Glenn Close Campaigns to End Stigma

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Guest Post: Bruised

Forehead Bruise, originally uploaded by Daniel Paquet.

A reader asked me to post the following in her behalf, in hopes that it would help others, in a similar situation, to feel less alone:

Part of me thinks that if my husband were hitting me, things would be easier. At least then I would know what to do and I could have a plan of action. I would leave him, and feel completely justified knowing that I just protected myself and my child from physical harm. But, my husband doesn’t hit me. He doesn’t ever lay a hand on me except when he’s being affectionate.

My husband suffers from bipolar episodes of depression that leave me feeling battered and bruised mentally and emotionally. One minute he tells me that he loves me, and the next minute he tells me he doesn’t want to exist. When he gets in his depressed mood, he often tries to tell me that he feels cooped up, stuffed, contained, and that he wants to be free.

He used to tell me that he needs “more time with the guys to do guy stuff.” Over time, his complaints evolved to needing more “things to do” and “man time alone.” He’s complained about our finances, his responsibilities, and told me that he wishes he were single but couldn’t imagine being alone. He often dreams of being young again, having vitality, and youthful excursions of strength.

When he is gone all day and doesn’t make any effort to engage in conversation or enjoy my company when he returns in the evening, it feels as if I am invisible. He takes time to help me take care of our son, but his efforts are not based on love, they are based on his compelling need to control the situation since I take too much time doing things.

When he is not depressed and in his best of moods, I feel elation, love, and adoration for this man that I married. He can be the best of men, and he can be the worst of men. I love my husband, but I also fear him. I know that his mood can set a tone in our home that affects my emotional and mental well being. More importantly, I know that it can affect our son, and that is what truly bothers me. I don’t want my son to be a on that roller coaster with his father. I don’t want him to suffer through the ups and downs simply because his father has a problem with depression.

When my husband seeks to tell me why he is depressed, his evolving excuses always hover around how my son and I are limiting him in some way. He thinks that he is telling me that the solution to his problems is to have more time to do “whatever seems to fit at the moment”, but what I hear is that my son and I are a burden, and that we keep him from being happy. That he loves us but doesn’t want to be with us.

And that is where I am left to wonder what to do. I am an independent woman, and would not fear being a single mom if it were necessary. Yet, I know that marriage is sacred and that we are to do all that is possible to keep our marriages together. Too many marriages end in divorce, and I do not want to be divorced. I am fighting tooth and nail to save this marriage because I care about my commitment to God and to my family.

If he were hitting me, I would have a bruise, and a sure sign of abuse. No one would question my need to have a dramatic intervention in our lives, but I am not bruised on the outside, I am bruised inside. Some of me thinks that I have the victim mentality that commonly comes when a person is abused. I keep thinking of ways that I can be more loving, more kind, and a better person to stop the hurting and to stop the depression and its accompanying critisms. I blame myself for these problems even though I really know that they are completely out of my hands. I have to battle the automatic thought that “I am not suffering any more than women that put up with husbands who are less perfect than they had hoped.” Deep down inside, I am not healing from these episodes and the things that are said during depressive outpourings of emotion. I am no longer capable of keeping calm and feeling in control. I feel sad. I feel angry, and I want peace instead of turmoil in my home.

I need a plan of action, and I am out of the answers that I hoped would work. I feel resentment for this roller coaster I am asked to ride over and over again, day after day. It needs to end. But, what do I do? I am praying for answers and hoping someone will be inspired to say the right thing at the right time, because I can use all the help I can get.

Video Clips: Sharing Experiences

In conjunction with an upcoming documentary on PBS called Minds on the Edge: Facing Mental Illness, the Fred Friendly Seminars have posted many clips, of which this is one, on YouTube. I found them fascinating. This was one of the longest, but I was very intrigued by what Ms. Hardin had to say about the use of marijuana and its ties to schizophrenia.

Personally, I identified most with the experience of Scott Whitley, while Nancy Edwards' story was to me the most touching. The panel discussions are very interesting, too, as well as many, many more of the clips from those who share their experiences with mental illness. Here is the YouTube page.

Driving on Overload

Here is a picture of how I'm feeling lately. Thank you for asking.

Manic again.   Lots going on inside this brain.

A thank you to maxw for sharing this photo in Creative Commons on Flickr.com.

Imperfection

imperfect 殘念
Originally uploaded by Shenghung Lin

". . . although sin is an imperfection, not all imperfection is sin."

Quote taken from this article in this month's Ensign magazine.

A thank you to Shenghung Lin for sharing this photograph on flickr.

A Mess

personal responsiblity packets
Originally uploaded by _aeb

I'm a mess today. I hacked and coughed all night. Slept late. Am low in energy and depressed.

Last night I chopped at my hair. It looks awful.

In short, I am feeling crazy.

Again.

A thank you to _aeb for generously sharing this work of art on flickr.

fairies kites
Originally uploaded by aussiegall

This time around, I will say "no" more often.

"No. I'm not going."
"No. It's too much for me."
"No. I can't. I simply can't."

I plan to say I'm sorry, too.
But only when I really am sorry.
And only when there is something to be sorry about.

I need not apologize for being ill, for taking care of myself.

I fear that if I get too tethered this next time around, it will be the end of me. As frazzled as I may be and as flitty the flight, I must fly from now on. I must.

I must.

A thank you to aussiegall for sharing this perfect photo on flickr.

An Eerie Yellow in the Trees

trees 1
Originally uploaded by Tim Caynes

The migraines are back.
Ugh.

A thank you to Tim Caynes for sharing this photo on flickr.

Mania

75 Bands Cleverly Represented In This Picture
Originally uploaded by ClintJCL

I have been asked how it is that I recognize that I am transitioning into a manic state. For me, it is pretty simple. I notice that I am having some trouble sleeping. I notice that I would like to spend money on frivolous things, every day, and sneakily. Sometimes I talk more and faster. I think that I eat more, too, especially sweets.

These things have been trying to overtake me again.

I'm glad that I have learned how to catch mania before it explodes on me. I'm glad that this time I have the option of cutting back on my meds. I hope that it helps. I do not like to be manic--even the hypo version.

Thank you to ClintJCL for sharing this picture on flickr.

One Less Brick

from whence the brick came
Originally uploaded by Leonard John Matthews

I had to back off my anti-depressant because I was seeing signs of mania coming on. I'm back to the original dosage.

Sigh.

Thank you to Leonard John Matthews for sharing this picture on flickr.

Accomodations in Church

Some handicaps are obvious to the casual observer. For mental illness, however, the needs of the afflicted one may not be apparent. Here is the way one fellow-sufferer, whose letter is shared here with permission, helped others to understand her unique challenges regarding her church calling.

"I've been thinking a lot about my calling in primary. I guess I feel obligated to tell you (and the presidency via this email that I am sending to you), that I have great doubts about my ability to be a stable teacher for the kids in my class. I LOVE the kids. They are great, but I feel emotionally overwhelmed each Sunday, and it is starting to effect my performance as a teacher in primary, as well as my feelings of well being and peace in other areas of my life.

"I have bi-polar disorder, as well as ADD. I take medication daily for each of the disorders. One of the saving graces in my life is that I can take care of my son, and that my Sundays are uplifting and relaxing. It helps my emotions and spirit prepare for the following weeks trials, which will inevitably come as I try to balance my bi-polar and ADD characteristics while taking care of my son and the housework.

"A majority of the symptoms I feel from my disorders are a high level of anxiety and having a low stress tolerance. There are some things I do with ease, but there are some things that cause me a great deal of stress and anxiety that is beyond my control and ability to stop. I take medication to keep my anxiety under control but it doesn't prevent all anxiety and stress from occurring, otherwise I'd be a vegetable.

"Primary causes a lot of stress, and my auto reaction to that stress is to emotionally shut down. Usually, that means I just stay in my apartment where I can be at peace and control my environment. As much as I love the kids in primary, primary itself is a major stress point for me. I may look cool on the outside, but on the inside I am high in anxiety and feeling depressed.

"I know that each person has unique challenges and trials, and I really hate to ever back down from a challenge, especially when that challenge involves a church calling, but for the sake of the children, I feel you should know that I do not think I will have the fortitude or the mental capacity to deal with my class every Sunday. It may be much more helpful to rotate with a teacher each Sunday so I do not have to be in class and primary every week. I fear if we do not take some sort of action, then the children will suffer because of my inability to be reliable and consistent.

"I want to do what the Lord has asked me to do, and I also feel the desire to serve. Coming to terms with the fact that I cannot handle everything given to me is difficult for me to admit. I don't like admitting I have a disability, or that I have certain limitations because I am a perfectionist, but I am trying to be realistic so that you know where I am coming from and the kids in my class can benefit fully from the primary program."

Perhaps this example will help you with your particular challenges. I know that it has helped me. Thank you, E, for sharing this.

Thank you to g.originals for sharing the above photograph in Creative Commons on flickr.

Do the Math for Possible Combinations: "Seventy Different Brain Regions!"

It is no wonder we each have a unique experience, that my "bipolar disorder" is not your "bipolar disorder", nor my "depression" your "depression."

From World of Psychology today:

Seventy different brain regions! Which means our constant search for a single cause of a problem like depression or bipolar disorder is unlikely to find merit, even within brain research. The brain’s complexity is interwoven and interconnected in ways we couldn’t even begin to imagine 30 years ago. No single gene or set of genes or regions of the brain will likely ever be the only implicated for our mental health concerns.

See the entire article here.

No More Violent than Anyone Else

Brother
Originally uploaded by .:: LINUZ ::.

Our Seattle-area television news reported last night on the multiple murders committed earlier this week in Alger, Washington. Much was said about the mental illness of the alleged shooter. Side stories left the impression that the mentally ill, specifically those with bipolar disorder, are dangerous people.

The fact is that people with mental illness are no more likely to commit violent acts than people in general. To attach to the tragedy that occurred this week the stories of other bipolar patients who happen to be among the violent minority does much to add to the stigma associated with mental illness. Those of us who suffer from mental illness have enough to do in helping others understand us without them learning to fear us on the nightly news.

I was heartened today to see that I was not the only one disturbed by what I witnessed over the airwaves last night. See more on this issue here.

(Click on the picture for credits.)

Mania and Anti-depressants

I am on my third anti-depressant this year and I am feeling much better. However, on this one I was beginning to exhibit signs of mania--in my case hypomania--which is a too-common side-effect of anti-depressants in bipolar patients. For me, hypomania presents itself with bouts of insomnia, an insatiable desire to spend money, and other unpleasantness. It was scary to experience these again, since I had been doing well in that area for many months. On my next visit to him, my psychiatrist upped my dosage of mood-stabilizer in the hopes that it would be a shield to the anti-depressant's ill effects. So far, so good. (I hate being hypomanic even more than being depressed. I fear all the time that it will worsen and my behavior will hurt those I love.)

There is a great article about the need for mood-stabilizers when anti-depressants are prescribed for bipolar patients today at Bipolar Beat. Click on the link if you would like to read more on this subject.

(Thank you to this photographer for the picture.)

"More Data Prove Genetic Link to Bipolar Disorder"

Get links to this intriguing report at Bipolar Blog.

Thank you to idletype for the photograph.

"Depression: Out of the Shadows"

I stumbled upon this program on PBS yesterday and I found it to be excellent. Today I have discovered that it is available to watch in segments online. Thank you PBS! Thank you to all of those who care and are reaching out to help. Click here to go to the video page for "Depression: Out of the Shadows". The NAMI article about the program (which is the page from which I got the picture above) is here.

Swinging Upward into Hypomania

Must remember to eat.
Must remember to bathe.
Must remember to budget.

Must remember that others have both feet on the ground.
Must remember to ask what they see.



Thank you to this photographer.

Where Am I? Bipolar 2 Self Assessment

I feel well today. I feel quite well. I am thinking that maybe I am really getting better. Scary. What if I think I am well, and I find myself out and in over my head? How do I know how I really am? Where is here?

(Scroll down the left sidebar for more about Bipolar 2.)

(Thank you to this photographer for the great photo.)

A Change in Meds

I had my visit with my psychiatrist yesterday, and shared my concerns. He listened well. I am now tapering off of one prescription (Atenolol, which may be behind my sluggishness and weight gain), switching anti-depressants (from Lexapro to Prozac) and upping the dosage on my mood stabilizer (Lamictal). I get to stay on the anti-anxiety medication (Ativan), as needed (which has been once-a-day for a while now).

I know this is a shockingly long list of drugs to many, as it would have been to me a few years ago. I remember hearing the term "cocktail of prescriptions" when I was diagnosed with AD/HD a few years back and saying to myself: "Not for me. Not ever!" I have so avoided using drugs of any kind over the years. (I gave birth six times without anesthetics for goodness sake.) But I have been ill for years and years, too, in spite of all my attempts with alternatives.

I believe in mental-health medications now. I believe in research. I trust my psychiatrist. And, although I am sure there area few quacks and charlatans out there, I believe that there are many, many good and caring people in the medical profession. I have certainly had multiple experiences with such people.

The currently available medications are not perfect. No one claims they are. I am confident that there are many improvements ahead in healing of all kinds. I believe that at this very moment God is inspiring researchers to help us overcome the maladies we now face. As for now, I feel very blessed to have the helps we do have. I intend to take full advantage of them.

Walking with Spiders

My husband and I ventured out on an hour-long walk around our community this afternoon. The sky was clear and blue and the temperature neither too warm nor too cool, enhanced by the gentlest of breezes. The outing had all the elements to make it perfect: trees in bud, birdsong, sunshine, and gorgeous mountain views.

But it was ruined for me by spiders.

It seems that spiders were out in unprecedented numbers today. We saw them again and again, and I grew increasingly anxious. Half-way through our walk, we saw a cluster of thirty or forty of them crawling amongst and over each other. While this mass was quite a distance from us, at just that point one crossed our path closely enough so that I could have reached out and touched it, and I squeezed my husband's hand and took some deep breaths just to keep my knees from buckling. The rest of the way home, I twisted a ball of tissue over and over in my palm as I told myself repeatedly: "You can do this. It's really quite safe. You can do this." All I could think about--in spite of the beauty around me--was getting safely into my house (and having a good cry).

I know that such a fear is illogical. I know that the spiders are not really any threat to me. I know, I know, I know. But the fear remains. It ruins lovely walks. It's crazy.

Now, here is what is crazier. It wasn't really spiders that ruined the walk today for me at all. (I saw a few, and simply stepped around them, as I always do.) What made me so anxious and full of fear was not spiders, but people. What really was the source of my dread were the good folks of our community: people alone and groups of people, friendly and disinterested people, rushing and ambling people, dog-walking, playground-romping, young and old people.

I know it doesn't make sense. It doesn't make sense.

It makes little sense to me, and I'm living it.

(Thanks to this photographer for the spider.)