The Battle (Part 1)

The journey of a mother and her son through diagnosis and into treatment is a tamultious one. The passion for proper treatment, for actual care of ones health. The turbulent path of finding the right professionals and then the ups and downs of medications, their combinations, and side effects.

The love of a mother for her son is a special one. When he feels hurt I feel his pain multiplied deep within my soul.

Many of the medications used to treat Bi-Polar and Depression take time to seep into the system. Putting something into your body so foreign and dangerous that it can change how you think and behave is a scary proposition, certainly not one to be taken lightly. Making the decision to have my son treated in that way has created a deafening barrage of conflicting thoughts complicating my daily life. Looking in from the outside I see his pain, frustration and struggles so clearly. I see the wild look in his eyes come so quickly when something triggers him, dispersing as quickly as it appeared. His struggles are his norm so he cannot see them each time they appear, they all blend together.

I am more cautious with his medication journey than I was with mine. I am thankful to know exactly how I felt with each medication and although we all feel differently, hindsight is 20/20 and I am using those glasses. One medication at a time. I will not name medications publicly, as I am not an expert and don’t want to sway anyone. I will however, answer every e-mail with honesty. He started one a few weeks ago and is not yet up to the levels needed to make a difference. The waiting is so difficult but he has a great therapist who is helping him tremendously. He is frustrated by not “feeling” the medicine kicking in and I understand that feeling well. In the meantime, we take it day by day. I get up and make him his breakfast and lunch. I am in touch with each of his teachers  and administration at the high school to ensure that we are all supporting him.

Privacy is extremely important for a student who is looking to attend an institute of higher learning. 

I cannot stress enough the importance and value of not placing my son on any school “programs” or any other term the school uses to gain additional funding and places any notes or codes onto his transcripts. I want absolutely nothing to stand in his way of success. My job is to keep the doors open and minimize damage at all costs. I have been very firm and calculated with what I share about my sons health and how they will handle it. What they put on his transcripts and in his recommendations can change his future for worse or better and like a momma lion, I protect his future with my life. I communicate enough to allow for compassion on the part of educators but no more. I communicate that he is under the care of medical professionals and may experience lapses in memory and concentration. He may need their patience and compassion but nothing less and nothing more. They push to know what is wrong and I have only gone so far as to say that he is experiencing a temporary episode of severe depression.

Depression is a word that people understand even if they don’t understand it. Bi-Polar is a word that instantly turns you into an unstable crazy person. 

All is right in the world when others feel that they can help by having compassion for a young man experiencing a temporary bout of depression. Bi-Polar requires a team and a special counselor and a special program and on and on and on. Bi-Polar is a permanent state of instability in the eyes of many.

My son has the advantage of learning about his strengths and weaknesses at a young age. Armed with that knowledge he has the ability to become stronger than most. 

He has more of an opportunity to succeed now than he did a month ago. Getting out on the other side is the battle. Winning one battle at a time with knowledge and positivity is what will win this war.

 

I Gave It To My Son

I find it easier to handle my own diagnosis than that of my child. I haven’t written much lately because I have been caring for my son. It’s been a few months since my husband and I began to notice changes in our sons behavior; lack of academic performance, girlfriend after girlfriend, problems with teachers. He stopped making himself breakfast & lunch.
He is an advance placement student so he has the capability to do well and for some reason he couldn’t wrap his head around simple things anymore. He kept saying that he couldn’t remember anything, he was tired, “there is something wrong.”

I feel helpless. I am losing my son and watching his future slip away. He felt the same fear and uncertainty.

A couple weeks ago he finally broke down. It was an epic betrayal of his true self. I know that for some teenagers, anger outbursts can be standard behavior or expected, but those behaviors aren’t my sons baseline. It isn’t in his core personality.
He snapped! He threw his phone, punched a wall, and began an epic meltdown. His body was rigid with the anger that he was holding back. He ran into a bathroom and began sobbing.
I sat there, for an entire minute, in absolute shock. Although not so little (17) my little boy was in so much pain. It was a pain I had felt all too often in my life. I knew right then that this was something bigger than he. I ran in and knelt before him and as I saw his pain and his shaking from anger I felt as though he was so out of control that he may not be able to hold back physically if I leaned in. That was a chance I was more than willing to take as I quickly wrapped both my arms around him. It took a good 5 minutes before he could speak and then the panic attacks began. I consider myself an expert in those!
Eventually, I got him back to his bed and he began to open up.
Reckless behavior, emotional release when he buys something. Yikes!
“We are here for you son. No judgement, just love and support. Walls and phones dont matter, you matter!”
My husband demanded that I seek treatment for him immediately! He told me that he saw in him what he had seen in me; “that look in his eyes,” he said. “Our son is in trouble and needs help.” Luckily, I had an appt with my prescriber the next morning. She affirmed that he should be taken to a hospital to start the process of getting him help.
Unfortunately, they dont do anything but tell you that there is a 4 month wait for an eval and send you on your way.

I made several phone calls to my own providers and he has been seen by each of them this past week. The perks of being a loyal patient, I suppose. I should have a rewards card or something.

Official Diagnosis: bi-polar 2 (for now because he is so young) and a major depressive episode.

He wept…

“Are these pills going to be forever?” Yes, son. You know what else is forever? Multivitamins. 🙂

Love With A Side Of Klonopin

I really REALLY love my husband. He’s my biggest fan! #anxiety #PTSDchat pic.twitter.com/HysbDWs3Bv

— my purposeful mind (@chunkingminds) March 20, 2016

Reflecting on my weekend, I feel like it lasted two weeks. The days just fly by and yesterday was a snow day for the family which meant it lasted longer. I love having the family around but I really appreciate my week days alone too. I was incredibly overwhelmed on Saturday which made it hard to get moving, but just when I thought I would give in to sadness and lay around and feel crappy all day, my mother and brother in law called and would be at my house in an hour. WHAT?! Ok, time for a shower and OMG the house…I have construction tools and baseboards and rocks all over! OY! I was literally having a serious meltdown. Panic attack, oh hello, there you are again. It’s been what, like a few days at least since I was fearful enough to see you. I don’t like you and I want you to know that if I never saw you again I would celebrate. Just sayin’

My husband grabbed my Klonopin and handed it to me with water. “Relax. I got the house, you get the shower 😉 ” How did I get so darn lucky? I mean, have you read 5 Ways To Help Your Wife With PTSD? He really lives it out and thinks about it enough to always be a step ahead of me. He really really thinks about my well-being and my journey and what may come next and how to help me experience new things without fear. I can’t do it, so I don’t know how he does. He has a superpower, for sure.

He went to the grocery store and handled dinners, while I got lost somewhere in my head. Not sure where but, by the end of it all, I managed to pull myself together enough to accomplish one of the many tasks I have on my growing list. I sat down and put some rocks on a wall. I built an entertainment center about a year ago and a weekend job turned into a year long job but so be it. Slowly but surely.

I still have sanding and painting to do, but I haven’t quite wrangled up my manic romance yet, but once she kicks in, you will see a finished product. I managed to get the column on the right (next to the rocks) trimmed out all pretty last week though. YAY!

The hubby is home this morning to make sure that I get in the shower and don’t give in to the reaper. He knows how hard the slightest change in my routine is for me. He sees it so clearly and has such compassion. I credit him with so much; without him I wouldn’t be here.

 

Overwhelmed And Climbing

Yesterday I smacked myself in the face with a 2×4…no, really! I am desperately in a serious hurry to whip my house into shape within the next week. Realtors are calling to look at our house and my husband is going through the process of rounding up a list for the mortgage broker. North Carolina by summer is the plan. Warmer weather and no more snowblowers! It all looks like one big huge Mt. Everest to me.

My anxiety is at MAX. Panic has set back in and I can’t seem to ‘work’ when others are around because of it. Nightmares have come to help panic out, and I am struggling with meals again. Just when everything is so perfect, it all crashes down on my head. In this case, in my face. Half my face is swollen, I look ridiculous! On top of that I am working with one finger down. I accidentally cut into half of my right index finger and I can’t even type with the thing. On the positive side, I’m learning a new typing style.

Being a one-woman machine is so hard. I can’t maneuver everything on my own but I have to. I am putting up crown moulding, baseboards, trimming out doors, mudding & taping, sanding and painting. I pretty much do it all…when I can.

That’s the thing about bipolar, we are rockstars when the mania juice kicks in! People are like, “omg, she can do it all”… yeah, for a hot second until the reaper pays a visit. The reaper follows panic and mania around like an ambulance chaser.

I call my writing days, my days off. Usually I hit one room at a time and make my chunking list. Sometimes though, even making a list is a battle. That’s when i take my day off and write. I listen to my husband talk with his family and others on the phone. I wish I could do that, but the phone is overwhelming to me most days. I will say something wrong and then the end of the world comes down like a torrential rain. The world has ended many times. 😉

This too shall pass.

Mental Health Disability Haters

Mental health disability is a complicated topic. According to NAMI Currently almost nine million individuals receive SSDI, and as of 2013, 35.2% of recipients qualify for disability based on a mental health condition. Much like Lady Gaga’s latest song, you really can’t fully understand how it feels until it happens to you. I’ve heard it and still hear it from time to time, the rantings from the outsiders:

• “Seriously, get off your ass, you’re fine.”
• “Get over it.”
• “Why are you so weak?
• “We all have anxiety, it doesn’t mean the world is coming to an end.”

I’ve heard it all before and now it just falls on deaf ears. At first though, I felt shame. I was being judged and being judged can hurt.

Fear is judgments secret weapon, like a scorpions stinger. 

Truth be told, I was an outsider once. One of those judgmental people who thought she was so strong and didn’t understand how people could be so weak. I was fine and after what I have been through..well, if I can do it then anybody can do it. It wasn’t until I had a serious “break” that all of the pain and tragedy and trauma came gushing out. I was a house of cards all along.

It was then that I realized how incredibly strong those weak people are!

It takes more strength to be vulnerable than I ever could have imagined. I couldn’t keep going and I didn’t understand why. If I didn’t understand, then how could I expect anyone else to understand? It takes enormous strength to begin the journey.

It’s hard for people to see me as being someone who has survived multiple sexual assaults, PTSD, bipolar, and on and on.
I still hide it well. I “present well” my therapist tells me. The key for me is only coming out of the house when I can hide it. Why? SHAME, duh! I’m ashamed of being seen as someone who isn’t who she used to be. I’m ashamed of being judged by the outsiders who think how I used to think.

Once you have reached your limit as a survivor and come out on the other side, you see the world differently. Things that are daily life for others trigger you. It’s different. Let’s face it, if workplace culture is killing people who don’t have disabilities what will it trigger for those of us who do?

I would have never been able to get my bipolar stabilized and begin the process of trying to manage my comorbidities without being able to fully focus on myself and my journey. Being able to be on SSDI and focus on my health makes me a better person for society and my family. Truth be told, I started paying Social Security before I was even of legal age to work. So for all the haters out there, I hope that someday you can have the opportunity to truly focus on yourself and forego the ego that controls your judgement. Perception isn’t always reality!

 

What If I Told You?

You have no idea who I am. You have known me for years and you have no idea who I am. You think you do, but you only know what I choose to show you. If you had taken an interest, I may have let you in, but you haven’t taken an interest, so you stay on the outside. I want to tell you, but I don’t know what it would solve for me. I may feel an emotional release for a moment, but then what if you didn’t react the way I expected or intended?

• What if you still didn’t come by to say hello, maybe have dinner or check in with your grandchildren?
• What if you didn’t recognize the absolute heart wrenching pain your son has gone through and how he has traversed a 99.9% deadly ongoing sea of rapids and come out a different man?
• How he has supported a wife that lay on her deathbed 20 times over for the past 4 years and helped keep her alive.
• How he used up his vacation time sitting at my bedside instead of driving me to an emergency room.
• How he protected your grandchildren from seeing the pain.
• How he managed to thrive in his career through it all.

I don’t know how to tell you without expecting something in return. I don’t know how you could possibly understand. I don’t know if I could understand if I were in your shoes.

Maybe being 100% unashamed isn’t about telling people what you have, its about accepting who you are. I’m still navigating this part of my journey. Suggestions and experiences welcomed 🙂

Hiding Behind Her Smile

Sitting there with a smile on my face that I have learned to make stick. I’m dying inside, Klonopin is my best friend right now, but I want to run. I stay in the same spot, chair back to a wall and just smile. It never fails that the seat across from me or next to me is quite utilized. They want to talk to me. “what’s new?”, political stuff, no religious talk. I have learned to keep the conversation off of myself and speak about all of the beautiful attributes of those around me. Its easy for me to pick out beauty in others and it keeps people from getting too close to personal questions. It’s me that I struggle with, not them. It’s the lies that eat at me. I don’t want to tell them that I have had horrendous experiences and hand over my list of diagnosis. I really don’t, but then again, I do.

They speak of how unfortunate it is that someone we love has bipolar and how much they love them and do for them. I stand there in silence. Bipolar is a big deal, it’s hard. Sometimes manageable and sometimes not. I get it. I have it. I have comorbidities that bounce off of each other like that ball in the racquetball room. It’s hard to catch. I stand there alone….again. The silence from shame.

I want them to see my struggle so that they stop unknowingly minimizing what my husband and I have gone through just to walk into that room. It’s not their fault, the shame I feel sits with me and me alone. I want them to know so that my shame will end, but it won’t. I’ve worked hard to hide it all and I will keep going. My husband is worthy of knowing me and as he gazes across the room at me, he sees through it and smiles. In those moments I think he is proud of my strength. It makes my glued on smile worth it every time.

Finally, it’s over. Yes, hugs all around and the cheek kisses and genuine appreciation for being able to be with each of them. As we get into the car to leave, he looks at me and says “everyone kept telling me how beautiful you are.” You did a great job tonight. His way of acknowledging my sincere effort and the collapse I will have the following day as all of my strength was just drained from every fiber of my being. Hiding from my mother-in-law, and my husbands entire family each and every time I see them.

How do I move through this…

 

Photo: Sia

The Reaper & My Saint

I feel so privileged most days now but it’s taken a while. The darkness was beautiful sometimes, until it ended and the lights turned on and my true broken self was almost seen. That’s when i would run. New job, new town, whatever needed to be done and whatever lie I needed to tell, I told.

I was in a state of survival, running from the reaper while manic. Damn I run fast and am unstoppable, fearless, productive, a superstar. Then the reaper and I would meet. I was alone no matter whose company I was in. Always alone. In a room of many, I was alone. Any relationship, waiting for the other shoe to drop. I was alone and anticipating a battle before it ever began. The reaper would look at me and make me look in the mirror, my heart and gut would feel the fear of something worse than death; living with myself. I would beg the reaper to take me along his journey. I saw salvation in his eyes.

Life is quite different now. I have found the right blend of medications and I was like a kid who didn’t know she was half blind until she put some glasses on! Holy sh*t I didn’t know what anything really looked like!..wait, is this real or are you messing with me? I was left so confused and in disbelief of how different life can be. I felt feelings that didn’t need to be drown in wine. In fact, I don’t even have a desire to drink. what? How do I not drink? I’ve been drinking since I was 15 and at 37 I miraculously just don’t feel like it, from a few pills. WOW! I don’t even know how to socialize without alcohol. Now what?

FEEL!

I get to feel. I genuinely feel loved, supported, and most of all GRATEFUL. I couldn’t do any of this without my husband. Laundry, dishes, cooking, making it to doctors appt’s, making sure I eat. I don’t do all of these everyday or sometimes for weeks at a time, but I have support and love. I have a son who texts me everyday at 1:34pm to ask if I would like a coffee on his way home from school. I have a daughter who worries more about me than I do! In a good way. Most of all, I have a husband who hides my down days (and there are many), from the kids. He makes sure that they never see me down.

I go for days without being able to eat. I don’t know why that happens. I just gag thinking about food. My husband goes and buys me Almased for shakes that I can make. He stops at the store when I can’t seem to leave the house. He is my miracle in the midst of a crazy life. I wouldn’t be here without him and my children. My husband is the strength behind it all. He sees the reaper coming before I do sometimes and he initiates a Plan A. “My girl! Come with me to dinner tonight.” He makes me feel beautiful.

I think he and the reaper have a competition going and my husband doesn’t lose!

Today I Choose Love

It’s been an up and down week for me. In general, I am exceptionally positive when I am feeling quite the opposite. I still recognize my feelings/mood/whatever, but I know that in order to feel better I need to surround myself with my end goal; positivity and love. That includes treating myself like I love myself even when I don’t feel like it. In these moments I think about how I would treat my daughter if she were feeling down. I would encourage her and love her. I’m a firm believer (in my situation) of faking it until I make it.

• I smile from point A to point B. I probably look like a total weirdo, but eventually as people begin to smile back, my smile becomes genuine.
• I put in my beats headphones at night and turn on Vortex Success Gratitude  . I turn it up loud and think about my desire to feel grateful for even the smallest of things. I only know it works because I feel better and my family tells me that I seem happier. It works for me.
• I take the deepest breaths I can possibly take.
• I make a long list that includes a shower and try to get 2 of them done and feel good about it.
• I F* myself over and prepay for my Aerial Yoga class. I really don’t feel up to going but once I’ve paid $25.00 in advance, I go. It’s unique and I never regret it.

I’m not saying, “hey you should all try this”. We’ve been there and done that with therapists and everyone else who thinks they have great ideas but have never felt what we feel. I haven’t felt what you have felt/feel. I’m just reminding myself of what works for me and even this week I managed each of these. Truth be told. I want to feel better, but my primary motivation isn’t even for myself, it’s because I feel really bad for those around me! If I can’t do it for me, I really try my best to do it for them.

My daughter is the little girl inside of me that was gentle, kind, and so immensely loving and sensitive. I look into her eyes and think about how I was treated at that young age (she is 10).  Who do I want to be to her? Do I want to be the person who causes her the most heart wrenching pain. Do I want to take a joyful childhood away from her by taking her mother from her? So I make choices. I make choices for my family. I make the choice to feel my pain and go through my ups and downs so that they don’t have to go through worse.

There was a time when you thought anything was possible; nothing has changed! Today I choose love.

How Can I Be 100% Unashamed?

My goal: 100% unashamed and 150% inspirational to myself and those around me. I’m still lying because I’m still scared. I’m afraid that every emotion I have will be attributed to my diagnosis and/or my trauma. I’m afraid that future opportunities will be blocked because people will judge me. They judge others with diagnosis and experiences like mine, right in front of my face. I usually then ask if they are a christian and then the heavens open up and all silence breaks loose. We all sometimes need compassion reminders, including me. Ok, I’m judging and should move on. 😉

Most people just aren’t worthy of knowing me that intimately. Judgmental on my part, I suppose, but I think you need to earn that right. I have told my husband absolutely everything, but only because he earned that and more. He worked hard to understand my fears and my emotions and he read and studied  every diagnosis and it took 2 long years for him to see me and love me for who I am as opposed to who I allowed him to see. I don’t know that I could go through what he has gone through with me.

Over and over again I tested him and probably emotionally tortured the man. (I admit it). He stood strong and instead of getting angry when I provoked him, he would look me in the eyes and with the most compassion I could ever feel, say “how can I help you not feel this way? What can I do?” I was always left speechless and at the very same time he would be heading my way to wrap his arms around me. How can you fight with someone who sees your pain and loves you through every ounce of anger they are supposed to have? I threw my most powerful, push him away so that I don’t have to be vulnerable, super power his way! No man has ever endured that super power.

He showed me and continues to show me that he loves me unconditionally. The beauty in it all was how much he taught me. He taught me to feel love, to feel compassion, to comfort and most of all, how safe and healing it can be to be vulnerable with someone who will not use it against you or hurt you. But the world isn’t like my husband.

So, I beg the question, is it necessary to tell your family and others that you have X and experienced X in order to be 100% unashamed? I guess it would, in order to be 150% inspirational, right? How do you tell others who won’t necessarily understand, be compassionate, and nonjudgmental? I’m honestly asking….