Another oldie, about dealing with the diagnosis that is bipolar. For more information on the symptoms of bipolar visit: http://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/bipolar-disorder/basics/symptoms/con-20027544,  http://www.webmd.com/bipolar-disorder/guide/understanding-bipolar-disorder-symptoms or, http://www.health.com/health/gallery/0,,20436786,00.html

Last week, I was wishing I could find words to describe what it’s like to deal with the symptoms of bipolar—mania, depression, and, my happy little friend, anxiety. But nothing seemed adequate enough to explain it. Then, I remembered a children’s book I read to my kids when they were younger. My Many Colored Days by Dr. Seuss uses colors to describe the different types of days that are part of the human experience, including sad, happy, and mixed-up days. It gave me the idea to try and describe the symptoms of bipolar using color. So, here’s my attempt to depict what it’s like to struggle with mania, depression, and anxiety.

Mania- Bright, happy pink carries me weightless above the world. I’m flying and it seems so easy—like it should always be this way. But when the balloon pops, I fall helplessly to the ground with nothing to brace me for the impact.

A few entries ago, I wrote about how, in the past, I loved being manic. It felt so good—like I truly was flying weightless above the ground. Manic episodes were euphoric. They tricked me into thinking that things would always stay that way—that I wouldn’t ever come crashing back down again. Now, I know better. No matter how much I wish it weren't so, manic episodes always end, and I hurtle back down to earth knowing in my heart that, for as long as I live on this planet, mania will always be followed by the bitter pill of depression.

Depression- I wake up pink, but the shroud of gray quickly wraps me up in its suffocating folds. As this boa constricts, struggling to break free seems pointless. I turn back to my bed, my place of safety, burying myself beneath the blankets that offer precarious protection at best.

Depression can be deceitful. Even when I’m dealing with a bout of it, I wake up feeling happy and focused. But, when I’m in this part of the bipolar cycle, the familiar cloud of despair quickly colors my day, and the hope I had when my feet hit the ground is nowhere to be found. Morning always tricks me into thinking that I’m not going to struggle with depression that day. But it’s a lie because, as long as I am bipolar, I will always struggle with depression. It’s just part of the deal.

Anxiety- yellow birds pop in and out of my brain creating chaos. I try to focus but, just as one coherent thought begins to take shape, another distraction flies in, clamoring for my attention. The uproar in my brain is paralyzing, and I find it difficult to make even the simplest of decisions.

In my world, anxiety is always along for the ride. When I’m struggling with it, I literally can’t make a decision, fearing it will be the wrong one. For example, in the past, I could stand for an eternity in the frozen foods aisle trying to choose which brand of bagged vegetables to buy. I know it sounds silly, but making even the simplest of decisions was a real struggle. These days I’m not as afraid to make decisions, even if they might be the wrong ones. But anxiety still has its way with me at times. It’s very strange feeling my stomach churn with anxiety when there’s absolutely no reason for it. It reminds me that being bipolar isn’t my fault; it’s just a disease that affects my neuro-transmitters.

Though I’m no poet, using color to express this disorder was the best way I could think of to describe the battle I fight every day. Over the years, I’ve learned coping skills to deal with mania, depression, and anxiety while also accepting the fact that medication is a strong ally in my fight to be as productive and healthy as I can be. Being bipolar isn’t my fault. Nor is it the fault of anyone who suffers from a mental disorder. If you struggle with any of these symptoms, and they never seem to completely go away, I encourage you to get help. You don’t just have to cope with your condition. You can find relief and help if you just seek it out.
 

This post was written before my mom passed away in December, 2011. It’s all about change and whether to embrace it or stubbornly hold on to what is part of your past. As my family faces uncertain times, this post reminds me that good, even great things come with change. Standing on the precipice of what our future holds is scary. But I don’t want to hold on to the past so tightly that I forget to enjoy the ride that comes with the changes of life. Don’t be stubborn like I am so prone to be, embrace the changes that come with life and trust that God has a plan for your future. A good plan.

 So Mom's settled in her new home. Although it's not what she's used to, she did admit to me one day that she understands now why she had to make the move. But why did she wait so long to move to this place; a place she would have enjoyed so much better when she was healthier?  Well, you can chalk it up to one thing—stubbornness.  And the only reason I can say that is because the stubborn gene lies dormant in my heart as well.  It comes out and rears its ugly head now and again, and, when it does, my husband gleefully points out that I'm being just as hard headed as the rest of my family.  Boy, I hate it when he's right.

Stubbornness does have its bad points I will admit.  Holding on tightly, clinging to the way life is now.  Resisting the change that might make all the difference in the world - that might, if you let it, actually be a good thing - even a great thing in your life. 


I hate change.  My resistance to it is demonstrated in many ways.   I always order the same drink when I go to Starbucks—tall caramel macchiato, decaf with whip cream on top.  When I see a seasonal drink like a pumpkin spice latte, I don't even bat an eye.  Why mess with a good thing? I shop at the same grocery store every week—weaving the same path in and out of the aisles;  vegetables at the front, bread and cereal in the middle, ice cream at the very back.  In fact, when the store makes changes, I get a bit miffed.  Don't mess with my routine. You might regret it.

My husband is so the opposite of me.  Sometimes it frustrates me when he decides to take a shortcut through a neighborhood –a deviation from the same walking trail I follow every day. Sometimes when he takes a different route home from church I question him “What are you doing? This isn't the way home?”  On more than one occasion, I've had the humbling experience of realizing that life doesn't always have to follow my normal. Changing things up a bit can be kind of fun. Sometimes,  it’s even necessary.

A few years back after my husband began a new job, we started looking at houses that would be closer to his workplace.  In fact, we began thinking about building a new home.  So, one weekend we met with a realtor to begin the process. He had an estimate all laid out for us, we talked about features we wanted, and discussed the costs involved. We were on the verge of signing a deal, but for some reason we decided not to do it that day.  After we'd met with the guy, my husband mentioned that he wanted to look at some existing houses. 

On the drive over, I made the comment that I wished he would stop taking us on all these little bunny trails.  We'd made our decision, right?  Why change things up now?  Well, I choked on every word when we stepped into the house that was to become ours.  We fell in love with it on the spot—both of us.  And let me tell you, my husband did not hesitate to point out that following this bunny trail hadn't been such a bad idea.

So sometimes, I guess, change is a good thing.  And maybe following those bunny trails every once in awhile is good for me.  I do have to admit that it gets boring ordering the same drink, walking the same trail, shopping at the same store week after week.  Sometimes, it’s fun to mix things up a bit.  So, I'll try a different latte next week.  And maybe I'll deviate from my walking trail every few days.  I might even dare to go to a new grocery store this week.  Who knows, I might find myself enjoying the change of scenery.   Darn, bunny trails . . .

Ecc 3:11 [God] has made everything (even change) beautiful in its time. 

You don’t try to kill yourself because death’s appealing — but because life’s agonizing. We don’t want to die. But we can’t stand to be devoured. ~ Ann Voskamp 

Should I, or should I not? That was the question I pondered this past week as I looked ahead to Monday's new post. It's been everywhere, the news of Robin Williams—how he took his own life. So many thoughts, questions, opinions have been expressed—was there any room for me to share my own experiences?

But I decided not to pass this up—this opportunity to share my own suffering and grief. And I hope I won't share these words in vain. I hope they will help someone, somewhere.

Suicide? Yes, I considered it. I pondered what it would be like. How I would end my own life. I was a Christian who contemplated suicide. But, I wasn't thinking selfish thoughts like, "Gee, I can't wait 'til they find my body and feel sorry for all the mean things they did to me." It was never about that. It was never about being selfish. It was about finding a way out of the pain that seemed never-ending. I was dying inside and nobody knew it. Not even those closest to me.

I don't like to suffer, so I thought a car running in an enclosed garage would be the way I would do it. I knew I couldn't slit my wrists, too painful. I wanted to go quietly and simply end my life by falling asleep.

Meanwhile I cried out to God to save me. There were so many times when I would lie on the floor, curled up in a fetal position, crying out to God, begging him, 'Please, please take away my pain.' Much like Job, I sat in agony wondering why God had left me and what I was doing wrong.

Only I wasn't doing anything wrong, I was just suffering.

In an old post called the, Colors of My World, I tried to describe depression using the color gray. Though I did my best, even those words didn't tell the whole story, the whole truth of how it feels to be deeply depressed. It's silent. It's hidden. It's hell.

The one thing that truly kept me going—hope. The hope that things would get better, that change would come. But sometimes that golden thread of hope stretched very thin. So I got out my Bible and started to underline passages—like, Jeremiah 29:11:

I put dates beside each verse and shoved them into God's face and reminded him that when he makes a promise, he always keeps it. And I waited for the day when all those promises of God would come through for me. Promises like Psalm 9:18:

And verses like Psalm 90:15:

Give us gladness in proportion to our former misery! Replace the evil years with good. 

I waited patiently, persistently for the day when God would turn my 'valley of weeping,' into 'pools of blessing'. And he did. Since my diagnosis in 2004, my life is a 180 degree turnaround from where it was—a fact that I am grateful for every day.

I can't promise you that the pain of depression will go away all together, because it won't. I can't promise you that you'll never deal with another bout of anxiety, because you will. It's inevitable. But I can promise you this; Hope is a good thing, and it will not disappoint you. That's not my promise. It's God's.

Psalm 12:6 The Lord's promises are pure. Like silver refined in a furnace purified seven times over.

Well, if you read last week’s post, It’s Okay to Not Be Okay, you’re aware that life in my family feels a little uncertain right now. It seems like every day I fight hard not to panic, worry, freak out and, just in general, come apart at the seams. One thing has kept me going--a psalm, which is appropriate because that is after all what these last few entries have been about:

Don’t get me wrong, my family is by no means facing a famine. We are blessed and will continue to be blessed in the future. After all, God has never let us down before. But it's the thought behind the verse that gives me comfort. In days of famine they will enjoy plenty.

It reminds me of a little miracle Jesus performed for over 5,000 people. Only it’s not the miracle that I'm focusing on in this case. Rather, it's what's penned by the author of the book, John. In the NIV translation, it goes like this:

Such an obscure thing to mention don't you think? I mean if you’re sharing a story about one of the great miracles Jesus performed, why would you choose to include that minor detail: There was plenty of grass in that place. After I thought about it awhile, it came to me that maybe Luke, and ultimately, God, who inspired Luke's words, wrote this with a corner smile on his face: There was plenty of grass in that place,

Remember the part of Jesus' Sermon on the Mount when he says that if God cares so wonderfully for the flowers and grasses of the field how will he not certainly provide for us? I think this little phrase, There was plenty of grass in that place is tucked in there as a small reminder that in God’s hands there is always plenty. Plenty of grace. Plenty of mercy. Plenty of love.

God has never let us down and I don’t think that the God who created enough grass for his faithful to picnic on that day would leave out the more important details of providing food for his people and clothing and, just in general, our daily bread.

So with a deep breath, I wake up every day having no idea what the future holds but reminding myself to keep worry, fretting, and fear at bay. Those feelings of insecurity have never done me any good. Where my family and I are right now feels like such a vulnerable place to be. But it’s also a moment in time for us to grow and deepen in our faith looking to God to provide just what we need each and every day.

Being vulnerable is what the Psalms are all about. Being real with God no matter what you’re experiencing in life--the good and the bad.  Our human responses to life’s situations are all there recorded in the Psalms by those who have gone before us. I’m so thankful for that book of the Bible and all I’ve learned from it. I hope this amazing book, Psalms, is one you set out to explore on your own. If you do, I don’t think you’ll be disappointed. Not in the least.