I had the support of some really incredible people, and I was able to avoid a potential disaster. I can't even put into words just how blessed I feel I am. I've never felt this surrounded by love and oneness by people in my life.

What made this tumultuous struggle different than any other time when I've slipped into a depressive episode? Well for one, I reached out immediately. I reached out to the right people. I didn't call on a poor unassuming friend who loves me, but has absolutely no background in mental health and is hopelessly out of her element when it comes to dealing with a friend who is suicidal. So I called my therapist. And when I couldn't reach my therapist, I called my religious leader (who happens to be a therapist) and didn't mind helping me out in a crisis.

For another, I opened up. I didn't shut down and let the voices in my head rule the day. I admitted that I was having some serious problems, and that I was scared, and I didn't know what the eff was going on. I talked even when talking was the last thing I wanted to do. Even though I wasn't great about keeping people updated, I didn't turn into a hermit completely, I forced myself to go out of my shell and talk, talk, talk.

I talked to my boss and told her I was having a bipolar episode and that I was trying to keep it under control, but it was kind of kicking my trash at the moment. That was one of the best things I could have done because she normalized it for me. She said everyone there needed time off to get their heads on straight, that I wasn't alone in this. She pretty much told me I was having a mental health week and getting myself some help and gave me a week to do whatever I needed to do to without the stress of work on my back. Have I mentioned before how much I love my job?

The hardest conversation was telling Josh that I was suicidal because well, that's never a fun conversation, now is it? He handled it so well, and that was really the turning point for me. That was when I really felt like I might make it through this without needing to off myself. If I can keep talking, I might be able to talk myself out of this.

I used the crap out of my coping skills. I took it hour by hour some days. Minute by minute some hours. Second by second some minutes. It's just so hard. Being bipolar is so hard. You feel like you're on this cliff. And you're balancing there, so precariously balancing. Waving one foot in the air, scrambling for purchase with other, not sure if you're going to be tossed into the insanity below, or if you're going to be able to grab and hold onto the cold ground of reason you're so desperately reaching for.

I want to say that I was so incredibly lucky to have such a great support system surrounding me, but well, it wasn't luck. I've worked my ass off to surround myself by loving people who care for me and have my best interests at heart. That's not luck, that's me making progress to being a healthier person. I am blessed though. So blessed to have met the incredible people who are in my life now.

And I'm grateful. I'm grateful to have gone through this past experience. It's the first time I can recall where I've been suicidal and not have made an attempt nor have landed in the hospital. I feel humbled to be sitting here sharing this experience with you because it's an amazing thing to have gone through. It really puts into sharp relief where I was a year ago and where I am now. I might not see it, but the work I'm doing in therapy is truly making a difference in my life. And for that I can only be grateful.

Wrestling the demons within me

I woke up so depressed this morning and I can't even explain why. I was just drained and life had no meaning. It was even worse because things had sucked yesterday, but I was able to function, ya know? This morning I couldn't even get out of bed. It's days like this that make me hate myself even harder because I couldn't take care of me, let alone my kids. Elora dressed herself and I didn't even brush her hair before she went off. Liam went in what he slept in, but I did dress and change Olive, for one. Once she was out though, she kept whining so much that I finally put her in her playpen with a bottle so she whine there and I'd know she was safe...and I fell back asleep.

What kind of parent does this? And this is what it was like for months before I was hospitalized. I can't go through that again. I've been hypomanic for weeks now and I suddenly wake up hating life and wanting to crawl into a hole in the ground. I resented everything this morning, even my poor little girl because to tend her meant I had to get up and move. I hated on me more because I haven't felt those feelings of resentment since before I was hospitalized, and I thought they were gone for good.

Sometimes I don't feel like I deserve the children I have. They are so good and wonderful, and I'm such a terrible mother to them. Why do they have to suffer because Mom can't do even their most basic needs? It's not fair to them, and it only makes me feel worse. I didn't even want to take my meds today, and I certainly didn't want to take them as prescribed. Thank God we have the safe where Josh is the only one with the code, because today is one of those days where my old coping skills are begging to be used.

It's just not fair that I have to deal with this. It's even less fair that my kids have to deal with it. I mean, I was struggling yesterday, but not so much that I couldn't take them swimming, and take Liam to swim lessons, and go to the park, and then go to Zumba. I was able to do all that, and then suddenly the next day I hate my life so much that I just want it to end? What is wrong with me? Why am I going crazy? Why do I have to cycle so damn hard? Why can't it be a nice gradual slope or something? Why is it more like a cliff? Does anyone have any answers?

I've forced myself to get online and socialize in my support groups today, and it's helped, but I don't feel it's enough. I have therapy today, and I'm dreading it. I feel so terrible and so miserable that I think this is going to be a not fun session. I wonder if a lot of this has been triggered by the most recent homework assignment I was given because since I've been working so hard on it, my mood has taken a sudden and severe turn for the worse. Why is that? What is it about getting this assignment over and done with that is wreaking havoc on my life? My therapist swears that writing will help me, but it always seems to push me down lower. I bounce back up eventually, but right now, I'm scared I won't bounce back up. 

That's the scariest part of these mood swings...when I hit the depression side, I panic. I feel trapped and scared that it'll never go away again, and I'll end up killing myself to stop the pain. I can't hack feeling so terribly all the time. You have no idea what it's like to hate being in your skin, when just existing every moment is agony, and you'd do anything to escape that. That's the hell I was in back in February  and that's a hell I never want to be in again, yet it seems to be coming again...out of nowhere. How do I help me survive this one?

Mood swings suck...

A lot.

I wish I could just stay 'up' all the time but it never happens. Something always brings me down. Right now I'm down because one of the girls I was in college with has finally graduated, while I'm still sitting here with just my A.A. and that's about as useful as a GED where I live. I'm so depressed that I didn't finish school like I could have, and it's really eating at me. And then other things bother me too, like when I don't feel accepted by people, even dumb random people that don't matter in the slightest. I got an IM today from a group owner in a group this morning, and it hurt my feelings for no reason at all. All because I heard the term 'beepers' as a word for people with bipolar and I liked it, so I started using it in the group and the GO didn't approve. Dumb reason to feel rejected right? I mean, I'm telling myself that *logically* it shouldn't matter, but *emotionally* it does matter.

And that right there is probably my biggest issue. I discount my emotions because I can see the logical side of things and assume the logic outweighs the emotions. I'm hopefully starting to recognize that this isn't true, but I don't like feeling emotional pain, so it's so much easier to shove it down or push it away and just recognize the logical things in life.

Maybe you've noticed from my former posts, that hasn't gotten me far in life. Just a few psych ward stays and a whole lot of emotional damage that needs to be undone. And it's not getting undone quick enough. My therapist says it takes time, and I have to be willing to open up and be vulnerable, but well...I don't like being vulnerable. I'm too scared it makes me look weak, and I need to realize that vulnerable and weak are not the same thing.

I just don't enjoy the wild ride my emotions take me on...I mean don't get me wrong, I love the highs, but I hate how it can change at a moment's notice. It's not fair. It's not fair to me, or the people around me, or anything. Who wants to live with a ticking time bomb all the time? I mean, my poor kids..."Oh look Mommy's in a good mood!" But I wonder if they're secretly wondering how long that'll last and what kind of mommy they'll have in an hours time. And I wonder the same thing. This fear is what holds me back from making future plans, because I don't know how I'll be feeling then, and it holds me back from going out and trying to accomplish something big. Take this blog for example...yes I'm thrilled that it's had 1100 hits...but that really means nothing. I've had all of 5 people comment on it, so it makes me wonder what those other 1090 people were doing (some of those hits come from me visiting my blog, so I don't count them). Do they actually look through what I write, do they just see the title and run away, or what? I don't know what it means when someone visits my page, I can't tell if they're getting any value out of it or not. 

And then I start doubting myself. I really want to write a book about being bipolar, but I'm stuck on how to write it. I want it to be a story, starting from my first psych ward stay, but I can't even bring myself to share the first chapter on here. I run through numerous titles, think I have one, and then lose it. And I'm so scared of even trying. I mean, what if I fail miserably? I think I'm just stuck, lol. 

I'm really on a roll with my pity party today, sorry for the long vent. I feel better for getting it all out though, and that's helpful isn't it?

So what are your triggers? What can send you into a downward spiral quicker than you can say 'Jack Robinson'? And if you know, what helps pull you out of it?