Week Two - New Meds

Week Two – new meds.

What a ride. And not in a fun “Yay let’s go for a ride!” ride. More like, “wow, this ride is nowhere NEAR as fun as I thought it was gonna be” ride Or “Maybe you better bring me a bucket” kind of ride.

I mentioned in my last post that I have received my new, proper diagnosis of bipolar type 2 and I sincerely thought that I would be at the point of acceptance by now. Right? I mean, it’s been two weeks for crying out loud. I should just acknowledge, accept and manage. Trouble is, my body has been less than cooperative with this new normal and has been quite clear it’s not on board yet.

It’s hard to describe how I’m feeling, so let’s just say I feel one part hungover, one part weighted under a hot, wet blanket, one part confused, another part fatigued beyond belief and finally yet another part thrilled to pieces that I am potentially going to get this right.

It’s difficult work getting well, but I am on it. I just feel like my brain is a little further ahead than the rest of my bod and it’s getting annoying.

The goal of course, is to align both so that I can live with my diagnosis in some form of perfect harmony. Bipolar for me is like that 80s sitcom neighbour who always barges in through the kitchen door and raids the fridge then offers up unsolicited advice. They drive you nuts, but you love them anyway and can’t imagine life without their presence in it.

Yeah. That’s what it’s like.

Next time they barge in, they better bring a bucket.

I wasn't ready to talk. Today I am.

I didn’t feel much like talking earlier this week. There were a few things I had to sit with first.

I’ve spent a large chunk of my life living with a diagnosis that didn’t quite fit the bill. I’ve suspected for quite some time, as have others close to me, but I was satisfied living with what I thought I knew and managing the best way that I knew how.

Still, something wasn’t quite right.

If you have any kind of mental illness diagnosis, you know what I mean when you get tired of going to doctors and tired of trying new medications and sketchy side effects. All true.

I’ve been of the thinking that if it works well enough that will do. It hasn’t been working well enough for a long time now and after careful reflection and consideration, I went back for a full on psychiatric assessment on Tuesday and the verdict came in.

You know when you hear something you are expecting, but you’re surprised to hear it anyway? Yeah. That’s pretty much how I felt.

I am bipolar.

There, I said it. It’s ok. It’s good to know. I am still ruminating on what it means and how things may change for me or for my family. I brought up this concern with a kind friend who gave me some good advice.

He told me that while the diagnosis is new, I’m not. I’m still the me I’ve been and can only get better. In fact, he told me that I’ve always been who I am and the doctors are just catching up with me now!

Huh.

True or not, I liked the way it sounded and it took some of this confusing weight from my shoulders. Now I am managing new medication and enjoying (not) the pleasant (gross) side effects that come with changing up what you have been doing medicinally for years, but I’ve got this.

Let’s Talk is a wonderful initiative, how about keeping the conversation going?

It's November, people!

This warm weather in November is nice for some, but it plays havoc with those of us who tend to obsess over things we have absolutely no control over.

You think – Yahooo! Patio season is back!

I think – We’re all going to die

You think – I’m breaking out my flip flops again

I think – We’re all going to die

It’s NOVEMBER people! It’s Canada! We are not supposed to be this comfortable! We are supposed to be at the beginning stages of seasonal affective disorder and wishing for next spring. We are NOT supposed to still be wearing open toed shoes! The timing is all off.

Climate change. Global warming. End of days.

These are the thoughts that are racing through my mind while my kids are out enjoying t-shirt weather and skateboarding.

It is going to be 19 degrees today and I am wearing a voluminous cardigan. I am also sweating buckets, but I DON’T CARE! Not only is it appropriate that I stick with what the calendar says, it is necessary so I don’t fly into the abyss of uncertainty that the world is turning upside down.

I am going to stick to my schedule if it kills me (and it might) and will be shortly breaking out my toques, scarves and gloves.

Of course, this same rule will not apply if it is 20 below zero in July. Which it COULD be! I will bend my principles then, but I won’t be happy about it.

 

Taking the Fear Out of Death and Dying for the Overly Anxious

I read something on Facebook this morning that really spoke to me.

“Write into your will that you want to be cremated. Before you die, swallow as many popcorn kernels as you can.”

Well, I laughed.

As someone with a severe anxiety order, I spend an unhealthy amount of time fixated on my fear of death and dying. I am always looking for ways to manage this fear since there is really nothing I can do about it, right?

I was inspired then, to make up a list to help myself (and maybe others who share this fixation) take the fear and add some fun into the prospect of death.

1.       Start sleeping in a coffin when you turn 65 (earlier if you’re a smoker)

2.       Begin listening to Leonard Cohen – as I’m pretty sure that’s what they play in hell

3.       Take comfort in the fact that people will continue to insist on wishing you a happy birthday long after you die, so in fact, you never really die at all (I have gone on the record before as vehemently opposed to this practice as it really makes no sense)

4.       Go into Sephora and ask for a practice casket makeover (you know, like a bridal trial)

5.       As a transitioning dead person, contact Revenue Canada and inform them that you no longer will be filing your tax return

6.       Finally, what to be buried in? It’s so hard to choose just the right outfit for special occasions.  Consider changing styles of the future – in fact, why not buck trends and design your own burial outfit and really make a statement?

The above list is by no means complete, so I encourage you to come up with your own ideas. Today and especially tonight, being Halloween, is the perfect mood setter don’t you think?

Happy Halloween, y’all!

Damaged Vans and Corn Mazes

I am always learning things from my kid. As much as I like to think that I am smarter, more evolved and far more in control of my emotions than he is, I realize that we are so much alike sometimes it’s downright terrifying.

Take this Thanksgiving weekend for example. The kid drives me nuts. He always has, but on this particular instance, I realized that what he was doing was EXACTLY the kind of thing I have done (still do) to my nearest in dearest. In particular, when someone suggests a solution to an identified problem, instead of just accepting that’s the answer and settle down again, I (we) tend to ask for clarification over and over and over and….you see?

Someone smacked into the back of our brand new van while my husband was inside Loblaw’s shopping on Saturday. He came home and showed me the damage (it’s a healthy ding, but nothing too major). I tried to stay blasé about the whole thing. He even told me that he was putting a call into our insurance broker on Tuesday (today – I better check on this!) to see what our best option is. Fine answer. Logical answer. Still, I don’t think I’ve asked about the plan any less than a dozen or two times since then.

Honestly, just knowing the van is sitting in the driveway, damaged and we aren’t doing anything about it RIGHT AWAY, left me in a general state of unease the rest of the weekend. I even know it’s happening, but it doesn’t change anything. Annoying right? Yeah, for me and everyone around me.

Now my kid, who has an obsession about well, everything comes into the picture. Not only does he notice the van, he chimes in with the questions as to what, how and when will the damage be fixed. He is relentless. I’m not sure how he is still alive.

I took him to a corn maze yesterday to distract him. Think about that for a second. I took an overly anxious, OCD and panic stricken 13 year old into a corn maze as a way to distract and relax him. This is the part where I question whether or not I should be a parent.

Still, he wanted to go and go we did. Thank God his stepbrother was there to keep a close reign on the two of us and prevented us from spiralling out of control (FYI he’s 12). My stepson was enjoying the adventure, while my son and I were fake laughing (ha ha this is really fun, right? Fun? Isn’t it?) half expecting a homicidal maniac to leap from behind the stalks and end our pitiful lives. Because that is 100% possible at a family fun farm in Courtice overflowing with people on a Thanksgiving Monday. Where’s your imagination people?

After I took the chicken exit (don’t judge me), the boys persevered. I know in his heart of hearts, my kid wanted to leap on my back and follow me out, but he didn’t. He took a hold of his anxiety and continued through the maze determined to finish with his brother. I know his little heart was likely jackhammering away in his chest, but he did it. He did it!

While I freed myself from the terror of the maze and sat on the grass, they were enjoying themselves the way kids should. I may have thought about my van a few hundred more times while they played, but I have not mentioned it to my husband since. That’s a good twelve hours and counting.

I might shoot him a text now though.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING ALL! TONS TO BE GRATEFUL FOR!!

Oh don't you worry, I have provocative thoughts...

I have a lot of provocative ideas and I’d like to express them, trouble is, my anxiety holds me back and well, I chicken out.

Maybe that’s just an excuse. Maybe I just don’t want to spew out my thoughts on social media and open myself up to criticism and debate. I’m kind of a coward that way, I guess. I’m often impressed by (though just as many times, embarrassed for) those that are able to keenly articulate their point of view on an issue and weather the storm that often comes along with that kind of openness.

I admit, I read a lot of those exchanges, but often find myself too tired or ultimately disinterested to continue. I guess in part because there are so many things in my life of managing anxiety, panic and depression that I don’t actively seek out ways to get myself more worked up than I need to be at any given time.

Of course I still educate myself on current issues and form opinions when needed or I’m inspired to, but then I stop short of posting those views publicly. Even if I wanted to post my views, I fear I would lose steam or energy in trying to valiantly defend my thoughts to those who may disagree.

I don’t like churning things up and I don’t like forced conflict (though I will advocate for the things I am passionate about) and sometimes I just want to keep my social interactions, pleasant and amiable.

Sound wimpy? Probably. However, through the years of dealing inside the tangled wires of my brain, I have found that I don’t need to participate in exchanges where I can add no perceivable value to the conversation. I have nothing to prove (at least not right now) and instead, choose to keep my opinions to myself and enjoy the spectacle that sometimes unfolds in front of me on my screen. When it’s not working for me anymore, I tune out.

Tune out that is, after I’ve done my share of reposting vague motivational sayings or Weiner dog videos.

Not always about me..wait..what?

When you are anxious on behalf of another person, you rev up your emotions to a whole new level.

When bad stuff is happening to someone you love, it’s natural to feel some of the pain with well-place empathy and support. When you are a person with an off the charts anxiety disorder, this becomes a little more interesting.

My anxiety order pushes me to act. This is not always (rarely ever is) a good thing. The anxiety, when at its highest, pushes me to take on the other person’s situation and “fix” it. Of course that’s ridiculous and I would counsel anyone who asks to NOT DO THAT.

However, my anxious spirit is not rational and therefore, I find myself a bundle of nerves with nowhere to go.

I am incensed. I am helpless. I am furious and I am profoundly sad when this happens. Sometimes, my anxiety masks itself as a super strong woman who is always proactive and makes the right decision. Let nothing stand in her way! She’s got this. All will come together to a peaceful resolution.

What’s really happening is that my brain is firing all over the place with half-baked plans and false heroism. Truth is, I can’t immerse myself in other people’s trauma as much as I am naturally inclined to do so. That’s some serious hard shit to swallow.

My emotions and my righteous indignation lead the way and my logical self is usually back at the spa enjoying a facial.

Dammit, this is hard. I have no sage words of wisdom for you if you ever find yourself in this position. In fact, I think I know what the wise thing to do would be, but it’s not in me at the moment.

I want to rail against the god’s on my partner’s behalf. I want to take all the shit that is happening and deflect it all. I don’t have the answers, but I have enough fight in me to take it on. Trouble is, I can’t.

It is not my fight as much as I want it to be. I can be there, with my anxiety and all, and support his way through the pain and injustice. I can soothe where I can, advise where possible and be a soft place to land. I just have to dial back my own emotions and not make this about me.

Not making stuff about me is a very hard thing to do when your whole life is affected by your own anxiety and panic. I live in a bubble a lot of the time and I’m a magnet for other people’s emotions. Time to put my big girl panties on and channel that anxiety into a calmer, gentler me so I can be of some use.

I just have to find my own anti-anxiety switch and power the heck down first.

Oh and finally, just let me say, I hate mean, ignorant and vicious people whose sole purpose in life is to cause pain for other human beings. They suck.