Another Kind of Teaching.

I don't see myself ever teaching the way I used to again. But I can imagine leading a group meeting or teaching a class on mental illness for consumers, families, and friends or the general public.

So many misconceptions exist, and they keep spreading, even for the consumers themselves. I knew so little about my own disease--all I had were stereotypes and some anecdotes. When facing mental illness, people often react with fear (because it's so alien an because TV and movies often depict people with mental illness as

• out-of-control, 
• violent, 
• or soulless

or with anger

• "Grow up." 
• "You're just lazy/moody/deceptive." 
• "Treatment is for people who are really sick." 
• "You're just like a typical teenager.". 

So with any class, I would start with those misconceptions, see where they come from, and see how we can replace them with true statements, which may reveal fear more than anything else

• "I acknowledge that you have a real illness even though it scares me." 
• "I'm afraid because I don't know how to relate to you or take care of you." 
• "There's no way I'll get all my questions answered."

But we can get close! It will just require a lot of forgiveness and a lot of courage all around.

Bipolar Traps: Self-Neglect and Punishment.

Anyone could probably tell that I was depressed as a teenager and even before that. Many would say I was just a sullen, typical teenager. Maybe. I remember hating myself and thinking others hated me too. I was not kind to myself. Thoughts of self-harm seemed to keep me steady in situations that might make me explode.

16 was a pocket of joy: I grabbed a hold of the identities of writer and reader. My writing and reading speed were a bit astonishing, and now, I think I can safely say that I was manic. But this mania had long stretch of beauty before it turned on me.

In my mid-20s, I had a time of confidence, hard work that reminded me I was worth something, and building myself instead of tearing and ripping.

But bipolar disorder is sneaky. I got increasingly sick. I couldn't do my work. I didn't love myself anymore, and I certainly didn't trust myself. I didn't take care of myself. I thought my delusions and hallucinations were ridiculous. I lost almost all faith in my intelligence and capabilities. Though I figured someone could help me, I didn't think anyone would. So I waited. I had my typical expectations of myself, and I shamed my inability to meet them. Some of that self-loathing returned.

Bipolar disorder is a part of me, so it knows just how to hurt me and lie to me. Taking that power away from the disorder is an almost-daily task.

Some of the Most Important Events in My Life.

• Moving to NC from TN had a huge impact on me. I imagine I'm quite a different person because of that move.
• Participating in children's drama during my pre-teen years. It gave my theatre obsession an outlet and helped me be less shy.
• Being close to Nick. When I was a younger teenager, he saved me over and over in different ways. He encouraged me to write all the time. 
• Seeing Phantom for the first time. I was 8, I think, and it changed my world forever. Music became magic.
• Going to ASU because I got a B.A. in English with a wonderful concentration in Creative Writing. And because I met Josh. 
• Teaching. I don't see myself doing it again, but 5 years taught me a lot about being an adult, interacting with people, and using my creativity.
• Going to a psychiatrist at my mom's insistence and getting two diagnoses.
• Taking meds. They have made life seem possible again.
• Being consistent, or trying to be so, with my meds, and being very patient with side effects, even when that meant throwing up almost every night.
• Waiting tables. I mostly hated it, but it taught me a lot about interacting with others and making sure never to treat servers the way some customers treated me.
• My parents' divorce has impacted me in ways I can't describe, but James and I did get two kind, brave stepparents. Thank God.
• Marrying Josh. I still think we are right for reach other. He's kind, generous, and loving during all my personal and familial trials.
• Oliver's birth. Mostly, this is important because it changed our lives and pried open our hearts. But it also made me believe that I could endure unrelenting pain and follow shocking instructions ("Don't push,") to save my child. It was also just a personal arena once Oliver had gone to the NICU. He was out and safe as I could have made him, but the battle wasn't over for me. I never could have imagined all that happened. But now, I"m pretty sure I'm courageous.

Good Habits to Form.

• Mentally link something to my morning dose of meds. Maybe I can tie the thought to the first time I pick up a pen each day.
• Do one load of laundry and put away one load a day as needed.
• Put away clothes right when I take them off.
• Do more art time with Oliver.
• Read aloud to Oliver, including long books.
• Learn something new about my disorder and Oliver's.
• Try the Daily Bible.
• Read enough often enough to keep reading easy and thrilling for me.
• Clean my face every night.
• Touch Josh when I pass him.
• Light candles more often.
• Know when a book should stay or go to 2nd and Charles. Keep a box for this.
• Keep exercise sessions a week. 
• Find other mood-stabilizing exercise.
• Try for regular naps, so perhaps I won't be so tired all day.
• Tell other people when I have nice thoughts about them.  

Choices I've Made to Take Care of Myself.

The first choice I remember making to take care of myself was not to drink alcohol. I'd seen people change. Over the years I became more an more aware about how badly alcohol, drugs, smoking, etc. would affect me and that my obsessive nature would kick in if I weren't careful. This seems to offend some people, but the judgment is on me: I know I can't handle it. I was blessed to find one of the few men in existence who not only had never tried anything but also agreed to join me. This was to make me feel safe and to avoid encouraging a breach. If alcohol were in my fridge, I'd probably reach for it eventually. Now, I know that drugs and drinking are especially dangerous for people who have mental illness, and I feel good about the choices I've made.

I've also chosen to remain compliant with my meds. Unfortunately, I forget a dose fairly often, My friend texts me a reminder every night, and I still miss it sometimes! But I have every intention to take my meds and let them help me. If I feel well, a lot of it is probably thanks to meds.

I've decided not to let books and writing slip away from me. They define me more than any disease can.

Frightening Questions.

• Am I mourning my intelligence, or am I mourning mania?
• Has my "real" self always been kind of lukewarm?
• How much has mania influenced or controlled my work as a teacher?
• Is mania what people actually liked about me?
• Has my Myers-Briggs personality type changed?
• Will I ever lose this weight?
• How much has bipolar disorder shaped my personality?
• What might I have done or tried so far if I didn't have panic disorder?
• How many of my decisions have come out of fear?
• What does my therapist think of me?
• Am I, fully revealed, lovable?
• Without mania, would I have made so many mistakes?
• How much do I want to keep of my manic self?
• Was "going public" the right choice?
• Why do I have such trouble reading?
• Can I be healthy and keep the interest of my favorite people?

Two Major Issues: Accept or Fight?

Since before I had my diagnoses, I have felt intelligence dripping out of me. I'm simply not as smart or capable as I used to be. I'm blessed to have kept up with paperwork and appointments for Oliver. I can hardly handle anything else.

I've been taking lithium for over two years and Abilify almost as long. I have gained an astonishing amount of weight in that time. I've had to buy several articles of clothing to supplement what still fits.

I can either fight or accept these problems. I can read widely even when it's difficult. I can ask Josh to explain what's going on in the world. I can do crossword puzzles! I'm on the treadmill twice a week, and I've cut back on soda, but I can do more.

Maybe I need to have a temporary acceptance as long as I keep trying to fight. People I love still say I'm smart and beautiful, so I also just need to believe them.