Me and Mental Illness...I am not ashamed, just terrified

I have written about this before, but in 2014 I was diagnosed with bi-polar II disorder.  I said "ok".  I took the medications and spent a year being over medicated; then got some control over that - went to therapy twice a week (yes people in my life will doubt that but I have the bills, they don't know because they didn't ask), I started exercising; I got a job; I started getting out; met new friends; I started having drinks - something I hadn't done in 25 years; I went out with friends; I lost weight and took trips.  I had Bi Polar kicked in the ass.  Most of my therapy was centered on how I got there, not on the diagnosis and what to do and how to handle it.

It just seemed like everything I did was still wrong.  Someone's feelings were hurt; someone was mad at me; someone shut me out; this was hardest of all because I had always been the person who everyone came to, who fixed issues, now I felt like I was begging for one minute of time.  I still had bi-polar kicked in the ass.  I repeated phrases over and over; I breathed; I exercised; I kept a routine; went to therapy.  Bi-Polar was like a fungal infection and it was gone.

At the end of May 2016 I made a major life decision and uprooted my whole life.  All anyone kept telling me was "this will be good, you can start again!"  I went from a Job interview on 5/24 to accepting a job; signing a contract on my house; garage sale; packing; finding a place to live; moving, unpacking and starting a new job from 5/24 to 6/1.  That is 7 days - a week.  Still seemed pretty normal for me.

The job was horrible.  More on that later (some of it written earlier).  I was alone; isolated; did not know anyone; kept getting lost; left work everyday feeling like a failure and wondering WHAT THE FUCK DID I DO.  Every day something went wrong - dropped a glass; cat vomited on the new couch; forgot to tighten the lid on the water dispenser; fell and busted 3 teeth, every day....every day...  and for most of it I had no one to vent to and those I could get on the phone really were tired of it (apparently my pity party had been going on for awhile and I didn't realize it - most thought this move would kick my ass into feeling better).  I don't blame, it is what it is.  My ex-husband said all he knew was that every night was "un-happy hour", even when I hadn't had anything to drink.  All I could see were things in a bubble.  I was being ripped off on my pay and not being paid on time so I had not found a new therapist but this was just an adjustment phase so I didn't really need it yet.  Get a HOLD on your/my life and then start...start everything new because "you have always hated change and this is a lot of change".

Fast forward to July 23rd.  It should have been a great day - I found a job at a place I really like (and I did my research this time); I got to see my oldest son.  But when I texted or called my other kids there was no response; or they were busy; or their phone was charging/dead; or they had plans or they just didn't respond.  I had sent care packages to each of them and no response there either.  My good day went down hill.  (I am not blaming them - I wouldn't have wanted to talk to me either - again it is just a stated fact)  I cried for 9 hours straight.  I had a late night chat with a friend from high school who convinced me that I didn't want to commit suicide; that the thoughts were there but he was sure I wouldn't act on them; that he was there no matter what - no judgment; no shame; just an ear and shoulder and advice when he could.

I cried myself to sleep and then slept for 16 hours.  When I woke up, I looked at myself in the mirror (and I don't usually do that - I usually take my glasses off when I am in front of the mirror).  I got in my car and drove right down the street to the hospital.  That look in the mirror...the texts I had sent...the conversation I had scared the shit out of me.  An MRI later; blood tests later; and a talk with the psychiatrist I was told that in no uncertain terms had I NOT kicked Bi Polar in the ass.  That it was like diabetes - I either controlled it or it ate me alive.  I was allowed to go home with a schedule - which included daily visits to my new psychologist for 2 hours a day every day for a week and then twice a week after that.  I was deemed - "not suicidal".  I guess that is a good thing.

So Bi-Polar II - I have probably had it all my life but lived in a hypo-manic stage with minor dips to depression.  (Anyone remember nights of 2 a.m. emails and then starting again at 6 a.m. or lists of the 100 things I had done in a day; or working 18 hours and sleeping 2 and not eating)?  Yeah all those things are hypo-manic stages.  I was great; invincible; got things done; reckless; great ideas; irritable and aggressive....all signs and symptoms.  Then a crash would come, usually started with daily migraines and an inability to process; to think; to move.  This was the 2nd time I have had this diagnosis.  What is it about having to label someone?  I was just me....or so I thought.  To be honest, I don't know a time when I was me or who me is...all I can figure out today is that I have two modes "all" or "nothing".

So I kicked nothing in the ass but me.  My family and friends do not know about this disease anymore than I do.  Many people do not - so that statement is not blame but a fact.  Most therapist focus on how do you feel what is your day or week been like, what can we do to change that.  However, Bi-Polar is not like that. A proper diagnosis is first; education for yourself and those around you is next; a therapist who deals with Bi-Polar is imperative.  My questions start out as "since our last visit and why?"  They work towards educating me to looking or recognizing the signs something is "off".  They conclude with a list of chores:  Eat; exercise; take my meds; set a schedule; go out - even if it is for a drive; buy nothing; cook; read; reach out to a friend and discuss something other than ME; oh and STOP BEATING YOURSELF UP.  That is the hardest one.  The list gets added to - slowly I am told but enough that I can handle it.  I'm told I need to move more slow; that others judgments about me are their judgments and not necessarily a reflection of the true me and for "God sake quit worrying about who you are, you are you!".

A starting point today was reading an article about how friends and family can help...this on the heals of a long text conversation yesterday.  I thought great an article for everyone, where is my article?  But I re-read the article and it was for me.  I know its only been 2 visits but this therapist is well...in my head.  I was reluctant to choose a male therapist again - last one wasn't in my head except in a negative way (oh and we used him for marriage counseling and he took things I said in private session and repeated them in couples - he told me it was best for me - and I believed him).  So this therapist says my sessions are about my disease and me.  He is in my head because he stops the BS I want to focus on and makes me focus on what the immediate real issue is.  I don't have to get well; I am not going to get better; I won't kick anything in the ass except myself - Bi-Polar is a disease that you manage; you learn about it; you learn to manage it; you work on the symptoms; you find your peace and recognize that flare ups will happen.

So, that accounts for the last 4 days....where I go from here?  I guess it is up to me.  The mask is off; the soul is bared open; the work is ahead...and this place here will be filled with fun facts about Pam while she works this process.

I am NOT ashamed of my mental illness...I am terrified of it...but I am not ashamed and I will no longer apologize for it.  It is not something I did; it isn't something I choose and I am certain it is not who I am.

http://www.helpguide.org/articles/bipolar-disorder/helping-a-loved-one-with-bipolar-disorder.htm