Hello Again!

Oh, it’s been awhile hasn’t it? And I have some more followers…I didn’t even know that! How great!!

It said it has been 3 years since my last post –  I can’t believe it’s been so long! I guess once you get into the ‘groove’ of life, once you have a treatment plan somewhat established, and a routine somewhat set, you just barrel ahead and don’t really stop to look up or around. But now, I feel like I’ve finally come to a season of rest! I feel a little reluctant to write that as calm seems to be snatched so suddenly. But I guess I have to try and force myself to just be in it when it comes, and not worry about what tomorrow may hold.

I have been through such a journey, both with my husband, and within my own personal life. My 30s have been a very transformation time, in a very painful but amazingly positive way.

I look forward to taking a breath and writing again. I hope my followers didn’t drop off for good, because I think and hope you will find it encouraging 🙂

Summertime Thoughts

Looking at the calendar, I realized that WJ will be heading back to school soon..in less than 4 weeks! YES!! Not so much of a yes that he’ll be going back to school…but I’m so happy that we are surviving the summer. No major episodes, no tragedies, no upheavals.  I’m getting to a better place. W is slowly getting to a better place. Compared to last year this time, when the life I had was unraveling. Compared to the summer before, when I notice W was behaving somewhat odd, but chalked it up to stress and a new job, and blithely assumed everything would work out just fine, just as we planned it to.

W becomes more like his post episode self slowly.  Sleep is somewhat better…not where we would like it yet, but better then it has been.  The depression is not as heavy on him.

My counselor has been a blessing in that he has been helping me refocus. Not to see things as ‘why me’ or ‘why us’, but why have I been placed here? What should I be learning in all this?  I feel closer to breaking through this mirey, swampy mess of of thoughts I’ve struggled with since last summer. There’s more clarity the longer I walk through this.

It’s good to have a no-major-lifechanging-event summer.

 

 

A New Week

Just a quick update, since my last post was so difficult, that I’m in a better frame of mind today. Camping was rough, and the thoughts persisted into Sunday, but we did it, we both slept well last night, and a new option for a sitter has come up, at least for now. W is also seeing his new doctor today, so I’m hopeful for that too. The dark thoughts are ebbing, so that is very good. To all who read and have shown concern, thank you, and have a lovely week 🙂

Rough Week

As the title said, it’s been rough this week. Just a flurry of stuff that has led me to a morbid frame of mind.

W has dipped a bit in the past 2 weeks again. Apparently his sleep medication hasn’t been working well for him. The newer stuff gives him stomach aches, the older stuff makes him extremely groggy throughout the day. But he’s been taking both to get rest through the night, so the days have been rough. He’s become groggy, forgetful, and just overall out of it. Not good when he’s trying to watch the kids. It’s hard because he had a stretch where he was doing so well, or at least to me it seemed he was. But he’s been shutting himself into the house more, it seems, and beginning to watch old westerns on Netflix, some which, to me, seemed pretty dark.

W has been seeing a counselor whom he seems to like and connect with. She is pricey, but he comes home with new energy to try things, at least for a bit. He will also be seeing a new pdoc on Monday. We both felt the old one was not very receptive, as well as difficult to get a hold of (no matter when W called for issues with his medications, the pdoc could only respond on Thursdays. It was infuriating, really). I’m hoping this new change in direction will get W back to a better place.

I’m frustrated and angry. On a base level, I get angry at W – that he won’t try to exercise or eat right or make changes that can help his healing. That he’s not emotionally available to me. But I know that really only poorly covers the deeper level of frustration and anger I feel, which is feeling as though I have no options and need to leave the kids with him irregardless of how his mental state is. We have a sitter who is only available certain days of the week, and W’s parents have been traveling more as the spring has arrived. When those 2 options are not available, I have no one else to turn to for childcare, and I feel trapped. It is a HORRIBLE feeling, and I drive to work and pray W will be alert enough in case an emergency situation arises. This has been hanging over my head since we moved out of W’s parents house in January.

Last weekend we were out too much, and I didn’t get time to myself. This coming weekend we’ll be going camping with a large group, and I’ve been trying to push W to plan for that despite his groggy state. I received a letter Tuesday that our credit card company has slashed our credit limit in half, essentially leaving us with no credit to fall back on – this due to the ongoing lack of payment on our mortgage on a house that has had no offers on it since August 2012. I found out the paperwork I sent in over 2 months ago to the mortgage company was not the correct paperwork. I’m paying off a large dentist bill. W and I still have no insurance.

All these things finally took their toll, and last night I was up until 2am, first looking at morbid things online, then lying awake in fear that some tragedy would befall me or the kids if I fell asleep. I cried becasue I felt that I couldn’t look to my husband to keep us safe; in his groggy stupor I doubt he could do much of anything. And then of course flashbacks to when he was in a mania and saw me as a threat. I’m becoming preoccupied with thoughts of death and tragedy. Sometimes I hate the internet for what you can see…images I wish I hadn’t looked at that now flash in my mind and haunt me throughout the day. Yet I somehow feel drawn, because it, in a twisted way, keeps my mind off of the very real and present struggles I’m facing and feel as though I have no answers to. I think I rationalize that if I read/observe other people’s tragedy, I will see my own issues in a better perspective, but really I think it’s like a ‘mental cutting’, if that makes sense.

So that’s where I am at today. These thoughts usually start to ebb away within a few days, so I need to try and redirect my thoughts and continue to pray. I am going to try and see if the local college has someone willing to pick up some babysitting during the summer, and give me another option for childcare. I’m trying to find a cheap counselor I can see, if only intermittently, to vent to when things get this bad…I feel as though I’ve put my friends through enough and feel badly about calling them. Those are my 2 plans, so hopefully it will be enough get things going in a better direction. If you are a praying person, prayed for renewed strength for me. Thanks 🙂

April Update

WE continue on our steady march towards accepting, and learning, and weathering the set-backs, and just overall life. W has found a new counselor, this one closer to home, and so far she seems like a good fit. There was a spike in W’s irritability a bit last week, and a little more trouble getting to sleep, but overall no major red flags as of right now. I hope the continues thawing of the season will continue to help his mood.

I feel like I am no longer on pins and needles, waiting for another major dip in W. I feel like life is starting to become a bit more predictable. I find myself not worry about the kids as much, and even a slight bit of hope that things may get better overall. I didn’t realize that ever since we moved back, I subconsciously assumed our life as it is right now, with me working full time and W at home, and his overall lack of interest in life, would be life forever. Perhaps that won’t be the case. I doubt we will ever return to the life we had prior to the bipolar diagnosis, but I think that’s a good thing in some ways. Life then was always lived with an undercurrent of worry. Now we have more knowledge of what we’re dealing with.

I also realized that I almost have to make a daily choice of letting go of what we’ve lost over the last 2 years. It takes constant effort to keep myself in the mindset of thankfulness. If I begin to slip, I get depressed pretty quick. I’m not complaining; it’s more of an observation. It’s like walking on a tightrope and making sure not to look down, I guess. This is life, I was not promised an easy one, and God is with me as I continue through it!

Next month I’m planning on visiting my side of the family. W will not be coming, and honestly I will be heading out with some trepidation. There are some people I haven’t seen/spoke to since right before W got sick who will be there for some of my visit, and they have a major deficiency in empathy. They will never understand the bipolar diagnosis. So I need to mentally prepare myself for that. I think when I put it in perspective of all that has gone on, it really isn’t that big of a deal in the scheme of things. I’m actually finding that more and more as we continue to walk through this.

Spring Is Coming!

There’s a lull in the office, and I’m on break, so I’m writing a little update. I made it through the week of depression, and things are starting to perk up a bit. I’ve learned quite well that a few good days does not mean the struggle is all over, but I am very happy with the overall steady improvement in W.  I know the shift to spring helps a lot; and the bit of a lift in financial pressure helps too. But overall I think he’s finally beginning to heal instead of just be in crisis mode, and that is wonderful.

W is still struggling with sleep a bit. He also adjusted meds on his own 2 weekends ago when he started feeling manic, and I ‘expressed my concern’ with that, telling him he really needs to talk with the psychiatrist before taking himself off anything (grrrr…he really should know that by now). In response, he started struggling with sleep. He has since put himself back on that med, and now is snoring away quite well through the night. We have an appointment next week with the pdoc, so we’ll see what he suggests.

One thing I continue to struggle with and try and learn is that W is in control of his decisions, and even if they are poor, I cannot debate him into a right way of thinking. I can suggest, but it’s a difficult balance to do so without sounding controlling or preachy. He continues to be pretty stationary most of the time, and when he struggles with sleep, he eats junk food. I KNOW he would sleep better if he began a daily exercise routine, but as of now, he has not taken any steps towards that. Rather then draw up a plan for him, I occasionally encourage him to start walking. I have so much on my plate, and he is aware enough, that I am not going to ‘mother’ him into being more healthy. I hope that’s not unloving of me, but I think I would just get resentful, because I feel he is perfectly capable of doing this on his own.

As for me, I’ve been struggling with a lot of fatigue this past week. I fear the daily commute of 1.5 hours round trip is starting to wear on me, but I have no solution right now. I just keep on, and pray for strength, and know that when it’s time for change, it will happen. I have been into my art more, which is a big step for me!! It makes me so joyful when I do it, yet I fight a lot of resistance in my own mind and in my life situation, so any move towards creativity, I try to celebrate 🙂

March Update

Just a quick post during my little break at work, since I’ve seemed more and more reluctant to get on the computer at night once I’m home.  W was approved for disability last week…this is a HUGE deal for us! No rejection, no appeals, no re-applying…just an approval letter 4.5 months after the initial application.

The back pay has been very helpful in catching up with the small pile of medical bills we’ve collected. W will get a monthly check, and the kids will get a smaller check, and it will all help very much as we climb out of the financial hole this illness has created in that last 2 years.

It’s funny, a freind of mine asked how I felt about the disability approval, and, of course, called me out when I expressed my positivity at the financial help it will be. She  wanted to know how the fact that he is now officially considered ‘disabled’ made me feel. It’s a thought I’ve been avoiding as I’ve tried to get through the paperwork and the waiting and the overall running of the household….but it was a good question.

After the initial relief it brought financially, I’ve found myself struggling a lot with depression this week. It’s a very odd depression…It’s an odd place in my thoughts that long for some sort of feeling I can’t find. I find myself lost in thought, thinking back to our time in Florida, and feeling this ache in my chest. And not just Florida…it’s a roledex of memories that swirl in my head and stop at some memory that makes me long for a pre-bipolar time.  It’s the sudden mulling over a tragedy in the news, or the loss of friends through one of our many moves, or just a brief thought of a walk I took or some flowers I picked…it’s so random. I think of WJ and all he’s lost, and the questions of ‘when can we see so-an-so again’ or ‘can we go back to that beach’. It’s C asking me when we can go back to our ‘old house’….and the very firm ‘no’ I have been given from God that we will not be heading back there, even as the house is being given back to the bank.

I can feel spring so close now, just ready to burst forth, and I keep telling myself that this sadness, this mourning, is once again part of a cycle, and that soon it will fade with the winter and bare trees and cold wind. And as we settle here and  make new memories, it will get better. But this week has just been so damn hard.

One of the great benefits at my current job is the ability to work while listening to various internet broadcasts that I normally would not have access to.  There has been a very good series on suffering and trial this last week which I have clung to by a pastor called Chip Ingram. In the past my depressed thought would lead me to surround myself with music that would bring out my dark feelings more poignantly; I would wallow in them and allow myself to sink into a dark place. This time I am struggling to keep myself from that. It’s no help to me. I realized I mourn what my children have lost, but that I’m mourning in the present and it keeps me from them now, right now, when I could be helping them and helping myself move forward.

W continues to struggle with the anger he has over the diagnosis. It frustrates me to see him stuck, but I can just as easily become stuck too. Perhaps by really deliberately taking these steps forward to move away from the depression and dwelling on all we’ve lost, I can at least pull the kids along with me, and we can finally move forward and start living life again.

On Internal Conversations

Just needed to come on and think aloud with my fingers a little. W has gone off 2 meds (under the direction of the pdoc), and has dipped quite a bit this week. He needs to cut back, it’s important he does so. So we plod on. I find myself  really struggling this time. I understand- it’s difficult for him. Yes, his battle is dark and one I can never fully grasp. But it brings right back to the forefront the numerous issues I have with this horrid illness. The complete self-absorption, the lethargy, the inability to complete even the most simple tasks, the shuffling, and the grating mix of guilt and anger directed at me. ..not to mention his uncanny ability to hide it from everyone else, and his stubbornness and pride in accepting outside help.

My eyes burn from crying. I need to reign in my thoughts, because everywhere they hop off to brings a fresh wave of sorrow…over me, him, the kids, life…everything.

I don’t want to lose hope, but each time I call from work and his affect is flat, a little piece of hope dies. When I share with him  something I’m struggling with, and he attempts to show interest but can’t quite pull it off, it’s another small crush inside me.  The fact that things have been going well, and the thought that maybe life will actually start getting a little better, are mocked. The anger I try to contain mixed with that guilt-laced voice in my head smoothly chiding me to have more compassion; to think of what he must be struggling with in his ill mind, is ever-present. Then the fear….The fear that begins to peek out from that dark recess of my thoughts that I viciously stuff down as best I can…it wonders fleetingly if W has had violent thoughts lately, either towards himself or me or the kids…the ‘what ifs’…that voice is just…yeah. That’s when I get an icy feeling in my stomach, and I need to do ANYTHING to shove the voice down and away again.

The mental checklist I try to go through daily, wondering what would be the best possible decision I could make concerning the kids and myself and W, and always coming to a dead end with no concrete answers…that is really what has been getting to me lately. I can’t  take care of my children. Not while I spend 9+ hours a day away from home. But if I want to be with my kids as much as I feel I need to, then there will be no income. THAT is the hardest…doing what I know I have to do, yet seeing that the kids are not getting what I think they really need, and not being able to figure out a way to provide it to them.

I’m continually walking that tightrope of compassion and strength and empathy, trying not to fall into the depths of depression, anger and bitterness. Trying VERY hard to think more about the 2 little ones, because right now they are really the only thing keeping me gong. How cliche. Never thought I’d say it. But there you go. And yet they are the source of my greatest stress, becasue of how I fear this will effect them for the rest of their lives. And some days I am so sad to have brought them into this mess. But I’m so very glad they are here.

 

January Update

To all my faithful followers, I apologize for my absence (and for those who know me personally, I also apologize for my lack of reaching out). It has been yet another time of transition, but overall it has been positive. Of course, any transition time takes much energy.

I have thought a bit about this blog, and I want to try to keep it from becoming a rant about all the negative effects of bp. Although quite therapeutic at the time, in hindsite I see that I get very caught up in the emotions and frustrations and probably dump a bit too much. I also realized that I had to go through my own mourning period, and needed to have a place to rant and rave and wonder what just happened, and why isn’t it ending… But I hope that I’m finally getting to the stage where I find acceptance. Or, at least, ‘ok, this isn’t ending anytime soon, but heck, life really could be worse!’

We have moved out of the in-laws’ place, and into a small rental house. We couldn’t have asked for a better place considering our meager budget.  The size is small but comfortable, with each kid having their own room. We are close to good friends, C’s sitter, and have (a very small) lake view. There is not much extra space, so we have been forced to sort and purge, and that really is not a bad thing. W is handling it very well, and his spirits have lifted. It’s like watching a wilted plant slowly start to straighten up again, and it is beautiful.

The newest pdoc is slowly starting to back W off some meds, with the concern being possible long term damage due to being on so many different meds at once. The meds provided enough help to keep him from going into the hospital again, but I’m happy in the current plan of reducing the number. I’ve found an excellent resource online for medicine assistance, and that has helped with my anxiety concerning our current lack of health insurance.

About 3 weeks ago we both received lengthy questionnaires to fill out to help determine his eligibility for disability. I initially applied in October, and we continue to wait and wonder if he will be approved.

For now we continue to unpack and settle into this new routine. W has talked about maybe getting part time work soon, so we’ll see. Right now I think just having our own place, and getting into a family rhythm again, is nice. There’s always this little voice telling me to not get too comfortable….that W could get sick just as quick as before…but that voice isn’t too loud, and I acknowledge it and then keep going, because what else can you do?

Another Goodbye

Is it ironic or darkly poetic, that on the day we surrendered our old out-of-state drivers licenses, and make the transition to this state more permanent, should be the same day we find 1 of our 2 cats dead on the side of the road?

W had seemed down since Thursday, which was around the time Sam disappeared. Even Max, his fellow cat transplant from our last home, seemed oddly vigilant, and we found him sitting on top of the cars or atop the old shed’s roof. We speculated that perhaps Sam had found another home, one that would allow him to once again be indoor/outdoor, instead of completely outdoors, which was currently necessary if we were to keep him while staying with the in-laws.

We adopted Sam about 1.5 years ago, approximately 2 weeks before W had his psychotic break. We were getting ready to close on our house, and were preparing to move out of the townhouse we were renting. The local animal shelter was having a special that weekend…adopt a cat or dog for only $15!!  I told W we were just going to look, but while I filled out some paperwork, he and the kids came across a litter of fluffy orange kittens. One, W told me later, came right up to him. That was Sam.

We took Sam back to the townhouse, despite the no animal policy. I rationalized that since we were 2 weeks from moving, it shouldn’t be a problem. The normal W would have rolled his eye, but gone a long with it,as he is an animal lover and really wanted a cat. The paranoid, manic W saw it as a manipulative move on my part, and became more and more resentful towards me and paranoid about getting caught.

Everything happened, and Sam was there through all of it. Laying on the bed with me those nights I was alone in the house while W was still in the hospital and the in-laws had traveled back home. Walking WJ and I to the bus stop on those very dark, insanely early mornings. Being the only thing to get W to sit still on the couch during his prolonged mania, just sitting and purring in his lap. And when W swung into depression, Sam was often on his lap while W slept through the day.

We adopted Max in May, and Sam treated him like his own kitten, often washing him and allowing him to eat first out of the food bowl. Max somehow brought  out the kitten we had never really seen in Sam…they would tear across the house chasing and playing with each other. When we moved up here, they huddled in the same cage, enduring a surely stressful trip together.

The more gentle of the 2, he never seemed to quite be able to make the transition to being a completely outdoor cat. He didn’t have the ‘meanness’ or pushiness to shove his way amongst the other 8+ cats my in-laws care for to get at the food rationed out twice a day. He grew thinner, unable to eat extra food like the lizards that were so plentiful in his hometown. He would often scratch at the front door, meowing mournfully, or peek his head up at the window near the kitchen sink and mew at whoever was there. He was always eager for attention from any of us. We fed him extra food when we could, sneaking it when the other cats weren’t around, lest they chase him away from it. On the warmer days he would hang out in the father-in-laws shop, quite comfortable among the machines. But as the days grew colder, he had to stay outside and make the best of it with the other cats. Although he was fixed, he started to wander a bit, probably because of the other cats’ dominating personalities. He and Max continued to hang out together, but while Max seemed to interact more the longer he was here, Sam continued to stay to himself.

I wonder, when things like this happen, so many things. Could we have done anything different?  Why did he not acclimate?  Why did this happen to him? Why did we have to find his body, instead of clinging to the illusion, like the kids still have now, that he just found a better home?

I feel like we’re being kicked when we’re down. W saw him as his cat, and Max as mine, since Max acts like a mush in my arms. But Sam was my fluffy orange angel, who gave me comfort when my life was going off the rails, and he certainly deserved better then being hit and killed and left to rot on the side of the road. W and his dad, thankfully, did go out and collect him, and buried him next to my father-in-law’s shop cat who passed about a year ago. That is a place of honor, and it is at least a small comfort to know his body was treated with some dignity.

I’ll very truly hope that I’ll see you again one day, Sam….