• Don’t Let The Pigeon Drive The Bus!

     

    I was thinking about how to explain bipolar disorder, again, and I thought about something I did relate to in the very beginning. Some of you with kids might have already heard of it. Don’t Let The Pigeon Drive The Bus. It’s a fantastic book. Won the Caldecott award. What I related to though was the birds relentless need to drive. I mean, at least in my case, my moods alway tried to drive me. It’s a simple illustration of bipolar disorder in my opinion and a funny one at that. I will not show it all here, so as to honor the copy write, but check out the page below and see if you relate…

  • Finally, Someone Sees the Difference

    My son was building with Legos yesterday, I think they were “shoe ships” (whatever that is), and he wanted to know what color I’d like to be. I looked at them and said, “blue” and he says, “That’s a good choice mom. It reflects your personality”, (and yes, he does talk like that even at nine). I’m like, “what do you mean?”, and he says, “tranquil and meditative”.

    So, I asked him when he noticed the difference. He thought about it and told me around two months ago. I stood there and I counted backwards. I got out my mood chart (goofy but definitely effective) and sure enough it was all there… in plain purple. Two months ago was when I stopped being controlled by my emotions and started living again.

    I remember what it felt like then, how good it was to finally be in control. I guess I take it for granted now and I shouldn’t. Things got really, really bad there for a while. I doubted my own sanity! I kept telling people, “I’m controlled by my emotions” and all I would hear back was, “Well don’t be so sensitive”.

    Funny, it took 4 years, 3 doctors, 2 therapists and then someone had an idea of what was going on with me. I had two sessions with my current counselor and she knew. Now that’s something I won’t soon forget, the look on her face when I came in freaking out. Her face drained of color and she stood there with this shocked expression that said something like, “Okay, she’s really flipped her lid. Just keep it together. You’re a professional here”. And me, I just kept saying over and over, “I don’t want to do this, God I don’t want to do this, I know there’s something there, and I don’t want to see it, I don’t want to know, I don’t want to do this, I don’t want to do this…”

    What followed was probably one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, walking into an urgent care psychiatric facility and pouring out every little private detail about my past history. It was right up there with crossing the Atlantic on a 46 foot sailboat in the middle of November (another great tale), but the important thing right now is that my son recognizes the difference. He sees the real me.

    There’s still a long way to go to rebuild. It took years for bipolar to drag me into this hell hole. I’m giving myself at least 1 year to get out. That sounds so good to me. Just thinking about that year is like sipping on some exotic drink out of a coconut while lying on a beach in some tropical island. I can feel it all through my body and deep down into my bones… the calm, cool relief of being alone.

     

  • People Just Don’t Get It

    I have read websites, blog topics, and listened to personal advice about whether or not to reveal this illness to people. I’ve kept it a secret for the most part, except for telling my Mom and Dad, my best friend and my ex- boyfriend who knew something was wrong and encouraged me to seek help. I keep it to myself because I have a strong sense of self-preservation which is my driving force so much of the time.

    What I think is that most people don’t get it and don’t want to, so what’s the point? The responses I’ve gotten so far haven’t really satisfied me. I’ve gotten blank stares, avoidance in the form of never talking about it, reassurances that they know someone else with it (as if it’s like the common cold) and walking away from having a relationship with me altogether. It’s been four months and I have not had one person, not one fucking person of the few people closest to me, simply ask…  how I feel about this freight train of wreckage that was just dumped on me.

    Last week Friday at 4 o’clock my boss came in and started to tell me that I needed to create a “presentation” about the training center that I run, and basically pitch it to the practice. See the hospital is making budget cuts and it’s shutting down entire departments. The stress in my life became enormous. I considered telling him about my condition and how this kind of pressure can trigger bad circumstances for me, but realistically he would react no differently than anyone else, and let’s face it, it might seriously work against me as far as employment.

    Telling people… I haven’t figured it out yet. I think that there is still a huge stigma when it comes to mental illness and a great misunderstanding of bipolar disorder. There is so much information out there, but people don’t feel the need to read it, not even those closest to me. They think they understand, they think it’s like what they see on t.v. I guess. Honestly, it makes me feel very alone in this… I’m required to visit a psychologist once a month, as many of us are when on the medications prescribed, and I don’t even think she gets it. All in all, I only want one person to understand, my son. That’s why I continue to write this. One day he’ll be able to read it and get it.