Meds, Moods, and (Hypo)Mania

For the past several weeks, it’s been there. Lurking below the surface, hiding behind the pills and the effort and the struggle to find a new routine – one that would work for me.

Every day I have faced the same fight – the same urge to let it go and take over filling me as I try to remind myself of the reasons why I can’t do that. The reasons why I have to stay in control and be obedient and keep putting in the effort.

Insomnia.

I’m not tired.

Emotionally I’m completely drained and yet for the most part I’m physically wide awake almost all of the time. The past couple of days it hasn’t been as prominent as I battle a sore throat and head cold – but it’s still there, taunting me at night, pulling me into a fantasy world that I want so badly to be real.

Logically I remind myself to take my pills daily – and I manage to make myself obey. Every morning I take what I need to without a second thought, never even thinking about disobeying that one. But in the evenings as the house is winding down, the kids are in bed, and my husband tells me that he is turning in as well – the battle begins.

I’m supposed to take my mood stabiliser at night – it also puts me to sleep. And every night I do take it… but not before a battle of wills takes place. Because every night I can feel it, the hypomania that is hovering just below the surface. The creative energy that is flowing – the ideas, the ambition, the beginnings that happen when I am in that state beyond appealing to me. It’s a feeling that I honestly love. And it’s there right now… waiting for me to miss a pill, to forget… or to simply choose not to take it. But every night I do.

Every night I lie awake and wait for the pills to make me drowsy enough to want to close my eyes. Sometimes it’s an hour, sometimes it’s three. And then I do sleep – the kind of sleep that I can only ever get if it’s induced with the help of a med.

And now, several weeks in to this mess in my mind, I’m starting to feel the effects – I’ve been staying up later and later, waiting to take my pill until I know I have to get at least a little bit of sleep. I’m agitated because I’m tired of the fight – I’m tired of fighting what in a way feels natural to me, what my body wants to do. I’m angry and I’m bitter that I can’t just take my pills regularly and forget that I have this illness that can take over at any time if I’m not careful.

I want to say screw it.

I want to just give in and let whatever will be, be.

But more than that – I actually want stability.

I want the kind of stability for myself where I don’t have to argue with myself to take the medications that I know keep me level.

I want the kind of stability where I don’t have to think about my illness every day, and include it in every decision that I make.

I want the kind of stability where I feel ‘normal’ or at least as close to it as possible.

I want the kind of stability where I don’t have to try and figure out which part of me is right – the logical part or the wild part or the emotional part.

I want to be able to sleep without medications.

I don’t want to worry about manic episode which when over could plummet me into a depressive episode.

I don’t want others to constantly worry and question my behaviour – to doubt what I’m saying and refuse to listen because I’m just the ‘Bipolar Woman’.

But this is who I am.

These are the things I think about constantly.

This is the way that I have to live my life.

This is the only way for me to be stable.

I need to think things through. I need to be strong and determined and willing to pit my logical side against the creative or the emotional one. I need people to remind me why. I need to remind myself.

It isn’t easy.

But some days… days like today where it’s 5:00am and I have yet to close my eyes… I wish it was. I wish there was a simple fix. I wish I wasn’t like this. I wish I could focus on the kids - on the Birthday we're celebrating today. I wish I was just normal.

And yet, here I am. Still awake. Still wondering what it would be like if I just didn't have to deal with this every minute of every day. 

And then I know. I know I'm not alone. I know it is difficult at times. But I also know I've made it this far. I can make it one more day - everyday.

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Amid the Quiet and the Darkness

I should be asleep right now. Eyes closed, mouth open, snoring softly and dreaming deeply. I should wake up in the morning rested and energized, ready to face another day, fight another battle, and smile another smile. I should be able to close my eyes without my mind racing a million miles a minute – ideas and sparks of restless energy plaguing me as a tiredness sweeps into my brain, just out of my grasp.

As is typical, I laid down to rest tonight – electronics shut off, calming thoughts, quiet, and darkness surrounding me. But I did not fall asleep… could not fall asleep. My mind has been going non-stop for several days now, my heart racing constantly, my brain flipping around like a fish out of water. I’m exhausted but I’m wide awake.

It’s one symptom of bi-polar disorder and for me it is one of the earliest warning signs of a massive shift in mood occurring. It started with a mild depression and some anxiety following Christmas – my sleep becoming disturbed and then I began the upswing. I noticed it one night suddenly… the way that my brain changed complete direction. I couldn’t stop talking – I couldn’t stop thinking – and I felt good – really good. I suddenly felt like showing off – spending a little extra effort on my appearance, working a little harder, taking on a little more. I dove into some work on mental health – on my history, on recovery, on management and skills. I tackled each thing I did with a newfound energy and a vengeance. Most of all, I completely stopped sleeping at night – struggling to get an hour here and an hour there.

A couple of days passed. I saw my family physician who prescribed me something to help me to relax – something that had absolutely no effect on me whatsoever. Finally, I became agitated, the lack of sleep getting to me even though I had all of this energy and I knew it was time. If I didn’t get it managed quickly, it would blossom out of control... it was better to catch it early so that it didn't get too far out of my hands.

Taking a risk and facing a nervous anxiety I took myself to the emergency room – not an easy task when you are frustrated and tired, and you have an irrational fear of (being kept in) the hospital. Thankfully it was a good visit – speaking to the crisis worker and the ER doctor on call I was given a prescription for something to help me sleep – something I had been on in the past and that had usually worked well. Going home with a scheduled appointment with the psychiatrist I was almost excited to get to sleep and get back into a ‘normal’ routine. I should have known better.

That first night, I did sleep. It was broken and I awoke several times, but it was something more than I had experienced in several days. The next night I wasn’t so lucky.

It’s a tricky thing – a mood disorder. You want to live simply – take your meds and get better. You don’t want to have to think about whether you are too close to depression or too close to mania all of the time – but you do. You want to be able to fall asleep like everyone else… but you also have your best thoughts and ideas amid the quiet and the darkness – when the rest of the world is asleep.

I’m thankful for the doctors and nurses, the psychiatrists and the counselors, the crisis teams and all of those people who advocate for better mental health care and knowledge. I am thankful that they take me seriously now when I say I need to level out – when I can recognize the symptoms before they get too severe, and I am thankful that the good ones will work with you for a treatment plan that works for you.

Tonight I’m still struggling with Insomnia and I still worry about entering a full blown manic phase. I’ve seen the psychiatrist and we are upping a medication to hopefully get me to sleep before the insanity begins to set in. I wish I didn’t need meds for that – I wish I could sleep – I wish that sleep wasn’t a requirement so that I could act on all of my great ideas – I wish that my mind wasn’t built this way. But wishes aren’t reality.

And the reality is that sometimes life just sits you down on an out of control roller-coaster and you learn how to hang on tightly at all of the important hills and valleys – knowing that eventually it will slow down and you’ll be able to take control back again.

Until then – I’ll control what I can, pray for what is out of my hands, help end the stigma by talking about it, and rely on the support from friends, family, and professionals to help me get back on track.

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Let's Keep Talking

January 25^th, 2017 was the annual Bell Let’s Talk day sponsored by Bell Canada to promote mental health awareness and raise money for mental health initiatives across Canada. It is a great cause and an easy way to spread the word and share stories about mental health, different statistics, and social issues relating to the world of mental illness. The only problem was that after a bombardment of posts and messages and snippets across various sources of social media – today my feed was  almost silent. No more stories being told. No more statistics or awareness being spread.

But I still want to talk about it.

I don’t care about the hashtags or the re-tweets or the acknowledgement. I don’t care about the branding behind the initiative.

I care about sharing stories – telling mine and hearing others. I care about opening up communications within my social circles and beyond so that those currently suffering in silence, know that they aren’t alone.

I want to talk because today I am suffering.

I want to talk because today I was shrouded in a big black rain cloud – covered in depression, anxiety and panic attacks – and yet I forced the mask into place and I forced myself to carry on.

I want to talk because I know the feelings of loneliness and despair. I know the isolation and the twisted thinking that comes with it. I know the push and the pull – to both try to find help and yet shove anyone away who tries to help.

I know the anguished cries, the curled up ball on the bed, the prayers that feel unanswered. I know because today that was me.

I know the guilt over taking time for self-care and trying to do what you need to feel better. The tiredness of trying to keep up with everyone around you, feeling like a snail in a cheetah race. I know the looks you get when you say you had a nap - again. 

I know the confusion. I know the chaos. I know how it feels to be spinning in every direction while the world around you appears to walk in straight lines.

I know the anger and the sadness and the betrayal that work their way into your heart, that taint the way that you see your friends, your families, and your loved ones.

I know the insanity. The way that nothing makes sense, but it all makes sense. The way that you try to explain it and it sounds like gibberish – like back and forth, and up and down, and drama and despair and nonsensical nothingness.

I know the efforts to help – the hurt in their eyes as they wonder why. Why you feel this way when things are so good. Why you can’t figure things out. Why the usual coping strategies suddenly stop working. Why you are hurting again. Why nothing they can do can help you.

I know.

I want to talk about it because I know I’m not alone. I want to talk about it because I have a voice – because I know what it is like to feel the stigma and the self-condemnation due to a chemical imbalance. I know that it is important.

I want to talk about it... and I want to listen. I want you to know that you are not alone and you don't need to suffer in silence.

Today was a bad day.

I’m not afraid to talk about it. 

Because a bad day can look like any one of these: 

 

So Let's Keep Talking. 

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Hiding in Silence

Isolation. It’s what I do best when I’m struggling… I push people away when I need them the most. When I’m struggling to maintain a level mood or when I’m sliding a little further up or a little further down. Sometimes it’s a good thing… sometimes it is because I need to focus, to realign myself to ensure that I can get back on track and that I haven’t fallen too far off the path. Sometimes though it’s

embarrassment, frustration, and sheer exhaustion that cause me to isolate.

I’ve been on this journey for what feels like a very long time. For the most part I’m open about it. I enjoy talking about mental health in general, as well as the specific challenges and successes that I have personally faced.

But occasionally a period of silence hits me. I don’t want to talk for any one in a million reasons. Sometimes I am learning something new about myself and want to make sure that I understand it fully before I decide to share it. Sometimes I’ve been triggered, or fallen a little further than I wanted and I’m embarrassed – I feel like a fraud or a failure or that I’m simply unreliable because of the way my mindset and my moods shift. And sometimes I’m just plain tired. Those times I just want to be normal. I don’t want to have to think about every action that I take and every word that I speak. Sometimes I want to be able to make a decision and be confident that it is logic and reason – and not one of my many moods that have dictated what I am doing.

Sometimes it is everything all at once that hits me.

I haven’t been overly vocal lately. I’ve been struggling off and on – and I have learned over the years that I am not good at dealing with difficult things in life. I’m working on it, but it often takes all of my energy and leaves me completely drained with no room for extras. It is something that over time is requiring me to fundamentally change who I am and how I process life events – untwisting my thinking and calming my instincts – my immediate reactions. It is taking what I know and what I feel and learning to balance myself in a way that requires constant self-control and checking in. It is remaining level when my brain tries to spin me around, or send me falling into darkness.  It is looking at myself openly and honestly and realising that sometimes I don’t see clearly – that sometimes I need to pull myself back and examine my words or actions even closer to see what others around me see that I can’t.

The medications that I take help. Routine helps. Exercise and diet help. Self care helps. Reading and learning about mental health helps. Speaking and listening helps. Prayer helps.

But the truth is that I have Bipolar Disorder and I have Borderline Personality Disorder and life happens and sometimes I still have (and likely always will have) difficulty dealing with things like an average person.

Sometimes I am ashamed by the way that I react. Sometimes I am angry and indignant and I believe that I am right – even when I am wrong. Sometimes I want to curl up in a ball and hide away from the rest of the world because I don’t know how to keep functioning in the way that the world expects me to. Sometimes all I can do is work on auto-pilot until the storm around and inside me dies down and I can process things again. Sometimes I wish I wasn’t me.

And then… then I pull back. Then I make it through the tough times – better, stronger, and easier than the last time. Then I look back and see the progress and the changes that I have already made and how far I have already come. Then I look around me and I see that I haven’t only survived the earth shattering around me – but I stopped it. By knowing, and learning and growing and changing – I made history in my life. I passed a crucial landmark and I know that from this point forward that no matter what happens – I will never return to the way that I once was. It’s impossible, because I have seen too much, I have learned too many new things, and I have become a completely different person.

I will still struggle.

I will still fight.

I will still isolate.

But I will come out of it stronger. I will come out of it alive. I will feel sunshine and happiness, relief, and love, and joy again.

And then I will share it.

I will talk about it.

I will not hide the way that I struggle… my fears… my insecurities… the choices that I have made.

Because I do have Bipolar Disorder. And I do have Borderline Personality Disorder. And I am more than my illnesses.

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The Key to Mental Health

Some days I curl up in a ball on my bedroom floor –the bed behind me and the wall in front of me, a big blanket covering me up and weighing me down. During those times I am no longer the person that can work and function and make important decisions – I can only sit there, sometimes crying, sometimes staring at nothing as the anxiety impedes my life.

Some days I can’t sleep. So I’m up all night and my mind races and I write beautiful stories and poems and jump from topic to topic. Sometimes the anger takes hold and I storm out of the house in the darkness and I walk from one end of town to the other, uphill both ways. Sometimes I feel on top of the world and I’m super sensitive to touch, and sound, and smells.

Some days I get out of bed, only to fold into the most comfortable chair in the house, wrap a blanket securely around me and sleep the day away. Those days I can barely drag myself to the washroom or make dinner for the kids – and forget leaving the house. Sometimes I can’t feel anything – my arms and legs are dead weight, my mind is shut down to only basic function, and feeling – it’s all or nothing – pain so deep that it feels as though I’m splitting in two, or nothingness; I don’t know which is worse.

Some days I wake up wrong… skewed. The world is tilted and everything is set to annoy me, the little things, the big things – everything sets me off. I’m explosive –not just angry, but filled with rage. I see things and hear things with a filter that makes everyone hate me. It hurts and I feel jaded, even though I’m the one making things worse. I’m the one losing my temper and yelling and out of control. I’m the one that is making a big deal out of a miniscule look, or word, or touch.

And some days… I’m normal, level, rational, and logical. Things make sense and although triggers and stressful events happen, I can still handle them with grace and dignity. On those days I wonder who the other people are that kidnap my body and take over. I feel humiliation over the ways that I have acted and the things that I have done. I apologise but it never feels like it’s enough. I strive to change who I am and I vow to never let anxiety, or mania, or depression, or anger take a hold of me again. I become determined to be somebody different the next time, and I work a little bit harder on the daily exercises to train my brain, the physical exercise, the healthy eating plan, and the maintenance of my routine. I take the medications I’ve been prescribed and tell myself that I am more than a disorder and that I have got this.

I continue to work, and parent, and live my life and I move on because that statement is truth… I AM more than a disorder and I AM capable of not just surviving, but of THRIVING.

Two years ago I was a different person. I accepted my disorders but didn’t know that there was so much more to it than a diagnosis. I was told they were lifelong conditions, to take my meds, and to go to therapy. At times, I’ve used the terms anxiety, depression, bipolar, and borderline as a crutch… an excuse… a reason for why I am the way that I am. But over the past year I have made a change in the way that I have used those terms and I didn’t realise just how it would begin to change my life.

By refusing to accept that I can’t be level because of my diagnosis, I have fundamentally changed how I now deal with life. I refuse to believe that I am defective, damaged, or simply unable to deal with triggers and the stress of life. I have bad days, but through hard work and training my brain, I am able to push through and remain present in my own mind. I am able to say ‘I need help’, and determine when things aren’t quite right. I am able to face my anxiety and fear and tackle things (slowly and in my own time) that had previously been off limits to me. I am able to say to myself – I know you’re tired, let’s get through this and not give in while the new meds kick in.

I no longer believe that I am broken. I no longer need to use the term ‘I can’t because I’ve got anxiety’ or ‘It’s not my fault I’m (depressed, manic, borderline)’. I no longer need to feel wrong, guilty, embarrassed, damaged because it is what it is and I am slowly getting better. I might never be cured of these lifelong conditions, but it doesn’t mean that I can’t live a good, healthy life. I might need help now and then… support from family and friends… doctor visits to maintain… or even a brief hospital stay to put me back on track, but I’m here and I am not simply a diagnosis. I am the key to my own mental health. I will keep working, and fighting, and most of all winning.

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