New Year's Hope

December 29^th 2014 – I began writing about the day I nearly jumped off of a waterfall and my experiences with Mental Health. I didn’t know what direction I would take the writing and I didn’t know if I was even going to share it with anyone, let alone open it up for the world to see.  But I did. And here I am, still going.

As New Year’s Eve approaches I can’t help but to look back at the events of the past year (and a bit) and to see how far I’ve come. Last year I was still a bit of a wreck, still digging and fighting and trying to decide how much effort I truly wanted to put into becoming stable and improving upon the quality of my life. At this time last year there would still be another hospital visit or two to come and I would still have suicidal thoughts while my depression was still prevalent – despite the medication and the therapy I was beginning. 

I didn’t know how my journey through the battlefield of Mental Illness would end. I didn’t understand the depth of how intertwined it had been within every aspect of my adult life (and most of my teenage years as well). I didn’t know where to start to fix myself or if I was even worth fixing. I didn't even know if I could change. 

Research. Therapy. Support Groups. Medications. People. Through an assortment of these things in my life I began to unravel the years of twisted thinking and uncontrollable moods… and at some point during my journey I realised that it was no longer an option to stay the same. I made a decision and I began the long process of self-discovery, repair, and trial and error to begin to change.

It hasn’t been easy. Life hasn’t gone the way I expected it to during this time… in fact, some areas of my life have become more challenging than I thought they would once I began to do the work and become a different me.

I’m not finished changing. I’m not finished growing and learning and overcoming. It took me most of my life to get to the place that I was at… I’m not going to be able to fix things in less than a year… and some things might take the rest of my life to keep working on. But I will keep working on them. Because it is amazing to see how much you can change yourself, how much it is worth it, how much hope there is for a better tomorrow. 

This year I won't be making a New Year's resolution. There is no need for that as I continue on this journey of self-improvement and self-discovery. I have found my hope. I have found my determination and I have found the path I want to take in this life.

So from me to you, Happy New Year!

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Big Trigger, Little Trigger

Financial hardship, marital problems, loss of a loved one, addiction, bullying, health issues, and big unexpected changes are all things that can knock a person with good mental health down and make them feel low, contributing to situational depression. But if you take those same stressful situations and place someone who is already struggling or prone to mental health issues in that position it can lead to immediate relapse and unpredictable behaviour, with disastrous outcomes.

It’s a frustrating and vicious cycle when a person becomes stable and is living life in a somewhat normal capacity, and then boom; something happens that pulls all control away from them, sending them spiraling back into chaos. It’s no wonder that this is the one theme that has come up in every book I’ve read, every therapist I’ve seen and every group I’ve attended – how to cope with major triggers and how to avoid repeating the pattern. Unfortunately there isn’t a simple answer to this, or a single one-size fits all action plan to use when things come up. It’s trial and it’s error, it’s finding what works to keep you grounded, in that moment.

The more I work on myself, the more I’m learning what does and doesn’t work. But it also takes constant practice. Small triggers are everywhere… a couple examples from my life include going new places, big social gatherings, arriving late, or even sleep disturbances. It’s through these small triggers though that I practice regularly dealing with the onslaught of emotions that can come up at any time, and spin me in any direction, preparing me for those times that the big things might come up.

Again, if only it were that simple.

Last week a big event happened within my life. It brought with it the usual feelings of instability, crazy mood swings and at times feeling like I wasn’t going to be able to cope appropriately. It was a struggle to say the least, but I managed.

I took a day of self-care. It involved a sick call to work for a single shift, and forced movement around the house during that day. It involved talking to support people and venting frustrations in a healthy way. It involved constant focusing to what was happening in my life – experiencing it and letting it go as best as I could. It involved a range of emotions and agreements to go to the hospital if at any time I felt I wouldn’t be able to continue coping on my own. It involved using my “wellness toolbox” – doing things for myself that bring about a positive emotion – to keep me grounded, switching it up when one thing couldn’t hold my attention for long. It involved me keeping to the routine, diet and exercise habits I have established this year, despite my body trying to do otherwise.

It wasn’t a perfect experience. It was incredibly hard and at times I have slipped up, my emotions have gotten the better of me. But overall I was able to deal with the trigger in a healthy way… something that enabled me to sort out what happened in my head, allowed me time to get to a better place.

I wish I could say I would never fall back into my old ways of dealing with things – but to be honest, it could happen. This time it didn’t. Triggers will always be a part of my life; Everybody has them, it’s just more difficult for those of us already dealing with mental health. It has taken time, patience, failures, and incredibly hard work to get to this place I’m at right now. The place of acceptance and the fact that I might always have more of a struggle with everyday ups and downs in life than the average person, but I’m also at the place where I work hard daily to identify and plan for those very situations. Where I can now see it coming and take steps to recognise it before it disables me completely. It’s constant, it’s so much work that some days I just want to stop and let my mood and my mind take over and do what they want. And then I look back to how far I’ve come and how much my quality of life has improved.

It isn’t easy. There might be setbacks and that’s okay. But it’s most definitely worth it. There is hope for a better life, a better future. 

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Parenting with Mental Illness

Back in the summer I wrote about how mental illness has affected my relationships - most notably my marriage and other adult-based relationships in my life. From the time that I was a young teen I can look back now and see all of the ways that anxiety, depression, mania, and anger have affected my life; see the very real struggle that relationships have always been for me. It's easy to look back and feel the regret, to see the mistakes I made and the way my thinking was often distorted throughout my life; but I also see the changes I've made and the new (healthier) relationships I am finally beginning to build.

And then I look at some of the most important people in my life; my children.

Two weeks ago I was in the car with my kids. We were on our way home from somewhere and as we drove through town looking at the Christmas lights up everywhere, my 9 year old daughter brought up a night from the previous year - something that my husband had done with them while I was in the hospital. As I listened to her story, my older (12 year old) son interrupted her, reminding her that I wasn't with them and that I was in the hospital. Now he didn't say it sadly or angrily, he didn't seem as though it was something that bothered him - he simply stated a fact. I wasn't there because I was in the hospital. However my daughter stopped her story at this point, becoming very quiet for a minute before she blurted out to me: "I was really scared when you were in the hospital, I didn't know what was wrong and I thought you were going to die." Her statement to me really hit home at that point. She didn't know what had happened to land me in the hospital - we had talked to the kids about me being there and they had an age-appropriate reason given to them that explained a little about sadness (depression) and how the hospital can sometimes help people to feel better for all kinds of illnesses. But when she told me that she thought I was going to die, it threw me off because realistically she was much closer to the truth than I was comfortable with; realistically at the time I was in the hospital it was because I wanted to die.

How do you explain mental illness to a child? Sure, there are ways to do it. Things that you can say to give them an idea of why someone is in the hospital, why they have walked away from the family for a few days or weeks or months. There are things that can be explained in a simplistic way that hopefully they might grasp onto and not question further. But when happens when those children are teens or tweens who see tweets and posts about depression and suicide on social media and put two and two together? What happens when children of any age live with a parent with mental illness that is untreated/mistreated for so many years of their lives?

I don't have all of the answers right now but it is something I have thought about quite a bit. Because my children have been there. I have been the parent who was up and down, depressed and manic, angry and impatient, uninvolved and sometimes even disappearing. I have been inconsistent and unaware, I have gone from fun and loving and caring to frustrated and distant and unpredictable.

I don't have all of the answers. But the one thing I can say is that we (my husband and I) are honest with the kids... we are open about our mistakes and we apologise for our imperfections. We keep explanations appropriate to their ages and their levels and we let them see that we are only human, that we take steps to correct inappropriate actions. We also let them come to us - when they are hurting or confused or angry. We keep the lines of communication open and we try and see things through their eyes... even when we don't want to. I also am focusing time on my relationships with them. I don't want to be that parent - the crazy one that the kids end up in therapy for years over because of the pain they cause. The one that they won't call or speak to or visit because of their childhood - because their mother was not at her best and refused to get help. And it doesn't have to be that way.

I know my children love me - and we have many amazing memories as a family, of adventure and celebrating and life. But there are also dark shadows that I know still pop up, still taint some of their memories. The relationship between myself (a parent) living with/recovering from mental illness and my children is complex and while I know I can't change the past, I can change the future. I can continue to do what I'm doing - stay stable, seek help, build new memories, and strengthen our relationship. I can show them how hard work and dedication can be necessary but worth it... I can teach them about mental illness and what to look for, how to handle it if they encounter it in their own lives eventually. I can be strong and I can fight for them, for the rest of their childhood and for our relationship.

Parenting with mental illness does not have to destroy the family or ruin their childhoods. I won't let it. There is hope, and my four kids are worth the fight.

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Silently Fighting

I haven’t had the chance to sit down and write that much lately with how busy things have been.

It’s been a bit of a crazy month, but I’m managing and I’m doing well.

It’s easy for me to sit here and write about how I’m doing, how I’m fighting to stay level and am neither depressed nor manic, I’m not angry nor irrational.

There’s so much that I want to write about, so much that I would love the world to understand about living with Mental Illness, but I have to confess; it can be exhausting and sometimes I don’t always want to be honest about it. Sometimes I want to look like a winner and announce that it's done, I've conquered it - be that success story you hear about.

November is a bit of a crazy month to begin with, and one that in my past has always been a triggering time of year for me. Over the course of the past year, one of my main focuses has been my own personal self-awareness. Time after time I have spoken to professionals and have been told that there is no cure for either Bipolar Disorder or Borderline Personality Disorder. Therapy and medications and lifestyle can help to control them, but I will live with them for the rest of my life although they may dull down and not be as serious as I get older. 

I have to admit that I kind of believe them to an extent. You see, first of all I’m a highly emotional person – things just seem to affect me more than the average person and I don’t know if I can or want to change that - to me, that is sometime that makes me me. Secondly, my moods will always have the possibility to spiral out of my control and send me on a rollercoaster ride of emotion. But here’s the thing; while my emotional regulation is a little out of whack, and I’m quite a bit more sensitive than the average Joe – I am learning to identify with, work with, and challenge these qualities – sometimes finding that they can even be an excellent warning system that I can use to my advantage.  

I want to stop right here for a second though and make an admission. I’m not perfect and I’m pretty sure that I never will be - there will be times that I will make mistakes, or have panic attacks or feel like a complete failure. 

But I’m working on me. I’m working on several things that have come up within the last year or two (or three or four) and I’m figuring this stuff out. It’s hard work – something that so many people don’t realise – because I have to know every piece of me, every reaction and every trigger. I keep journals… several of them that I use to track everything from the food I eat, to the sleep I get, to moods I experience, to the things I say and do. I need to know my patterns, know my limits and understand my emotional reactions. And then I also have to fight. I have to fight to prove that my frustration or anger or upset is legitimate and not the disorder, I have to fight to keep myself stable and stop my moods from shooting up or falling down, and I need to fight to keep learning about myself and what level really is.

This month has been harder than some I’ve experienced lately. While I’m still doing okay and remaining stable I’ve had quite a few things come up that triggered me – some of them catching me completely by surprise and other things that I already knew about and was watching for. And so I’ve watched as triggers hit me – recorded them in my journal and worked my way through them, adding new tools to the toolbox, ways to cope with the never ending fluctuation of emotion and threat of an episode.

This life, it is exhausting right now as I work to do what other people can do naturally, and I don’t always feel like sharing. But this is when I should share. Because right now, at this moment I’m a success. I’m fighting hard to make life liveable, to get to know myself and what I need to do to survive and to change the way I think. I’m learning to use natural methods and things that are within my control to manage and redirect myself when I feel things might be beginning to slip one way or the other.

So this is me being honest. I’m tired and I’m fighting, I’m learning and I’m growing, I’m alive and I’m well, I’m neither up nor down, and even though I sometimes still struggle, I’m also feeling the strongest I’ve ever felt. Nothing beats that feeling of strength and hope, the realisation that you can have a future and that it won't be defined by your Mental Illness. 

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Undone - One Step Backwards

“Bills, money, cars, repairs, house, home, kids, Halloween, Christmas, stop it, leaves, cold, work, second job, hair, getting out, working out, be quiet, eating, groceries, tired, not allowed to sleep, keep going, don’t stop, laundry, dishes, homework, snow, tires, shut up, doctor, dentist, get moving, too much to do…, I said stop it, get control, hospital, manic, depressed, mood stabilisers, anti-depressants, side effects, police, suicide…”

The thoughts were racing through my head, swirling on repeat and speaking over each other without pause. I was in the shower, a little late in the morning but trying to get ready to accomplish the day’s tasks when I realised I couldn’t shut down the thoughts. Trying harder I squeezed my eyes shut, willing my brain to stop, to slow down and to let me think rationally.

“You can’t do anything right.” The thought began as the rest of the words, the rest of the stress of everyday life continued to yell in the background.

“Get a grip!”*“Loser!”*“You do nothing all day… you can’t even control your own thoughts, your own emotions!”*“You can’t stay stable, you will always have to watch out for highs and lows and dysfunction.”

The negative thoughts came faster, reminding me of what a failure I was and I always have been. Soon I was arguing with myself… as a negative thought screamed internally at me I yelled loudly right back. I know, at this point I sound full of crazy, right? Well surprisingly, arguing with my own mind didn’t work and I found myself having trouble breathing. It was too hot, I was still in the shower and my chest felt heavy trying to breathe. Yanking the shower door open I stumbled out and into the bathroom, wrapping the towel around me awkwardly and moving into the bedroom. My head was now pounding, the thoughts still blaring as I struggled to catch my breath.

“Too hot. Stop panicking. Knock it off. Focus. Stop. It’s just a panic attack.” I reminded myself as I gripped my now aching chest while I struggled to get it under control. My heart was now pounding relentlessly in my chest and everything that could pop into my head did. Fear, crowding, anxiety - all of it was crashing down on me and I felt like I was going completely insane. Remembering some of the things I’ve learned I focused on the breathing, the feel of the air as it entered and exited my body… counting as I inhaled and exhaled, trying to keep my mind from speaking to me. I grabbed my cheat sheet (Yes I have a cheat sheet for panicking!) and looked down at it, picking several simple things off the list that I could do in the moment.

Finally I got my breathing under control, barely. I lifted my head and realised I was lying face down on my bed in a pile of laundry, my face soaked with tears. Gripping my dripping wet hair I wanted to scream and I wanted it to stop; I wanted my brain to simply shut off for five minutes. Continuing with the tools I had available to me, I eventually came out of it; my body aching and tired but under control again.

This particular panic attack happened just this morning and I’ll admit I’m still a little shaken up over it. For me, it isn’t necessarily the difficulty breathing or the physical pain that bothers me as much as it is the complete lack of control – my inability to always stop it before it gets out of control like that.

It’s also why I feel that sometimes being in recovery and treatment with a mental illness can sometimes be even more draining than going untreated. Because every panic attack, every bump in the road, every single time there is a slight shift and you feel a little happier, a little too angry, or a little too weepy you have to watch it. You have to be aware of the miniscule changes to your emotions and the way you react, you have to analyse every mood you are in and every choice you make. Others do it too, they watch you closely and at the slightest sign they question you worriedly – ‘You’re playful today, are you sure you’re not manic?’ or ‘You have a mood disorder, can I trust your opinion and that it isn’t just your emotions making that decision?’ And then… occasionally it still sneaks up on and you feel like you have accomplished nothing in the months of stability. One outburst leaves you feeling completely naked and vulnerable, useless and stuck in a cycle of hopelessness. You wonder if it will be like this forever, if the guilt and the shame that you can’t get it under control will always be with you. And you just want to be normal.

I’m in recovery from a mental illness, but panic attacks and emotional dysregulation still happen from time to time.  I’m safe, and I’ve got support – I know what to do now… but it doesn’t make it any easier when you feel like you have worked so hard to be level and all it took was waking up one morning for the sea to begin churning, throwing you overboard and letting the waves carry you wherever they may.

I’m sharing this because it’s easy to forget. It’s easy to see someone and know that they have struggled but not to see the internal battles that they still face to stay somewhat stable. It’s easy to look past their eyes and the fatigue and think that it means that the fight is over. It’s easy to get down on yourself if you are that person that is still struggling. Everyone has bad days… but it doesn’t mean we are weak or failing or succumbing to our illness again if we have to struggle, if we ask for help or if we simply need to take a breather. 

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