Craving Consistency.

This is probably important for most people with mental illnesses. I didn't realize how much I needed to know exactly what to expect even though I know details or the whole situation may change.

I sometimes want to be outwardly spontaneous and adventurous, and I may want to attract those kinds of people. But in reality, I often want to be left alone for hours with my solitary activities like reading scribbling, and various forms of scrapbooking. I like to know when I will have this alone time.

I'm similar with relationships. Spontaneity can be great as long as it is in addition to regularly scheduled quality time. On a bad day, anticipating a walk with my friend the next evening can be a great help. I need to be able to count on certain people, places, and activities. They help me gear up for the inevitable shocks and disappointments that will come.

To create consistency, Josh has made family schedules that account for each hour. Bruce and I walk on Thursday and Friday, watch a movie on Sunday, and sometimes see a show on Saturday. I think it's made our friendship stronger. It has certainly made me stronger and, I think, more reasonable and calm.

I'm thinking about other ways I can create reliable structure now that I know how important it is.

Joys that Are (Mostly) Free.

When the illness is like a snake crushing my throat, I can remember some of these.

• Books that have been hidden on a double-stacked shelf. They're like new!
• Hunt for wild violets in the spring. They don't last long!
• Send a letter to someone you know will write back. This sets up some future happiness.
• Use one simple ballpoint pen for all scribbling. See how long it takes to drain the pen. 
• Put walnuts in your oatmeal.
• Take a nap somewhere other than the bed.
• Create rituals: prepare for a bath the same way and with the same products every week (or day!).
• Clean out an old purse or bag and see what you find there.
• Put lip balm by the door. You'll always thank your past self when you are going out with chapped lips. 
• Take the 5 Love Languages quiz and see which language is yours. Try to guess the languages of those closest to you. Use that language.

Thinking Kindly of Myself.

Mama tells me to give myself some grace. Bruce tells me to be kind to myself. My meds surely affect how I think of myself both directly and indirectly through side effects. And of course, my disease tells me lies. I want to address and reframe a few of those thoughts.

I've never been as smart as I thought I was.
I have a master's degree, and my grades were no accident. I should worry less about how smart I am and work on ways to strengthen and expand my mind.

I'm not smart anymore. The disease the meds have left me mentally weak.
Some of this will pass. I still have an impressive memory, even though I've lost some of it. I've held onto so much despite the struggle. I should love my mind for that.

I'm not pretty because of my weight gain.
Josh and Bruce still say I'm pretty. Lithium can make losing weight difficult, but I can still get strong and fit and learn to love my new body. I need to focus on what I like about myself.

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Resistance.

I'm sure I am resisting so many ways my life could be happier and more functional. But I'm also resisting constricting expectations.

I resist the typical stay-at-home mom role. My child and I both have challenges that may require a radical approach.

I resist the common expectation that couples don't like each other much. Josh and I have gotten comments like "You must be newlyweds" and "Just wait. That won't last." Some people don't seem able to bear our mild show of affection, and it's not even a PDA complaint.

I've resisted going out with Josh when we have a grandmother to care for Oliver. It's unnatural to us now, but we'll get better, and Oliver doesn't seem to mind at all.

I'm resisting buying new clothes after my medication-fueled weight gain. But I want to be comfortable and appropriate when I meet with the people who are helping Oliver. Today, I'm going to look for dress pants at Loft.

I have resisted friendships most because I doubt my ability to keep up. But I need all the support I can find.

How to Feel Less Lonely.

A disability can feel incredibly isolating. A room full of people may be wildly overwhelming and still not meet the need for conversation (especially about the illness), connection, affection, or intimacy. Here are some ideas for pushing through the loneliness.

• Connect more deeply with characters in a book. Always be reading something with characters you can bond with, even if you're also reading other books or magazines that have no such thing.
• Casually visit your bookselves. Remember the experience of reading a particular book. Remember that book for which your imagining was so expansive that you can revisit that setting in your mind. 
• Happen upon an exciting book you've been saving for no good reason. Begin. 
• Write letters. If letters are too ambitious, find some lovely postcards (a museum gift shop?) to send. This may rekindle a relationship or at least bring you a response.
• If you're not actually alone and if it's appropriate, ask for hugs. Josh and I realized we were barely touching during the day. Now, I just walk into him for hugs. 
• Communicate (letter, call, visit, chat, E-mail) with someone you have neglected, such as an old friend or an inquisitve relative.

Reminders.

Inside the cover of my journal, I write down little reminders to help me stay calm, brave, and healthy.

• Reduce chaos. Create beauty.
  I've read that reducing chaos (clutter, lack of structure, schedule changes) is so vital for people with bipolar disorder. But when I get rid of something, something else always tries to rush into that space. So I'll fill it with creativity and loveliness.
• Write through it.
  I did this one day at work when I was breaking down. Setting words down in a little notebook helped me hold my brain together.
• Introduce others to beauty.
  I love introducing Oliver to showtunes and taking Bruce to shows. I recommend books like The Five Love Languages. I'll keep finding more ways to do this.
• Don't let fear win!
  This is a big one. It's not about not being afraid. But I can beat fear and still do and be as I wish. I may not always win, but I can win enough.
• "All is calm; all is bright."
  These words are so reassuring. I want them on pillows and T-shirts.
• "Read books and don't despair" --Mom.
  Mom is great at making me feel like everything will end up okay. And she reminds me that reading is a great coping strategy.
• "Minute by minute, that's how you win it." --Newsies.I love how this is a pin-prick focus. Every choice in every moment influences my health and relationships. Even a tiny bit of courage can carry me forward.

Stability and Richness

For me, stability seems to requires

• structure
• little to no work 
• limited stress (difficult because I can get stressed about almost anything)
• limited clutter (difficult because I'm messy)
• reliable relationships.

Of course, none of these are easy to get or maintain. Josh's work schedule gives me some structure. During breaks, Josh makes a daily schedule so that I know exactly when I'll have alone time and when he will be away from home. I also have consistent activities with Bruce. Anything spontaneous is extra.

Stability and the elimination of chaos should create room for richness.

• Deep reading and scribbling during scheduled alone time
• True engagement with the people I love
• Deep and funny conversations
• The rediscovery of forgotten books, movies, plays
• Room for new blessings to rush in.

Cleanse - Recover - Develop (Stephen Overman)

Somewhere, this caught my attention. I want to try applying it to my experience.

Cleanse

• Purge anger and trauma through therapy.
• Identify sources of fear--why am I afraid? Discuss in therapy.
• Purge lingering unsafe thoughts.
• Clean up self-perception around diagnoses.

Recover

• Stay in touch with self. 
• Don't let fear grow wild. 
• Learn to identify and communicate moods and problems.
• Use workbook and book exercises.

Develop

• Read everything.
• Expand blogs and connect with others.
• Explore what can make relationships more satisfying.
• Choose three goals for therapy. 

What could those three goals be? 

What I Can/Can't Handle.

Awareness of my condition in the moment seems to be so important to day-to-day survival. Something that drifts over me one day could drown me the next. I have people who love and protect me, but I still need to get in tune with my capabilities and how they shift.

I Can't Handle

• Criticism when I'm especially ill
• Angry E-mails
• Lack of alone time to recuperate
• Uncertainty of a close friend's or relative's attitude or mood toward me
• Vacuuming (even though I did it every day when Josh was in the Army)
• Going without Dr. Pepper.
• Scheduling appointments and such--too complex and confusing
• The time-out gate. It tries to make me look like an idiot
• Apocalyptic movies
• My mom's being mad at or disappointed in me
• Too much remembering
• Actually asking for financial help
• Long, intimidating books
• My loneliness
• All these children crying in the halls
• Oliver's trying to play with the water heater
• Oliver's standing on (or jumping off) dangerously high furniture
• Seeing a lot of my own blood
• Being stuck somewhere without enough water for my extreme dry mouth.

I also want to celebrate what I can handle. Some of it is surprising.

I Can Handle

• Oliver, for the most part! We generally have peaceful times together. He's usually not very high-strung around me. We'll see if that lasts.
• A friendship crisis. I've gotten pretty good at helping my friend feel better or at least feel that we are in it together.
• Being a friend, with certain accommodations
• Therapy. I thought it would be a sobbing confessional, but it's not. I usually leave in a better mood. 
• Not spending money--that's new. Nothing seems utterly necessary. 
• Writing with a Le Pen without pushing too hard (a challenge).
• An incredibly difficult birth. But not again...I need to remember how strong I was. The strength must still be in me somewhere. I wonder if a manic birth is different. 
• Tough books when I want to try, when I'm determined.
• Seeking affection (more than in the past).

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Alternatives to Self-Harm.

Few of these ideas are the pleasant, comforting sort. When I'm ill enough, when I reach the frustration and despair point at which hurting myself seems like a possibility, I've got to push hard through that burn I feel physically as well as mentally.

These ideas can help you Decrease and Demonstrate Your Pain in Safe Ways. You deserve relief and expression.

• Tell someone. This one is vital. Clarify if self-harm only a thought or if you are actually unsafe. 
• Then, arm wrestle with him or her. Or ask for a back-popping bear hug. You'll be safer, and you'll use up some of avalanche of terrible feelings. 
• Chop off your hair, shave your head, or dye your hair a dramatic or unnatural color. I cut and dyed my hair when something terrible happened, and I knew I'd never be the same person. It was outlandish and kind of brutal, but it calmed my impulses and expressed the changes in me.
• Paint nails a harsh color. Try black with red glitter.
• Get an extra piercing. Maybe staying with the ears is best. A momentary pain may jolt you into remembering that pain is not going to help.
• Go to the dentist. Ouch. 
• Wear too much eyeliner. Black. You'll feel strange and mysterious.
• Run. Especially if you don't run. The lung and muscle burn may, in just a sprint, clear your mind.
• Write an well-deserved angry letter. Don't send it.
• Watch a scary movie. It's likely to distract you until the worst calms down.
• Do abs exercises until you're almost ready to throw up. 
• Take a very hot but not too hot bath.
• Write, pushing hard with the pen or pencil. Almost rip the page.
• Tell someone else. The people near you need to know. They need to be ready.

How to Fight the Disease.

Right now, I feel it coursing through me, making my head ache, my shoulders clench, my mind lose its ability to sort and analyze. So I don't know how to fight it. I told Josh, told Bruce. I always try to tell. Sometimes, that's all the fight I have in me.

I'm paying attention to color. I put Oliver in the bath. I took half a Xanax. I ate a meal. I'm writing. I guess I am doing small things to fight the disease.

Maybe I'll take Tylenol, see if that will help with my head and muscles. Call Mom--talk about what's making me anxious. We didn't talk yesterday. I can read. I see more light outside though it's white rather than yellow. I need to see my friend--talk, laugh. That almost always helps.

I haven't outlined a battle plan here, but I've gathered some ideas. That may be all I ever have.

My Professional Identity.

Why should I write about this? That persona is gone, or it will be. I guess I may use it a little in some situations. I may miss it a little. In some ways, that was my major identity. Bruce saw the real girl. My boss suspected.

My work identity...she dressed well and with personality. She showed off my favorite colors. She ended up having a cute, fairly personal office after a couple of years. She expected to stay long-term. She in't accept excuses or criticism she disagreed with (these crumbled toward the end). She wanted to be left alone with a pile of work. She emphasized and demonstrated free writing. She walked with long strides. She didn't her age matter. She believed in her talent and in her practice. She wanted new experiences, new classes to keep her awake and alert. She hid her sickness and her darkness well. She came back too soon and stay too long. She rode highs productively. She hardly exists anymore.

Okay, I think I can recycle a good bit of this...be bold, creative, dedicated.

Maybe I still have more than I think.

The Soul as Water.

I read this somewhere, and it made me curious. What is water, and how is it like a soul? First, I have trouble differeniating among mind, heart, and soul, so perhaps any of these terms would fit. Don't expect this to be a perfect metaphor.

• Water moves to freer spaces. The soul shuns confinement an can rush to the wild--for good or ill.
• Water is essential to life. We need our souls also. They make up the majority of what we really are, even deeper than what we may think or feel. And we need soul from others--most often in some form of art (music, literature, theatre, and such) and some extraordinary relationships. We need to share ourselves that way too. Expression. 
• Water makes an impression on land, rocks, glass--but over time. We need persistence and patience. The soul is powerful but can be destructive if we expect it to act too quickly. Some pieces of glass in my life are still sharp-edged. Others are cloudy and soft, ready to go in a jar or a painted dish.

That's my attempt. Can you think of more ways a soul is like water?