Wishes I've Not Made Yet.

It's okay to wish, to wish something will come and to wish something away. Wishes can be huge or can seem insignificant. So I'm wondering what wishes I've hesitated to make, maybe because I'm ashamed or scared or because they seem to selfish. Here are some that crept out of the dark when I let them.

• I wish to feel always useful or worthwhile, even if I end up being disabled.
• I wish to have pretty handwriting more easily. It's gotten difficult, and I sometimes don't recognize my own words. This may relate to medication or a particular mood cycle; I'll try to track it.
• I wish for survival this summer.
• I wish for pages that can handle markers and fountain pens. 
• I kind of wish I knew if I will end up in a hospital.
• I kind of wish we'd known all this earlier.
• I wish I could go swim in a deep lake.
• I wish I were a stronger reader.
• I wish I were better at tracking moods. 
• I wish my doctor were more available.
• I wish I could spend time with an expert on bipolar disorder.
• I wish I took learning about the disorder more seriously at least some of the time.

What wishes are waiting? Are they really so terrible or silly?

Reduce Chaos: Organization Questions

I've heard and read that reducing chaos is essential to stability for people with bipolar. As a fairly messy person with a deep connection to objects, I really have to think about this in terms of my space. One of my mantras is Reduce chaos; create beauty. Here are some questions I try to ask myself when I try to reduce chaos in my physical space:

• What is this? It seems simple, but sometimes, I haven't been paying enough attention to see what has crept into my space and taken up permanent residence without my really knowing it.
• Do I need it? Why? When?
• Do I want this?
• Is it useful and beautiful (from William Morris)?
• Is it at least useful or beautiful?
• Could I sell this?
• Could I give it away?
• Would soeone else use this more?
• Would someone else enjoy this more?
• Was this a gift?
• Am I keeping it out of guilt?
• Am I keeping it out of laziness?
• Should I throw this away?
• What would Mom say about it?
• Where can this belong?
• Is this space accessible?
• Is this space in the way?
• Will I remember where I put this?
• Do I have to buy or find other parts to use this?
• If I moved, would I bring this?
• How does this reflect my dreams or my daily life?

I imagine I could use these questions metaphorically too and try to clean up my psychic or mental space.

Affirmations for Stability.

Brief insights and images can be powerful for me. I include a few inside the cover of my journal, where I'm likely to see them every day. But I also decided to make a list of such affirmations, sentences that encompass what I need to believe and remember in order to remain stable. Even if I don't believe them now or every day, pondering them can help to reset my mind. Here are some of these affirmations:

• I am safe.
• I have joys to look forward to.
• I am deeply and wildly loved.
• I have earned self-confidence.
• It's okay for me to love myself.
• Indulgences are important.
• I embrace joy rather than guilt.
• Shame has no hold on me.
• A little bit of anything good adds up.
• Reading calms and fulfills me.
• I am a talented and capable writer.
• My writing matters to other people.
• I am capable of bringing others joy.
• Someone needs what I write.
• My beauty is not dependent on my weight.
• Feeling beautiful is okay.
• My intelligence and talent are not delusions or illusions.
• I distribute my limited energies well.
• Forgiveness surrounds me.
• I love my life.

I wonder what your most important affirmations are.

Love Who You Are.

I adore Papaya! Art, especially the spiral notebooks with their gorgeous printed pages. I've been writing in a rosy Papaya! journal/notebook that my mom gave me for Christmas. Some of the pages have banners that say, "Love Who You Are." This is how I reacted.

Do I love who I am? I could probably do a prompt on this, but it's also something I can continually revisit. For some reason, when I first discovered Papaya!, that line, Love who you are,  had such an impact on me. With everything I've read, experienced, and believed, this still seemed revolutionary. What does it mean? What could it mean?

• Like yourself, myself, and admire myself in specific ways.
• Nurture beginnings. Be my own mentor. 
• Be gentle with myself. Allow mistakes.
• Be careful with myself--allow for rest and recovery for illness, costly bravery, difficult decisions, and social overload.
• Cherish strange and excessive tastes as long as they are healthy.
• Move freely and fully in my body. Get strong. Get fit. Believe my body to be capable if not beautiful.
• Let others help me or take care of me. Ask.
• Next time, go ahead and buy the flowers.
• Take pride in my space. Work toward clarity. Make the space recognizable as mine. 
• Collect kisses.
• Dissect shame. Learn from it. Discard it.
• Celebrate even small accomplishments--finishing a book, not missing med doses, encouraging someone. 

What Helps Me.

I'm thinking about triggers. At work last semester, a speaker came and began his talk with trigger warnings, letting us all know that he'd be addressing difficult topics that might be too painful. I'd like to see those on books and movies.

Triggers don't always make sense, they give the illness power. I don't think the brume ever goes away, but a trigger can leave the door wide open. I've written about triggers before, so I'm going to try to continue thinking about what helps. May symptoms can build on themselves and push me beyond self-awareness. This is about what helps, what makes some differences and at least stops the towers and walls that bipolar disorder is building.

What Helps

Lying in a dark room alone
Swimming (less so now than in the summer and fall)
Warm bath with cold water
Cool water on my face, arms, back
Shock of ice on the back of my neck or my face
Meaningful exchanges with students
Some kind of writing
Someone's holding the back of my head
Glitter
Water-related photos (as Pinterest can confirm)
Recognition and reinforcement of personal traits I like (BSD strips identity. Other people may not see the change, but the feeling remains).
E-mails from someone I know!
Firm hugs or gathering up
Napping
Therapy appointments
Mermaids!
Xanax (I don't want to have to take it, but it does work rapidly when I need it)
Water play with Oliver
Driving alone and dreaming through the music. I've also done this by pacing incessantly.
Sunlight
Sitting on the balcony
Sonic cherry Sprite and ice water
Shirley Temples
Musicals!
Course planning
Blogging
Aquariums
Book discussions
Consistency
Reading poetry aloud to myself
Smelling cinnamon
Whatever comfort food I'm paying attention to at the time
Drinking water
Dr. Pepper (It's nothing my body needs, but my brain is so focused on the flavor that I often calm down for a while)


More happens, and more will surface. I hope I will think to consult this list next time I feel something coming on. 

10 and 5.

A few months ago, basic tasks and chores took me so much longer than usual. I couldn't decipher the manufacturer's expectation and that some where on the end of this path lay money. I was embarrassed; what was wrong with me?

As this continued, I started thinking about my family's mental health. It's not so good. A dozen or more relatives on either side had bipolar disorder. They were exciting, intelligent people. I realized that I'd had a stereotypical view of was BSD really meant. But the more I read symptoms, the more I began to recognize myself now, in college, in high school, and back even further to preschool. I was starting to see myself in the way qualified authors and others describe actual experiences. I thought, "Oh. Is that racing thoughts?" and "Is that pressured speech?"

So as is common, I found out what was different about me at 28, which meant I was without treatment or with the wrong kind. But I had waited ten years for the validation, the tiny explanation that was the tiny key to everything of me and in me.

But it didn't make me better. Tasks still seemed insurmountable. What if someone interrupted me to chit chat? What if a student needs something right that second? I didn't want to risk letting the students see what was happening.

Because everything was so difficult and because I wanted to get away, I started playing 10 Things (which ought to be objects or tasks but alas, it's Things). I tell myself, okay, I'm going to start on this and do at least ten things. Sometimes these are big if I'm stronger, Today, I counted every room from which I took the trash and then every room for which I put in a new grocery store bag. This felt like a big accomplishment, and I'm so glad about that because I couldn't have done more then.

So an explosion of a room can turn into 10 things. And if I can't do that much, I ask for help, and I write down what I've done--it's like a reverse to-do list, and it's much more encouraging. Then, I can leave the task for a while or go back to work on my second set of 10 things. That limit really seems to help with my anxiety. And I end up being more productive!

Five Goals is something I started during once I came out of a trance and realized I was in a hospital ward. Each day, I would write 5 goals in my journal. I could write around them as long as I was trying. The goals can be large or small, like setting the table without command, take a walk in the sun, get an A on that test.... This way of thinking works for me. It makes me productive as I often am when manic. But even if I can't handle this situation, I can go to my car, find and remove 10 things, and put them away.

It seems to fall under the semester-long goals to reduce chaos and create beauty.

A Leap.

About three weeks ago, I decided to take a major risk. As my mom said, it isn't practically right, it isn't financially right, it isn't career right. But it's still right. Mom said we hadn't been doing a good enough job of treating a mental illness as we would any other disease. I wonder if other consumers (apparently, this is the selected term for people who have mental health issues) struggle with that--treating themselves as they want others to treat them.

I took a semester off of work. The structure of a semester doesn't really allow the faculty to have extended leave (such as the twelve weeks for FMLA or the six weeks for a birth), so I didn't know what to do. I spoke to my HR director in general terms, and she seemed uneasy about it, which didn't surprise me, especially since I wasn't telling anyone.

But a series of minor and major screw ups at work (problems that would have been shocking even a year ago) and my new experience with sleep writing (ridiculous words and sentences that made no sense at all or made no sense in context) and sleep walking and talking, all while appearing awake. It seems more like some kind of trance than sleep. I've grown accustom to Josh's nervous-kindness face as he tries to figure out to whom he is talking. I've been mean a couple of times, but Josh said he could tell it wasn't me, and he remembered one of the books we'd read advising people to avoid talking to the disorder. This makes me think about...Dax? on Deep Space 9.

Anyway, I knew I could not go on when I spoke to three people in my office and then realized none of them were actually there. My boss always says I'm always trying to prove, to myself and everyone else that I can do everything even if it kills me. So at the end of winter break, we spoke on the phone. I told her what had been happening. I told her my ideas for solutions. She said, "Do what is best for you. If you need to take a semester off, do it." Whoa.

So I wrote a letter requesting that leave of absence. The president of the college sent me a kind and concerned approval letter. I only have about three weeks of sick leave, and that's probably gone now. I've requested voluntary shared leave, but only staff can do it, and they spend as much time around me as the faculty do. Dr. N filled out the paperwork for FMLA quickly, and he checked that the absence was medically necessary. I wondered why he did that so readily. But later, I saw the diagnostic code on the lab slip, and I saw a different number, which indicated that my recent episode was severe mania with psychotic behavior. My interacting with the hallucinations or delusions must be the behavior part.

I haven't heard anything from HR, so I don't know what happens next. But I've been spending more time with Oliver and even having conversations or cuddling with Josh. I have books on deck to teach me more about the condition. I'm scribbling again. I'm doing well establishing a sleep schedule. My vision is still so blurry that anything is a struggle. My purple reading glasses are dorkycute though.

So the greatest fear, obviously, is money or insurance. We just barely scrape by most months anyway. Josh has applied for a few full-time positions at community colleges. I can't even fathom how to make this work. Tax season is here, so maybe we'll get a refund. But basically, I try to call on faith and let it open into hope. I've had so little hope these months. Mom says that if you do the best you can, God stands in the gap. So I'm just waiting to see what he'll do, both for our practical survival and for my torn up mind and spirit.

Right now, it's just nice to experience days that are not brimming with dread or hopelessness. It's still there, but I think my mind really wants to be well. I see my brain as the cruel one and the one that responds to medication. Mind is my awareness, emotions, all that. Medication is working hard on my brain, but I think healing the mind is something I'll have to do myself, with help from the council. Maybe that's what these few months will be: time to take better care of myself. And many aspects of BSD are so discouraging that I think I'll still in denial to some extent.

So pray, burn incense, go for a midnight drive, or whatever feels like compassion and hope to you. Contribute to hope that we will have what we need and that we'll be better, whatever that ends up meaning.