Friend

I met a friend on a mental health website.  I said we were all "wounded healers."  He said we were all looking for validation.  I had hoped we were more altruistic than that.  But this started a discussion that left the website and moved to our personal email spaces.  We discussed our histories, abuse, medication, children, ourselves as children, music, books, travels, hopes, opportunities, aspirations, limitations, and the idea that we would like to meet...one day.  1000 emails later, he is gone.

He had a manic episode that I did not know how to handle.  He was getting 'in your face' confrontational with people in his neighborhood.  I tried to calm him down and that was apparently not the thing to do.  He signed off...and that's the last I've heard from him.

So many feelings...so many reactions...so many possibilities.  I hope he's alive.  I hope he's safe.  I hope he knows I care about him deeply and would not abandon him...intentionally.

Our two months of correspondence walked me back away from a near-fatal depression last spring.  I now face the days without the dozens or more new emails titled in bright blue.  The silence roars with intensity,.and I wonder, what happened to him.

I will not think I could have been hurt...that I am better off.  In spite of his intentions to go out looking for trouble, I know he would not have hurt me.  I feel no concern for that.  I did not like the intensity of his anger and belligerence...that is why I failed to be what he needed at the time...friend.

I hurt, but I'm ok.  In one unanswered email, I said I was like a SETI technician, sending out signals in hopes that I would one day hear something back.

I can't have nice things

Back in the late 1990's, I bought a model car for myself.  It's about 6 inches long.  It's a blue 1996 BMW Z3 M Roadster.  The doors open, the steering wheel turns the wheels, the hood lifts to reveal the engine,  It's beautiful.  It has always made me happy to look at it.  It has sat on my desk for over 15 years.

For some reason last week, when I was desperate to find some reason to not do myself in, I thought about that little car.  There has always been a debate between me and my son as to whether it is a Z3 or an M style roadster.  As a distraction, I did a little research.  We were both right.  What's more, there were a few on Craigslist.  And then, I found it.  It was a 2000, not a 1996, but it was BLUE.

I avoided thinking about it for several days.  It was a ridiculous idea.  We are poor. We would become the stereotypical low income family living in a dump with a nice car in the yard.  I knew considering it is classic manic thinking. Even if I could find the money for the car, we need it to pay off debts and run a new sewer line.  Besides, I would probably kill myself in it.  Although, I had wanted to do that anyway, for a while I would have some fun. The debate went on for a few more days.

Finally, I decided to look at the obstacles.  Purchasing the little blue roadster would require borrowing at least half of the amount from the bank.  If they deny my request, decision made.  They didn't deny it.  They took my application and will get back to me in a day or two.  Maybe the car is no longer available.  I sent an email.  I got no response.  My son called.  The car is still available.  We made an offer contingent upon the loan.  They accepted it. I was happy.

Now, I have to tell you that my son has been involved in this search and debate process from the beginning.  He knows our financial situation and he also knows where I have been emotionally for the past several weeks.  He also knows about manic thinking.  But he saw this car as something that might help me, might bring me a little joy.  He remembers that this car has been sitting on my desk for 15 years.

Then all hell broke loose.  My daughter, the voice of reason, expressed herself with all the strength and vehemence imaginable.  I won't go into details but a huge fight ensued.  After my daughter went to her room, after we all took a breather, and the house got quiet, I broke down.  It was the first time I have cried for myself in years, full of gasps, gulps, and hiccups.  My son held me through the worst of it.  I cried several more times before I finally went to bed.

I know it was a classically stupid idea, but now I am afraid again.  I have nothing to look forward to.  I know my life is not as bad as a majority of the world's population, but for some reason I need for my life to make sense, and nothing so far has made sense.  Buying that blue 2000 Z3 M Roadster would have made sense of my holding on to that little model car for so long, for buying it in the first place.  I'm that desperate.

Lord, help me make it through this day.  I have to say no to myself.  I have to cancel the bank loan and tell the owner I am no longer interested.  And here come the tears...

Coming back up (Caution: mentions s______)

I have been in a bad place for a while but now I am finally on my way back up.  This was a bad one.  I quit my job, and nearly burned those bridges, as well.   I counted pills and did research.  I told my children as well as my doctors.  I pulled out my will and printed out information on how to claim my life insurance.  It was like following a to do list.  When I felt like there was nothing between me and the edge, I put a simple post on a mental health website:  "I have discovered, that when the idea of taking your own life no longer scares you, you are on a very slippery slope," or something to that effect.

I am grateful to those who responded by asking me to please be safe.  I read those messages over and over.  They became a mantra, of sorts.  There were those, however, who wanted to argue semantics with me, that if I had used different terminology, they might have taken me seriously.  Really?

Feeling a bit better yesterday, I posted the details of what I deal with and why simply coming out of a depression will not fix the situation entirely.  I waited all day to hear from someone...anyone.  At the end of the day, when I had received no comments of commiseration, compassion, or criticism, I thanked all those who had cared before and said, "well, I guess that's it."

This morning, the web site moderators took that to be a suicide note and removed me from the system.  If I didn't feel isolated before, I do now.

I originally intended this blog to offer hope and encouragement to people who suffer from the struggles of bipolar disorder.  When I started it, I was semi-manic, lucid, optimistic, and functionally creative.  Now, I feel like the blind leading the blind.  I'm not in a place to give hope.  I struggle to understand what it is all for.

BUT...

As I have testified on this blog before, when you are down, it feels like you have always been down and that you will always be down...that the landscape will always be bleak, the road will always be uphill, and that the horizon will always be pointless.  I am taking it on faith that this will Not always be the case.  That this too shall pass.

Taking care of myself, wherever I am.

It occurs to me that I may not change.  This may be how it is going to be for however long I remain alive.  (deep sigh.)  Medications are not working like they used to.  I have been on them for too long.  I might as well not be on medication, or so it seems.  I cycle wildly and rapidly, regardless.

I can not stay in bed all day.  I do not sleep.  Even at night I do not sleep.  My hands and feet are constantly in motion.  I wake up stiff from being in motion all night.

So what do I do?

I make plans, plans of how best to take care of myself, depending on what state of disorder I am in.  For example, when I am manic, I will be careful not to start any new projects or make any new goals.  They tend to be unrealistic, overwhelming, and disappointing.  Also when I am manic, I will take advantage of the energy and get some exercise.  Long vigorous walks tend to burn out the jitters.  Walking and talking with someone makes it even better.  Manic energy is also good for cleaning out places like the basement, shoving stuff around and sweeping up dust and dirt.  Manic energy is good for mopping floors.  It is not good for filing paperwork, unless I am taking on the entire filing system.

If I had a good yard, manic energy might be good for gardening.  HOWEVER, over the years I have spent thousands of dollars at garden supply stores.  Not a good place for me.  So, I must limit my 'gardening' to raking, weeding, pruning, and sweeping.

Depression is good for inspirational reading, slow walks, writing, catching up on movies, watching the dog breathe, watching the snow fall, belly breathing, meditation, hand-washing dishes, clothes, windows.

Mixed states are tricky.  If I am depressed and agitated, it may be best to nap.  I'm not sleeping my life away, just this short phase of my life.  If I am manic and full of negative energy, I can write blogs or letters that I just don't post or mail.  And walk.

Today, I intend to look into what diets are best for which states of disorder.  In the meantime, I will head back down to the basement and work on the studio.

What a difference a day makes

I had a rough day yesterday.  It had built up over the weekend because I had decided on Friday that I was going to quit my very part-time job.  The manager is a tyrant.  Actually, he is more like a petulant playground bully.  The secretary would spend hours crying on my shoulder, telling me what mean things he has said and done, instead of standing up for herself.  I finally said, "enough."  When she related that he "didn't know what he was paying me for," that he had "paid me for nothing,"  I wrote him a letter and told him I wouldn't work for him any more.  I delivered it in person yesterday morning.

I was already in a really low mood and it got worse as the day wore on.  I wrote it out on this blog (see yesterday's post), spent an hour or more reading web pages on the warning signs of suicide, put on a movie, pulled a comforter over my head, and slept.  I haven't behaved that way in years.  After I woke up, I went out for the mail.  There is was, the letter from Social Security that I have been waiting for for two years.  They finally reinstated my disability.  I celebrated by going to the grocery store.

I am going to a class tonight on basic photography.  I took 2 -3 years of photography back in 1998 - 2000.  At that time, I bought an enlarger and enough supplies and equipment to set up a darkroom in my basement.  In fact, I did set it up in my laundry room and used it once or twice.  I loved it but was pretty manic at that time in my life.  Things became pretty crazy after that.  The enlarger got covered with dust and laundry, the equipment was packed away in various locations.  I haven't touched it since.

But I will touch it today.  I plan on spending the day taking inventory, cleaning off the equipment, finding the two old manual Canon cameras, and going out for batteries and film.

What a difference a day makes.

From one extreme to another.  That's the name of this bipolar game.  Which reminds me, I need to be careful and take my time.  This up mood won't last either and my biggest failing when manic is spending money, particularly on creative projects.

I want to thank the two ladies who commented on my post yesterday when I was in crisis.  The letter from SSA was great, but their two comments pulled me out of a dive, just by letting me know I was heard.  thank you.

Managing Mania

I'm a rapid cycler which means my mood extremes don't last for months or years but rather for days or weeks...or minutes.  I've been manic for the past 5 or 6 days.  At first it was great tackling things around that house that needed to be done, throwing out clutter, clearing my desk, organizing my closet,...even going for long fast walks,...

But the last few days have been compounded with confusion, distraction, ADHD-type behavior.  I do have some Adderall that was prescribed last Fall but not started...I had too much crazy $#!+ going on at the time with medications and side effects.  All that has calmed down to a distracting hum...head tremor, busy tongue and jaw (Tardive Dyskinesia), dry mouth.  Maybe I'll try the Adderall today if I don't settle down.

In the meantime, there are several activities I think I will try.  One, is this...writing...getting a grasp of what is going on.  Two...making a "to do" list to get all thoughts and intentions out of my head and onto paper...complete with priorities and the time it will take to do each one.  Three...meditation, yoga, exercise...or maybe all three, after all I have all day.

"Having all day..." is the mindset that gets me into trouble.  I start out in five directions, make a list two pages long, feel really bad when I only accomplish the first four items, ...

Of course, there is so much more to managing mania.  Some manias are not productive but destructive, angry, and chaotic.  Agitated mixed states can be dangerous, in fact.  That's when we use doctors, hospitals, and 911.  My son paces.  I write...and walk...and try to Not go shopping.