Paranoia, my old friend...

It's time to talk of you again.

Time to get back on the Zyprexa.

I used a client's computer to write a post and didn't think about clearing the browser's history. ARGH!

So I've begun to worry that someone else who may have used the machine (another caregiver perhaps) has discovered my little secret. This being in the closet business is hard to maintain and keeps me on edge. I worry that people who know me will suddenly treat me differently. Fear me. Reject me. Ignore me. Shun me. Close the door and throw away the key. There's nothing I can do.

How do I explain that the day I learned my diagnosis and the day my son was born have been the two happiest days of my life?

How do I say that the medication just smooths out the ragged edges of my personality? That I am only able to leave home every day because I take my meds? That the world is no longer a terrifying place? That those super enthusiastic, pun cracking, mind-going-mile-a-minute, demonstrably affectionate, face lifted up to soak in the light of the sun or the moon, really excited to be here moments are hypomania? That I am only a danger to myself, not to others? That without the meds I will come up with any excuse to stay away from everyone, to stay in the bed, to ignore the phone and email, to sit in a dark corner hugging my knees or curl up as though awaiting a rebirth? That I was sketched in pencil and the best thing that could happen is to be erased?

Things are starting to get better. And I have committed self-sabotage. I thought I was past that.

Night Shift Thoughts

Tonight is the first time I have worked an overnight shift. It is not even completely dark outside and I am the only one still awake. There is a motion sensor in my client's room so I will know when his feet hit the floor and can run into the room and assist him in safely standing and in toileting. I've brought a couple of books, have plans to do some work online, and will probably watch a little television. Ideally, I should be napping so that I am conserving my energy for the times when my client will need me. Of course, I will probably be wide awake until 30 minutes before the shift ends.

Thoughts that are running through my head:

I need to quit worrying about future encounters with the man I had a crush on. Just let it go. I have worried that I have been a pest, that I have... I just worry. Stay in now. What's done is done. But I still feel sad. And embarrassed. I am socially inept and have not been faithfully taking my medications. That's a loaded combination. Although I want to send him a birthday greeting, I won't because I don't want to be perceived as a pest.

I need to get back on my meds. Today I purchased two of the three meds that I should be taking. They are now a permanent part of my budget. With the help of the Zoloft and Lamictal, I should get back on an even keel. However, I am having some troubling symptoms and I recognize that I would really benefit from getting back on the Xyprexa. That one little pill would really help lower my level of worry, fear, near-paranoia, and self-doubt. Of course, I need to do other work to support the meds, but there is no denying that my quality of life improves when all three drugs are used.

I want to spend more time with my son. Since I started working seven days a week I have spent very little time in contact with him. I miss him. I'll keep trying to find time for us, but I won't pester him.

I will remind myself that loneliness doesn't have to last forever. Although I've made a couple of good friends, I find that the circumstances of my work lends itself to feeling lonely. Most of my clients are alone. They are glad to see me and I am glad to exchange their trust for my companionship. Professionalism dictates that this should be a one-way exchange. I often find myself feeling lonelier after a visit. I dwell on the fact that so many of us are alone, will end each day alone, will wither and die alone. I see what an important role that community plays in our lives. My work schedule leads to isolation -- tonight's a great example. It feels like more and more we are all moving toward a life of isolation.

I have to take good care of myself. I've had many bad thoughts lately. What's the use in trying? Does anything I do make a bit of difference? How can I escape from this life? I know these thoughts won't last and that the meds will help keep them at bay, but I need to be honest with myself and acknowledge that these feelings exist. I'm trying to ride them out and remind myself that I will be stronger when this phase passes.

What's my 25 year plan? - Part 1

It occurred to me today that it is likely that I will live into my mid-80's. That's when my grandparents died, my mother is in that range and receiving hospice care, and my aunts and uncle also died during those years.

What's my 25 year plan?

Planning is not my strong suit. When I'm not functioning within a highly structured organization (school, work, etc), I flounder. Heck, I turn to stone. A square stone anchored in the earth, incapable of moving unless acted upon by earthquake force.

I want to flourish, thrive, live life with gusto! As I said on New Year's Day, I am welcoming prosperity, good health, true friendship, and love into my life. Very large welcome mat needed for all of that!

Prosperity is closer. I am working enough hours on a regular basis that I can do budget projections. I know that I need to find a less expensive place to live in order to cut my monthly expenditures. I have credit card debt that I need to deal with, but don't see the possibility of resolving it any time soon. I need to put meds at the top of my expenses. I need to keep finding ways to reduce my gasoline use and still be able to accept work assignments that are offered to me. I need to store something more than ice cubes in my freezer. I've been in tough financial situations before so I feel most capable of doing the necessary work toward achieving prosperity.

Good health is visibly in progress. I've lost 50 pounds as the result of physical labor and consuming less food. Although I'm often tired, I am taking time to rest when my body demands that I sleep. Getting back on meds (taking them as prescribed) is the most important next step that I can take.

True friendships exist in my life for what feels like the first time ever. My friends all appear to accept me just as I am. No one seems to want to change me. This is evidence that I'm allowing access to the right people. I don't hesitate to ask when I am in need, share when I have a cupful of joy, and they understand that I'm just beginning to figure out friendships. This is all new to me and I am so grateful that I finally feel accepted.

Love. I want to be married or in a long term committed relationship with a man who wants me. A man who loves me. I want a home that is our sanctuary. While I don't want to have my whole life revolve around the man of my dreams, I do want both of us to want to give our relationship priority. I don't feel closer to this goal, but I have received some excellent advice on the subject. My older gentlemen, my male clients, have done so much to help me see my good qualities. They sometimes lecture me, but in a way that I feel nurtured and valued. And they all have romantic notions. They tell me that I will know the "right" man when he enters my life and that Mr. Right will recognize me and will not rest until he has captured my heart. That meshes with my "Some Enchanted Evening" perspective. I've become quite pragmatic through the years, but there is still a romantic spark that I hold to tightly. I want to feel that electricity, that connection, that desire to surrender to the magnetism.

Then I remind myself that, until I take better care of myself in every possible way, I won't be able to maintain prosperity, share true friendships, maintain a loving relationship, and be both physically and mentally healthy. I now allow myself to be my best ME.

NEXT CHAPTER: Plotting a course

Depression and Bipolar Support Alliance

I have an unstructured day and, as usually happens, I have been spending it following links...falling down rabbit holes. However, today I had a good idea and followed through!

The local chapter of NAMI has been on my radar. My reluctance to come out of the bipolar closet has kept me from looking at local support groups. But the time has come. I am not doing well. I know some people who are battling similar demons (demons isn't the best word choice, but it sure fits how I feel today), but it's time to enlarge my circle of mutual support. It's time to stand up and admit that I need the support, company, and friendship of other people.

The telephone call was made. Nope, own it. I called the contact person and asked for information regarding meetings. I've been exploring the website. The support group meets tomorrow night and I followed up by doing something that people who know me would find hard to believe. I called my scheduler and said that I will not be available for work assignments in the evening of the days that the support group meets.

Take a look: www.dballiance.org

HOORAY!

Bipolar 12 Step Program?

I'm not aware of a 12 step program for those of us who are navigating life after diagnosis. But I intend to explore how to apply such a program to my life. This is where and when I'll begin.

In my efforts to find some relief from the helplessness I felt pre-diagnosis, I came across the book If You Had Controlling Parents by Dan Neuharth. Bells rang, alarms blared, lightbulbs appeared over my head! Yes, I had controlling parents! Of course I recognized that this was not the source of my difficulties, but it sure felt like a situation that could exacerbate whatever was going on with me. This book led me to other resources that helped then and, if I will use them, can help me now.

My next discovery was ACOA (Adult Children of Alcoholics). So many things rang true! There is a history of alcoholism in my family and I consider myself an alcoholic. I felt no ill effects from drinking. I never drank excessively (which is probably not an accurate statement), but there was a point where I needed a drink to sleep. Alcohol no longer had a place in my home, but I could visit it when I went on a single-moms-out-night. There was a strong connection between alcohol and sex for me. Sober sex? I don't have much experience with it, but I do know that it's much easier to realize when the wrong man is in my bed if I don't drink. Ok, I don't have years of experience in this area. The one man I've had sober sex with was still an impulsive situation for me, but I recognized very quickly that I did not want him in my body again. I'm at a complete loss now. I don't know how to meet a nice man. I don't know how to behave around nice men. And as much as I'd love to spoon with a snoring, drooling, musky, good man, I have a hard time believing it will ever happen. I've met one nice man since diagnosis, but I fell back on some of my old behaviors. Overwhelming. Enthusiastic -- hyperenthusiastic. Teenage me. Socially inept me. I wouldn't blame him if he never spoke to me again. Melodrama! Sheesh.

The challenge in this area, and in all other areas for me, is to determine what is "normal" and to learn how to integrate the lovely parts of being bipolar with the behaviors that nurture life with other people. The result should be a higher quality of life. A less lonely life.

Meds help smooth off each end of the spectrum.

They work if you take them. Load the mediset.

It works if you work it. Read the big red book.

10 minutes after posting: Lesson learned. Google first. There are already programs that combine mental health and 12 step programs. Sheesh.

Becoming Crashproof

My newest goal is to become crashproof in spite of anything life tosses my way or how I sabotage myself.

Other terms are used, but "crash" best describes my experience. Life is just too much, all circuits overload, the will to push on disappears, and I find myself on the floor unable to move forward. Just unable to move. Then the "why bother" thoughts enter my head and I look for a quick exit. When that fails, I update myself to the next version. I am currently version 1.8.

Prior to each crash I believed that I was doing my best, just being a superhuman good girl. I believed that what I was doing would make a difference and I was taking care of everyone. Then everything stopped. No motion at all. The truth is that I really did do my best for a while. There was no gauge to indicate that the fire and determination were no longer serving as fuel, but instead were destructive elements. No idiot light to indicate that my engine was overheating.

I laid there on the floor while others picked up the pieces and restored order to chaos. While on the floor, I could see no future, felt no energy, lacked the ability to continue forward, and then acted on that lack of vision.

"No" has become part of my vocabulary, but it is not used often enough. I see myself heading in an unhealthy direction and start applying "no" as needed. At least for a while. Then the panic kicks in and I worry about surviving. Just basic physical survival.

I am so lucky to finally understand why I have experienced crashes and to have some new tools to stave off future occurrences. After each crash it feels as though a new life begins. In the past, shame and fear have closed doors through relocation or by simply disconnecting with anything and anyone associated with the crash. All the old is cast off and new is acquired. I have no lifelong friends, there are no connections to family members, and the only person I have wanted to remain in my life is my son. The process of starting over is time consuming, lonely, and exhausting. And exhaustion leads to...

This time the toolbox is open, my new true friends are standing by, and I'm wearing my helmet.

Independence

Financial concerns are my current worry. I am trying very hard to not feel overwhelmed. But it's very, very difficult.

I like the work I am doing, recognize that it's probably one of the best fitting jobs I could have (short shifts, low stress, variety, lovely clients, emotionally and intellectually rewarding), but the pay is low and I'm having trouble meeting my monthly obligations. Tackling the credit card debt seems out of reach, but I can do things to reduce my current living expenses.

One of the options on the table is finding a less expensive place to live. I love where I'm living, but I'm certainly not making the most of the amenities here. The landlord is accepting the rent in two payments -- I don't want to continue that practice. I don't want to surrender my autonomy! I sent a notice to my church mailing list expressing my desire to find other housing. So far one possibility has surfaced.

My ideal living space has a buffer separating me from the hustle, bustle, and noise of the outside world. I do not want another apartment. The new space will provide me with the peace and quiet I need to regroup and prepare myself to go out into the world for work and to be with friends. It must be my sanctuary. I have always needed this type of setting, but since my diagnosis, I understand why it is so important to me.

I could cancel my internet service, but I have become so dependent upon it. Paying my bills on line, receiving email notifications, and having the ability to look at my daily bank balance have helped me avoid the financial chaos that I used to experience. I am able to make a little money writing web content. There is connection to others who share a similar life -- I never feel completely alone. I don't see myself functioning very well at a public location that offers free wifi.

All my other expenses have been pared down as much as possible. My ten year old car is beginning to need repairs and I need to take better care of it. Without my car, I would not be able to keep my job. My grocery budget is almost dangerously low. My eating habits do not support good mental or physical health. I've stretched meds as far as I dare and this expense will increase since I've decided that this has to be top priority.

Retaining my independence provides me an oasis from a world that drains me.