Cards

I was going through some things, and I found a card from a friend. It was a nice home made card. I don’t remember when she gave it to me.

It got me thinking of my most memorable card. I can’t find it. Probably threw it out. I wanted to forget that time.

When I had babies people were able to visit at pretty reasonable hours. They brought balloons, cards, flowers.

When I was in the psychiatric ward, it was totally different. Restricted visiting hours and limited visitors. No flowers or cards.

They did have different groups and activities where I stayed. I was in an art class and they had us make cards. I made a get well card for myself.

Lori,

I hope you feel better soon

From,

Me

With a design on front

Dealing with anxiety over the holidays

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I wrote another article for “The Mighty” that I wanted to share

http://themighty.com/2015/12/7-tips-for-surviving-the-holidays-when-you-live-with-anxiety/

At my house, we celebrate both Christmas and Hanukkah. The kids love it; twice the parties, more gifts and more fun. But for me, this means twice the stress and more anxiety. And while most of the severe symptoms of my mental illness are under control, it can be harder to manage my anxiety as the holidays approach.

But I’ve learned little adjustments can make a huge difference. Here are some things that help reduce my anxiety over the holidays:

1. Take two cars to a holiday party.

It’s easier to relax when I know I have an exit plan. If my husband and I take separate cars to an event, I know I can leave at any time.

2. Find a “safe space.”

When we’re at a holiday party or family gathering, I make sure I find a quieter room or place outside to get away from all the noise. Or I spend time with the animals if there are any pets. It just needs to be a space where I can recharge.

3. Give yourself permission to walk away from upsetting conversations.

There’s always that one person who wants to argue about politics or compare achievements. I used to dread holidays mainly because of these uncomfortable interactions. Now, I know I don’t have to listen. I can walk away or not participate.

4. Keep it low-key.

In my house, we don’t feel pressure to entertain guests or worry about buying the “perfect gift.” There’s so much going on already, we don’t want to add to the stress by holding unrealistic expectations. We try to keep it low-pressure and enjoy what we have.

5. Know it’s OK to say, “No.”

Around the holidays there are lots of opportunities to help others, but if making that batch of cookies or running that errand is going to cause me too much stress, I have started saying no. The holidays are a time to give, but it’s important to know your limits.

6. Accept help.

On the other hand, if people do offer me help, I’ve learned it’s OK to accept it. I try to remind myself they wouldn’t ask if they weren’t willing.

7. Remember to actually enjoy yourself.

As much as there are parts about holiday gatherings I don’t enjoy, there are things I like. Certain foods, smells, people and seeing the children’s excitement. I try to enjoy those special moments — it keeps the holidays in perspective.

Do not resuscitate

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The hardest thing about taking an elderly dog to urgent care for a possible seizure is the decisions to be made. I think that the little dog, who is all heart, would, if he were the one making the decisions for me, say, spend every penny for the least chance of keeping his mommy with him a little longer. But I, more analytical, weigh the odds of success and what I expect his quality of life would be. I turn down the X-rays, to search for possible cancer elsewhere in the body that might have spread to the brain, because if a thirteen-year-old dog with a heart murmur now has metastatic cancer that includes a brain tumor, there is no way I’m taking him through cancer treatment. In fact, if he has a brain tumor at all, I won’t treat it. I’ll keep him comfortable and happy for as long as possible. For the same reason, I mark “Do not resuscitate” instead of “CPR” or “Advanced CPR.” And say yes to the overnight observation, the IV, the blood tests that he didn’t already get from his regular vet last month, and an anti-convulsant should he have a seizure while they’re watching him.

He didn’t have another seizure. We’re not sure if what he had yesterday (a couple of minutes of being unable to stand) was a seizure; some cardiac event is also possible. The blood tests came back fine, and Drake stayed chipper overnight, and is in good spirits and walking and climbing stairs today. It’s anyone’s guess how long he’ll stay well, and how much longer we’ll have with him.

 

Working

Sorry, I haven’t written for awhile. I got a job and it has thrown me off my regular routine.

I almost can’t believe I am working. It is part-time, as a peer mentor. They know of my diagnosis and will understand if I have symptoms.

I have only been there for a month. I was excited to get a paycheck. I took my mother-in-law out to dinner. It was nice being able to treat her.

It is really slow right now. We are just getting ready to open. I know it will change. I have a great schedule, but I don’t know how I will adapt to getting going in the morning.

If you have a serious mental illness and have been disabled for many years, there is hope that you can achieve your goals.

I have no idea what the future holds but I really wanted to at least attempt to work again.

Travel and Stress

We’re back from our big trip, and we have had a week to recover from jet lag. On the whole, the trip was great. But since this is a blog about mood swings, I’ll talk about the stressful parts, and dealing with them.

For me, the more neurotypical member of the family, the main stress of travel is the fact that I have a lifelong phobia of vomiting. Travel offers triggers for that. I’m going on a plane. What if I get air sick? I’ve never been air sick, but there’s always a first time. So I put sea bands on my wrists, and take Dramamine, and bring ginger candy to eat, just in case. Then there’s the opportunity to get sick in other countries. We saw a travel doctor, and got all the cautions: Don’t drink the water. Don’t take ice in your drinks. Don’t eat fresh vegetables. (When you get a tasty looking salad brought to the table along with the cooked meal you ordered, just eat the cooked food and give the salad a pass.) And we got antibiotics, which came in handy when my husband slipped, had a sandwich with a bit of lettuce and tomato, and got sick.

For my husband, who has bipolar disorder, there’s another source of stress: time changes. We had a couple of long days when we barely got any sleep because we were travelling for, say, 24 hours. He got an increase in his mood stabilizer to ward off mania, and did his best to get onto a good sleep schedule quickly.

Then there are the ordinary stresses of the trip: He lost a crown in London, and needed an emergency dental visit. We got pickpocketed in Paris, at the cost of 80 euros. We almost missed one flight (but convinced them to let us check in an hour before departure, though they said at first that check in was closed). And there are a large number of things that must not be lost, meaning inevitable searches to find one or another of these things.

Finally, there’s the return home, with all the ordinary household inconveniences while we’re still jet lagged.

On the whole, I think we did pretty well. Seeing the travel doctor beforehand helped, and having my husband talk with all his doctors and his psychiatrist ahead of time also helped.

 

And Richard Cory, one calm summer night, Went home and put a bullet through his head.

I learned just yesterday that one of my college housemates died last year. I remember “Richard” as an outgoing young anthropology major, with plenty of friends, and interesting stories of life among the Mbuti pygmies. A mutual friend and fellow housemate told me yesterday that he had died.

I Googled his name (with appropriate accompanying words to distinguish him from all the other men with the same name), and found his obituary, and some other things that people had written, before and after his death. There I found hints at what looked like an upper middle class childhood, note duly made of Richard’s Stanford degree, two books that he had written (I’m impressed, as I have written zero books, unless you count the novel in a drawer and the screenplay in a drawer), and stories of his woodsman skills and the meals he cooked for his friends.

I could see, perhaps, a few things lacking: the obituary listed no spouse or lover or children to mourn him, only parents and siblings and nephews and nieces. And one brother had died before him (ten years before him, of a heart attack, I found in another obituary helpfully supplied by Google). An article from a couple of years ago said that his small business was struggling a bit.

But nothing in these bits and pieces, or in my memories, prepared me for the closing paragraph of the warmest blog post of memories.

One summer day last year, Richard hung himself.

 

A Letter to My Children

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You may have wondered why I am not quite like other moms. I get tired easily and haven’t always been there to play. I haven’t taken you as many places. I don’t know what else, but I apologize

When you were very young, I had a psychotic break. That is when you lose touch with reality. I was thinking strange thoughts, seeing things , hearing voices of people I know, who weren’t there.

It seemed like it came out of the blue. I was keeping to myself and not saying much. I was going to work and your father was with us at home, but no one seemed to notice. People at work asked if I was okay and why I was sad, but that was it.

It wasn’t until Aunt Kim called on the phone. You know she is a nurse practitioner. She recognized that I wasn’t making sense and told Dad I needed to see a special kind of doctor. The doctor is called a psychiatrist. He prescribes me medication.

I went to the hospital for a short time. Leila I know you were worried when I was gone. I am sorry for about that. I want you to have a better understanding so you won’t have to worry if I go to the hospital again.

I have a mental illness. You may be familiar with other words people use, like “crazy”. I am not crazy, but I need medication for my brain to work right. Now, I don’t have those strange thoughts or voices.

I thought I would answer questions, as you asked, but you didn’t ask much. Leila, one day you helped me make a poster for a NAMI (National Alliance on Mental Illness) class. You asked why “I” was making it and I told you because I had a mental illness. You just said “I didn’t know that” and went back to playing. That was years ago. I don’t know if you remember.

And, you recently made me a friendship bracelet that says DBSA (Depression Bipolar Support Alliance). I thought you might ask something when I asked for that, but you forgot what letters I asked for. I love my DSBA bracelet

Jonah, I know you are well aware of my medication. I take you to the pharmacy sometimes. I don’t want you to have to worry that I am physically ill. I recently tried to explain to you, but I fumbled my words, and you didn’t want to hear any more.

I do want to say how proud I am of both of you. Leila, you are so smart, talented and pretty. Jonah, you are so athletic, funny and hard working. I always worried that I wouldn’t give you enough. That somehow having a mentally ill parent would affect you, but you are the greatest kids.

If you have questions, please ask. I know you can imagine things worse than the truth. Jonah, remember when I wore sunglasses inside and you worried I was going blind? I want to be honest with you. I don’t want to announce it to the world, but I don’t want to keep my illness a secret from you.

Mom

Getting ahead of myself

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I haven’t been able to work for over 10 years. Mostly because stress makes my symptoms worse. I have been thinking of attempting to work. I have sent out some resume’s and gone on interviews.

Those didn’t go so well, but I am still looking. I found an agency that places people with disabilities in jobs. The employer gets a tax break. I haven’t been very impressed with the company so far, but I haven’t seen any of the job leads.

But, I have been rolling the idea around in my head. Who will pick up the kids and do the things I do when I am around? Am I making a mistake? What if I can’t handle it? What can/can’t I do?
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Book Review:

Stop Pretending, what happened when my big sister went crazy by Sonya Sones  ★★★★★★

 

This is a great book for siblings, who sometimes get lost in the shuffle. I know when my brother was very symptomatic all the attention was on him and I felt neglected.

This is a book of free verse. If you don’t like poetry, give it a chance. It is a quick read. The writing draws you in and you want to follow the story.

Focus

I wake up and throw myself into rants about how I am irritated with a multitude of issues in my life that are all intersecting to make my day frustrating and uncertain.

After ranting for two hours to various people, I start studying. I am fixated trying to complete problem after problem with undying devotion. When I get stuck I force myself to turn my attention to what is more important- the assignments due tomorrow.

What should have been a half hour at best of work, turns into what feels like over an hour. I write an abstract for my lab report and spend an immense amount of time editing it until it is “perfect.”
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