Traveling with Bipolar Disorder.

I travelled a great deal as a child. Planes didn't bother me. Airports were fine. Hotels were no big deal. But as I've gotten older, travel has become more difficult. I don't know what's common to people with BSD or panic disorder, but I'm going to share a couple of ideas.

• Visualization. I don't mean imagining I'm on a beach. I mean visualizing my travels. If any of the places or experiences are already familiar, this will be easier. I focus on the baggage, the security checks, the sounds of the airplane. I think about the people I will see and the bed I'll sleep in. Even if it's not all accurate, it helps
• Packing list. I recently got ready for a trip and felt overwhelmed--did I have the right kinds of clothes, enough clothes, clothes that make me feel good about myself? I made a plan, writing down what I'd wear each day all the way to shoes, jewelry, and makeup. I also listed items I might forget to pack like pens, a robe, and a swimsuit just in case. But how would I keep my suitcase organized?
• Outfit pods. I rolled up each outfit and put it in a grocery bag along with jewelry in a Ziplock. No stress about clothes.

Do you have any tips?

Taking Suicide off the Table.

Suicide is like an airborne poison. The mere mention of it, the references in film and TV, often spread the illness, even if it lies dormant. Worse is when someone close to you, a friend or family member or even a coworker or neighbor attempts suicide. Something terrible and terrifying can happen: suicide can become a possibility, even an option.

So when loneliness strips you bare, anxiety electrocutes you, and guilt breaks you bone by bone, one comfort remains: you have the ability to make it all stop.

For many people, suicide is a distant topic, a taboo, something shudder-worthy, an unpardonable sin. But once it enters your once-safe circle, suicide becomes a day and night nightmare. Every pill bottle, tree branch, exhaust pipe, and belt can seem like a weapon for the ultimate self-destruction. And you try to shut it all out when everything is screaming...or simply waiting patiently for you to give up entirely. If they gave up, so can you.

So how do we take suicide off the table? I wish I knew. I think it needs to start with family and friends healing those close circles. A few people need to know your weakness, and you need to make use of each other's strengths. Plans, both for chronic illness and crises, need to be in place. We need options. We need to commit to refusing suicide as a solution.

I will not commit suicide.
I will not self-mutilate.
I will not self-medicate with drugs or alcohol.

But here is what I can do:

• Call_____ and express my emotions.
• Call a suicide hotline.
• Take a dose of prescribed anxiety medication.
• Go for a slow walk.
• Take a nap.
• Eat a favorite food.
• Ask for help: I don't have to know what I need exactly.
• Slowly read a poem.
• Read inspirational quotations I've written down in the past.
• Watch a favorite movie.
• Ask for a serious hug.
• Make a list of what makes me special or unique.
• Doodle, draw, or color in a coloring book.
• Set up a council of about three people I trust (mine is Josh, Mom, and Bruce). Ask for their help when I need to make a decision, or when I'm feeling sick or self-destructive.
• Tell a doctor or therapist everything.
• Call 911. When the sickness is burning me and taking everything away from me, I must scream for help somehow. I don't have to know what should happen next; I just have to ask for help.

What do you do to keep suicide off the table?

Changeling.

I'll try to appreciate my life until it's no longer my life.

I feel like a changeling, like someone made a terrible exchange. And eventually, I'll shed this life, this body, and rise as one bright white as light. I'll travel as the otherworld, and my other can return to pick up her, our, life again. She may be a better mother, wife, daughter and sister than I. She will belong, perhaps, in ways I never have.