Extending a hand of friendship

I can empathize with people who are reluctant to embrace a thing or an idea or a thought.  Life is so damn complicated and complex and reactions are peppered with doubt and raw emotion.  But in any negotiation, the goal is to allow the other to be heard and respected so some small common ground can be found.

Unbridled animosity builds over time and reluctance to look at something from a different angle becomes a dominating force.  Conviction is one thing, but acceptance and tolerance is important, too.

These are wordy words but I swear the biggest trouble we encounter in this day and age of turbo speed technology is our lack of real, genuine conversation and connection.  Presumptions are made too often, misunderstandings occur every second, and pausing for a moment in the midst of a heated argument might help toward the healing and offer a solution of true collaboration.

Wordy wordy thoughts that I will probably cringe at if I read this later, but I'm going to go with it for a minute and share.

Rise above the negativity

I live my life striving for everything that is ethical and fair, with care and concern for those around me, and I try to assist or nurture others when they may need it.  

When I am able.

Some days, I am too tired and need to rest to take care of my own mental health.  Today is one of those days that I just needed to sit down.

I work so hard everyday, I work many weekends because that is in the best interest of the business.  I take on added responsibility to help share the load with others on the team.  Sometimes I wonder why because 'teamwork' seems like an absent idea in many situations.

Mental health and wellness has become such a focus in my life because I am trying to fight the good fight.  Just because negativity surrounds so many people in this world does not mean one needs to succumb to it.  I fight that depression every day, and turn to my medical team and support groups for an extra hand when I need it.

I tell myself: Do at least one positive thing each day.  If you are able to do two positive things in one day, even better.  Keep increasing that number and it can only build from there.

Today my positive deed was subtle yet heard.  I moved my two bags from the seat next to me on the bus so someone could sit down.  He sat next to me, and said thank you.  And he really meant thank you.  Something in his voice told me he sincerely appreciated this very small gesture of politeness and for all I know that could have been the smallest, nicest thing someone did for him that day.  When my stop arrived, I told him and he stood up.  He said Bye as I left and I told him Bye.

This may seem like a stupid story, but when you walk in another's shoes and hear a heartfelt 'Thank You' from a stranger, for such a TINY act of courtesy to someone who may have just put up with a lot of difficult things that day, it can sometimes make a difference.

Or maybe it may not make any difference that day, but it doesn't mean you should stop doing it.

This life is hard, and people work hard, and I think we need to support people rather than tear them down for irrational reasons.  The tiniest gestures of courtesy help.

Peace

I pray for many things today.  I am devastated by recent events and angered that the insanity of evil exists.

I pray that warriors of all that is good and just and fair in this beautiful, diverse world are led to peaceful conversations that can eventually replace the heated opposing opinions scattered all over the Internet and all over media.  It's clogging healthy thought processes, or something.  Is it addiction to anger?

I pray for a country that I know and love, I pray for citizens in countries where I have never been who are dealing with extreme difficulties, and I pray for solutions.  I pray that humanity comes together, and divides no further.

What would John Lennon say right now?

Some basic thoughts...

As I watch events unfold each time there is bad stuff happening in the name of shared group beliefs, I feel I need to do much more in this world.

Every human being needs to feel like he or she matters or feels they belong somewhere.  And when they subscribe to a group that does pure evil, how terrible that they were brought to such thinking because they lacked the basic thing in life: to feel valued.  This goes for the gang violence in my own city, the groups throughout the world willing to ignore the beauty of life in attempts to scare and control, and individuals who became too isolated.

I can't believe some of the stuff I read on the Internet, that humans have become so callous to life and to the idea of brotherhood and sisterhood.

My words here are small, but they are written in an earnest attempt to be a Helper.  

The world needs more sanctuary, not more fuel for the madness of anger, hate and violence.

Trying Trying Trying

There seems to be a whole lot of people who cannot fathom (nor even remotely care) how the other half lives. 

I'm sick and tired of the inequality. 

It doesn't make any sense.

It doesn't make any sense that salaries are so divided, and that the people at the top don't even think the people at the bottom matter.  Don't those fools know the people at the bottom make everything at the top peak of their mountain possible?

I am struggling with career because no matter what I do or say, I can't keep a steady staff because the attitude of working retail for peanuts and scraps depresses the hell out of young kids who spent all their money on college.  I can't manage a staff who is perpetually looking for new work.  It's extreme insanity.

The apathy that is out there is frightening.

Meanwhile, I try to coordinate new and fresh endeavors in my life but they keep falling through the cracks because at the end of the day, I run out of energy.

Then there's a whole team of independent be-your-own-boss hard workers sharing their dreams with the whole world on social media, and the gap between working for 'others' and working for 'self' becomes a wide valley with no way to get across the treacherous divide.

How did the modern workplace get so damn stressful?

Now let's flip the coin to the other side.

Apparently, somebody whispered to me once that there was a whole band of people who were rooting for me.  I'd like to know who or what or where those people are, and why don't they connect realistically with me instead of stalking and spying and USING ME for God Knows What agenda.  I mean, how does all that work?  Rooting for a person does absolutely no good.  Action and COMMUNICATION requires logical work.  Partnership.  Collaboration.  An honest reaching out and a lending, caring hand.

I've hit a serious depression, and I absolutely hate my life.  Nothing makes any sense, and I'm about to schedule an appointment with my psychiatrist to ask to be doped up some more.  Because I just want to feel numb again.  I hope if someone calls me for an interview that they'll be able to see the real, hard-working me and not the zombie.

Focus and determination

Those are the words that came up in my art therapy group piece last week.

Focus

And

Determination

I've already discussed with my therapist how writing and mania are intertwined for me, so I have to be careful.  I have so many ideas, observations, beliefs, theories, philosophies and ideals that I want to express, and at times they come roaring out of me like the TGV trains of France.

I've worked so hard my whole life, suffered through more than a few nervous breakdowns and hardships, and picked myself back up each time and returned Full Speed Ahead (or as much as possible while taking psychiatric medications.)

I'm in a leadership position at work at the moment, where I am required to continuously motivate and inspire staff.  Performing this role in a retail environment has forced me to block out all the critical voices that have inadvertently placed judgment on me for not being able to achieve a mightier role in life.

I was always taught to take pride in whatever job you find yourself doing, no matter what it is.  Maintaining this healthy trait lessens depression and anxiety, and gives me courage to teach this belief to younger staff who are frustrated at life post college.

Gettin by...

I submitted my first writing piece to a professional to look over and give me feedback.  I know it's not a perfect piece and there are errors and improvements to work on, but I hope it's got some good qualities that have potential.

And that's kind of how I feel about life in general.

Work stress is going to kill me slowly.  It's most challenging being the buffer between business owners and jaded staff because they can be so goddamn rude.  How hard is it for a business owner to say 'Hi, how's the day?' to an employee.

Rudeness is just the worst.  Life is hard, and people are struggling and very few have it made and life's easy.  Kindness goes a long way in this long life.

Sagas

Tired.  Feeling frustrated.  But can't give up nor won't give up.  I feel:

1) boring

2) lacking talent

3) like I don't belong anywhere

4) rejected

5) stuck

These are five miserable things to feel, so I'm trying to chisel away at the sculpture that is my life.  The angst of my youth has not left, and I wonder if it's because I dealt with tough stuff youngsters shouldn't have had to deal with...or if it's my own limitations at work?

How does one come to terms with his or her limitations that coincide with a chronic mental health condition?

musical interludes

All aboard the Express Kundalini!

Moving forward

I found someone who is going to help me write professionally.  That's a good thing, as every time I've sat down to try and write I get overwhelmed by where to begin.  Also, I'll have therapeutic guidance if mania begins to intertwine with a creative project.  It will also be good to focus each week with someone who understands my limitations.  

All good stuff on the horizon.

Mental Health Care in the US

As I go through my own experiences and gather courage to speak UP and speak OUT about advocating for mental health IMPORTANCE, I know what has WORKED for me, and what has NOT WORKED for me.

Not everyone is helped solely by medication.  Some might be, but not everyone.  Medication is a very tricky thing, which requires a good communication with a psychiatrist.  Not just any old practicioner.

Therapy can be extremely helpful, but a patient can't be forced into it.  Just as admitting there is a problem can be a difficult first step, opening up with a new stranger in one's life can be a terribly daunting experience.  I think a good method for me to 'break the ice' would have been introductory art therapy.  A new mental health patient needs to feel like something great will be accomplished in this new method.  It needs to not feel like one is being scolded or judged.

Support groups are amazing, but I think it's also a tough thing to start up.  One has to be careful about details and specifics in order to maintain a sense of privacy with a very personal struggle.  I think support groups help for the seasoned patients with some experience under their belts.

Trust is EVERYTHING in mental health.  So is safety.  One needs SAFE REFUGE when seeking help.  This requires mental health professionals who are caring, non-judgemental, and calm.  It also requires mental health professionals who don't treat mental illness like an experiment.  Yes, there is much more to learn about our human minds and our connections to one another, but safety is important.  That is why confidentiality is required.  I don't trust that new students in teaching hospitals are always 'committed' to that principle...

Spirituality is a good, practical way to maintain hope, especially in the depths of depression.  Being in tune with our consciousness and how we treat other people is being aware of our spiritual being.  Imagine if all of society were aware of how their actions affected others and not driven by Self Needs Alone!  But the judgment that goes along with various religions and archaic thoughts on the mentally ill creates a barrier and wall of limitations.  It also furthers the negative stigma that is SO, SO harmful.  I don't want to go into too much detail about this right now, but it suffices to say that 95% of mentally ill peers I have met are peaceful human beings who are not harmful to society like the fear currently perpetuates when we bring this up over and over in our troubles with gun violence in this country.

I hope to be able to write more professionally down the road about more of these developing insights, but these are my initial thoughts.

Untitled

Well since yesterday's post I've been mulling over more of judgy people judging.  There are many caring people in this city, and there many caring people in this world.

With caring people is where I want to be.

Paranoia is one of the worst afflictions to live with yet at times, I feel like negative people walking around live with the common suspicion that opponents everywhere are out to beat them at this really long, drawn out game called life.

Unwanted attention

As I adjust to my normal, stable life again I am faced with bouts of paranoia.  Everything is manageable except this paranoia.  Sometimes I wonder if a change of scenery would help, or if the paranoia would just continue to trail behind.

I try to focus each day on little steps which bring me a sense of calm, but sometimes a feeling overcomes me that I am being judged.  Over and over and over again, I am being poked and prodded with judgement.  I don't know what I'm supposed to do, what I'm supposed to say, or what I'm supposed to be.

I wish I could go back in time and disappear.  I wish I could go back in time and stay in a foreign country, because I just don't know what is expected of me.  I am nothing to be focused on, and I will continue to do small work in mental health support....because it's the only safe place I know these days.

Meditation for this week

When anger is encountered, I hope that more people can step in, together, and lessen anger's dangers.

When someone is dealing with anger, I pray that positive intervention steps in to be able to lessen that person's pain.  I pray that the pain is recognized, understood and not minimized with condescension. 

When someone is dealing with anger, I pray that they recognize it as anger and are led to healthier ways of dealing with it.

When anger develops into hatred for strangers whom they do not know, I pray that triggers are overcome by a sense of internal divine peace.  That may sound like an incredibly hippie dippie prayer, but it's my prayer and I can pray how I want to.

I have dealt with other people's anger all my life, and I have seen its cataclysmic effects in so many incidents throughout my life.  It's time for more sensitivity to others' anger, and figuring out strategies to help them channel and work through tough issues so that THE MADNESS OF ANGER can stop.

"When the company goes public....

"....you've got to learn to love what you own."

I think about 'going public' with mental health stuff all the time, but due to judgment passed upon me at several differrent workplaces over the course of the last 12 years in the Chicago area, I keep it to myself.  For now.

I am doing the NAMI Walk in Chicago this weekend.  I have two brave souls walking with me on my team, both of whom have personal connections to mental health issues.  And both of their experiences have been sad and tragic.

There's hope, you know.

God and Goddess knows there's enough bullshit to sift through as we navigate our ways through corporate pharmaceutical greed and finding a psychiatrist who BELIEVES in YOU as a human being and not a commodity is a big part of the process.  When my psychiatrist told me he inherited a lot of patients who he feels were unnecessarily medicated with two of the same type of drug I was like HALLELUJAH!  I'm sticking with this doctor!  I know I make him nervous with my questions about Seroquel and its link to breast cancer (do I need to remind everyone I had a mastectomy March 30, 2015?) but I'm still fighting the good fight.  And I know a little bit more about whom I can trust in mental health.

Anyway, here's the song I was quoting in the title of this post.  I'm not sure which version I like better:

Life versus illness

I've struggled with how much 'space' to give this stinking bipolar disorder.  There have been times in my life when it has absolutely consumed me.  Those times were usually peppered with erratic emotions revolving around certain med cocktails, and it was hard to not allow the illness to take over my life when panic attacks were occurring regularly and many nights were spent alone hurling in the bathroom from feelings of some kind of poisoning.

I know that the medication is necessary and I will not fight that.  But I still stand firm that I don't think every bipolar patient  always will require 4-6 different bipolar meds at one time.  Perhaps during an episode, but not for years after a hospitalization.

Resuming a normal life after a psych med stay is one of the most difficult parts of managing this illness.  I know that stability is certainly possible, but that shifts in brain chemistry are also possible, and being in tune with those changes and having the ability to nip them in the bud before things go too far is HUGE.  

And sometimes a med can just stop working.  

Focusing on living one's life is healthy.  Focusing on the limitations this illness brings is devastating, and I think the professionals need to focus on the Hope rather than the negativity of these illnesses.

Well, I signed up

....to do the walk, that is.  I may end up walking all by myself because I really don't have support from too many people.  I'll remain hopeful that someone can join me.  An old coworker who now has returned to a career in mental health is checking her schedule and may join up with me.  That would be nice.

I realized this past year how people will crawl out of the woodwork to shower you with love and cards and surprises from all around when you have cancer.  But if you tell them about mental illness, more than half the people I know still think it's all bullshit.

Another realization hits me as I have to gather more strength again to get through this life.  Everyone deserves support, and there's only so much support one can give to thine self.

Boundaries and Support

I've slowly been immersing myself in areas of community mental health.  It's been a slow process, as I have to work a full-time retail management job and sometimes plans fall through the cracks in order to take care of that primary business.  But I'm participating slowly where I can....getting my feet wet.

Support groups can be wonderfully amazing tools, but when it comes to mental health, one must be WISE and SAFE.  It would be a shiny, happy people sort of thing if one could just instantly become FRIENDS with others attending these sorts of groups but you need to posess a sort of whip-smart mentality of whom you may include in your sharing of information.  This is a very delicate process for me and I'm developing strong skills, but there is still so, so much work to be done.

For example, I'd love to participate in an upcoming NAMI walk, but I can't really think of any friends locally to ask.  Mental health is still one of those 'Shove It Under a Rug and Don't Talk About It' kind of thing.  I'm working on changing that, but I'm not there yet.  And so I'd be willing to talk with some members from a support group or two, but I'm not comfortable giving anyone my contact info just yet.  I dream of a day where I won't have to walk around on mounds and mounds of eggshells going about my journey to speak UP and speak OUT about mental illness.  But that day is not here just yet.

I still feel divided.  The part of me that is stable and strong and wise and a strong leader.......

And then the other part of me that is still traumatized by incidents during hospitalizations and fearful of controlling professionals reminding me of just how "SICK" I am.

I've been thinking about my acquaintance some more...the one I previously mentioned in a posting...and thinking about how mean and cruel the world can be when it comes to matters of the mind.  I'm not going to elaborate anymore on that at this very moment, but he is in my thoughts and prayers as I navigate these really fucking choppy waters of mental health and wellness.

Well Deserved Vacations

I was able to sneak away for a few days and visit Montreal.  Loved it so much.  I walked and walked and walked and explored and meandered and ate and walked some more and spoke a wee bit of French.  Visited the Rodin exhibition at the Musée des Beaux-Arts.  I ate a few bites of poutine, because I felt obligated to do so.  I drank a Quebecois Beer.  Ate some crepes and found a 16 month Le Petit Prince wall calendar.  Oh and a Stone Roses tshirt.  Not that they're Canadian....

Vacations are ESSENTIAL to mental well-being.

Back to the grind again.  Next vacation isn't until February.  I can do this.

Real vs. Imaginary

Anyone caught in the turbulence of mania and/or psychosis can probably relate to the questions of what was real and what was imaginary.  I saw people that weren't there, heard whispers and voices from out of nowhere (not frightening ones, by the way), and experiences strange bouts of smell.  Despite the shitty circumstances of Real Life intertwining with my mental illness, I forged through it all as best I could.

Even while stable, however, I find myself second guessing certain things.  For example, one evening after a therapy session, I could have sworn I saw an acquaintance at my usual post therapy bus stop at the time.  But was that real?  I told myself it wasn't real, mainly because I had just poured my heart out in therapy and realized I could have potentially triggered an effect of bipolar and/or PTSD.  I chose not to say a word to the acquaintance to determine if it was real or not, as I didn't want to appear to be the crazy woman talking to invisible people at a bus stop at night.  And so instead I just fiddled with my phone, where there were at least real life friendships and acquaintances in e-format.

But now I wonder.  Maybe my acquaintance was indeed there?  But why wouldn't he say anything?

Freedom

It's been a long road to get to where I am in my bipolar recovery.  I'm still asking questions as I go along, but good, important questions and not the imprisoning kind that lead to depressive states.

I've met a lot of control freaks in my search for the 'right' kind of mental health peers and professionals in my life.  Man am I grateful for my freedom.  I'm grateful for a psychiatrist who truly collaborates with me and listens.  I'm grateful for the support groups I've found where we collectively support and are supported amongst a group of people in varying mental health journeys in their lives.  I'm grateful for the wisdom to walk away and not give a second thought to the Control Freaks who don't want me to succeed.

I've learned that Control is one of the scariest traits to encounter in a human being.  

That is not to say that I'm always right.  No way.  I'm full of faults and mistakes that I have made and will continue to make.  But I'm not going to give away my self worth to powerful people whose underlying mission is to go through life destructing other people's happiness.

I apologize for my vagueness in this posting.  I'm writing it as a little 'note to self.'

Empowerment is a healthy, healthy thing after a series of instances of being manipulated.

Being told 'you're crazy.'

So they didn't tell me like that.  They didn't say, "yeah, you're crazy."  Instead they said things like:

"We're worried about you."

"The things you're looking for are (long pause) fleeing.  We think it'd be best if we admitted you."

"People are bothering you?  Sounds like classic paranoia to me.  These meds should stop that.  Just don't stop taking them."

Looking back at certain things, I feel like I was caught in a horror movie...like a psychological thriller.  Oh man!  Trauma!  Serious trauma!

I try to not spook myself and not get caught in the cycle that trauma creates.  I try to think of the Good People I met on my path.  I try to think of the ones whose efforts were to make me feel safe, when they saw the fear and confusion on my face.

So here's the thing about telling my story....

I have been trying to sort out ways in which I could recreate my experiences with mental illness in a constructive way that might be able to help others keep fighting the good fight.

But I don't have an ending yet, and that's the trouble I keep encountering.  Which is why I keep this ridiculously slow blog going so that a EUREKA moment might hit me one day.

I've been trying to get off Seroquel for over the past year with the assistance of my psychiatrist and I almost ended up BACK in the hospital the first go and had severe allergic reactions and panic attacks from hell during the second attempt.

Then I just went through breast cancer and didn't want to mess around with meds while I went through that.  But boy oh boy are there a lot of questions about long-term effects of psychiatric medications and overall health.

My psychiatrist has suggested I come off them and just go forward with PRNs for sleep and anxiety.  Which is completely different advice than former psychiatrists of mine would have given.  Quite frankly, I'm afraid to go off the medication because I hear voices sometimes that startle me while messing around with all these heavy-duty drugs.

So yeah, I'm taking my medication and commited to therapy and wellness and good diet and exercise and stress-relieving techniques and getting involved in support group and advocacy.  But it's all a balancing act and I haven't reach the top of the mountain yet where I would like to rest on the mountaintop and Tell My Story someday.

My Story intertwines a bit, and perhaps I need more to go on.  I need more to work with here.  Hmmmmm.

Finding some peace

Put on some armor, take a new med, go to group.  Get through each day, struggle at times, rinse, repeat.  I've survived some hard days and have come out on the other side without a hospitalization.

This gives me hope.

I don't understand the implications of past episodes, but can't help but feel situational circumstance played a much larger role than any new psychiatrist might've understood.

I am trying to read a few memoirs, still trying to paint some stuff, still trying to connect with the *right* people this time. God knows I deserve an improved horizon after everything that has happened this far.

Maintaining hope

The toughest thing about juggling mental illness and real life is maintaining hope.  When everything piles up simultaneously and stress moves into high gear and the possibility of an episode looms overhead.....

Making it all work somehow

Depression is setting in.  I better not write  anything else so as not to feed it.  It suffices to say:

I'm Depressed.  

Faking happiness is a hard thing to do, and I've reached my limit.

Moving on...

I had a crazy scary dream last night that I don't even want to share because it was a panic-causing one and I just don't want to give it any more thought.  Or put it out there in the universe (tiny little sector of the universe that is this blog space.)

I have been reflecting on the balancing act that is my life lately.  Somehow if I could blend the different components of my life into one solid, sturdy existence I would be in a much better place. 

There is my job, which has its frustrations but for the most part an environment that I enjoy.

There is my involvement in mental health advocacy, which is something new I am slowly delving into but have to be somewhat secretive about it because of stigma.

There is my creative self, which does not seek to do anything major on a large scale but rather connect emotionally with other artists' whose works I greatly admire.  I have come to admire the artists in close, intimate proximity of a safe place of art therapy group most of all.  It's a critic-free, highly supportive space where we encourage each other and never compete.  I'm not cut out for anything but that.

There is the survivor part of me.

There is the guide-to-another part of me. The unconditionally supportive friend to another that deserves more time and explanation somewhere, someday.  Or something else.

And finally, there is the curious, ever-learning child who is always wondering when she'll feel like a grown-up.  

Somehow, if all these facets of 'me' could tie up into one solid confident human being I could feel like I'm contributing and helping in some way.  Because i feel no significant worth unless I'm helping out somehow.  There's so much destruction and apathy and bad stuff out there that a good swift shift is needed for positivity to spread around where it's needed most.  And I believe it takes a lot of healthy whole well-balanced folks to start making that happening.

Peculiar Beginner's Luck

When I was learning archery in 9th grade gym class, I aimed at my first try and got a bullseye.

When I participated in an art show in my adult years, I fell into a strange conversation with a crazed curator and became delusional and landed in a psych ward.

When I went in for my very first baseline mammogram I was led to additional screening and diagnosed with breast cancer.

It's odd.  I feel most guided in life by intuition, but I also can't help but feel guided by more abstract things.  I still have a lot of questions about certain aspects of my life experiences thus far, but I feel comforted by the fact that I will always land on my feet again no matter what.  

Support groups

So I made time to try out another support group recently in this city.  There really aren't too many free or discounted mental health programs so support groups are a good option for people looking to connect with others facing mental illness.  There are waiting lists for lots of groups around town so obviously there are interested people out there seeking helpful groups as they cope with these really difficult illnesses.

A lot of people don't take mental illness seriously, and I just don't know why that is.  Also, it is my finding that there are many highly functioning people diagnosed with a mental disorder who run from the diagnosis and drop out of mental health entirely.

I think there's a strange sort of self assessment that goes on in some minds.  What do I mean?  Well, quite frankly, there are varying degrees of mental illness and people tend to focus on those with serious mental illnesses as their point of comparison of their own stability and measure of their worth.  

I have been that person with a serious mental illness on several occasions during psychosis.  And here's the thing: 

I still am that person with a serious mental illness.

I am currently in another facet of Bipolar1 disorder, and that is one of remission.  I take my medication and have developed coping strategies and included multiple types of therapy in my recovery.  But the fact that I have encountered breaks from reality on more than a few occasions which required taking medical leaves and being hospitalized will never leave me, nor my medical history.

And my insight into the "madness" that accompanied episodic periods of my life will always be there.

I know I can't work in the field without years of schooling, so I'm not going to even try.  I can't study well due to poor memory and comprehension and severe classroom anxiety.  So I know I will never have the respect of the Highly Educated in the field.  My experience will NEVER mean a thing to some psychology scholars.

But I can be there to offer an empathetic hand to people.   And maybe that's my role in all this?

I am a peer and ally in mental health.

Tough Love

So it's already mid-May and I have not contributed much to Mental Health Awareness Month.  I've been busy.  Lots of stuff going on and lots of realizations and such.

Getting help with mental illness can be the hardest thing a person might face in his or her life.  There are a lot of people out there who don't get honest with themselves.  And then to abruptly bring an outsider professional into the equation to tell you that You Are Unwell can create so, so much conflicting emotion.

But once the treatment begins, and the healing, and the revelations, and the awareness and the self care comes to fruition, life changes.  The fact of the matter is that a mental illness is a chronic condition, and while stability is to be found for many, it still requires work.  It's more than just swallowing a pill.  I have found a lot of men don't think that is true, but if some of them could try on a woman's insight for a day maybe it might change a mind or two.

And yes, sometimes that ol' Tough Love. Tough love isn't appropriate for everyone, so properly assessing someone's fragility is important.  

Anyway.   I have found the road to stability, for me, is in my interpersonal skills.  It requires my own 'mindfulness,' not just of myself but of each person in my space.  Instinct is a big part of my life, but it's not everything.  Communicating and learning about other people takes time.  As much of a cliche as it is, communication is EVERYTHING.

(The above is a photo of my Get Well Mobile Card that two of my former colleagues got together to make for me.  Recovering from surgery has given me lots of time for reflection... Lots of good old fashioned Mind Body Spirit/Soul work.)

May is Mental Health Month

I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder in 2003 in a rather traumatic way.  Co-workers made plans with me to get together for dinner, and when I went to our meeting spot, it was an intervention.

I just crumbled.  I fell apart.  Because I couldn't speak coherently while anxiety took hold, I ended up in a psych ward for two weeks, very heavily medicated.

It's taken a decade to get IN FRONT OF my mental illness rather than dragged behind it.  I'm not looking behind me, I'm facing the future.  It's a future of possibilities rather than that of limitations.  Yes, I live with a mental illness, but rather than focus on the disabilities it brings, I am harnessing the ways in which I can help others through the rough waters of diagnosis and finding appropriate treatment.

I have been a part of a wonderful art therapy group which will soon be going on summer hiatus.  In the meantime, I am taking advantage of my part-time work hours since my mastectomy and reconstructive surgery and heading to a few national organization support group meetings.

These are my first steps of getting involved.  I finally feel strong enough to do so.

The Answers I'll Never Find

Since being diagnosed with a mental illness in 2003, I have dealt with five medical leaves from three different jobs.  While this fifth current medical leave is due to breast cancer, I still find myself reflecting on oh so much.

I use art as my therapy.  Paintings and collage and mixed media projects help me cope with all sorts of emotions.  While they don't necessarily answer any of my questions, they help pose important questions.

People have woven their way in and out of my life.  Some get close, some are there for me, while others keep a safe distance.  I don't quite understand what is so dangerous about me that they feel so compelled to keep a 'safe distance,' but perhaps that's more of an insecurity in their part rather than mine?

If anything, I find myself grateful for my freedom.  I find myself grateful for my artistic freedom.  I've never achieved any success with writing.  I've never been assigned an editor who encourages me to change my story or further develop a character.  I've never had a music executive dictate what will breed more success on my next album submission.  I've never been controlled by a publicist, who speaks for me and advises me what I can or cannot do or say or think or feel. Maybe I'm wrong, and maybe it's not really like that.  But it's what I currently perceive the creative world to be.

So I guess I'll be grateful for my freedom.     I don't have the talent that our STARS possess, but I do have insight.  It's the insight that propels my silly art pieces that I create.  Guess I'll keep going with it.  Because I don't quite know what else to do with myself.

Medical leaves and creative projects

When I'm working full-time as a boutique manager and shopgirl, I don't seem to have the energy to come home and paint or write.  Now that I'm in recovery and will only be working a few hours a week for the next two months as my body regains strength and heals itself after cancer, I have the drive to paint and create again.

I'm still quite limited in mobility.  But standing at the easel serves me well.  I would love to write on a more serious level but until I rehabilitate my right arm, a paintbrush will have to do.

Everything I'm creating and embellishing right now tells a big story.  I have no idea if the world will ever see this stuff, nor can I think of an appropriate venue to display any of this.  It all belongs in a psychiatrist's study, where he would sit and over analyze all the delusions within...

Able to stand again

I was diagnosed with breast cancer in February.  After my diagnosis I took a weekend jaunt to Nashville and spent three days wondering what life will bring next.  I met with a dozen medical professionals the week of my return: oncology surgeon, two plastic/reconstructive surgeons, a genetics counselor, the director of the cancer center, social workers, my therapist, my psychiatrist, my primary care physician, and endless support networks.  This was my very first mammogram and here I am several months later, able to stand up straight for the first time since last Monday's mastectomy and initial start of reconstructive free flap surgery.  My dad asked for a painting and so that's my next project at the moment.  I'm going to have to borrow money since I'll be unable to work full time and this is my thank you to him.  What's it going to say/mean?

Untitled Stuff

So I have an old coworker friend who has always shown me kindness and makes me laugh.  He's a great person, and I guess somewhat of an enigma in the eyes of some other work colleagues.  They have a secret Facebook page about him where they post about the funny and remarkable things he says and does.  I submitted one such story about a wonderful memory of him as he lifted me up out of a very difficult period in my life.  And I meant it when I said what a great friend he was/is to me.

Today what's on my mind is HOW MEAN IT IS TO HAVE A SECRET PAGE about a person where people discuss and potentially make fun of a person.  I think if I found out that there was a secret website about me where everyone analyzed every minute detail of everything I said and did, I would suffer a terrible depression and humiliation that I walked this earth feeling so, so alone but that there were a number of people watching me for entertainment like The Truman Show.

The internet is friggin insane.  I don't think people realize they're being mean in their quest for 24/7 entertainment sometimes.  I hate how society singles out certain people saying they "kinda" like a person rather than telling them directly how appreciated they are.

Punk and Weird

This is one of the glorious excerpts from my fourth grade creative writing journal.  We were given a topic each day to write about and boy oh boy!  There are some HILARIOUS gems in this thing.  My mom recently found a box of my old stuff at the old house and it is very insightful into the person I grew to became.  Haha.

tcbpb (takin' care of bipolar business)

So I've been catching up on season 3 of Homeland and I have to say, Claire Danes does a super realistic portrayal of bipolar mania.  I'm really rooting for the fictional character Carrie to comply and stay on her meds, but then the realistic me knows exactly what she means when she says she 'misses things.' 

Oh, the meds.  So I am trying a new med combo starting tonight, and I'm scared because med changes are AWFUL.  There are withdrawal symptoms, sleepless nights and extreme agitation.  I usually increase therapy appointments and hide out from the world as best I can.  Maybe I just have psychological turmoil from the anticipation of a new side effect or two or three as I have done this routine several times now.  Or more.  I now have resorted to saying a little prayer to the universe when I swallow a new med that *THIS* will be the magic cure with minimal side effects.

I'm trying to use essential oils in conjunction with these changes and continuously with the meds, but I don't know if they really help.  But at this point, I'll try anything.

I just wish the day would come when I wouldn't even have to fuss over this stuff and my life can resume to normal.  Or at least as normal as possible.

Trazadone, Risperdal, Zoloft, Klonopin, Abilify, Lamictal, Geodon, Seroquel, Propanoprol, Ativan, Latuda, Saphris, about three others I can't even remember the names of now, and now back to Trazadone.  Over the course of about 17 years I have been or am on these psych drugs.  Is that my contribution to society?  That I've lived to tell the tale of living on psychiatric medications?  ugh!  I hope there's more to life than all this.

New Year, New ?????

I'm not going to give into peer pressure and society to make for a new me this year.  I am just going to continue doing the best I can and not beat myself up anymore.  Maybe the old me can resurface a bit, but only the good parts...

So I went to a Bob Mould concert on New Years Eve.  I love his music and that's the 2nd time I've seen him live.  I missed him this summer when he was playing for free downtown due to agoraphobia I was dealing with last June...so it was extra special to see him this time around.  I have his autobiography to read but haven't delved into it too much.  He writes openly about 'mental health' struggles and I am always game to read about other people's successes in dealing with that stuff.  I'll get around to it soon.  I actually started it and he started talking about abuse early on and I wasn't feeling strong enough to read about it.  But I'll get to it.  Anyway, he put on a great show and it was a fun night out.  The owner of the Metro was hanging out and I smiled at him as we passed each other in the hallway.  He was like, Who are you smiling at me?  Do I know you?  Haha.  But THAT is the person I USED to be...the person who would smile at strangers and might even make a new friend that way.  My younger self.  I want to be more like my younger self.  The good aspects of my younger self, though...not the depressive suicidal version.

I love watching artists do their thing.  I always do my own thing, but I don't have the balls to show it to anyone.  Maybe someday I will, but for now I just do it as my therapy...and that's OK.  Or maybe it's not.  I don't know.  I watched the movie Big Eyes yesterday and what a great subtle art revenge story.  A young naive artist agrees to lie to the public because her husband wants to take credit for all the paintings she creates.  Based on a true story, so it's even better.  I recommend seeing it.  My husband recently invited some gas service salesmen inside our apartment and one of them asked about one of my paintings propped up on the easel.  He asked how much and my husband said, $800.  The guy said he didn't have that kind of money right now but left his contact information if we could work out an arrangement.  It's an old painting I did back in the nineties but I don't think I want to part with it.  Is that weird of me?  Probably.

We lost a great person right before Christmas this year....my father-in-law.  He was kind and wise and full of good humor, even as he dealt with difficulties in his health.  It is a major life adjustment without him, but we are better people to have known someone like him in this life.

I wish you weirdos reading this a Happy Happy New Year.  I am calling you weirdos because you read this thing and never leave any comments for me.  What am I, chopped liver?