chapter 1...foreshadowing

My vision was blurred, and even as I shook my head to clear the fogginess, I knew I wasn’t going to make it. There were 18 first graders in my classroom, and I was doing my best to stand and sing with them, moving to the beat of the simple song as my eyes rolled in my head and my body screamed its desire to curl up and disappear. Yes, I tried to keep going. But I was going down; it was that simple. I called over the intercom for their classroom teacher. I knew that if I fell asleep or fell apart it would not be good. She came to pick up her class, sympathy and questioning in her expression. Once the room was empty, the tears came in a torrent.

It was at this point that I made what was possibly one of the worst decisions of my life. I got myself together, and then I walked to the school office and asked to speak to one of the administrators. Add this to a long list of things I would undo if I had a time machine.

It had begun in January. I begged my doctor to change one of my medications because of weight gain I had experienced. It took a little convincing, but I left the office with a prescription for a different drug and another med to alleviate the temporary side effects. I was hopeful that this new med would manage my manias while allowing me to lose weight. That evening, I started taking a small dose of the new medicine while lowering the dose of my old medicine. Changing meds and doses is a tricky business, and I knew I might not feel immediately positive effects. But again, I was hopeful. At the end of three weeks, my old med had been completely replaced with the new.

The first time I noticed a problem was during a church service one Sunday morning. I had trouble focusing on the pastor’s words, and I felt groggy. I hadn’t slept well the night before so I shrugged off the strange feeling. I took a nap that afternoon and felt somewhat better. The relief was short-lived, however. It became harder and harder for me to get up with the alarm each morning. I began setting it later and later, taking my shower at night and getting up with just enough time to dress and throw my hair up into a quick ponytail. At first, the grogginess eased by around 9:00, then 10:00, and the progression continued. I felt like a walking zombie.

By the beginning of March, fog was my closest companion. It took everything I had to even show up for school, much less be any kind of teacher. Some days I just couldn’t and would call in sick. Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew I was headed for trouble, but I was in survival mode, as they say. I stopped going to church because I couldn’t even stand up in the choir. I stopped talking to friends on the phone because I was afraid that half of what I said wouldn’t make sense. And then one Thursday at school, I fainted. The police, fire department, and ambulance all responded. In a town our size, a 911 call apparently means excitement for everyone. I saw my two administrators standing in the hall as the EMT’s wheeled me out of the school building. And I wasn’t sure the expressions that I saw were those of concern. I missed school on Friday, came back on Monday, and the incident was never mentioned. I just kept going more and more slowly each day, wondering how long the “temporary” side effects were going to last.

So, here we are back to that fateful day that I lost it in the middle of a class. I am not sure why I thought going to the administrators to actually tell them the truth was a good idea. I should have told them I was sick, that I was vomiting, that I felt faint; I should have told them anything but the truth. Looking back, I cannot believe that I couldn’t see the obvious. But then again, it is hard to see through fog and think through sludge. I went to the office, asked for administrators, walked with both of them to a conference room, and immediately broke down and wept. I know I saw concern in their eyes, and because of that, I felt comfortable letting down my guard. I am not sure what I expected, but nothing could have prepared me for what took place.

I remember my head administrator asking me what was wrong, what was going on to upset me so much. I tried to explain to them the medicine changes, the depression, the grogginess. They looked at each other with inscrutable faces.

“Laurie, it is obvious that you are not doing very well. Have you considered a leave of absence?”

I had considered a leave of absence. I considered it impossible. My husband was a student and graduate teaching assistant. My disability insurance would not even cover half of my paycheck. I simply couldn’t afford to take time off from work. I tried explaining this to my administrators.

“I can understand your concern about your family’s financial situation,” Mrs. Jones said. “But, Laurie, you are missing a lot of school anyway. It is affecting the students and it is affecting your teaching. We have to think long term; we have to think about your future at this school.”

She wasn’t straightforward, but I knew what she meant. I was speechless. In the teaching world, having tenure meant your job was supposed to be secure. I knew she was threatening that security, but I pretended not to catch her meaning.

“Then I am so glad I am tenured so that I can get through this problem with my job and my family’s welfare intact.”

“Well, Laurie,” Mrs. Jones replied slowly, “Sometimes tenure can come into question when the children or the school suffer due to the teacher’s teaching or excessive absences.”

Let me say first that I did understand her position. I knew the children were being affected by my absences and inability to focus. But I also knew that my condition was considered a disability. At that moment, I knew that if my job was directly threatened, I would do everything in my power to make sure I remained employed, even if it meant legal action. I knew that if it came to that I might lose, but I wasn’t going down without a fight.

“I know my attendance and my teaching have been sporadic lately, and I am troubled about that and how it affects the students. I really believe that the medication change is to blame. I was not experiencing any of these problems with the other one. I probably just need to see my doctor as soon as possible and have her start me on the old meds again. That should bring me back into focus.”

The administrators looked at each other again. I wondered if all of this talk was a formality. Was my job already gone?

“Laurie, I do think you need to see your doctor as soon as possible. Why don’t you go ahead and leave for the day. Try to see that doctor. And let us know if you need time off from school.” Mrs. Jones looked me squarely in the eye. “And when we return, we need to sit down and discuss some things.” And with that, they both stood up; the meeting was over.

I left the meeting in a fog; but this time it wasn’t medication induced. This time the fog was full of two emotions: abject fear and anger. I was terrified of losing my job because I knew what it would do to our family. Not only would the money be a problem, but I carried our insurance. I needed medication and a doctor’s care. My husband has type 1 diabetes, so he needed all of his medication and supplies. There was no way we could take care of our health without insurance. I was also angry. Would we have even had that conversation if my affliction was cancer or multiple sclerosis or something else that was more tangible than mental illness? I suspected not. My mind and stomach churned as I drove home. I knew the doctor wouldn’t be there on a Friday, but I hadn’t told my administrators. I went home, made an appointment for the following Monday, and collapsed onto the couch.

That Monday, the doctor agreed that my medication should be changed, and returned to school on Wednesday. I did have a conversation with my administrators, but I’ll save that wonderful tidbit for later. I think it’s time to start from the beginning.

blinding darkness, blackest light - prologue

“Everybody’s Bipolar”

This remark was made by a friend and colleague one Monday after a meeting. I am sure she was trying to make light of an earlier comment that she realized had offended me. How could she have known that this nonchalant remark was almost as offensive? I tried to laugh it off with her, but inside, the old frustration was churning.

Everyone is not bipolar. Mania is not cleaning the baseboards or the oven or managing to multitask. Depression is not feeling down. Having bipolar disorder does not just mean you are “moody” or “sensitive” or even unpredictable. These things are called being human…unless of course you are cleaning the baseboards with a toothbrush at 2:00 am after not sleeping for two days straight, or you are so “down” that you have already figured out the best pill combination that will kill you without making you sick. The idea that “everyone is bipolar” is just, well, ludicrous.

Then there is the other extreme. “You can’t be bipolar because…” First of all, no one really knows what goes on inside my brain and body except for me and the people or person I choose to tell. I was not diagnosed because I was tired or because I had just made the worst choice of my life or because I am more moody than my husband. I was tired because I never slept. I made the worst choice of my life in part because I was manic. My moods fluctuate infinitely more than my husband’s because I have bipolar disorder.

So what does all of my ranting really mean? It is simple. Not everyone who has energy has bipolar disorder. Just because someone manages to hold down a job and put on a brave face does not mean they do not have bipolar disorder. And, finally, my name is Laurie, and I do have bipolar disorder.

shake, rattle, and roll

My hands shake, my heart rattles around in my chest, my stomach rolls. Add to that sweating and ear ringing.....and what exactly is that? This has happened quite a few times over the past several days, and I was wondering. Lithium toxicity, low sugar? But then I remembered. It had been awhile, but I remember. That's what it looks like when I have an anxiety attack. I don't pant or thrash or pass out. I shake, get disoriented, my heart pounds, I sweat, I get this "fight or flight" impulse, and I feel nauseous. I also feel a strange claustrophobia. It isn't because I am in a confined space; it is because I have no space, when there seem to be all sorts of faces just inches from mine. No, I am not hallucinating, I am just surrounded by a group of people whose sense of personal space isn't quite refined.

Add to the above paragraph a throbbing headache that hasn't abated since Monday, and I am caving to my body, brain, and fragile spirit's own pressure today.

Maybe I need to hire a posse and some peeps :)

26.2 miles of pure bliss

The typical, offical marathon length is 26.2 miles. That's a lot of miles. Running a marathon requires training, healthy living, and much preparation. But what happens DURING the marathon?

Now, other than the initial urst, most runners will tell you that running as fast as you can for as long as you can is a bad strategy. There is no way to keep that pace for 26.2 miles, and the goal is to keep running. It also isn't realistic to expect that you will choose the perfect pace at the outset and not deviate from that pace - we are not machines. And for those who run a variety of marathons...they know that the twists, turns, and terraines vary from marathon to marathon.

But here is one thing I wasn't aware of: I wasn't aware of the number of people who ALMOST finish a marathon. They run 24 miles.....and they just can run anymore. How silly, we think. I mean, it's only two more miles. Suck it up, get the lead out. But when the body gives out, the body gives out. That is one reason why having a big crowd cheering through the last leg of the marathon is so important. Those cheers, rather than jeers, can make all the difference.

I am in the 24th mile. It's turning from drizzle to rain. My legs, my chest, my head, are aching. The pounding of the pavement echoes every slower in my ears. Some of my fans have dropped their flags and turned to foes because I am not running with the vigor of mile 6. But I will keep putting one foot on front of the other, listen to my own breathing, and focus on the pavement instead of the people. And when that tape breaks, I will fall to my knees just like they do on television, and pour my cup of water on someone else's head :)

question for the day

What are the requirements for being the Invisible Man? I'll expound later.

refills, refills

I type with trepidation today. I opened the bottle of anti-depressants, only to discover that I needed a refill. So They'll be taken in the afternoon today. Now, for anyone bothering to study pharmacology, anti depressants are not like tylenol or benadryl...they build up, so a few hours will not derail me. That is scientific fact. Still I hate when I do that. It is so important to me for so many reasons that I take this medicine exactly as outlined....to the letter.

There is a little part of me that has been holding up a wall for awhile, and I find myself letting it fall little by little. Now, I won't let it crash to the ground until the time is right. But there will come a time when I will proverbially release the hounds, and I am sure I will find it quite satisfying. I don't expect the hounds to make any type of impression, but releasing them is something that must be done. What is it they say? The truth shall set you free. My friends hate it when I write this way, vague and cryptic. But alas, it must be for a little while longer. How much truth I proclaim will be entirely dependent on what my life looks like when it is time to proclaim it. For those who may find themselves engaged in hand-wringing, do not worry. I am my mother's daughter. I know the meanings of tact and grace, and I will always be a Southern lady regardless of where I live. But it is 2010, and I will not hide.

So now that all of that follery is out of the way, I must say I am happy that the weather is warm, the flowers and blooming, and the calendar is progessing nicely. I think it's my turn to dream.

notes for the doctor

I am both concerned and amused by my memory problems. I opened a page this morning and was greeted with a message I do not remember writing...again. And more wrappers. I did some reading (this I do remember), and in addition to medication, these memory problems can be triggered by stress. That makes sense. My stress level is high. Oh, there are aspects of life that are wonderful and flowery.....but there is also stress. There is so much I want to say, want to write, but I can't. Not yet. The present is still present, and the future is uncertain. And besides, those who would be moved by the baring of my soul already know what is there.

So today while I am with the doctor, I will let him in on this new development that has me sending messages I do not remember and eating midnight snacks I do not taste. Which will probably mean another medication change. I hate medication changes almost as much as I sometimes hate medication. weaning off the old, bringing in the new, side effects, will it work? The blessing is that it is almost summer, and the physical disabilities that a change in regimen may briefly bring will not affect my life in profound ways.....except for those who live with me. Sorry guys! Time to strap in again for another ride!

data-driven acceptance

This blog was conceived as a way to commemorate Mental Health Awareness Month, so here are a few facts and figures about bipolar disorder.

1. It is estimated that 3 million Americans have either BPI or BPII.

2. BPI is characterized by episodes of depression, episodes of hypomania, mixed episodes, and at least one full-blown manic episode.

3. Of all mental illness sufferers, those with bipolar disorder are most likely to attempt and/or succeed at suicide.

4. Episodes can be brought on by disrupted sleep, medication problems, other physical illness, excessive stress, or a traumatic event.

5. A treatment-compliant mentally ill person is actually LESS likely to commit a crime than a non mentally ill person.

6. Bipolar disorder is legally recognized as a disability, which means those who suffer from it are entitled to the protections of the Americans with Disabilities Act, Section 504, and PL94-142.

7. Emerging research suggests that a triggered severe manic or depressive episode in someone with bipolar disorder may cause brain damage.

8. Because treatment/medication for bipolar disorder alters the brain chemistry, the bipolar disorder sufferer may experiences differences in personality or activity. This is one of the main reasons cited by patients for going off meds.

9. The research is limited, but their are implications that their may be a link between intellectual capacity and development and the ability to accept and look past the stigma of mental illness. In case that sounds like I may be implying that it's stupid to judge a person based on their illness or its affects....I kinda am.

Mid-week Mantras

Mantra #1 - Do not cast your pearls before swine

Mantra #2 - I am made in God's image

Mantra #3 - Will it matter tomorrow? Will it matter next week? Will it matter next year? Will it matter in 20 years?

Mantra #4 - The Word became flesh and dwelt among us....and died for our sins.....because He loves us

Mantra #5 - God created my inmost being, nothing about me surprises Him

Mantra #6 - Sometimes you must be healthy instead of perfect

Mantra #7 - A friend loveth at all times

the irrelevance of pros and cons

In bipolar world, medication is a trade-off. These are some personal pros and cons:

Pros
1. No more mania - hopefully this means no more rage, no more family destructive choices, no more overspending, no more thoughts that race faster and more obssesively than I can catch them
2. Less mood swings and more predictability
3. Thinking and speaking more rationally
4. Sleeping through the night

Cons
1. No more hypomania - no more creativity that flows easily, no more boundless energy to do all sorts of things, no more jogging or not caring how many hours of sleep I got
2. Less moods - notice I didn't say mood swings, I said moods. In some instances, no more feeling
3. Wanting to sleep through more than the night
4. Wondering who this woman is who sits with no inclinations
5. Clothing sizes I fear will become higher than my IQ

So it's a trade off. To become better in one area of my life, I must lessen another. I am committed to medication. I must be committed to medication. And, if I were not me, then going through life without truly feeling it might not seem so bad a proposition. But I am me. I will be me until my last breath. But I have made the choice, and I have made the trade, and it has come with its prices.

memory? I can't remember

I realized at some point yesterday that my last two posts were almost identical. I posted yesterday because I had not had time to post Sunday evening...except that I DID post Sunday evening. This happens more and more frequently. It is actually a physiological response in bipolar disorder, not only to medication, but also to high amounts of stress. At least I think that is what I read...I can't remember. Yes, I know, bad joke.

I bought a Mental Health Awareness ribbon in March. Actually, it is a small green pin shaped like a ribbon. I had great aspirations of wearing it each day in May. I haven't. And not just because I can't remember. If someone were to ask what the ribbon meant, could I say? Could I answer? Would that somehow be inappropriate, and if so, does that mean I am inappropriate? What if I had a different illness? Would it be appropriate to wear a ribbon for that? How far have we progressed in erasing the stigma? is mental illness now fine and perfectly understood.....as long as no one talks about it? There are other questions in my mind, but they are too pointed, to specific. And because the answer to the previous question is no in so many ways....these are questions that I truly cannot ask.

Ah, well. Time marches onward. I will be 42 in a few days. I will never be 37 or younger again. I will only be who I am now and forward. So that will be enough...or it won't. All I can do is be the Laurie that time and 2010 allows me to be. Thank you to J, K B, J, K, J, M, S, Mom, Dad, MIL, SIL, BIL, FIL, niece, nephew, son, daughter, and the God who created the universe....for saying that that is enough.

Let It Be

I composed the entry in the car last night, in my head. "Let It Be" was recorded by The Beatles, and whether you are a Beatles fan or not, there is some profound wisdom there. So I am not going to talk about bipolar disoder in this entry. In fact, I am not going to talk much at all. I'll let others talk for me as I assemble some quotes that have recently gathered in my head.

"The evil men do lives after them. The good is oft interred with their bones."
~ William Shakespeare

"If God is for us, who can be against us."
~ Romans 8:31

"Most people don't want to hear how you are doing; they want to hear you are doing well."
~ M. L.

"Pretty is as pretty does."
~ M. L.

"Nobody is normal because everybody's different."
~ Kelsey Gilbreath, wisest daughter

"When people say, 'Think outside the box,' they mean think outside MY box, not think outside THEIR box."
~ Me :)

"God may not change things for you, but He changes you for things."
~ Susan Morrow

"Never Be Angry At Stupid People"
~ Erasure

"God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference."
~ The Serenity Prayer, which I never paid much attention to until recently

Thank goodness that in a conditional world, we serve an UNconditional God.

"Let It Be, Let It Be"

"Let It BE" was recorded by the Beatles, the British Invasion. It's more than just a song. It's a philosophical view of much of life. Let. It. Be. So in that spirit, i let be all of the thought and emotions, and manipulations of words I had envisioned...some word noble, some words futile. I will simply leave those words to others.....

"The evil men do lives after them; the good is oft interred with their bones." ~William Shakespeare

"People do not want to hear how you are doing; they just want to hear that you are doing well."
~M.J.H.L.

"There is Therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus." ~ Romans 8:1

"For if God is for us, who can be against us?" ~ Romans 8:31

"nobody's normal, 'cause everybody's different." ~ wise daughter

"Doesn't matter, it's in the past" ~ Lion King

"God grant me the SERENITY to accept the thing I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the Wisdom to know the difference." ~ Serenity Prayer

Speaking words of wisdom, let it be, let it be........

May Fourth

Today was the kind of day that a normal person hopes for...it was normal. Well, maybe not all of it. But there were no unnecessary events, no extraordinary circumstances.

I had trouble waking, as I seem to often these days. I wonder as I prepare my face each morning if others notice the painstaking effort I make to hide each blemish. The habit I have developed up keeping my hair up and out of the way. I dismiss this thought as I swallow the synthroid I must take each morning because the lithium has decimated my thyroid and the effexor I must take to ward off the darkness that so nearly took my life not long ago.

It is easy to smile and mean it when I focus on the smaller faces. Children are so open, so willing to give others a clean slate. Not so with us older folks. Marc Antony was correct in his famous speech: "The evil men do lives after them. The good is oft interred with their bones." I often wonder why we take such delight in the failings of others. Why we feel pride rather than shame when we glory in the humiliation of our peers. But the children smile.

The day is smooth, serene. Except for those infernal inanimate objects. Modern technology is a wonderful thing....providing it works. But then the day is ending, and I breathe a sigh of relief that I have not been privy to the thing which makes me less productive, less enthusiastic, less of who I want to be. I fully understand that I am not what I was three years ago, five years ago. That is the price of sanity, of health, of a family that is intact. It is a price I am willing to pay. But I am aware that others are not so generous.

And now supper sizzles, and I have a quiet moment to reflect on the day. I have it better than some, than many. The exchange, of course, is that whatever ill health I do have must be shrouded in the shame of misunderstanding. But perhaps it will not always be so.

May Third

Today I saw some vibrant flowers. They were a wonderful contrast to the colorless, rainy weather. It made me think of a line I remember reading from one of my lit classes..."a flower in a mud puddle." I don't even remember who wrote it.

I have many thoughts today. It's no different from any other day, really, except that I have not had the distractions today, the required activities that refocus my mental ramblings. I am troubled by a dream I had. I used to dream so vividly I could remember each detail. The lithium has blurred the lines of my dreams so that they are only brief clips and images of a bigger picture I will not see no matter how hard I try to remember. I remember being in court, testifying on my own behalf. I was wearing a strange shirt that closed on the side. When I opened the shirt in a dramatic, sweeping move, a gaping wound covered my abdomen. I remember thinking that when they jury saw my wound, their hearts would be pierced with empathy and even shame. Instead, they rolled their eyes and began texting. Funny, it's mid-afternoon, and my side hurts from the imaginary injury.

My life is changing, which is bound to happen from time to time. What will those changes entail? I do not know. But I know that what has always been real will remain, and what has never been real has already crumbled. And the only things of value are the things that are real.

The Day Before

In honor of Mental Health Awareness Month, I have to decided to journal each day during the month of May...the good, the bad, and the "crazy," to coin and slightly alter a phrase. If you would like to crawl inside the mind of someone who remembers mental illness each day, all twelve months of the year, here's your chance. But a word of caution: if you have decided that it is more beneficial to remain in a comfort zone of assumptions, reading this might just change your mind, and you might be tempted to view those who struggle with these very real illnesses with more compassion and understanding. Consider yourself warned. Blogging begins tomorrow.