A Lesson I Keep Having to Learn and Relearn

In a perfect world we act, sometimes wrong, and when we do we learn not to do that action again.  We move on with life not really thinking about it again, chalking it up to one of life’s learning moments.

There are times though when, for me, that doesn’t always work.  There is that intellectual part of my brain that tells me, “You shouldn’t do that, you know what is going to happen and it’s time to step back and think first.”  Then there is a other side of the brain, the one that thinks it knows better and can control  everything, that  tells me, ”Don’t worry, we got this.”

Seems complicated, doesn’t it, actually it’s quite simple and it is in that simplicity that I lose myself and my logical thinking.  With my mental health challenges I know that I need to take care of myself in every way possible, the right amount of sleep, eat right, exercise, take my medication, but most of all I need to listen to my body and what my mind is telling me.  This lesson is one that was brought to the forefront recently and set me back a bit.

Working a part time job four or five days a week is OK, the hours are good and I have plenty of down time and freedom to focus on what I need to do.  However, a couple weeks ago they became shorthanded at work and asked me to come in on my two days off.  Of course I jumped at the chance, two extra days of pay, how could I turn that down.  My mind right away went to how much I could make with the additional days, what we would be able to do with the extra money – that was the focus, the extra money.  I wasn’t thinking about the affect it was going to have on me both mentally and eventually physically as well.  My normal five days suddenly turned into 12 days, it wasn’t until day 8 that it hit me and I realized what I mistake I made!   I had gone against my better judgement. 

Eight days in I was physically exhausted, I still believed I could do it, finish the next four with no problem, I had blocked the tiredness out of my head – dissociated you could say and kept moving.   When I finished my assigned days, I had two days off and collapsed.  I enjoyed the days off and knew that after that I would be on again for five more days. 

That’s when it hit me, I woke up that morning for work and a weight was on my chest.  The world was coming at me from every direction, conversations I’d had recently had suddenly became scenarios in my head where I was wrong and would be chastised for, and no good to anyone.  I was in the midst of a major anxiety attack.   For the first time in many months I took my anxiety medicine and went to work, wanting nothing more than to just be alone and let this pass, and jump start my brain again.

As you can imagine this is not the first time I have done this, felt I could take on the world and have no repercussions, and sadly it probably won’t be the last.  Each time, however, I can only hope that I get a little stronger, a little smarter and maybe a little wiser and know that I need to listen to not only my body, but my mind.  In my case, my mind is what is most important, if that happens to short circuit, the whole wall will tumble down and it will often take days to try and build it back up to try again.

Oddly enough, yes, there is a positive side to this.  I am learning, slowly and with encouragement that I need to take better care of myself.  Look at the bigger picture, i.e. myself, not what a few extra days of work will do for the bank account, think of what it will do to me.  It’s not selfish, its self care and knowing what it will take to stay well and available for friends, family and life in general. 

Mental Health and the Supportive Partner

In early January 2016, while corresponding with a friend in Tasmania, I told him of my mental illness.  Being that open and honest and sharing my story with someone was terrifying.  Once I hit send, I was more than terrified at the email I would receive in return.  Would we still be friends, would I receive an email back at all?  I feared rejection, but it never came.  Instead  he asked questions and never judged me.  He listened to what I had to say, being more inquisitive than anything.  So, he did his own research and learned all he could on Bipolar Disorder and what he could do to support me. 

Here is what I wrote:  

In, '96 I attempted suicide and spent 3 weeks in the hospital. While there I received the diagnosis of Bipolar Disorder, anxiety and PTSD.  My mental illness is hereditary, my father was paranoid schizophrenic.  He never sought treatment and was a wanderer. My mom tells me I am just like him.  He passed away in 1999, a victim of his illness. 

I need my medication, it's reality and not a big deal to me anymore. There are days that are bad and days when the world is perfect.

Over the next few months, our relationship grew and we made the decision for me to make the move to Tasmania.  There was concern, of course, on how I would handle the change, mentally.  As we talked, we came up with a word, something I would say when I was anxious, depressed - when I needed help.  Our trigger word became, "home." A word that would bring the help I needed to combat the darkness and anxiety that  crept in when I least expected it. 

My biggest challenge was that I was alone and dependent on my partner.  I missed my family and friends, and some days wondered if I had made the right move.  I would go for a walk and see what was around me, the beaches, breathtaking sunrises and the love of my partner.  I knew it would not be easy at first, I had made a major change in my life, disrupted my structure and had to learn a new life.  In the first weeks I learned to drive on the opposite side of the road, a new money system and met friendly people.  Though I think some were more intrigued with the American in town.  

A few days ago I woke up depressed,  I didn't want to be out of bed, all I wanted to do was cry and I felt completely alone.  I picked up my phone and not realizing what I was saying, texted "I love you, hurry home."  Within ten minutes my phone was ringing, I had said "home."   In that moment I knew I wasn't alone, he comforted me and told me to get dressed and go for a walk, get some fresh air.  Two hours later, after a 2 1/2 mile walk, my mind was clearer and I was able to face the rest of the day.   I realized then that everything we had planned for, was working and I could ask for the help I needed. 

The message here is, find people who will support you, whether it is a spouse, friend or other family member.  Talk with them, tell them what you need when things are not going well, make a plan for what to do in those instances.  Plans need to be in place before a depressive or manic episode takes over.  This is when you will need a support person to help you find your way through the cloud of confusion.  

Beginning at the End

It’s the age old story, one we have heart a million time – “my kids are grown, what do I do now?  Who am I? and Where do I belong? 

From the time we are little we hear our parents, more often it’s mom, talking of the things they will do when the youngest graduates high school and heads off to college.  There will be trips and parties, lazy weekends and days spent in the garden, just wait and see.  Sounds amazing and I couldn’t wait to reach that time of life myself, to discover who I was.

It actually snuck upon me, I knew it was coming, the days ticking by, but it was my subconscious that seemed to be in denial.  It couldn’t be the end, there was a lot to do. Soccer season wasn’t over yet banquets to be attended, exams to take and graduation was surely weeks away – right?

The calendar displayed the ugly truth it was time.  There were no days left, no more grade school parties, first dance, nervousness about how they will be accepted in high school.  No, now it was time to reflect on where we had been and how we got here so quickly, how the future suddenly became today. 

The story I heard growing up was suddenly a reality for me, and I am confused, lost in a land, I am not familiar with.  The world revolves around ME.  What I am not sure about, however, is who am I?  Who did I want to be all those years ago before I became a mom?  I wonder if she’s still around, lurking in the shadows unsure of what to do next.  

I see this now as becoming reacquainted with an old friend, someone I knew as a child, but lost touch with over the year’s.  I wonder if we are compatible, can spend time together and laugh at each other's jokes.  On the other hand, have we grown to far apart, each finding a new road to travel.  

What I do know if I am looking forward to this new life, trying to find my way in a world, I am no longer familiar with.  A world where I am not mom, but a person with ideas, thoughts, aspiration and dreams.  Will I fit in and be able to navigate - only time will tell?  

I am ready for the journey, just need to find my map.