Facing forward...

In my heart, I'm proud of myself for making it this far.  I've done a lot of damage in the past and have lived with the consequences, guilt and shame of those times for many years and thought I was just a bad person. 

I'm not a bad person.  I didn't make those choices because I was thoughtless and out of control selfish.  I have an illness.   An illness that has cemented and laid a pretty thick foundation of insecurities, anxiety, and worry. I thought this was normal and this was just who I was.  I was different from most people only because I was different. 

About 10 years ago I put myself in therapy and worked through and modified some serious behavior issues that were causing havoc in my life.  I took deep breathes when I got angry, I learned to communicate better, I took myself out of situations that would trigger behavior that I was not proud of (mostly).  That's a huge step in the recovery and balance of having this disease.  It's also the reason I was in utter disbelief that I was even "mentally unwell" to begin with.  I had the courage and determination to pull myself out of a pit and have forged ahead a better person.  A person I can be proud of.

My heart is proud, so how come my head doesn't follow suit? 

A symptom of bipolar disorder that has plagued me heavily is racing thought patterns.  I relive my mistakes, I over inflate my obstacles and degrade myself for lack of strict discipline or drive to find something I love to do and stick with it. 

Because of the normal person sets out to find their thing and GOES AND DOES IT with much success. 

I haven't been able to do that yet.  Notice I say yet.  There is a hope inside of me.  There is also a realistic view of my real time situation.  Stress is a major trigger for your brain to pull a switch on you and throw you into mania or depression.  Is it unrealistic of me to think that a fulltime, meaningful career in the fitness biz, being the best mom I can to three girls, and supporting my husband as he builds his career a lofty goal.  Or am I putting too much pressure on myself? 

Pressure, stress, not being able to juggle on the things I put on my plate is a recipe for disaster.  It could mean more hospitalizations, it could mean more damage to my kids, it could mean a crack in the foundation of my marriage. 

So maybe, just maybe.....I will close myself off from the normal expectations, the façade that women can and should be able to do it all successfully and brilliantly and just do what I can in that day.  Be proud of what that is and know my limits.  Doing more than I should can and will mostly likely trigger mania, which for me, quickly turns into psychosis. 

One of the scariest dangers a person with bipolar faces is the risk of suicide.  The last time I was in psychosis and thought I was on a mission to save the world, I drank something that could have been dangerous, I was lucky.  I was so lucky.  I had thoughts of taking my entire bottle of anti-psychotics during this episode, also.  Not because I was sad or felt like a failure, but because I was having delusions that I had been chosen to ring the bell so to speak, to spark the rapture (don't even get me started on my potential PTSD from fear taught religion OMG).   

So facing forward....it is my goal to be kind to myself, even if that means all day reminding myself to stop the bashing.  Not to expect others to be kind or understand my situation.  I don't need to explain, I don't need to justify what I need.  I don't need to go beyond my boundaries because another person needs or wants my support and help.  It is my goal to take care of my kids and love them.  It is my goal to support my husband and keep my marriage strong because I am lucky that his love, while quiet and often times unexpressed, runs very deep.  It is my goal to allow my journey in a new town to unfold slowly and deliberately.  No need to overwhelm, no need to accomplish things all at once, and no need to prove to anyone but me that I can do this.

I love sharing here.  My writing is kinda like barfing.  I don't have a system, I don't proofread or try to make it perfect.  I don't think long and hard about what I want to say, I just start thinking and there it is.  My brain vomit.  I'm as crazy as you think I am, and now it's official. 

Summer vacation!

Yesterday was the last day of school for the two little ones and Monday for Sydney.  I'm happy to report that all three were fairly happy with the end of year.  Sydney had some sad moments, so did I.  This was her 8th grade graduation year and she lined up with people she's only known for 6 months.  It was heartbreaking to watch her silently wish she had been with her friends in NY, sharing the same FB worthy moments they were having with each other. 

It totally get it too because I have those same exact moments with my own circle of friends I had there.  We miss them. 

I've been reading a lot of on-line information about bipolar disorder and what I am facing.  Or rather what I've always been facing, but with a few tools and knowledge that might give me some insight as to how best manage my illness. 

Is it possible to actually feel worse?  Un-medicated life just seemed more fun.  There was more anxiety, also.  I'm hoping that with time, and a different mind-set that I can accomplish what will feel right for me.  I've been taking a serious look in the mirror at my self medicating (something I've done for years - I just figured I was a high-functioning/borderline alcoholic.  Turns out that individuals with bipolar often use substances to cope with stress.  That description pretty much sums me up, but it does for an addict also.  Ya know? 

The underlying difference is that I have experience true mania.  There is absolutely no doubt what my episode was since it led to psychosis.  Twice.  I've decided that I don't exhibit the stereotype symptoms of extreme mood swings that others may show..  I do often change moods, I can be extremely irritable, I can become very high and very low.  But I don't consider myself out of the normal scope of how others show their emotions day to day, it's just that mine change more frequently.  It's harder for me to deal with conflicting issues.  I have racing thoughts and my speech can become forced. 

I just don't consider myself to be living a life of torment and chaos that others describe.  I've also read that each and every individual is different.  I can be high functioning with bipolar now but it might not be so if I overdo stress, continue to self medicate (I've been doing great, but not perfect with this recently), do not follow a treatment plan, and make keep my body and mind running as optimally as I possibly can. 

An eye opener for me was reading the experiences people had with discipline and following through on their dreams - how depression, lack of focus, anxiety and running had been obstacles for many. 

It helped me to see that I have always had a challenge in front of me that was beyond my control.  There might be a way to fix it, and maybe with hard work and patience, the right doctors, the right behavior.....I might be able to find the balance between mother, wife and the person I would like to become that is separate from all that. 

We'll see....

 

Move complete!

We made it into our new house and Abigail's 6th birthday party with decent results.  I won't say I was a walking cloud of calm the entire time, but I kept moving forward each day.  I've unpacked and sorted (again) about 85% of our household belongings.  Some of our things were still packed from the previous move last November.  Some of it is packed into storage still. 

I had a dream about moving last night.  I know this uncertainty and lack of control has been a huge factor in my ability to handle every day stresses.  This rock has been sitting on our back ever since Dee was diagnosed with cancer a year ago.  It's been heavy since then. 

I decided the best thing for me to do right now is figure out meds, focus on family, and workout with something different most days of the week to learn.  Then a dash of Zumba classes to get my name exposed to people.  Patience has never been a virtue of mine and maybe that's why I'm always faced with situations that keep me immobile, or have me take steps backwards because the first round was a training for what's to come.  It's not my job to figure it all out today.  Let's just call this planning mode since I don't feel stable enough in my day to day to take on any more than what's in front of me. 

I've been told that I'm not here for the sprint, it's the marathon that's going to really matter.

On a more uplifting note, I could live here forever.  I chose this place a long time ago. While it's a different home for me now, I'm grateful to be back in the arms of the Maine coast.  Soaking in the energy of all that is attracted to this place.  I didn't see a cardinal all winter long, but the first day we moved into our new (AMAZING) rental, there were a pair sitting right on the bushes by the driveway, unaffected by my showing up to bask in their sun.  I was so happy in that moment. 

I've been happy in many moments though.  I haven't been writing here since we left the other house but this was a great move.  We are paying more for this house but having it located in town is a blessing.  Lots and lots of walking, bike riding, park visiting, library, shops, good restaurants, post office, therapy, yoga, school....the list could be larger but you get the idea.  It's an old meets new Victorian house with lots of space and charm.  Everyone has settled in nicely, even me. 

I managed a really nice family dinner and home made dessert for Abby's birthday.  We had a great gathering last Sunday afternoon.  It was the first time both sisters and their families came to my home for a meal and in THAT moment, I felt normal.  Like I wasn't on the outside looking in. 

Though the beginning has been rocky, I realize that it's the beginning.  Just like a flower that closed in the darkness...I will bloom in my own timing and in my own way.  Hopefully into a more beautiful one with each new coming moment. 

Seriously though, having my bipolar disorder fully express itself was something I didn't see coming until it happened.  Even the name of this blog that's been in circulation on and off for only knows how long, indicated a flash.  I wonder how this will be used in my life?  All is our guru and if I'm lucky, I'll be able to use it as a positive to help others.  This is my intention, to manage this as best I know how and live the best life I absolutely can.  But it won't happen overnight I don't think.

A blessing for today.

It seems like having a really good, but non manic day is the gift I'm hoping for each day when I get up.  We are moving into a new rental this weekend.  I've been running back and forth all day getting things, cleaning, unpacking boxes that have been sealed for months, organizing Jim's mess from bringing stuff over last weekend, and trying not to look at the shambles all around because I know that this too shall pass. 

Yesterday was so sad.  I try to explain how I feel to Jim and he's a no go with emotion.  I need to hear he wants to take this on together.  It feels like he doesn't even realize the seriousness of needing to know exactly how much he needs me.  I worry about this, it's real and can consume me if I let it.  He's said a few things this year that hit hard.  One was the money thing I wrote about yesterday.  The other was when we first moved and I was having a fun party night with my sister. 

"I should leave you."

I have abandonment issues that stem all the way back to when my mom chose to raise my siblings but graciously gave me to her mother so it could be easier on us both.  That had to of not been easy.  I acknowledge the reasons, but the scars remain and whenever faced with a situation that mimics any thing remotely like abandonment before I'm ready for a separation....I fall into depression. 

Those words haven't left me yet.  *sigh*

I'm pretty level today but that's kind of the way I roll.  When duty calls I can ignore all the craziness that sits inside of my brain and focus on life that needs to be lived.  I'm assuming for this weekend I should be okay. 

Another ride.

Life can certainly change in a moment.  One day you think your path is clear before you, and another minute it's like everything you ever thought you were is completely different.

I had a really hard Friday.  The paranoia and panic attacks were so unbearable that I absolutely had to drink a few and smoke half a pack of cigarettes just to get by.  I lost a total of 5 hours of sleep in just two days and was borderline psychotic.  Again.

I'm happy to say that I reached out for help from Jamie.  Attempting suicide is only a few missteps away.  One moment of resolve is all it will take, one time when my courage is greater than my fear of death.  My delusions are so out of control in my manic phases that I can't function or see anything but signs about the coming of Jesus and my apparent role in this all going down.  The hero, the right hand of the one true King.  It's very heavy to carry this load and it's not even just the delusions that are heavy.  It's put my family in a good bit of financial hard ship that is all my fault.

I sometimes feel like everyone would be safer without me and their lives better.  Jim's reaction to my emergency room visit when I first went in this last episode was "do you know how much this is going to cost?"  I wouldn't talk because I felt in my delusions that talking would spoil the master plan and I didn't think it was safe to talk.  We are still paying off the last stay of $1500.00.  This new one comes with a large deductible and 20% of the costs of hospital stay for 7 days.  Two days in emergency care, a CT scan, and 6 days inpatient at Acadia.

It's not easy for me to find myself worthy of a pedicure, much less thousands of dollars because I'm nuts.

Where did the good feelings go?

I'm not sure Jim loves me enough to take this on.  I know he loves me, he wants the best for his kids.  But I'm not sure he can do this long term.  I've always been the rock and he's been able to go to work and feel safe that our home was run somewhat smoothly.  Just getting kids to school and supper on the table is a major event.  My classes are doing awful, I'm not making any money at all and I feel like a waste of space.  I'm a fine instructor with good things to offer but that has to take limited space since managing this illness has to take priority. 

Sometimes it's not so hard to find value, but when I think of all the trouble this new illness is causing I find it very tiresome.  Who is going to want to put up with this?  Even on medication I'm all over the place.  My kids need their mom.  If I didn't have my kids I probably would already have succeeded in just 6 short months of having this disease. 

I'm lost today. 

I don't want to give up at all, but I'm having a moment where I wonder if I'm worth it. 

Today has been such a good day.  I can't describe what it feels like to discover something about yourself, about your life, that allows focus and drive.  I've had amazing ideas throughout my career as a fitness professional and saw some of them to fruition but really lacked a personal fortitude to get anywhere.  Maybe it is because I was living the dream that was not mine, and maybe my town was just not big enough to go BIG and support a business. 

That dream sharing plays into the empathic qualities I have.  I was literally living the life and setting the goals someone else had and forgot all about my own.  I wasn't happy, I was resentful, I was exhausted, and I was steering down a road of resistance.  It wasn't mine, I didn't want it. 

What do I want? 

I want it all. 

I don't want to be *just* a Zumba instructor anymore.  I want that to be what makes me shine, I want to use that as part of a business that excels because it's what I'm good at.  But ultimately, I can't do it all.  I'd like to gather, create, inspire a team of really great fitness professionals.  Each of us having our unique offering that really brings out the best in them and RUN WITH THAT as a team. 

I have recently taken up CrossFit.  I haven't been so excited about something since Zumba.  It's really tapped into a side of me that has been lacking and will be what I believe, what makes me stronger than ever.  I love this style of training, I love this class and I want to be a fucking beast.  You mark my words man.  I'm going to rip myself into a sculpted machine and I'm not even sorry about that. 

In January, I began taking yoga classes with a unique and amazing person.  I love her style, I love her intuitive nature and her ability to take care of her class by being completely open and channeling her love for yoga to the students in the room.  The energy that resides within her space after a class has been inspiring and I'm taking care of something I've needed for a long time.  Stretching.  I need to lengthen to strengthen.  She leads from the heart, much like me and "knows" how to take her energy and place it into the hearts of those around her. 

I'm not the best dancer, but my energy during a class is difficult to describe when I'm tapping into that.  It can't be copied unless you're willing to really open up into your love source and let it flow freely.  I can't do this all week long, I need to do things for me, and share myself with limits.  If I do not do this, I become unhappy and unbalanced.  My new mantra is all about finding what makes ME happy and doing just that.  Part of that is being the best mother and wife I can possibly be, as well as friend to few, as well as personal trainer, business partner, Zumba instructors. 

My circle is going to become a lot smaller.  My real friends will get the best and my students will get Zumba.  I can't be a best friend to every student even though my heart is drawn into that place.  The healer, the fixer, the one that wants everyone to feel happy because it's too much to see another feeling down.

The consequences of such is a person who absolutely can't function.  I'm pulled into so many directions that I lose all happiness of my own and fall into depression.  If I'm happy, just being in a room with me makes you feel better.  You may not even know it, but somehow....if it's in my power, I will make you feel special and important.  I am damn good at Customer Service.  I aim to please people. 

So how does that sound?  Are my goals mine?  Do I sound happy?  I will admit that my emotions are a little bouncy here and there but the new medication creates a more balanced approach.  I can talk about my ideas with clarity and focus.  In my head, I'm not a cocky bitch one minute, worst individual ever the next.  Am I cocky?  Oh hell to the yes.  After years and years of self loathing I think I deserve just a little bit of YOU AREN'T JUST BARELY GOOD ENOUGH - YOU KICK ASS!!!  I have goals in place and I'm working towards becoming a unique leader who works well with others and shares her ideas to the betterment of all those who share my love for fitness.  It's not all one thing or nothing, it's a mix of three unique workouts, each designed to compliment and enhance the performance of each one.  Ellsworth didn't see me coming.....and that's fine by me.  Once they know I'm here they will surely know my name.  I'm going for gold this time.  Finally a town big enough for a girl like me. 

I feel better now. HAHAHAHAAHAHA! Yes, I'm crazy.

It's funny what a couple of days away and a little hope can do for a soul.  My last post was a debbie downer, but you know, it has to come out some place because I feel like no one listens, sometimes. 

Communication is such a tricky business.  Jim and I have undergone months upon months of stress this last decade.  That's a lot of frigging months. 

At the end of the day we are a tight unit.  Almost as tight as my buns, but not quite.  Yes, I just said that.  I'm not even sorry.  I have worked hard at re-shaping and re-defining myself, body, mind and soul.   I'm here to toot my own fucking horn once in a while dammit. 

It's kind of overwhelming to find out about a new venture into the world of mental health amongst a 10 minute bitch session.  I have to admit, I was so pissed the first time I was hospitilized.  The meds were wrong and I was so drugged up.  I had gone in at a svelt 120 lbs.  Came out with 10 extra, no muscle coordination and a huge cloud above my head. 

When I think back on it, I've been right on the cusp of going over the edge many years.  I believe a hyper active thyroid and per-menopause have given me a big push towards needing medication. 

The second hospitilization was a much different experience with different drugs and listening doctors.  I could cry just thinking about how grateful I am that I have a mild case and will probably manage it just fine with some good self care and low dose medication.  This is not the case for all. 

I am definitely what you would call Empath.  And what that means is just someone who's extremely sensitive to all emotions around them.  Sometimes I can even feel pain if I'm closely connected with you, this is new since finding the cause of my roller coaster.  If Jim loses his shit I'm done.  Can't function.  Same with my kids and the friends I let in my circle of trust.   It's part of the reason I've been such a hot mess for the entirety of my life.  It's so funny to open these new presents and say, OOOHHHHHH!!!  It's common for highly empathic individuals to be diagnosed bipolar, and not always bipolar individuals who are Empaths.  It's not your typical cocktail, or maybe it is.  It will be tricky finding exactly what I need to thrive, but I'm hoping with good a good doctor, a good psychiatrist, and therapist, I'll succeed in getting what I need.  I have a trusted therapist and she has recommended a doctor to me.  I'm 2/3 of the way there.  The psychiatrist was referred to me by my inpatient team and I trust their judgement.  I think they do tend to listen, but you have to get their attention.  That's not something I have trouble doing.  Yes, I said that too.  People take notice when I take a seat.  They might think I'm a total moron, but they do take notice.  This I know!  Yes...TOOOT TOOOT! 

I'm in the middle of dinner and have to go, but this is something to chew on so you don't die of agony waiting for the next musing.  All 10 of you.  Or so. 

Have a great week, friends. 

Love,
Ropa

You definitely want to read this.

Sometimes, I just feel like throwing in the towel.  How many years have to go by, how many times do I get up after falling, only to receive another broken plate. 

I'm so fucking tired. 

I don't mean to sound ridiculous.  I mean, it is Easter and Jesus did die on the cross for my sins and rose from the grave only to find a world full of ungrateful, unbelieving sons a bitches.  I know that my problems are pale in comparison to others.  But right now I'm talking about me and if you don't like the pity party, then I suggest you find another blog to read. 

I'm having a rough day.  Jim and I are experiencing the hardest financial struggle that outweighs even our leanest of times.  And it's always been lean.  It's always been a struggle.  One would think that first job you land after 10 years of graduate school and post docs would be the break in the ice.  A little reward with a nice rainbow to go with it. 

Unfortunately, we have a shitty realtor selling our house that we dumped a shit ton of money into making a home.  We chose her because she was local to our town and it's been the biggest mistake ever.  If we could have one serious buyer that had enough money to give us the very minimum of what we need to move on we would bend. It's killed our savings and put us in a pretty decent sized hole of debt. 

I am still plugging away at Zumba and making NOTHING because I'm paying more than my fair share of rent.  I have no choice but to bend over because I have to start somewhere.  I started selling essetial oils for a MLM company trying to figure out one more way to pay the bills because I need more training, more knowledge to be taken seriously in the fitness industry.  I also love essential oils and use them daily for lots of different things from stress relief to allergy med alternatives.  I have found my passion in life but I feel like I'm climbing a wall that just keeps getting higher and higher. 

I spent the last 14 years supporting Jim in his career choices and now I feel guilty because we are struggling so bad, but I want my piece of cake, too.  I want to be home for the kids and work for myself because I feel like if I'm my own boss I can at least be in charge of appreciating my damn self since no one else seems to get it.  I've sold myself short for so many years waiting for others to value the person I am only to be found wanting. 

Shitty friends, unappreciative co-workers, ungrateful family and seldom hear from anyone but strangers or acquaintances that I really made a difference in their day.  Not all, don't take offense, but I only have a few really good ones who haven't at some point or other let me down so bad trust was broken. 

I serve people and it gives me great pleasure to make another smile.  I just want someone to make me smile, too. 

How many selfish people does it take to change a light bulb?  None, they're gonna wait for me to do it, because it's what I always do. 

I am blessed with three amazing kids.  I have a wonderful husband who has a good base for a career and he doesn't beat me or isn't an alcoholic and is a good father.  I am grateful for these things.  But honestly, I follow him around constantly looking for some sign that he's in love with me enough to show signs of affection.  I need to be hugged and kissed and want strong connections.  I don't need money, I need love and lots of it.  I can't help that I want these things.  I try to accept who he is and I realize he shows love in his own way but it's not easy to lack something I've been waiting my whole life to receive.  Thank goodness for my young girls.  They do love me and show me a lot of love and I soak it up in the brief moments it occurs, when I'm not keeping them from stabbing each other in the eye ball with a fork. 

Raising three daughters is a daunting, exhausting, and exhilarating task.  I love doing it, but guess who'll get the credit when it's all said and done.  The front man.  Dr. Hagarman, what a rock for his family, providing and loving them into confident and courageous women. Guess all the laundry, endless hours of brushing hair and wiping asses, hugging when duty calls, making the tough choices to keep them empathic and grounded women means nothing.  This shit ain't easy. 

In the side lines there's me, the servant.  Did you know she doesn't even work, what a lazy bitch.  She must be on Facebook all day or something.  A newly diagnosed bipolar and self proclaimed empath who has struggled for years taking on everyone's problems to the point of two hospitalizations in one year. 

That's what this has come to for me and I'm so very tired of grabbing the short straw.  It just seems to get worse no matter how much effort I put in. 

How bad is it that I felt happier in the hospital than out?  I made a difference in there.  I brushed an elderly woman's hair and made her feel pretty even though her kids won't even speak to her.  I showed a former heroine addict that she still had what it takes to jog around the court and could do whatever she decided to do.  I gave a lonely 21 year old boy a few days of feeling special by getting attention from his new inpatient cougar "girlfriend".  We set boundaries since I was married, but he never stopped smiling for the whole 5 days and promised me he'd take a shower the day I left.  I hugged a young girl who suffered severe anxiety and let her think she gave me new coping skills by sharing her love for coloring and hugging her stuffed animals.  I danced in the hall with a homeless woman and she laughed so hard and told me how cute I was, just cute cute cute she said.  She then told everyone to go to hell and fuck off but that's beside the point.

I helped those people feel more human and loved with everything I had for that one week.  I shared and listened.  I submersed myself in bipolar, schizophrenia,  PTSD, and homelessness.  I left my family to my amazing husband and he did a great job and I felt appreciated for just a few days.  It was great.  Turns out the broken plates are the best ones to be around.  It's all these pretend perfect plates that get on my fucking nerves. 

And now I'm out and I can't use any of my favorite coping skills aside from exercise.  No wine, no weed, no praying (psychosis makes me want to save the world from hell).  And we are in the middle of a shit storm and at each others throats at the very mention of money. 

I really hope this passes soon and I hope that stupid fucking realtor sells our house.  I'm so sick of people not doing their job and I'm sick of dinks.