Changing the Game

It was a typical day… perfectly in routine. I was up at 7 and was drinking my morning cup of tea, waiting for my day to begin, the first day of my summer vacation. I was stable. I was level. I was tired. But I was happy. I was okay… Until I wasn’t.

It was a single moment that changed everything, that sent me on a path of watching and waiting and seeing. Like a quickly darkening sky with sudden rotation, a tornado waiting to touch down in my life and send everything – especially me – spiralling down a dark hole again. It was easy to see… I had been down this path before – several times – and it was easy to predict the path that I would take, the way that a trigger of this magnitude would rip the control I have so carefully constructed away from me again. It would be disastrous – I would fall down the rabbit hole of depression and the thoughts of darkness, and desperation, and escape would inevitably hit… I would end up in the hospital again… forced into isolation and psychiatrist evaluations. This was my life. This was what always happened.

Until it didn’t.

Just over three weeks ago I was hit with a major trigger in my life (a crisis of sorts), and just over three weeks ago I began another journey in my life with Bipolar Disorder/BPD. Just over three weeks ago, I panicked in the moments immediately following the hit of the trigger and I felt like I would crash, the feelings rushing back to the surface and my mind working in overdrive and immediately beginning to envision the worst case scenarios – suicide attempts, police cars, hospitalisation, mania, or a psychotic episode. I knew my past and while I knew the stability I had forged over the last two years of dedication and hard work, I also knew how easily it could all crumble again.

I haven’t written much over the last several months – I have been busy and life has moved forward as it often does. Since last Christmas I have experienced stress and triggers, ups and downs, as well as one hospitalisation and one day trip to the emergency room. I have worked to return to a balanced diet and better exercise regimen, to live a balanced life, and maintain the ever-important routine… and overall, I have been extremely successful, finding a new sense of peace and the ability to identify and work on some of my problems and maintain stability with my mental health.

Three weeks ago – for just a few moments – I knew it was all for nothing. For a few moments, I lost myself and returned to the fragile state that would leave me vulnerable and susceptible to another episode. And then, I remembered the months and years of work I've done.

I remembered the steps, and the pages, and the writing, and the distraction, and the help available to me. I remembered to grab my phone and reach out to let someone I trusted know what was happening. I remembered all of the success I have worked towards achieving and I began to put a plan (simple, one step at a time) into place, to maintain my own mental health in a situation that could very well have been catastrophic. I remembered over the next several days to head off a slip up by taking care of my basic needs and maintaining the routine I desperately need to function – eating properly, continuing daily chores/work/plans. I remembered to take the damn sleeping pills when I couldn’t sleep… and to have someone hold me accountable when it took nearly a week to begin sleeping properly again; and I remembered to have a plan in place to seek help if I didn’t. I remembered to take care of myself and to keep my plans, my work, and my support firmly in place - even if I didn't exactly want to.

And I didn't fall down.

And now, three weeks later, I still catch myself watching and waiting for that stumble at times… that sign that I am weak and that I am nothing but my mental illness. At times I wish it would just happen – an episode of some sort - because it is strange to react in a normal way, within an overall normal range of emotions. And at some times, I just sit down and smile, amazed at how well I am doing. I smile because every struggle, every step I have taken to get here, and every experience - both positive and negative - has been worth it to get to the place I'm in right now.

I know that my battle with mental illness isn’t over. I know that I might have episodes of mania or depression or intense emotional outbursts in the future. I know that they aren’t always caused by an obvious trigger in my life. But I also know that I have worked hard at identifying signs, maintaining my support system, knowing my own personal limits, and seeking help when needed to ensure that I stay healthy and strong.

I know that today, I am doing okay. One day at a time, one episode at a time. I am changing the game, I am challenging myself, and I am winning in my fight for stability in a Bipolar/Borderline mind.

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Getting Back to Normal - Routine

I was High Functioning.

Every day I woke up and went about business as usual. Usually that meant waking up the kids and getting them out the door and on their way to school, going to work myself, coming home and making dinner, running the kids to various sports/clubs and coming home again to spend some time with my husband. It was chaotic and there was no stability. There was no routine and yet I stormed through it, functioning as best as I could at the time.

It wasn’t all roses though. My moods, especially at home were up, down, and volatile. I went through periods of deep depression while continuing to go through life on autopilot and then I would bounce up into a more manic state, with endless energy and plans and hopes and dreams and hobbies. Sometimes my mood would shift suddenly and I would pick fights with my husband, and either act out (argue, yell and manipulate him) or act in (hurt myself or threaten suicide). A

nd occasionally – very rarely, I would have a level mood.

For years we operated this way. We knew about my bipolar diagnosis years ago and I went on and off meds, never happy with the side-effects and not knowing about the available therapies out there to help me cope.

On the inside I was an absolute mess of emotion and instability. On the outside I wore a mask.

Unfortunately, mental illness has a habit of throwing you curve balls, taking your high functioning, normal appearance of a life and twisting it into something almost completely unrecognisable. For me, that happened last July/August and it started with something that should have been a happy event for our family, but instead it became a trigger.

My husband changed careers. It was a good move for him as he was unhappy in his job and the new position would allow him to work in an area that he had been trying to get into for a while. The only problem was that it required us to move nearly three hours away… and I didn’t want to.

At the time, I was employed full time, I was involved in a sports team that I absolutely loved, and I was happy with our house, our location, our friends, the kids school, etc… I had spent the past several years making the area and everything around it home.

Three hours doesn’t seem like that far though… at least not until you are in a new town, with a new, very part-time job, no friends and suffering from social anxiety. Then you feel trapped and isolated and lost and very very betrayed and hurt to have been forced into the move. For someone with Bipolar Disorder/Borderline Personality Disorder it is enough to trigger a major episode. When the snow starts to fall and you are literally isolated in your house while the kids are at school and the husband is at work and you miss your home and your life – it’s a disaster waiting to happen.

And that is exactly what happened last November.

I mentioned in my last post that I’m now in recovery mode.

Now my daily routine is much different.

First of all, people know that I have been sick. My boss at work knows, my one friend I have managed to make up here knows, and the group of people at the support group I attended all know. And knowing that other people know - it makes it easier to drop the mask. I don’t have to look like I have it all together. I don’t have to be high functioning to the point of breaking down again.

I can just heal.

Now my daily routine is simple.

I don’t work full-time. I couldn’t handle it right now.

I wake up at 7 am every morning. I get the kids up and get myself showered and dressed. When the kids leave for school and my husband leaves for work, I also leave the house and I generally go walking. (Unless I’m working that morning). My husband comes home for lunch every day and I try to make something for us to eat. In the afternoons, I do housework, I read or bake or go to a support group, I greet the kids when they get home from school and I make dinner. My husband and I share the running around in the evenings and we have down time before I go to bed at 10pm.

Routine is much more important to me now than it has ever been. It helps me to feel in control and force myself through the ups and downs and even helps to regulate them a bit. Some days my routine gets slightly disrupted – yesterday I took a self-care afternoon where I sat and drank tea because my mood had dipped down.

Things are slowly getting better. I’m feeling more level and I know that the better I feel, the more the routine will need to be kept up. It isn’t always easy, but nothing with Mental Illness is. I cannot stress enough though how helpful routine is. It’s something that I can control no matter what my mood is doing, no matter how I feel. It’s also something that is stable when everything going on inside me is chaotic and out of control.

Routine can help. Even if it’s just the routine of getting out of bed and showered by a certain time. Every step of my routine has been taken one at a time and even though some days I still struggle with the routine, it has made recovery much easier.

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