Just checking in...

I don't want to jinx things, and I'm not sure if I'm imagining things... but I think I'm starting to feel a little better. Yesterday I actually - gasp - skipped my afternoon nap and organized the bathroom closet and shampooed the rug in the family room. I think my son was wondering what was wrong with me.  Oh, I also cooked supper and swept and mopped the kitchen floor.  Now, before you go wondering if I'm a slob, my house is usually (reasonably) clean (meaning at first glance you'd think it's pretty clean), I just have had trouble keeping up with all the deep cleaning that a house with two young kids, a dog and a cat can create.
Anyway, that's the first sign that I'm starting to feel better - I look around and see the little cobwebs in the corners and the sticky fingerprints on the walls and I actually want to do something about them, instead of having to force myself to get up and do it, if you know what I mean.

Needless to say, I'm very wary of this new-found energy. I'll see if it lasts this time.

Less Than Crazy - Living Fully with Bipolar II

Less than Crazy: Living Fully with Bipolar II by Karla Dougherty



My rating: 3 of 5 stars

It was a little overly-simplistic for my taste. "Just call in sick" is not really my idea of coping with the anxiety and depression that is caused by bipolar II. However, I gave it a three-star rating because it was probably a good introductory book into the disease.
View all my reviews >>

Thoughtful Thursday

Let's see... we talked a lot about my recent diagnosis and how I'm having trouble wrapping my brain around it because that means that I have something psychologically in common with my mother and that, as I'm sure you've guessed, scares me.  So my therapist helped me to realize that yes, we have something biochemically in common,  but that there is also a big difference between my diagnosis and her (theoretical) one.  Where she has manic tendencies, I have hypomanic ones, and there's a huge difference there. We discussed some of my symptoms (irritability, never having a "stable" mood, always feeling one extreme or the other, my dependence on caffeine, the way I feel when I drink alcohol... all of these things point to the bipolar II diagnosis.  We discussed that the diagnosis (if indeed I've finally reached an accurate one) is both a relief and depressing - a relief that I could finally figure out exactly what's wrong with me and treat it, and depressing that this is nothing that's temporary, and it's not going to go away on it's own or by sheer force of will. 

She also gave me two names for marriage therapists that she and my husband's therapist strongly recommend.  She said either one would be a good fit for both of our personalities and help us to figure out this "new marriage" that we've grown into over the past year.  I'm not the same person I used to be, but I haven't quite figured out who this new person is, and I don't think my husband quite knows either.  So I keep reminding myself that marriage counseling isn't a sign of weakness after 9 years of marriage; it's not a "last resort," it's more like a new beginning of sorts.  We're going to (hopefully) learn how to have a real marriage, and real communication, instead of the skirting around the issues mentality we've had for the past decade.  I think (and hopefully my husband agrees) that this is a step forward for us.  Not to say that the thought of this therapy doesn't scare the crap out of me, but I think that I'm ready for it. I hope I am. 

I realized yesterday that most of my posts lately have been real downers.  I apologize.  I'm really trying to dig my way out of this hole I'm in.  So then I thought I'd go look for some inspirational quotes to cheer us up, but unfortunately I could only find ones religious in nature, and those don't really sit well with me lately, I admit. I'm sure there are others out there, but in my blase state right now, I didn't put a whole lot of effort into finding some others.  Instead I typed "depression quotes" into my search engine and came up with a couple of cute ones that made me smile:

This is my depressed stance. When you're depressed, it makes a lot of difference how you stand. The worst thing you can do is straighten up and hold your head high because then you'll start to feel better. If you're going to get any joy out of being depressed, you've got to stand like this. ~Charlie Brown

"It's snowing still," said Eeyore gloomily.
"So it is."
"And freezing."
"Is it?"
"Yes," said Eeyore. "However," he said, brightening up a little, "we haven't had an earthquake lately."
~ A. A. Milne
From book Winnie the Pooh

"Good morning, Eeyore," said Pooh.
"Good morning, Pooh Bear," said Eeyore gloomily. "If it is a good morning, which I doubt," said he.
"Why, what's the matter?"
"Nothing, Pooh Bear, nothing. We can't all, and some of us don't. That's all there is to it."
"Can't all what?" said Pooh, rubbing his nose.
"Gaiety. Song-and-dance. Here we go round the mulberry bush."
~ A. A. Milne
From book Winnie the Pooh

“Life's disappointments are harder to take when you don't know any swear words.” ~ Calvin & Hobbes

“Life is like topography, Hobbes. There are summits of happiness and success, flat stretches of boring routine, and valleys of frustration and failure.”  ~ Calvin & Hobbes

As is my wont, the minute I heard the diagnosis "Bipolar II," I immediately started to research and look for books on the subject.  Tonight I came across this one: Less than Crazy: Living Fully with Bipolar II (No. 2).

The opening chapter by the author really grabbed me, because it expresses how I feel:

"... When I first heard the news, all I heard was bipolar disorder, a diagnosis that for me seemed synonymous with borderline personality disorder (as in stalking and plopping bunnies in a pot) or, worse, schizophrenia (as in "really crazy").  In my "now labeled crazy" mind, this doctor was telling  me I was insane.

Yes I got depressed - maybe even really depressed, but that was countered with days or weeks when I had so much nervous energy I wished I could bottle it for later, to draw on during those days or weeks when I felt like a sea slug.  So, sure, something wasn't right with me.  I was fearful, a little paranoid, and a whole lot of anxious.  I would accept depression, even a clinical one.  I'd accept anxiety disorder, social or otherwise.  But bipolar???"

I could have written those paragraphs word for word.  So I'll read the book and let you all know what I think.  Wish me luck.

Mood

I'm in one of my "moods" today.  The kind where all my energy is focused on containing myself, not snapping at the kids or at the dog, holding myself back, when every fiber of my being is screaming at me.   These days are the toughest - I look at what lies ahead of me and every option I have just... pisses me off.  I have to go food shopping, but the mere prospect of going with the kids is enough to make me want to scream.  And I mean literally.  Where I can feel the skin crawling on my back at the prospect of having to shower the kids, because I know that it's going to take everything I have not to explode into a blind rage. Picture the worst PMS you've ever experienced, and multiply that by 10 and that's not even close to how I feel right now.

These "moods" remind me so much of when the kids were babies.  My daughter was super colicky - she screamed constantly for the first six months - and who knows, maybe she got that vibe from me because I was so on edge, I don't know, it's like the chicken and the egg, who knows what came first? - but I remember having to leave her in the crib because I was seriously contemplating putting my hand over her mouth to stop her from crying, or throwing my son's sippy cup across the room and leaving a good sized dent in the wall because he wouldn't drink from it, or pulling my hair and/or digging my finger nails into my leg to prevent myself from taking my rage out on my kids.  When you find yourself screaming in the face of a toddler because he won't pick up his blocks, and see the tears of fear welling up in his eyes, then you know you've got a serious problem.

These rages or "moods" or "funks" or whatever the hell you want to call them, they remind me so much of how my mom used to act when I was little, and how it led to me walking on eggshells my whole life, trying to keep her happy... it scares the living shit out of me.  And it pisses me off even more.  I hate myself for it.  I wish I could just turn it off, but the more I try to, the more pissed off I feel at my failure.  All I can do is just sit here and count the hours until my husband gets home and just pray that I can make it through the day and manage to keep it together.

Let's talk about my husband.  I think you all know that he's been having some difficulty understanding and dealing with this  process.  I figured I'd talk about his perspective for a moment, or what he tells me he sees when he looks at me and what's going on from the outside looking in. Not that he's truly on the outside, since he, of course has as much of a vested interest as I in this whole thing, since my behaviors and feelings directly effect him and our marriage.

He reads this blog - at my invitation to do so - and that's the main reason why I've avoided airing out anything here between him and I, out of respect for him and the belief that what goes on in our marriage should be somewhat sacred, in light of all that's gone on. But on the other hand, again out of respect for him I'm going to attempt to pass on to you what he's shared with me, because I think it's fair to him to try to tell both sides of the "story."

So here's what I "see:"

I don't think that he knows or understands what could possibly be gained by reconciling with my parents, nor do I think he understands why my focus has been on them for the past few months.  I think he sees several positive changes in me and the boundaries I've set up over the past few months, and is wondering why and is frustrated by the fact that those changes don't seem to be taking place in our relationship with each other.  I think he feels like he's been put on the back burner and neglected so that I can focus on my parents, and he doesn't understand why I feel compelled to put all my energy into figuring out how I fit into my family of origin, when he's been there for me time and time again and and has demonstrated the true definition of support and unconditional love. 

I wonder if he knows that I love him, or that I even know what love is, and he's got to be wondering if we'll ever have a functional relationship.  I think he's overwhelmed with the diagnosis/es I've received and what it/they mean in terms of our future and our relationship.  And I know he thinks that there's more that I haven't told him, although I keep assuring him that he knows everything now. But I don't blame him for not trusting me, either.

I wish there was a way that I could reassure him, to prove to him that everything will be okay and that all will be well in the end, and that he'll have the happiness and love that he deserves so much.  I wish I could give him a time table. I wish even that I could show him some progress and have him know that it's genuine and not faked.  I wish I could for one day give him an inside look at what's going on in my brain so he could see how much I love and need him, as much as I have trouble expressing it in my actions.  Because words are just words, I know, and unless I back them up by showing him how I feel, the words must seem hollow and empty.  I wish I could give him patience, but I don't blame him for being frustrated, because most of the times I'm impatient and frustrated with myself.

But most of all I want him to realize that I love him so much, and that I need him, and that the only way I'm standing up right now is because he's there, in the background holding me up with the sheer force of his love and belief in me.  Half the reason why I'm trying to fix myself is so that I can be deserving of such a wonderful man and return to him the love he deserves. And even though I have trouble saying those things out loud, I truly mean them from the bottom of my heart. 

Behind the mask

I have a lot going through my mind lately, but it's so hard to put to words sometimes.  Especially since I know that my feelings are sometimes irrational.  I can't really control it though.  First is the fact that I utterly despise myself.  I look at my past - both recent and otherwise - and I think to myself, I'm a heartless, unfeeling, selfish and lazy mess. Maybe there's nothing wrong with me other than I'm just not a good person.  If I could just stop dwelling on the past maybe I'd actually be happy.  And maybe the drugs are a cop out because I'm too lazy to find out whether I could deal without them. 

I think beating myself up is easier to deal with than admitting that maybe I do have a medical condition and may have to be on medication for the rest of my life.  There's such a stigma around mental illness, and I admit that I'm guilty of subscribing to it, that I'd rather hate myself than admit it's beyond my control.  And I hate being out of control.

As for the bipolar depression - or bipolar II - I know some people in my life are questioning the diagnosis, and believe me I wish it wasn't accurate, too, but after doing some research, I have the sinking feeling that it's a correct one. And my therapist wholeheartedly agrees.  She discussed it with the psychiatrist the other day, and she thinks it makes absolute sense.

In bipolar II, from what I understand from my limited knowledge of psychology, you don't have to have wild mood swings.  Most people with it have major depression most of the time, interspersed with some periods of higher-than-normal energy, where they become all gung-ho about some new project, or feel like they can take on the world.  There's never that sense of being even or "normal." 

Unfortunately, that describes me perfectly.  I'm either lost in the depths of depression, or all of a sudden I'm on a cleaning binge, or taking on a new project, or have a new hobby, staying up until all hours of the night.  I become the super-mom.  The house is spotless, I feel like I completely have it together, I have all these great ideas for websites I'm going to build, businesses I'm going to start, home improvements, making money, spending money, you name it.  I wish I could feel like that all the time and I'm sure (aside from the spending money part) that my husband wishes the same. But it doesn't last long.  Inevitably comes the crash.  Then all of a sudden I can't get out of my own way, I'm irritable, I snap at people, I feel like I'm going crazy, I have no motivation, I'm tired all the time, I don't want to make the effort to see or talk to anyone, and I have to drag myself off the couch to do anything. 

It's always one extreme to the other.  There is no in between for me. And that scares the hell of me. I started this journey of self-discovery with the intent on fixing myself, thinking that I could find happiness that way.  But what if I can't fix myself.  Then what do I do?  People question my fears about my diagnosis as if I want to be on medication for the rest of my life.  But who would willingly choose pill popping? I certainly wouldn't.  Do they think I want to admit that I'm weak, that I want to be unfixable and defective?  Do they think that I want to be labeled bipolar, with all the "crazy" stigmas that come with it? Do they think I like the fact that I worry constantly about screwing up my own kids with my "issues?"

And so, either way, what it comes down to is this: whether I'm weak and crazy or selfish and lazy, I just don't like who I am. No wonder why I hide behind this mask.  Who in their right mind would want to see what's behind it?

Bipolar Depression

That's the diagnosis from my new psychiatrist.  She said that the reason why typical antidepressants don't work for me is because of the bipolar.  The only thing that they do for me is send me into manic states if the dose is too high (example: what happened with the Zoloft over the winter) and/or make me agitated (like the Prozac).  She put me on a mood stabilizer (Lamictal), and a very low dose of Zoloft to help to lift me out of my depression.  She said that bipolar depression is different from bipolar disorder in that the majority of the time I'm deeply depressed, and every once in a while I'll experience what's called "hypomania."

Yeah, that sounds about right.  I'll explain why later today with examples because unfortunately I don't have time for a long post (have to go pick up the kiddos from school).   I really, really hope this is the right diagnosis for me... because I am so tired of feeling like this and just want to be normal.   Or at least act normally anyway.

Don't know if this was the smartest thing I've done...

I decided to wean myself off the Prozac until I can call the new psychiatrist and get an appointment. I know, I know... lecture all you want, but I was so tired (physically and otherwise) of the side effects I was experiencing and seriously couldn't deal with them one second longer.  The 80 mg was making me feel anxious, fidgety, agitated and restless.  I couldn't sleep at night and felt like I couldn't settle down.  It was driving me crazy.  I think I'd rather be depressed.  So until I can get in with the new doc, I'm not taking any more.  I stopped on... Tuesday, I think? And thankfully I've had none of the weaning side-effects that you get when you go off, say, Zoloft for example. I'm already sleeping much better.

I can feel the fatigue and lack of motivation and general blah-ness coming back, though.  I hate that I'm that weak.  I really wish I could do the whole "mind over matter" thing and just splash cold water on my face and wake up from the funks I continually slide down into... but the minute I feel myself starting to slide, I get terrified of what will happen if I don't go back on something.   Not scared for myself, scared that the irritation with my kids and my pets will start to creep back up and I'm going to snap at them or lose my patience, because that's how my depression manifests itself.  I'm the best mom I can be - as long as I'm medicated.  I hate to admit that, but I feel that that's the God-honest truth.

Thoughtful Thursdays

Wow.  Emotional meeting with the therapist today.  My tears completely took me by surprise.  She was asking about my Dad, whether there was any way that I could connect with him on a non-intellectual level at some point.  With my mom, I think I could meet with her one on one on a horizontal playing field - as being equal - or I could even picture myself having the upper hand.  My dad, on the other hand... I couldn't remember one time having an serious, one on one conversation with him. The therapist described it as a more vertical relationship, with him being "above" me, so to speak.  I told her that he has never treated me as an equal in my adult life, and that I felt like he never really noticed me, or at least I could never get him to notice me.  That the only time we had "good" conversations is when we kept it light, as in light banter back and forth, joking around.  She said that I could reach out to him in that way, by maybe saying, "I miss the joking around we used to do together.  I miss the sense of humor we shared." And as she said that, my eyes started to well with tears.  The tears surprised both of us and she asked me what the tears were about, because up until this point I never got emotional talking about my father. 

I think that it was the realization that I actually miss something about our relationship, and the realization that there was some good that came out of it.  I think that I realized that we really do share something in common, and that our years spent working together in the same office were really special to both of us.  Because it gave us a common ground where there was none.  It was the only time I felt recognized and liked by my father.  I had forgotten we shared those times, and the memories both surprised and touched me.

Then she said something that really blew my mind... she thinks I'm probably my father's favorite because we shared all that time together in my mid 20's.  That he never had that kind of relationship with any of my other siblings, and that these times and memories are probably cherished by him as well. 

And the thought that after all these years trying to be noticed and respected by him... may have actually worked, and maybe he did notice me? That's almost too much for me to handle emotionally.  It flies in the face of everything I've been thinking and feeling for the last year of this journey of self-discovery. 

I definitely have a lot of thinking to do this week...