time after time

Sometimes I think we have tried every medication in every combination.  I know every individual's chemistry is different.  I also know nothing works forever.  Several years ago I was on a very large cocktail of drugs that made me feel like the "real me" again.  It lasted for a couple of years & it was glorious!  Then it stopped working.  Since then we have been trying different things at different dosages but I can't seem to quite get back there.  I have been on Lithium, Effexor, Cymbalta, Abilify, Depakote, Klonopin, Trazadone, Latuda & Lamictal among many others.  That last one worsened the clumsiness I normally have (me & gravity, we never could agree) & I fell...and fell...& fell.  Down stairs onto concrete, out my front door onto the driveway, off my shoes (which are always flats) & in my bedroom, face-first into a wooden rocker resulting in two black eyes.  The doctor who checked me out that day couldn't help but laugh.  Thanks, buddy.  I don't know what other side effects medication has caused.  I have gained weight, had severe headaches (though they may be from clenching my jaws at night), had problems with my eyes moving back & forth, been nauseated & had shifts in appetite.  Also my hair has been falling out for several months.  A few days ago I had to have it cut off just below my ears & that was a huge change.  While the woman who cuts it worked & talked she kept throwing things out there like "Boy, I can see lots of spots on your scalp!" &, when she brushed it before cutting, "Boy, look at all this hair that just came out!"  Makes a girl feel pretty.  Oh, & now I am told I have irritable bowel syndrome which is causing me more problems than all the others put together.  They say it is from stress & not medication but I worked a high stress job long before these symptoms showed up.  What I want to know is how my body can do that & not turn me into a toothpick?  Note that I didn't even mention all of this in my entry on dating or rather the end of dating for me.  Guess if I wrote this one first, that one would not have been necessary.  Who wants a heavy, bald woman with a headache & stomach cramps that double you over?

I guess I said all that first part to say this.  Finding the right treatment for you can be an excruciating, long experiment.  You try something & it takes several weeks or more to see if it is going to help.  And if it does, when it stops helping, you start all over again.  And you do start all over again.  Because this illness is not our fault but we do have a responsibility to keep trying.  To take meds as prescribed, when prescribed, even if you think they are not working or if you start to feel better.  Especially if you start to feel better.  To see the therapist & psychiatrist & be honest & ask questions.  If they are not the right fit for you, go somewhere else.  You have to trust & be comfortable with your doctors.  They have to listen & take you seriously.  Take part in your treatment.  You are the only one who really knows what is going on inside your head.  And to keep trying.  To hang on, even when there doesn't seem to be a reason to keep trying. Maybe you will see a glimmer of one later today or tomorrow.  Better times are ahead...eventually.

all the time

Guilt & shame.  Not my best friends but still constant companions.  No matter how much I tell myself that this is not my fault & even though I keep my doctor appointments, stay honest with them & take my medication correctly & on time, I can't seem to get rid of these two.  I see what my illness does to my family & friends.  The ability it has to make the "real me" disappear.  How it tries to invade every fiber of my being so that I can no longer think or act outside of myself & it is all about me & survival...& all those thoughts about not surviving.  And, well-meaning or not, the guilt & shame are made worse by those telling me to just be positive, be happy, smile as if it were merely a choice.  That just validates those feelings of guilt & shame & the fact that I am weak & even lazy.  Look, I am still on this earth taking whatever this mind & body dish out.  It ain't for sissies but I am doing the best that I can.  If I had the choice to just positive-think it away, I promise, I would.  Anybody would.

dj

remind me who i am

Unless you are referring to a nice relaxing time of rejuvenation, the word "lazy" is a very negative one.  Even if it is considered involuntary, at least by me.  It implies a lack of effort & responsibility.  It describes a slacker.  I have always worked very hard - at first to please others by way of making good grades in school & then to be a responsible, self-sufficient single parent.  Then at some point the personal challenge & much-sought-after self-respect played a part.  But for a long time now, I have felt like I have a big scarlet "L" on my chest.  Or forehead.  For many years I struggled so hard to prove to myself & others that I was still the same invaluable employee, loved family member & supportive, treasured friend.  Now it appears, at least on the outside, that I can't be bothered.  I no longer have a job because others finally figured out that I couldn't keep up any longer.  I am now not always available, emotionally or otherwise, to those who need me or just want the pleasure of my company.  And my list of things-to-do has been drastically shortened to only those things necessary for my cats & me to live another day.  And the guilt is killing me.  It is official - I am useless.  That's not to say that I am not still loved.  I know several people who would say that I am not useless & they would really mean it.  They would, of course, be thinking of the "me" they get on the days when I am actually fit for human interaction.  And I know God still calls me His beloved but my whole purpose for being - to have a loving relationship with Him & help others have one too - is often more than I can handle.  So here I am.  A big lump of nothing that considers a productive day one where I finally wash dishes or take out the trash, which usually only happens when someone is stopping by.  Or I might run out of laundry & have to wash a load of clothes or pay a bill online before it is past due.  And on some of the most exhausting days, I may have to be on the phone with the insurance or disability people (disability - more on that later) trying to convince them that I am not a lazy bum.  Try that sometime.  Excruciating.  Even though they really have been nice about it all.  Sometimes I think it would be really helpful if those with mental issues had to wear a big bandaid on their heads.  No explanation needed.  But really I am often the one who needs to be convinced.  I resent having to admit that I "can't" but "I just don't want to" is even worse.  I certainly don't choose to be this way.  Like I said - involuntary laziness.  And I am mortified when someone asks what I did today & "stay alive" is all I can come up  with.  But that is what it comes down to - survival.  Physically & emotionally I am often like a bear hibernating to avoid starvation during harsh winter months when food is scarce.  He could ignore his natural instinct & fight to stay out in the open where he won't live or he can withdraw into his safe place, his heartbeat slowing almost to the stopping point.  He is not lazy.  He is a survivor.  And, right this very minute at least, so am I.

dj

beautiful boy

One of the best parts of my life is my son.  It was just the two of us when he was growing up & we were very close.  We have the same sense of humor.  We share a great love of a variety of music. We both analyze movies & tv shows (Why was Carl casually leaning with his back against the doors to the café full of walkers trying to get out on "The Walking Dead"?!?).  And Stephen King is a frequent read.  He's actually my favorite author - for the characters & flow of words, not the horror - & though my son is into classics, he does read King's works too & we discuss them.

Saturday night we were discussing a movie & I asked if he had recognized the guy shown only briefly & in a photograph at that.  He said, "Yep.  Casey Jones" & we both said "Ninja Turtles!"  Honestly, I was surprised he had recognized him.  It feels good to know that he has memories of things we shared such a long time ago.

One day he said something else that made me smile.  He had called to check in, which also made me smile as our communications usually consist of occasional short texts.  Don't get me wrong.  I love texting.  I am not a phone chatter.  Texting lets me reach out without intruding.  I can ask a question or just share a quick memory when I hear a special song or a familiar line from a movie.  But sometimes when he is driving back from a jobsite, he checks in.  On this particular call, we were talking about some good shows & movies we had watched on Netflix recently.  I will admit that tv is my friend.  I know that isn't the popular, healthy lifestyle thing to say but it is true.  I yell at the screen, cry on cue &, more often than not, figure out the plot twist at the end before it happens.  See?  I do use my brain while being a couch potato.

But I digress.  My son was telling me about a show that I should watch.  He said he knew I would like it because "you like smart guys".  That was it.  Four simple words.  Those words told me that, even though he has his own wonderful family now & I have been moved from the main cast to having an occasional guest-starring role just as it should be (note the tv analogy), he still remembers
who I really am.  Yes, I do like smart guys.  Now that's not to say that I look down on average-
thinking guy & makes-me-laugh guy is definitely right up there at the top.  I am just fascinated by & quite drawn to guys who can tell your mother's maiden name by the way you tied your shoes that morning.  Yes, those men are fictional, at least in my life (think "The Mentalist" & Robert Goren on "Law & Order: Criminal Intent"), but they draw me in just the same.  And my son knows that.  He knows me.  And that makes me one very happy guest star.

dj 

maybe i'm amazed

For those of you who don't know, Patty Duke is a wonderful actress who often talks about her bipolar disorder.  She has written two books about her life, "Call Me Anna" & "A Brilliant Madness" & starred in a movie about herself & she is very open about things her illness has caused her to do.  Several years ago I saw an extended interview or documentary of sorts online with this amazing woman & I was hooked.  I had never seen anyone talk so casually about their mental illness & she started doing that a long time before it was considered mentionable.  I immediately bought "A Brilliant Madness" &, even though my illness is bipolar II & I don't have the extreme manic episodes she did, I devoured the book, looking for those parts that made me feel less alone.  I cried for her & her family & I wondered how a woman whose career was so public could let us all in on such personal, difficult things.  I couldn't imagine she had left anything out.  Fortunately, I got to ask her. 

First I emailed her.  Yes, she actually has a public email address.  I had to tell her how much I appreciated & admired her honesty, how finding pieces of myself in her book was therapeutic in a way & how my heart broke for her & especially for her boys. (Anyone remember Sam in the "Lord of the Rings" movies?  That's Sean & Mackenzie shows up on every show I watch)  Anyway, she answered me!  One of the things she said is that we are sisters in this fight.  Sisters.  So that was it.  That was why she had decided to be so open about her struggles & the pain she had caused others.  So that I could know someone understood.  So that we all could.

Several months after that, I got to see her speak at a college about her life experiences.  I had tears pouring down my face the whole time, especially when she talked about asking her boys for forgiveness.  I looked around the auditorium at many who probably came to hear her because she is a much-loved actress & wondered how many were there for the same reason I was - because they felt that bond with someone who understands.  As I sat there crying (& laughing as she is as funny as she is tiny), I felt such love & gratefulness toward her.  After her talk, she came down on the floor & was talking with everyone as they surrounded her.  I wanted my say & to get her to sign my copy of "A Brilliant Madness".  I needed her to understand what it meant because it felt like it was written only for me.  I kept missing my turn to talk to her but, as she gabbed like we were all girlfriends, she kept her hand on my shoulder.  Then somebody yelled that they needed her back on the stage for pictures & she moved away.  I decided that was okay.  I didn't need a signature & I had already spoken to her by email but I sat on the front row to watch her onstage as the crowd headed to the back of the auditorium to leave.  Then a man started talking to me.  Her husband Mike.  I had not recognized him from the online piece about her & we talked for maybe thirty minutes.  I could tell he loves her deeply & is the kind of man who wants to take care of the one he loves.  He was a sweetheart.  We talked about medication & struggles & how he can tell when her drugs need adjusting.  He asked about my illness & what I was taking.  He knew what he was talking about.  When she was through with the photographer, he took me by the arm & pulled me up the steps onto the stage & introduced me to his lovely wife.  She was a sweetheart too.  She signed my book while I told her what it meant to me.  I also asked her if she hesitated at all about putting those personal, painful things out there for everyone to see.  She simply shrugged, shook her head & said, "No".  And I know why.  She knows.  She was one of us when no one talked about it & she was suffering alone.  She didn't let that happen to the rest of us.  She is a hero of mine for that very reason.  She took the risk for me & we had never met.  After Mr. Mike took a picture of her & me & I took one of the two of them, I got big hugs from both as well as several reminders to take my meds & I left. 

Now I watch anything she appears in to see my "friend" & I think about how much she has done for all of us who suffer from mental illness.  And her name is really Anna, not Patty, so thank you, Miss Anna!!    

she don't want nobody near

I recently told a friend that I feel my illness has taken away my chance to ever be in a romantic relationship again.  She found that very sad, as do I, and asked why.  Well, for one thing, I have to live alone.  I have to have my Fortress of Solitude to retreat to when I can't face the outside world or when I have ventured into that foreign land but am too depleted to continue.  My home - cat hair, dirt and all - is my sanctuary.  And I have to have one.  The thought of sharing this space every day and night with someone who needs anything from me besides a bowl of cat food, fresh water, a scratch on the head, clean litter and an occasional chase with a laser pointer is unbearable.  Of course, I do miss many things about being in a relationship.  Those that I can remember anyway.  Hey, it's been a while.  I miss having that one person who is the first you call when something happens, whether good or bad.  I do have some girlfriends & even guy friends for that as well as my son & I am so grateful for them but it isn't quite the same.  I also miss eye-gazing.  You know what I mean.  When you feel like you are falling into someone's eyes and the world is disappearing.  I miss talks in the dark before you go to sleep.  And I will do us all a favor & skip talking about the physical stuff. 

Now I know there are many bad things about being in a relationship.  Those I haven't forgotten.  In fact, I think I know more people in unhappy relationships than good ones but I do know some good ones.  Most of them had to go through some very painful things to get to the good but they did.

Besides needing to live alone, I know what my issues do to other people.  I saw a man I truly loved hurt every time I retreated into that bad, dark place.  I was suffering & so was he.  He didn't understand why I pulled away from him in every way possible even though I tried to explain that he had done nothing wrong.  Eventually, he found what he needed from someone else.  I almost didn't survive it.

So, I can't live with someone & I can't be an active participant in a relationship all the time.  Besides that, I just plain don't like anyone seeing me when I am so deeply sad or numb & distant.  It is ugly.  Doesn't really leave a lot to offer someone.  Hey, if I was a young, thin supermodel, they might overlook some of the bad.  Nope.  Disappointing there too.

Now surprisingly, there are a couple of guys in my life who claim they love me.  I am not sure how deep that love goes & I am not dating either one.  I have known them a really long time, since before I was on medication & when I was thin & maybe even a little cute.  I didn't know I was thin but pictures prove it to me now.  One I dated in high school & he tells me we should have gotten married back then because we would still be married.  Ha!  That is my response to him.  Ha!  I worked with the other for many years starting right after my divorce.  His nest is about to be empty so I think he sees me as the answer to his loneliness.  They are both very good men with big hearts.  That doesn't change the fact that I am broken & always will be.  On this earth anyway.  The pressure to make another person happy & not show it when all I want to do is be by myself, to be invisible, is more than I can stand.  My doctors tell me to avoid stress when at all possible.  That would not be a stress-free situation.  Ever.  And as far as dating anybody goes, dating leads to kissing which leads to a more physical relationship.  Although I haven't always lived that way, I don't want a physical relationship outside of marriage and, as I have been telling you, marriage is out for me.  Unless someone wants to marry a broken woman & live next door to her.  Nah.  Still too much pressure.  Guess I will just keep watching Netflix, being careful to avoid shows with romance & love & kissing & all that other unmentionable stuff.  Too bad I don't like sports.

dj

mind games

I looked up the word "disorder" in a thesaurus today.  Synonyms include derangement, irregularity, mess, shambles, disturbance & disease.  I can tell you that even on my worst, darkest days, I am not what I think of when I hear the word "deranged".  "Disturbed" really doesn't work for me either.  The others do often describe me but I am really surprised at the word "disease".  The first thing that word brings to my mind are those illnesses that are often the result of risky behavior & are therefore not usually regarded as worthy of sympathy by those who have never had one or maybe even by those who have.  After that, though, I think of sicknesses that attack the body through germs or cell mutations & that are often treatable but not curable.  A disorder, on the other hand, is often associated with a very ugly term - mental illness.  And if you think that brings up strong feelings of discomfort in those of you who are "normal" (if there is such a thing), try imagining what it is like to be one of us with that diagnosis stamped in giant red letters across our medical file.  Well, I actually haven't seen a stamp like that on my file but surely it ranks right up there with "CONFIDENTIAL!" & "CLASSIFIED!" & "FINAL NOTICE!", important stuff like that.

As I said in my first post, I have been diagnosed with bipolar II disorder.  The "II" means I don't suffer from the mania that can lead to things like spending sprees (I don't even like to shop for shoes), anger issues, & in one case I know of, an impromptu marriage to a stranger.  On my "high" days I just talk more & actually want to venture out into the big bad world, which is anywhere that is not inside my house.  I long to connect with someone, anyone, to be my funny, charming self (certainly that's the real me, at least in my mind) & to share things I am passionate about.  It is just so glorious to feel passionate about ANYTHING!  On my gray days, which is my norm, I am extremely sad & withdrawn & if I happen to go out, I wish the whole time that I was at home.  It is very difficult to "participate" in my life or the lives of others.  Then there are the darkest days.  During those I completely shut down.  Even the brightest of the blessings in my life are too far away for me to see clearly.  I still know that I am blessed, I just can't feel good about it.  I know God still holds me in His hands but I can't hear Him.  I just crawl under my Beatles blanket & wait - either my body will give up & join the dead rest-of-me or eventually my soul will begin to wake up enough to keep me here another day.  And I always doubt my return to the living.

One of the many side effects of this so-called life I lead, and the most heartbreaking, is what it does to my family & friends.  Much of the time, I am just not available to them.  I am not the person they know & love.  The only thing worse than being in a room full of strangers & feeling the pressure to talk & act normal (there's that word again) is when the strangers are those you love most in this world.  A few days ago I was on the phone with a friend & all of a sudden I started crying & saying "I'm not a real person!" over & over.  Yes, he still loves me but I sure do feel bad about doing that to him.  See?  Isolating can be a good thing.

Overall, the ones who know me best understand that this is not my fault, that it is a medical issue, but, unfortunately, I think that most people who have never experienced deep depression think it means we just aren't trying hard enough.  We aren't counting our blessings.  We aren't looking on the bright side.  All we need to do is cheer up, get dressed & get out in the world & we will feel better.  I think they mean well - they don't want to see us suffer.  Plus, being around us can be a big downer.  Hey, I don't want to be around me either!  The "real" me may not be all that great but I sure do miss her.  I haven't given up yet.  Not quite.

I once told another poor friend that I had been researching brain implants.  He thought I said "brain transplants".  We had a good laugh over that but, truthfully, sometimes I think I would be the first to raise my hand & volunteer.  In the meantime, I will take my meds, see my therapist & try to share the truth about depression & mental illness the best I can.

dj

hello it's me

Several years ago, after bouts of deep depression and horrible anxiety, I was diagnosed with bipolar II disorder.  Some days I am not totally convinced that the diagnosis is correct but three psychiatrists and a therapist agree with it so I suppose it could be right.  The diagnosis didn't change my life.  I was already living with the reality of the illness.  It did, however, give me a place to start my journey to better.  Feeling better.  Being better.  And that continues to be an everyday struggle.  This stuff doesn't just go away. 

I started writing here because it has been on my heart to tell as many suffering people as possible a few things.  Mental illness and/or depression is not your fault.  There is no shame in needing help.  You can't just will this stuff away.  Even if you have a strong faith.  Even if you are surrounded by people who love you.
 
I also may talk about other things.  I am pretty much an open book.  There are times when I can talk too much and times when I can't talk at all.  Please bare with me.

Oh, and the title of this blog, "my invisible noise", describes all those thoughts that go on inside my head that others may not think.  Or maybe they do.  I didn't know until recently that there is a band called "Invisible Noise".  So, no, I didn't steal it.  Great minds think alike, huh?

Welcome to my world!
dj