What it’s really like having bipolar depression.

Want to know what it’s like to be in a low period of depression? Not even one so low that I’m suicidal like I was last time I wrote. (Excuse the absence by the way, I had an intentional reason for not writing other than being depressed and not having anything of worth to say).

Depression is not getting out of bed since Sunday. Today is Saturday. It’s not showering or brushing your lower back-length hair for so long that it takes 10 minutes and a prayer to Venus to get the mats out. Seriously. 10 minutes and a brush of broken hair. It’s only getting out of bed when your husband gets home so you can pretend you’ve been up and reading all day in order to hide the fact you’ve slept for 3 days. It’s not sleeping at night at all but for the muscle relaxers I’m prescribed for sleep and my back. It’s having fear of driving at night now. Or driving during the day alone really, unless I have to because I’m scared someone will hit me. It’s so desperately wanting to reach out to my tribe of friends but fearing they’ve forgotten or don’t love me anymore. It’s not doing the things I love like photography or crafting unless my darling step daughter asks me to do it for her. It’s only playing video games for my stepson because he wants to and because I adore him and want him happy. It’s putting on a face all weekend I have them so they know how much I love them and want them to know you can be mentally ill and still survive. It’s being so numb that I can’t even cry anymore. It’s not eating anything but mini blueberry and apple pies all week so that I lose 5 pounds.

This is a normal week for me. But I press on. Because what else can I do. I want to live. I DO have people who love me (somehow) and I don’t want to hurt them. I don’t want my step kids to have to lose a parent figure they’ve known since they can really remember. I will not do that to them. I will not leave my husband like that.

This is my bipolar depression.

Resist, Unlearn, Defy

I’ve finally come out of my spiral down depression hell.  I climbed out kicking and screaming with Connor’s help, but I did it.  I’m now in a good place again.  I’m leaving the house finally.  I’m excited to go do things.  I went to the SPCA and took pictures of the animals for the first time in months.  I’m going to see my friends tonight for book club and instead of dreading it, I’m actually really excited to see everyone.  This was a hard fought battle, but one I believe we all can do.  I go to NAMI (National Alliance of Mental Illness) meetings every Monday and actually applied to be a facilitator (leader of the group).  I’ve been working with my mentor in photography to get her studio set up and I’m having a blast.  A few weekends ago, there was a Rally Against Addiction and I was the photographer.  When I sent the pictures to the organizer, she was thrilled with them and said that “I captured the spirit of the event,” which is exactly what I was trying to do.  I took over 800 pictures and had to whittle them down to about 150.  THAT was hard to do.

This week is also my 1 year anniversary of my car wreck and going into the psych ward.  I ran off the road on September 19th and had my friend check me into the ward on the 20th.  Today last year would be the day I got out.  I’ve grown in so many ways in this one year it’s astounding.  Even with my recent decent into the precipice, I’m still equipped with so many tools that I’m able to get help.  I knew once I actually started to PLAN a way to commit suicide that something was very wrong and I needed to enact my “safety plan” which we do upon leaving the psych ward and upon leaving the intensive outpatient therapy.  I’m so glad I had it in place.  I don’t know what I’d have done a year ago without this.  Well, actually I do.  I’d have run off the road like I did.

This part will be mushy.  I need to thank all the people that have gotten me through this year and helped me grow so much.  To my support group, I can’t thank you enough for understanding what I’m going through and being able to let me know I’m not alone.  My family, you’ve stood by me from day one and I’m so grateful that you still accept me as I am and don’t treat me with kid gloves on.  Connor has been a rock and pushed me to get better in so many ways.  Even when I hated him for it.  He did it for my own good and I hate to admit he was right (I never will admit to saying that).  My friends and tribe for reading my blogs and coming over to my house on a lonely day and water color painting just so I know I’m loved.  To Emmaline, who I can’t even say enough about.  I don’t know what I’d do without you and Melissa.  Melissa, thank you for being so supportive and empathetic and also just taking my moods and self-isolation in stride.

Now that I’ve done the mushy stuff, on to what I’m doing now.  On my affirmation chalkboard, I currently have written “Resist, Unlearn, Defy.”  This is (of course) from an Incubus song, but I thought it was fitting.  I have to learn to resist what my brain tells me in depression and anxiety.  I have to unlearn the bad thoughts I’ve had for so long.  And I have to defy my direct impulsivity and other bad behaviors that come with bipolar.  Keep going.  You are enough.  Resist, unlearn, defy.  Just keep swimming, you are stronger than you know.  And so am I (I think)

Hardest Post I’ve Ever Written

This post may be the hardest I’ve ever had to write.  I’ve had a horrible summer and have spiraled out of control.  I call my decent into depression spiraling, and it has gotten the worst I think it’s ever been.  It started a few weeks ago when I stopped caring about the house and doing productive things.  I’d been taking pictures of the adoptable dogs at the SPCA and just stopped as I didn’t feel like going.  Everything seemed pointless and worthless.  I didn’t notice it at first.  I would spend my days in a burrito in my bed either sleeping or staring at the walls.  I did nothing.  I’d sleep until 4PM.  At night, Connor and I would binge watch Sopranos (GREAT show by the way) and so I’d get away with doing nothing all day.  Including dishes because all I’d make for dinner was frozen pizza.  I had to get back to the show of course.

So, after weeks of spiraling down and feeling hopeless, last week I hit what was close to rock bottom.  I’d been isolating myself from my friends and family for so long.  I hadn’t leaned on my support system to get me out of my funk.  I wasn’t thinking about all that I’d learned in my Intensive Outpatient Therapy (IOP) that I spent months working on.  I was thinking about nothing and everything but what I should have been in order to help myself out of the pit.  So, about a week ago, I woke up one day and had suicidal thoughts.  I will refrain from saying what I was planning on doing, but it got bad.  It went from the intrusive “what if” thoughts to actually planning.  This is what snapped me out of it.  Now, in IOP and in the hospital, you create what is known as a safety plan.  This is what you’re supposed to enact when you are in a bad place and feel like hurting yourself or others.  I immediately put mine into place.  I called my psychiatrist, my therapist, told Connor, told Emmaline and told my support system from my IOP.  I wanted to check into the hospital behavioral unit, since I was afraid I was going to hurt myself.  Now, I have no insurance since I’m on disability, so that would be twenty grand I don’t have the ability to pay back, ever.  So, my psychiatrist, therapist and I made a plan on what to do.  I went to a NAMI (I don’t know what the acronym means, but it’s a free group for those of us with mental illness) group.  I was the worst off there and so it made me feel even more suicidal.

I went home after group and told Connor that I wanted to check into the hospital.  He was devastated.  We talked through it and decided that maybe a change in scenery and “checking out” for a few days would help me snap back into myself.  My therapist agreed (I love my therapist) and so we made plans to go out of town.  I’m a history nerd and so even with the whole eastern America to choose from, I chose to go to Williamsburg/Yorktown/Jamestown area and immerse myself in history.  I really did enjoy much of the trip.  I still had nagging thoughts, but they turned from active planning to just ruminating intrusive thoughts.  I think this trip with Connor saved my life and I can’t thank him enough for being there for me.  He was at both my psychiatrist appointment asking questions that I wouldn’t have thought of.  He was at my therapist appointment asking what he can do to help me when I’m like this.  He has completely changed how he views mental illness and it’s changed how I view a lot of people and their ability to get rid of the stigma of mental illness.  It is possible to change.

Now for the good news.  I no longer am having active suicidal thoughts.  I want to live.  I want to keep pushing and I’m looking forward to small things in the future like the Scottish festival next week.  I plan on going to every NAMI meeting on Mondays and see if the group dynamic will help me like it did in IOP.  I have a concrete plan to go through every handout and worksheet I got from my IOP.  I will beat this spiral and go up to being happy and joyful again.  I know I can do it.  I have a date with one of my oldest friends on Wednesday that I can’t wait for.  It’s the little things that are giving me hope and drive to continue.  And I will.  I have two rings that I wear every day.  One says “I am enough” and the other says “keep fucking going.”  And I will.  I refuse to let this beat me.

Back to Writing

Well it’s been months since I’ve written. This is certainly not because I’ve been too busy to. On the contrary, I’m quite bored most of the time. I just haven’t felt that I have anything important to say or talk about. I do the same few things every day, it’s quite a boring existence so far. I’m so grateful that I’m able to stay home and keep my head in a good place, but sometimes I really miss working. I’ve been doing small things like taking pictures every week of the dogs in my local SPCA to help them get homes. I try and clean or do something bigger at my house every day. I’m still spending a lot of time playing video games or reading though, which I shouldn’t do. I should go out and take a walk or something. It’s hot as hades outside though, so I am lazy about doing all that.
Another thing I’ve been thinking is that my writing isn’t good enough. There’s nothing that really helps anyone anymore, as I’m not in therapy anymore with constant learning surrounding me. It’s just me at home all day. I’m not a poetry writer, nor a story writer. I could/should finish my book, but it’s intimidating the hell out of me. I need to get over that.
It’s odd that it’s been almost a year since my accident and being admitted into the psych ward. It’s not until September, but I can remember how hopeless I felt around now. How teeny skinny I was (oh if only I were small again). How I was miserable and didn’t want to be here anymore. That I was constantly thinking about crashing my truck as I drove home from work. It’s amazing the difference a year can make. I no longer think about crashing. I’m not hopeless anymore. I’m still struggling most days, but it’s generally something I can handle. Or at least I know what it is and can try and talk myself out of it. Sometimes.
I’m still struggling to sleep on my own; I’m thinking that is going to be a side effect of my Abilify for as long as I’m on it. I actually took myself off of all of my medication except Cymbalta and Abilify for a few weeks. I quickly added back my Lamictil, as I could really feel the difference and could feel me starting to spiral down. I’m not ready nor have the strength or knowledge to go without medication. I can’t do it yet. This worries me for when I get pregnant this winter. How is that going to work? I know there are ways, but it’s terrifying.
Well, this is a brief update on what’s happened since I left work. A whole lotta nothing. I’ll get back into the habit of writing again, as I need the catharsis. I need the release, even if nobody reads the thing.

Mania? Or Finding Joy?

Finding joy.  This is not an easy thing to do when you suffer from bipolar depression.  For a while now I’ve been pretty down.  After I took my Kenzie to the vet and got the possible diagnosis for cancer, I didn’t know what to do with myself.  So I started moving.  I haven’t stopped moving since.  My entire day is doing yardwork or going and taking photos of dogs and humans, cleaning, playing Zelda (self care for the win!) and other random things.  I can’t stop.  Kenzie’s biopsy came back as a virus or bacteria; they said it wasn’t cancer but didn’t know what it was.  But she’s okay.  So now my world can start spinning again, but I’m spinning faster.  I’m not sure if this is mania, but it feels wonderful.  I am getting so much done outside in my 5 acres of woods.  I’m planting and weeding and doing things I’ve never done outside before.  I get up on my own at around 8:30 (I used to sleep in until after noon most days).  I want to move.  I want to do.  I am making trips into town almost every day to donate to thrift stores after going through a random drawer or closet.  There’s no stopping me right now.  Is this full blown mania, or is this what being stable and “normal” and healthy feels like?

One of my main things of joy is my learning of photography.  I think I’ve spoken of it on here before, but I’ve been taking a class to learn how to take beautiful pictures.  I started out not knowing a single friggen thing, but now I’m taking actual pictures that I’m proud of.  I decided that I wanted to join two things I love and added dogs and cats into the mix.  I am OBSESSED with taking pictures of dogs.  It’s the most fun thing.  I love dogs anyway, but then to be able to use my new skills and be able to capture the personality of the dogs that their owners love just means so much to me.  I’m also volunteering at one of my local SPCA’s to take pictures of the shelter dogs there.  This is so rewarding to me and I’m loving it.  It’s REALLY hard, since they aren’t trained even a little bit, but when I do get a great picture, it just makes me all warm and happy inside.


I’m hoping that the pictures that show the personality really help these sweet things get their homes found.  I’m passionate about adoption after my Kenzie found me, and I want to do whatever I can to help these dogs (and cats) find their places as well.  I’ve found a love and a joy in something I never thought I’d ever do.  This, folks, is why you push yourself out of your comfort zone as much as possible.  Which I generally don’t do.  I’m incredibly grateful that I have done so with both photography and with deciding to incorporate my love of animals into it.

Now to learn how to photograph horses…

Thunderstorms Brewing

While sitting on my porch as I so often do, I get that familiar pull to write.  What about, I have no idea.  It just itches the back of my brain, so I write single sentences in an unfamiliar pattern.  They don’t make sense and aren’t cohesive.  Nor are they about anything in particular.  Then I hear the rumbling of a coming thunderstorm.  It reminds me of my own emotions.  Bottled up noises that threaten a storm coming.  It gets louder and louder until suddenly the rain pours down.  It’s intense and powerful in an instant.  You can feel the electricity in the air, your arm hairs prickling.  The small leaves of the trees twinkle in the sun as the raindrops hit them.  It has an odd beauty to it, this deep intensity that disburses as quickly as it starts.  The dappled sunshine comes back.  Little beams of hope, the leaves sparkle now.  Fresh with the healing liquid.  They can now grow a little bit more.

I’ve been going through a lot of ups and downs the past week.  It’s been calm and then intense, just as this storm has.  I started off the week great, being able to take photos of my friend and see my family on Sunday.  Monday morning was lazy and slow.  Stumbling around, deciding what I was going to do with my day.  I decided that I’d take my Kenzie doggie to the vet.  She’s had this growth on her ear for the past week or so that wasn’t healing.  It was red and angry, so I figured it just needed to be cut off and she’d be good to go.   She also hasn’t been herself.  It’s been nagging at me, but I can’t put words to it.  She’s laying by my bed all the time.  Kenzie normally will play and eat her bones, she has no interest in anything right now.  It’s just been not right.  That feeling that something is wrong has been itching my brain, as it has done with my past couple of huge vet issues over the past year.

Kenzie has terrible car-sickness, so after I went to work for Connor for a few hours on Monday, I went to give her the motion sickness medicine and took her to the vet.  The vet was much more alarmed with the growth on her ear than I had been.  She immediately thought it was a mast cell tumor and needed a bunch of tests (of course) to make sure.  She had to be given some anxiety medicine, as she’s so scared of everything, she wouldn’t sit still for the x-ray.  After being sedated, they got it and saw she had an enlarged spleen (another sign of cancer).  They then took a biopsy of the growth and sewed it back together with a few stitches.  They told me it could be either a mast cell tumor, melanoma or squamous cell carcinoma.  There is also a small chance it could be benign, even though it’s spread to her leg.  This of course, is catastrophic to me.  Kenzie is a staple of my life.  She’s been there for me through years and losses of other dogs.  She’s seen me at my worst and my best.  She’s my angel doggie.  She is perfect in every way except having car sickness.  I’d have her by my side at all times if she could ride in the car with me without being miserable.  She loves everyone and everything; babies, dogs, people, cats, walks by my side without pulling.  She’s perfect.  And now she may be leaving me soon.  This is devastating to me.  I’ve only told three or four people until now.  I don’t know how to process this.

On the day I heard, I was in shock.  I didn’t know what to think.  I just kind of shut down.  The day after, I completely shut down.  I slept all day and didn’t do anything but cuddle and think of my little tootsie-roll (she looks like a tootsie-roll on stilts).  How do I do this?  How do I go on without knowing what’s going on yet?  Today I took this nervous anxiety and turned it into constant moving.  I got up early and showered (odd for me to do in depression).  Then went to the grocery store and steam cleaned my carpets.  All done before noon.  I then sat on my deck to rest and the cleansing storm came through.  There is hope in the sunshine.  Maybe it’s benign and everything will be okay.  I’ll get to keep her for years to come after they just cut it out of her ear.  I can keep going.  I’ll just keep swimming for now.



All In My Feels

I’m drowning.  It’s been one week since I left my job tomorrow.  Today marks the 2 year anniversary of my 12 year old doggie running away.,  I feel so unsupported, and so unwanted right now, for absolutely no reason.  I know if I reach out to any of my tribe, they will be right there to help me through this.  How can one person feel so much all at one time.  I feel afraid, hopeless, regretful and shame at having to quit my job and go on disability.  I couldn’t even do the one thing that every other person does.,  I couldn’t keep the job that I’ve had for five years.  I couldn’t keep myself together long enough to really get back into work and integrate with my team again.

When I went back to work, it was always awkward on my side.  I felt like everyone was either ignoring me or treating me with kid gloves.  It was of course all in my head, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t real.  Sometimes I feel like that attack of whatever it was that made me go back on disability was the best thing that could have happened. The next minute I feel like I made the biggest mistake of my life and should have just worked through whatever was going on with me and my medication.

I feel hopeless and on a precipice.  I don’t know how or what to feel or what to do with all of these emotions.  I spent five months in intense therapy learning how to deal with these emotions and it’s like none of it ever happened.  I can’t think long enough to even remember anything that I learned and worked on during this time.  I have nobody that can truly understand what’s going on in my head and it’s making me feel isolated and alone.  I feel like even Connor has distanced himself from me because of my rapidly changing moods.  And that paralyzes me.  I’m terrified of him not caring anymore.

My impulsivity is also going on overdrive.  I can’t manage to go grocery shopping without buying stupid things I don’t need, like a new hummingbird feeder.   This is a problem because I have a lot of debt to pay from being out of work for so long.  I have thousands of dollars to pay, and no disability payments coming until my doctors send in my case files.  If they don’t, I have nothing.  I’m essentially just an unemployed, pathetic person who can’t fit in anywhere.

I’ve discovered photography and it felt wonderful.  I’m currently in a class to learn how to take beautiful pictures from a photographer that I’ve idolized for years.  She actually has taken pictures of my wedding, my family and just of myself as a present for Valentine’s day for Connor.  She’s incredible.  But now my head is getting in the way and I’m scared to even get my camera out.  My pictures aren’t good.  They aren’t as good as the other girls in the class.  I see what I want my camera to do but can’t get it to do it.  I’m used to catching onto things really quickly, but I’m just not satisfied with my progress.  And it’s probably normal and fine with where I am, I don’t know.  Just one more place I don’t feel like I fit in.

Since I quit my job, I haven’t left my house much other than to run errands like signing a release form for the doctor to send my case files to the insurance company and groceries.  Where I again mess up and buy two flowers for outside on my steps,  I’m doing a ton of yardwork which tears up my back and makes it scream in pain.  I do it because it makes me not think.  I am only thinking of the weeds and cleaning and getting things to look good.  And I want and expect Connor to make comments about how good it looks and don’t get them.  He isn’t one to care what the yard looks like unless the lawn is mowed.  Just another thing I’m not good enough at.  I’m entering in my spiral and I know it.  I just don’t know how to get out of it again.  I wait and wait for text messages from friends, so I feel loved and wanted.  Yet I won’t reach out to anyone telling them I’m in pain.  This writing is the only way I know how.  And I feel it’s not even good enough either.  It’s just me rambling, it has no beautiful language.  It’s just word vomit.  Another thing to fail at.  Here is to another 4 viewers reading my pathetic rambling blog.  Thank you 4 readers.

Quitting My Job

This week has been one that has torn me apart and then scotch taped me back together in separate parts.  I have had a lot of swings and things that I’d rather not even remember.  But of course, I need to write about them as it’s cathartic to me.  Even if nobody else reads them, I need it out of my system.

Tuesday started as a regular day at work.  I got in and started working through my flow and doing my thing.  All of a sudden, around 11, my eyes started crossing.  I began to see 4 of everything.  No matter what I did, I could not focus on anything.  I tried to send a message to my boss saying I had to go lay down as well as panicked and messaged my sister telling her what was happening to me.  Both of these messages ended up gibberish, as I couldn’t see what I was saying, nor could I think.  Somehow, I made it into the wellness room at work, (a breastfeeding room which I use to stretch my back daily).  I lied down on the couch and passed out.  I was dead to the world for an hour.  I woke up still dizzy and floppy-like with only seeing 3 of everything.  I went out to my car and sat there for a while to try and get situated.  Eventually my eyes cleared up and I could go back to work.

My boss, knowing me very well after 5 years, grabbed me and pulled me into the office.  I was sure I was going to get fired.  Instead he was very worried about me and wondered what had happened.  As I told him, we both kind of realized that it was time for me to not work anymore.  What would have happened if this episode, whatever it was, had happened while I was driving?  What if I couldn’t have made it to the wellness room in time and passed out on the floor?  It was a very dangerous situation and not something that I can be doing at work.  So, yesterday, we met again and set up a last day for me and I tendered my official resignation.  My last day will be in 3 weeks.  This is an extremely difficult thing for me to do.  As terrified as I was of coming back (partly because of fear of this type of thing), it’s been my home for 5 years.  I’ve made friends here and gotten close to a lot of people.  You get close to people you spend 8 hours with, no matter what you do.  I truly love and care about those I work with.  There are so many things I’ll miss doing at work that I thoroughly enjoy on a daily basis.  It’s going to be a very hard transition for me to go from working my butt off at work, to working my butt off at home doing…..something.  I’ll have to keep myself busy somehow or I’ll go stir crazy, but it’s still a very terrifying prospect.

The other thing that made this week hell was that I got more shots in my neck.  We are on the way to do an ablation (where you burn the nerves) in my neck.  Insurance requires 3 nerve blocks to be sure it works I guess.  So I got 4 shots in my neck on Tuesday.  Thankfully, I asked for two washcloths to hold on to and squeeze when the pain got too much.  I was also assertive enough to ask for double the sedation, as the previous amounts weren’t enough to keep me from panicking.  This one, while painful, wasn’t NEAR as bad as the cortisone shots though.  THANK GOODNESS.  I couldn’t have handled the electricity going down my arm like before on a week like this.

Well this looks like a long enough and boring enough update, so I’ll leave it here.  April 19th, here I come.  I’m conflicted on being happy or sad about you, that’s for sure.


No Day But Today

Today I’m listening to one of my favorite musicals ever, RENT.  When I was a tween, all the women in my family took my sister and me to go see it.  At the time I didn’t understand the absolute profoundness of the music and point of the entire play.  As I grew, I learned that one of the things is to take advantage of every day you have here on earth; with friends, family and everyone you come into contact with or encounter.

When you’re bipolar, this is especially hard to do.  It can be so difficult to just get out of bed in the morning and brush your teeth or hair.  In a manic phase, you want to do anything and everything.  It makes it so hard to appreciate the moments you’re in and be thankful for those people and loved ones that do support you.

I’ve recently had so much support from my extended family that I cannot be more grateful for or lucky to have.  My whole family has taken my diagnosis in stride and has been so incredibly supportive.  My dad talked to me for hours about it, and my sister makes sure that my medication is good and safe for me to take.  They all visited me in the psych ward, which most of the patients didn’t have.

Today I’m so grateful for my husband putting me first and being such a steady rock for me.  He has been amazing and works so hard to understand and my new diagnosis.  He’s been taking care of me and working hard to get me a truck that I love and he believes is good enough for me.  He starts my car in the morning for me when he’s up.  He’s cooked dinner for the past week.  He’s spent countless money on me when I mess up my finances from my impulsive spending.  He’s been an angel and I’m so glad I found someone that what’s wrong with me fits what’s wrong with him.  It’s been wonderful to grow together through this difficult time in my life.  I don’t know where I’d be without my wonderful family supporting me.  It breaks my heart that I know that I’m one of the few people with such a huge diagnosis that has such a great support system.  I know not everyone has the same blessing.