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There are some people who just seem to “have it together” – they ease through life with minimal trouble, and seem to have a certain je ne sais quoi about them. They never seem to have problems finding a boyfriend/girlfriend, have good jobs, a great network of friends and are by all standards – successful. I’ve encountered a few of these fine specimens in my lifetime and am always left feeling a little awe-inspired…and inadequate.
I recently made the decision to send Bob, my son with bipolar disorder, back to his last therapist. I don't have high confidence in talk therapy for a variety of reasons, as I have previously discussed. One of those reasons was brought to light after Bob's second session: therapists don't always get the whole story.
Whenever I think I know what I'm doing, that's when I start to worry.
It's this river running inside me: anxiety. Like background noise that's so strong and permanent you don't really hear it anymore. It's just there, the same as the air moves or my heart beats. I stop, sometimes. Knowing something has to change but unsure what, where, who, or how.
If I'm not anxious, what will I be?
How about loved, valued, self-assured.
What if, just for now, you were able to shrink your abuser's voice down to nothing? What would it be like if you stopped imagining that those hurtful words came from a place of love or concern? What would it feel like to know in your heart and mind that what that abuser said had no relevance to your reality, that your abuser was the one in La-La Land, not you?
What would it be like to trust your own perceptions, to move about freely without fear of reprisal?
Living with anorexia, I've been struggling to get to a healthy weight for several years. As I learned from my doctor, reaching your goal weight is a key part of eating disorder recovery. Watch this video to understand why.
Some dreams are bizarre--my favorite odd one involved a coworker and me being chased through the mall by ninjas, with multiple Broadway musical songs to comment on the situation. Most dreams, however, have a meaning--especially when you interpret them yourself.
I was asked about how I have continued to work even through major bipolar storms. I found when I wrote about this topic, pages and pages were filled, so we’re splitting it in half. Today is part one: how to work an office job with bipolar disorder.
Some of you know I’ve had office jobs in the tech industry for most of my working career and only recently made a shift. And in those years I’ve had various severities of bipolar disorder. And what I’ve learned is this: working with bipolar disorder comes down to one thing - being stubborn.
After several phone calls and missed fax transmissions, I finally had Bob's most recent lab results in my hand and his psychiatrist's. His lithium level was surprisingly low. His BUN, however, was high--enough to generate concern he may be developing lithium sensitivity. His psychiatrist suggested the labs be reviewed by his general practitioner prior to making our next move.
I had forgotten long-term lithium use can lead to kidney failure. I have since added that to my list of Things to Worry About at 3 AM, and asked myself the question: Am I sacrificing my child's physical health for his mental health? Can't he have both?
Last week was my birthday. I didn't do anything or mark it in any way. That is mostly because, on my birthday, I look back and see bipolar behind me and I look forward and see bipolar in front of me.
In the beginning, he told me stories about the hardships he'd endured, and I thought I could be the one to show him what happiness felt like; I thought I could coax his mind away from the anger he held and fill his heart with love despite the pain he felt inside. I wanted him to have brightness and beauty in his life to rival the heartbreak and anger. I never thought I would become the source of his anger, the reason for his pain, or hated.
My point being, I'm right there with you. I hate the rollercoaster. I just want to live life without being in a state of constant fight or flight mode, only for his character to change and de-escalate and I fall for the person I fell for all over again.
Exhausting is a horrible word. The understatement of all understatements, if you will.
I wish there were better support groups for this kind of mental health condition.