On Empty : When Bipolar leaves you with nothing.

Nothing.

There are days when I feel like I have nothing left.

Nothing.

When I feel that way I don’t have any energy, I don’t have any strength, I don’t have a will to be or do or become anything. I can’t shower, I can’t eat and I can’t be a functioning human being.

Nothing.

Recently I have had a few of those days. Grief, sadness and a feeling of worthlessness have plagued me. They have plagued me until I am so fatigued all I can do is stare at the wall.  It is hard to get away from those feelings sometimes. When you are bipolar, those feelings can creep up when you are depressed. 

I have been manic all week. Cleaning everything in sight. It felt good to make the house free of dirt, dust and cat fur. Yet when you are manic for so long…you pay for it. You pay deeply for the highs. I have Bipolar II, so the highs are not as high as when you have Bipolar I, but the lows are just as low if not lower.

It can be so lonely sometimes down here in the way bottom. My husband just lost his grandfather; I am still grieving over multiple losses in my family over a 5 year span. My best friend just had her second child today and I can’t be there to see her.

I feel so lonely. I see how people, when in this condition, fall to the deep end. Some drown and some are able to make it back to the top. They get back above water and learn how to swim. I have learned how to swim but lately I have been sinking and no amount of swimming gets me back to the top.

Depression gets worse when you think about people that are in far worse situations than you are and they you get survivor’s guilt. I have survivors guilt about my mom, who died from heart disease brought on by her excessive smoking. I always thought I should have worked harder to stop her from

smoking.  My uncle who OD’d makes me sad everyday and my cousin who at the young age of 31 died from complications from breast cancer.

 I just turned 31.

How could I feel such self pity when I am still here? I am still alive. Yet some days, I don’t feel alive. I feel like I just exist.

The thing is, I have three children to care about. I have a career to that needs my attention so I have to dig deep and pull out something. I’m on empty but I have so much on my plate that I have to dig, dig, and dig some more.

I can’t have nothing left. I have to find something. I have to get something from somewhere. 

Depression and Laziness Are Not The Same Thing. Know The Difference

Before I was diagnosed with anything, I was living a life of misery, self pity, suicide, alienation, despair. I was always emotional and sensitive. I was the crier and the “angry one”.  People would ask me what was wrong with me and could not understand or would not believe me when I tried to tell them I didn’t understand what was going on myself.

Those moments when you bounce from happy to pissed to angry to depressed and back again in one day are exhausting and just as terrifying as an adult as they were when you were a child.

I knew that I made people angry and I would say things in those moments that I could never get back. I tried to talk myself down from those situations and turned to writing stories and poetry instead. That was a dark time in my life.

I am not saying that there were no good moments. I had a relatively happy childhood. Most of the time, the battle I was having was inside of me. I was making myself miserable.

In the last 12 years, I met the man of my dreams, married him, found my best friend for life in college, seen beautiful places, had three beautiful daughters, and accomplished my dream of publishing my first novel and then 4 more after that.

There have been so many good things happening to me, however, when you are depressed nothing else matters to you. Everything seems like it is a life or death situation and those simple task like combing your hair, brushing your teeth, taking a shower, putting on regular clothes and not pajamas seemed like running three marathons in a row.

Do you know what the worst thing you can say to a depressed person in this condition, in this mind frame, in this state?

“You’re just being lazy.”

My goodness. Those words can do so much damage.

Recently I had a discussion with my husband and I was telling him about how certain things made me feel and tried to get him to understand what it’s like to feel depressed and the difficulty all those mundane tasked seem to someone who is depressed.

I told him about my anxiety issues about being outside and how I feel contaminated if I am outside or in “nature” too long. I hate going to parks but I will suffer through it for my kids. If my kids are playing outside no matter how long, they must change immediately. I discussed with him the fact that because he is at work he doesn’t know that I change clothes at least three times a day and that when I wake up I change pajamas to lounge around in and then change into another pair to sleep in because I feel the others are contaminated.

After having this conversation he confesses something to me that I kinda knew anyway. He assumed that for years I was just lazy and lacked motivation to make something of myself. He felt that I was not living up to my potential because I was lazy.

I cannot begin to tell you how angry that makes me or how pissed off I was at that moment. This is ow he felt for 12 years?

 Though, he is not the only one in my life that felt or feels that way.

 My oldest daughter, when I explained to her about my social anxiety and how it keeps me sometimes from going places, asked me,

“Is that true or are you just too lazy to go?”

My entire life I have worked hard despite my depression and anxiety to graduate #5 in my class in high school, graduate college with a 3.5 GPA. I worked two jobs after college. I worked through college. I was married at 22 and planned and executed my own wedding.

While pregnant when I was 23, I moved with my husband, where we bought a house and I packed everything to move. Because we needed more money, I got another job that made more money with benefits. I adopted a child and gave birth to another. I worked the entire time with both of my pregnancies except for two weeks.

When my husband got a new job in California, I moved my husband, three kids and a cat across the country with as smooth of a tradition as I could. I have written and published 3 novels and 2 short story anthologies. I am also editing my 6^th book in which I wrote in a month.

With all that being said, I am still a mom that cleans the house, does laundry, goes grocery shopping, keep the people and the cats in this house fed. I remember appointments for doctors, school events and dentists for everyone in the house (including the cats).

No I do not like going to parks. No I do not like being outside period. I’m terrified of everything except for domestic cats. My brain tells me when I go places alone that I will be raped or murdered or held in a dungeon. Yet I took a job as a health inspector where I had to face all that including going into strange people’s homes because my family needed me.

There were nights that I cried because I had to face that stuff the next day but I was there helping to provide for my kids.

I have been working constantly to improve myself and overcome my obstacles. I ran two 5k obstacle races because I wanted to face my anxiety and my fears so that I can be better and show my kids that staying active is a positive way to live.

It pisses me off to be called lazy.

I hate saying that I have a mental illness but the truth is this.

I have a mental illness that debilitates me sometimes but I received help so that I could be an even better and more efficient mother, wife, daughter, sister, friend and writer.

I am not fucking lazy. 

The Wrong Way: Mental Illnesses Are No Joke

I have been binge watching this show called Obsessed on Netflix. I was interested because it was a show about a powerful and debilitating mental illness called Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. You probably know it better as OCD.

There are a lot of people out there saying, “I’m so OCD…” about this or that. If you want to know what OCD really is about you need to watch this show.

I learned so much about it after watching it. It is an extreme anxiety disorder that causes people to engage in rituals just to relieve the anxiety that they are feeling. I know that I was heading that way before I was diagnosed with Anxiety disorder and treated.

I watched an episode where a woman had to flick a light switch the perfect way or she thought her mother who was diagnosed with cancer would die and it would be her fault. Another man thought everything was contaminated and took about 8 showers a day to feel clean.

Their anxiety and OCD was taking control of them and their lives and they could no longer control it. Another woman had to work out all day long or she thought she would be fat. She spent no time with her kids or her husband. She also did not eat properly for the same reason.

OCD is a serious mental illness that should not be used unless you actually have OCD.

I hear the same thing when it comes to bipolar disorder. I hear so many people call someone bipolar because they have a bad temper or have mood swings. Bipolar or Bipolar II is so much more than that. It is also life threatening and a serious mental illness that can control your life if left untreated.

You have no idea what is like to live with these diseases and only a medical professional can diagnose someone with either.

I used to clean all day long or yell at my family about cleaning every inch of the house because I could not deal with a messy home. I could not sleep with a messy house. I would be up to 2 am cleaning grout on the tile floor because if I didn’t my anxiety would be through the roof. If I had not been treated for my anxiety, panic attacks and bipolar II, I would have drifted into the realm of OCD and it is not somewhere you want to go.

So please, don’t just throw those terms around. These are serious mental illnesses that need to be respected as such. Not every girl you see is “Bipolar…” just because she is nice and suddenly gets mad at you. Maybe you were being a jerk and pissed her off.

You are not “OCD” just because you like your bagel a certain way.

Just show some compassion and respect.

Social Anxiety and The Quest to be like everyone else

Close your eyes.

 Remember when you were that awkward teen and you worried what others thought of you. You wondered if they thought you were smart, funny, and cute. Did they like you or did they want you as a friend? Could they be a big part of your life? Do they want to be a part of your life? Do they like the way you dress, will they tease you or make fun of you. Do they see you as cool?

When we are younger it was common to deal with those fears when you are growing up and still finding yourself. You have all these questions and you want to know where you fit in.

Imagine that when you are an adult, you are still having those feelings. You have those feelings and they are more intense. You have friends and you hold back because you are afraid they will judge how you raise your kids, how well you clean your house. You wonder if they are judging you on what you feed your kids and how you live your life.

All these thoughts make you have massive anxiety and panic attacks.  That makes you feel like someone is squeezing all the air out of your chest. Your heart is beating faster and so your body kicks into flight or fight because it perceives a danger and you have to survive.

You decide that it is better to just stay away from people as best as you can.  You just want to be a hermit and refuse to go out and socialize. You leave the house only when you have to and when you have to you get so anxious that you start to feel sick. 

This is called Social Anxiety.

Social anxiety is a feeling of discomfort, fear, or worry that is centered on our interactions with other people and involves a concern with being judged negatively, evaluated, or looked down upon by others.

I suffer badly from Social Anxiety. I dread going out to hang out with people. If my calendar is empty I get so excited and relaxed. I hate to see items on my To-Do list. I will freak out up until the time is over. For the past three months I have been engrossed in deep painful anxiety and it has made me dread going anyway. 

You start to feel like no one understands how it feels to want to talk to someone about your issues and yet be too afraid to call or get in the car and drive over to their house 5 minutes away. 

People think you are lazy and just want to stay home and stay on the couch. Not true.  When I am smack dab in the middle of an event, my anxiety can go away. I sit back, have fun and chat and laugh at my companions for the evening. Yet inside I am freaking out and I always feel like “I just need to go home.” My brain tells me that over and over again.

When I move to new cities or go to new places, I am a hermit for weeks until I feel brave enough to go outside. Then I only go out to buy groceries and take the kids to school.

It is a terrible feeling and you have to take it day by day to get better.

I remember that I entered to run in an obstacle course and I had a panic attack. Fear gripped me and my brain perceived it as a life and death situation. So you tend to stay away from the things that make you that way. People are the main culprit.

Every day I try hard to engage with people and to be a part of the society around me. To not be afraid to talk to neighbors and to my daughters basketball game without having a panic attack.

I just try and take baby steps like…Taking the kids to a hockey game. I know they will have a lot of fun.

I’m terrified

What happens When I'm Manic...On My Good Days

My Bipolar II Symptoms : Paranoia

It’s a scary and miserable feeling to think that any second you’re going to die. I don’t mean that you are going to die eventually. No. I mean the feeling that someone or some thing is coming to get you…at any second.

You get a bad case of Hypochondria and you believe you have every disease imaginable.

“Mom, I think I have prostate cancer!”

That was me at 12. I knew I was going to die young. I couldn’t see myself growing old. Now until I had kids and I wanted to grow old for them.

When someone dies you feel like you’re next. What’s keeping you from being next? You’re afraid to sleep for fear you won’t wake up. Or maybe your kids will be next…or your husband. Someone could break in and steal your kids and when you wake up in the morning they will be gone.

You buy alarms and put them on all the doors and windows. Every little sound makes you wonder if this is your time to die. When your partner is out of town and you are alone with the kids, was someone watching you and knows you are alone and this is their opportunity to come in and kill you.

When your kids are away, you worry about their safety every second of the day. Are they being taken away from you at this moment?

You feel like you will be framed for murder or a crime. That you will touch something and they will find your fingerprints and even though you are not guilty they will lock you away for life and you will never see your loved ones again.

Life can be painful and miserable with all these thoughts running through your head. How do you live like that? Why would you want to lie like that? That is when the suicidal thoughts kick in. You feel like you want to kill yourself to make the pain go away or you want to go out on your own terms.

That is what runs through my head on a deadly basis. Without medication, I would still be depressed and irrational. Sometimes those feelings can still affect me but I have the tools now to work through. Yet, ever now and then I can’t sleep and those feelings cause my chest to get tight and I feel like someone is squeezing my lungs. 

Paranoia is a real part of my Bipolar II symptoms. Darkness follows me and I try constantly to run away. I have to get away from it. It makes it so hard to breathe sometimes.

The Fantastic Four: My life and the medication that saved it.

There was a joyous time in my life where I took the occasional pill for headaches, prenatals when I was pregnant and sleeping pills for my insomnia. That time seems so long ago now. Once I was diagnosed with bipolar II disorder… that all changed.

I call them the Fantastic Four.

Yes the combination of Lexapro, Trileptal, Welbutrin and Ativan is the stuff of champions.  I can’t make it through a day without them. I know there are some of you that feel one should not be dependent on prescription pills to make it through the day.

That is what I believed at one time in my life. I tried just therapy first and we soon discovered that therapy just might not be enough…at least that is what they told me. I was skeptical. I didn’t want to take pills that would change me.

I saw a psychologist that informed me that I needed medication for my anxiety and depression. I filled the prescription but I cried when it was time to take them. My life revolves around my creativity and writing is a huge part of my life. I wondered how much would these pills change me? Maybe I needed to be a little crazy to do what I do? Would the characters that I write about talk to me anymore?

I have heard stories about people who take medication and become zombies. They lose themselves. They can longer do what they used to do. Artists in general. That terrified me.

I sat on the edge of my bed and I cried. My husband kneeled in front of me. He didn’t want to see me cry or have to take medication but he was there on the outside looking in and he knew how I struggled.

He was witness to me staying up to 4 in the morning and then getting up at 7:30am getting the kids ready for food. He witnessed me not wanting to leave the house because of my Social anxiety. He was there during my random crying fits and he was there when I wouldn’t shower for weeks because I was so depressed.

He did not want me to have to take medication…but he wanted me to get better and if these pills would do that then I at least needed to give them a try.

So I began two of the four and I began to feel better. Lexapro and Ativan helped me so much. Then we discovered other systems. Excessive shopping to the point where I was spending money we did not have and it was close to tearing me and my marriage apart. My irritability reached new levels and I couldn’t control it.

That is when I talked to my psychologist again and was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder II. Then I was given Trileptal and Welbutrin to focus and give me energy.

I have been on my medication for a couple of years now and I feel better than I have ever felt before.  My goodness, I wake up in a fairly decent mood. I don’t yell or feel irritated as much by life. I want to get off the couch in the morning. I shower regularly.  I write more. My creativity is still there and I even have more energy to complete a novel in a month.  Who I am has not changed.  I am just a better me. I’m not a zombie.

Everyone around me is happier because they don’t have to worry about me as much. As long as I take my medication I feel like I can live a normal life. I can take on the world.

I admit, there have been some side effects for me. Some medications have been adjusted to find the proper dosage that works better for me. But with all that said, the good feeling I feel every day makes it worth it. I weighed the pros and cons  and the cons come nowhere close to the good and amazing things the medication has done for me and for my life.

The reason why I wrote this post is to implore you. If you are taking meds and they are working, please don’t assume you just got better and the pills had nothing to do with it. If you want to get off your meds work with your doctor to wean you off slowly and safely. I care about you and I do not want you to just stop taking and spiral down into a worse place. Long term medication may not work for everyone but if you are on them please, please take them until your doctor says it is okay for you to get off them. Be Safe.