Stabilizing

Hey! Did you know Suddenly Bipolar has a Facebook Page? And I use my Twitter account to tweet out tidbits if you’d like to see them.

Find me on Facebook. Follow me on Twitter: @revdlm

Now that my shameless plugging is done…

I am doing an all-morning outpatient program Monday through Friday. Group therapy,  skills, expressive therapy – all working to put me back together again. Following the program, I’ll be going to Texas for a couple months to be with family for reestablishing healthy ADLs (Activities of Daily Living – hygiene, cooking, exercise, cleaning, etc.) that I can then use and not neglect when I return to my little apartment. One of my friends will board my cat for me while I’m gone – very generous!

An important revelation occurred to me in the last couple days. I’ve felt shame, ashamed of myself, since I was a very young child. Guilt is something you feel when you make a mistake. You can make restitution, ask for forgiveness, and change. Shame says “I am a mistake,” leaving very little room for fixing anything. I think this shame I’ve felt for so long may be fueling my suicidal ideation. If I’m not worth anything, then might as well take me out. It’s a wonder I only came across suicidal ideation after the fall of a high mania when I landed in the hospital with suicidal depression. The visions of me killing myself have plagued me since – almost 7 years now. And yes, I still feel shame. Not sure that will ever go away.

Artwork from the Hospital in May

Poetry from the Hospital – May 10

No resolution for me

No six months out for me

No stability for me

No exit for me (from my illness)

 

Unless I take an exit

As fond as I am of an exit

It’s not a good idea to exit

But, oh, how tempting is the exit

 

Recovery has been/is elusive

Healing has been/is elusive

Reading comprehension has been/is elusive

Satisfying work has been/is elusive

 

Where is my change?

Can I ever change

Will a desire for exit change

How about elusive benefits – any changes?

 

I’m a burden to my support

I’ve tried to increase my support

I’m always worried I’ll lose my support

I’m broken. I don’t know why I have support.

 

Poetry from the Hospital – May 9

Laughing, Connecting –

Oops! I can’t feel happy;

I’m depressed.

Guilty, Ashamed.

Laughing, Connecting –

Stab! See how you

Want to die.

Afraid, silenced.

Laughing, Connecting –

Bam! I’m not in

that role anymore.

Empty, yearning.

Lost in a story –

Splat! You can’t understand

Or remember anymore.

Deflated, defeated.

 

Bipolar ravages lives, minds. You can roll over and give up and live next to potential, yet always short of it. You can adapt and notice limitations as mere borders that outline potential’s shape. Amorphous and floating those borders may be. But you can dance with them. And find life within the ravages. New life burrows and blooms from a fallen log. Never the manic high reaching beyond tree tops. Nor the depressed, decrepit log testing to lie forgotten. Surprise! the bipolar. Fill potential’s shape with a new tree that bends but does not break, that branches up and down and thrives inside its boundaries. Look to the bonsai tree…

Down the Same Road Again

Here I am again. Anxious and suicidal. I have been feeling this way for several days now. Twice now I’ve stayed overnight at a friend’s house because I didn’t feel safe alone. I’m scared I’ll end up in the hospital, but at least I feel safe there. There are no temptations to end it all.

I think this was brought on by a med change. I’m so frustrated by that because my doctor and I made them, and made them slowly so that I wouldn’t have that hangover feeling until mid-afternoon when I finally had energy to start the day. I often fall asleep in the morning a couple hours after I get up too. I hate feeling like a slug.

I think lowering one drug in particular brought on increased depression and anxiety, as well as increased suicidal thoughts with plans (which I always have, even when I’m not actively thinking about suicide, I have the thoughts WITH plans).

That drug has been increased for several days now, but I’m still feeling horrible. Anxiety is cycling with suicidal plans. Impulsivity is growing. I don’t have the means to carry out my primary plan at home so most of the time I feel “safe” – I’m less likely to do anything. Doesn’t mean the thoughts aren’t there or the plans or the impulsivity. Sadly, my main plan is one I can carry out at my friend’s house where I stay when I feel unsafe. I’m not alone until after I fall asleep, I sleep pretty hard and I wake up groggily when people come downstairs. So I’m mostly safe.

I’m so tired of the lost time I get in the hospital all these days and weeks I’ve spent in my 30+ times. I grieve for the time even though there is nothing else I can do to stay alive. I grieve for the burden I become on friends to take care of my cat or bring me clothes. I’m ashamed of my self for not trusting myself to keep myself safe or using skills strongly enough. I’m very hard on myself. I feel a hospitalization coming. I’ve been on the increased medication for several days now and I’m still just as bad. I don’t know if I can wait a full week to give it a shot, or for another week after that when we increase the first medication, which is likely.

I don’t know what to do. I feel horrible.

Spring Dating

I’ve been doing a fair amount of dating the last couple months. Most breakups were weird, whether it was I who did the breaking up or he. I feel like a teenager or college student with some of the drama or figuring out what to do. I’ve been doing online dating which makes the intensity of relationships hard to figure out.  Do I stop talking to others once I’ve hit it off with someone when we meet in person? That’s my M.O. I only want to date one person at a time so I tell others I’m interested in online that a casual relationship has turned more serious and I don’t want to lead them on. A response that makes it weird when it hasn’t worked out and I go back to getting to know people, and I want to restart relationships. Normal guys understand. Drama-laden guys freak out. The whole dating thing has so much drama. Sigh. But I’m glad that I feel stable enough to offer myself in relationships.

I’m dating someone now that probably has some more staying power than others. We are really compatible, like each other and taking the relationship slowly. An interesting bipolar moment… I usually wait a few dates before explaining that my brain disorder is bipolar disorder and how it affects me. With this man, I needed to tell him on the first date (!!) since he had been married to someone who was bipolar and didn’t take her meds. I wanted to be clear that I’m a good patient, take my meds, have a good support system. Turns out it wasn’t a big deal for him, no matter how nervous I was about putting it out in the open so early. I’m stable right now, which is easier to deal with I’m sure. It’s the summer manias and fall depressions that we’ll have to deal with together. I hope I weather them ok – for my sake more than for his. But it would be good to see how he responds if I do get unstable or hospitalized. Important to know for longevity of the relationship. I need someone who can be caring and supportive and not freak out, withdraw or get really anxious. We’ll see!

Angry and Sad and Anxious

It’s f-ing Holy Week before Easter and I’m imploding. Mostly from the anxiety that turns into tension that turns into a headache that turns into a migraine. I took a walk to see if that would expel some of the energy of the feelings. The walk didn’t really help.

Holy Week is traditionally hard for me since diagnosis of bipolar, which you can see documented throughout the blog. Not as bad as the Christmas mania/delusion which can last weeks, but this Holy Week seems especially bad.

I’m grieving not leading a church through the holy days ever again. I liked making space for mystery and for people to experience something bigger than themselves in the dramatic and formational/fundamental story of Christianity. And I won’t do that anymore.

And I won’t do it anymore partially (wholly?) because when I was leading a congregation through the holy days I would experience manic religious visions and delusions. I had my own high going. I planned everything far enough in advance so that I could enter the experience in my way too, and I hoped my experience and liturgies  would lead others into the experience of Holy Week too. Holy Week and Easter, besides being fundamental to being Christian, exemplified how I approached being a pastor – making space for others to have mystical ,or at least mysterious, experiences of the divine. Like I did.

I’m angry because I won’t get to live out Holy Week again with a church, and I’m angry at mania for being the reason I can’t. So I’m mad at myself too. I’m angry that my response is an inability to deal with my feelings and therefore not being able to take care of myself very well. I’m doing the best I can, I guess. Give myself credit for getting out of bed? For getting dressed? For going for a walk? Still haven’t figured out meals today. It’s hard every day and I get so messed up in feelings that I don’t want to eat, but I need nourishment to prevent hangry outrage or turning on myself.

I’m sad because I miss leading people through holy days. I was good at it. I’m grieving the position I lost because of the bipolar. I’m sad that I’m susceptible to being ruled by these feelings so that I’m not at my best and not taking care of myself the way I want to be. I’m using skills to deal with feelings, such as reminding myself they are just feelings and I can go about my life anyway. I’m so bogged down in sadness that this skill is not working well. My therapist reminded me this is probably a week to focus primarily on distraction techniques to move through the week. I’ll get there. The time will run out, and I’ll be ok again. The moving through is what is so damned hard. Slogging through quicksand is the best image I can think of.

I’m anxious, well, because I’m anxious. I’m always anxious. Yet this anxiety is fueled by the anger and sadness. I’m anxious that I’ll take this too far and end up in the hospital again, after 70 days of being out and stable, even through the time change and equinox, traditionally difficult times for me. I’m anxious that the manic visions and delusions will happen even without participating in anything religious. Maybe just by reading about or hearing about something religious.

I’m stuck. I won’t always be stuck because time marches on, and it will be next week soon. These four days are trying to the soul, to the mind, to the body. I’m not taking good care of any of those, despite some trying such as taking a walk.