Blogs
It's time to say goodbye. School starts June 1st. It’s nearly here. I can’t believe it. I’m both excited and nervous. Will I be able to keep up? It’s due to this nervousness that I’ve decided that I’m going to leave the blogging world.
Hi, I'm Natasha Tracy, a 30-something writer living on an island in the Pacific Northwest and the author of the Bipolar Burble. I have leaped from planes, helicopters, and cliffs trusting nothing but nylon and canvas to save my life. I have worked for many tech companies including the biggest boy on the block. I have visited twelve different countries, have a bachelor’s degree in computer science and I think a law should be passed preventing Apple from naming anything else beginning with the letter "i."
And I have bipolar disorder.
Hi, I'm Natasha Tracy, a 30-something writer living on an island in the Pacific Northwest and the author of the Bipolar Burble. I have leapt from planes, helicopters and cliffs trusting nothing but nylon and canvas to save my life. I have worked for many tech companies including the biggest boy on the block. I have visited twelve different countries, have a bachelor’s degree in computer science and I think a law should be passed preventing Apple from naming anything else beginning with the letter "i."
And I have bipolar disorder.
I came across a really cool quote a few weeks back,
"I will not die an unlived life. I will not live in fear of falling or catching fire. I choose to inhabit my days, to allow my living to open me, to make me less afraid, more accessible, to loosen my heart until it becomes a wing, a torch, a promise. I choose to risk my significance; to live so that which comes to me as seed goes to the next as blossom and that which comes to me as blossom, goes on as fruit."
-Dawna Markova
How do you maintain parental authority when your frazzled mind makes you look like a parental chump? Teenagers constantly test the bounds of your authority whether you have ADHD or not. Still, with a brain filled with cotton candy where gray matter should be, the ADHD parent has some unique challenges. Here are some tricks I use to keep a good rapport with my kids and preserve the illusion of authority.
Bipolar Disorder can kick you to the curb. It can be demanding and dominating, but I will not give in. I will continue my fight and I will be victorious. Nothing will stand in my way. Not even myself.
We have drugs for everything now, right? Too hot, too weak, too sad, too hyper - there's a pill. Not enough hormones, low insulin, can't breathe - the doctor has a script for you. But what about anorexia? Bulimia? Binge Eating Disorder?
At the beginning of May, my Twitter stream was on fire with angry ADHDers. They were sick and tired of ADHD being stigmatized and they weren't going to take it any more! And what had set their tweets a'fire? A YMCA ad.
I am a tap dance student, and last night was our yearly recital. As I stood in the wings, literally, reading a review copy for an upcoming book about anorexia, I was surrounded by dancers of all ages and shapes. As a job hazard, I watch the kids for signs of eating disorders. Since no one is eating on the stage - or face the wrath of Miss Linda - you may wonder what I'm looking for.
This was one of the first books that I read shortly after being diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder. I wanted to be sure that I was diagnosed correctly. Coincidentally enough, I have not been correctly diagnosed by my current psychiatric nurse. She says that I'm a Bipolar II and I think I'm Bipolar I, according to the DSM-IV-TR. She told me once that it didn't matter as long as the treatment took care of my episodes. But it's the new edition, the DSM-V, that has really grabbed my attention.
I read this book many years ago, just as I was entering the turmoil of remembering, questioning and doubting myself all the way (as I'd been covertly taught over a lifetime). I happened to mention to my two sisters one day, "This is so strange but I've been diagnosed with PTSD." Both my sisters surprised me by responding, "Me too."
THEN I happened upon an old book manuscript that my now deceased father had written (not published), wherein the protagonist was obviously based upon himself and he rapes his "fiancee," who had my unusual name. Yes, truly.
Then I made myself look at the peculiar memory I always had where he violently threatened me but somehow I had never been able to recall what came before or after the episode. I had to admit that was a bit strange.
The pressures and powers to forget sexual abuse are great, both in family and society. In fact, I've come to the sad conclusion that the vast majority of survivors never really deal with their childhood wounds (a neglect for which there are always repercussions).
To critique an encouragement of people trusting their intuition in such matters is really getting the prescription dangerously wrong.
Thanks!