Daily Journey Toward Light

In this life, I have lived my illusion continued for what has felt like an eternity. You see I have or well had a big family growing up, but it was one I don’t think I ever felt like I was truly a part of. That feeling of not belonging was terrible and I buried it deep within trying my best to be a part of something. 

Yet, somewhere inside I always knew if I disappeared that no one would even notice.

Was it really that I didn’t belong or was that just part of my subconscious messing with me? I don’t really know. Funny thing that Daddy told me after Mama’s funeral was that they were Mama’s family and not ours so I shouldn’t worry that I wasn’t a part of anything anymore.

Sure I tried but it was like putting a square peg in a round hole. It just didn’t fit. If you go back and take a look a Mama’s Funeral, you could see that it was that way. There I was preparing to put my Mama in the grave and the rest were all loving and telling their mothers Happy Mother’s Day. I always wondered if they ever realized that the timing was not great for their display, but I don’t think so. 

They surely never knew how devastated it was making me. My insides were in such pain and no one seemed to notice. Sadly, I hated all of them. Actually, I think I hated every one. I hated those who still had their mothers, I hated those who had the big family I wanted, I hated those who finally ended up with the things I dreamed about. That hate was awful, it festered inside and tore me apart.

That was how it felt my whole life. The hidden turmoil of pain and feelings of alienation, still no one knew. My parents didn’t even know the true pain I was in. they just kept telling me it was all in my head and that I needed to control my ‘episodes’.

Control them? How could I control them, I didn’t even understand them. All I knew was that I was terrified to be away from home. 

We walked to school at that time but I rarely made it there. I would go running back home in horrified tears. It got so bad that Daddy would drive me there and meet a teacher on the corner. As that teacher held me screaming Daddy would drive away. 

That was how my bipolar manic episodes would be handled. That and adding another little pill to the ones that Mama had to crush because I feared choking on them. 

Lithium. That was the regimen of help I received in the 60’s for my problem. Strong, strong doses of lithium. 

Did it help me? No.

And the journey continues. Thanks for taking this walk down my very dark dismal memory lane. It was a scary place. No longer does that hate eat away at my mind. 

Now I have light.

Who Am I? The Grand Illusion of Life

Learning who you are is not an easy task for any child or adult for that matter, but adding bipolar to that only exaggerates by a billion. For me, I learned the art of illusion. My mania was turned inward in the hopes of making it go away. But it did not move it only festered like a cancer within my soul.

That festering led me to have many moments of despair so intense I longed for an end. Imagine being just a small child and wanting out of this thing called life.

Like so many, I felt that this was something I was doing wrong. The thoughts by certain people that being Bipolar is a choice filtered into my mind. So it only made me despise myself even more. And that inner hate led to the thoughts that I was nothing but a bother to the world around me.
My soul was a dark abyss that longed to drag me deep within the reaches of the pit that lived inside my mind. Every day became a struggle to keep from falling off that cliff into the black hole. Even as a small child I knew there was no return from that. But part of the struggle was not to let anyone know what was going on inside my head.

A grand illusion began to surround me. I tried desperately to look like other kids and tried to act like other children, while I hid the many hours spent hidden in the back of the closet questioning God on why I was here. I would beat my head against the wall and even beg for removal from the equation of life. Life went on.

That was my beginning life as a confused and lonely bipolar child living in a world that didn’t acknowledge the existence of this unknown problem.

When truly the grandest illusion of life is simply life itself. Everything we have been taught or seen probably is just the perception that someone else is striving to get us to see. So what is the truth?
Maybe nothing. Maybe everything is just that illusion.

Families we think are the “Leave it to Beaver” bunch are in truth just a group who can put on a beautiful face when the world looks at them. Look at the single face of Jared Fogle (Subway frontman) that seemingly innocent face turned out to be nothing more than a predator. A wolf in sheep’s clothing.

The “beautiful” people around us have turned out to be predators in their rights are in the same category as Jared Fogle. So who do we tell our children to trust? When is the news filled with people from all walks of life showing their true natures as terrible people? Who do you trust?

Life is the illusion that humanity loves one another, but look around we can all see that isn’t the truth. Does humankind care about anything anymore? Money, social standings, image are just a few things that people consume themselves with above the world around them.

It is excellent and noble when people travel to foreign countries to help those in need, but the truth is that they “step” over all the people around them in trouble to do that. So why not start next door when you are on a mission to help?

Don’t get me wrong I do know there are real people out there, and it is just a shame we have to dig so deep within the bowels of crap the world is full of to find those rare gems of goodness.

Growing up in a small town in Southern Missouri I began my journey to learn who I am and what the world contains. It was going to be a long and hard trip. A single trip and a very confusing one. But it was a journey I needed to take and one I have come out on the other end much wiser than I began.

No matter where this journey takes me I still feel slightly alone. When I was a little girl (and if I am sincere there are moments still in life like this for me) anyway as a kid I would wonder if I died would anyone miss me?

Stay tuned for more on this challenging trip. It is going to be a bumpy ride so buckle up and hang on.

Is Bipolar Disorder The New IT Disease? A New Coming Out of The Closet

Has it reached a point when Bipolar Disorder is now the IT illness? With the insurgence of celebrities that have ‘come out’ to tell the world they are Bipolar, seriously when did it become the disorder to have?

Recently someone posted on Twitter that their Psychiatrist thought they shouldn't inform the world of their Bipolar Disorder. That statement struck home with me because I was always told to keep it quiet. However, for my personal experience, I didn't see an improvement in my life until I stopped hiding my illness.

My diagnosis came 49 years ago. Yeah, it was a LONG time ago. Long before it was popular, and long before they even called it BiPolar, for me it was Manic Depressive Disorder. Then out of the blue, it was suddenly Bipolar Disorder, and celebrities seemed to burst at the seams with admissions.

https://www.nimh.nih.gov/health/statistics/prevalence/bipolar-disorder-among-adults.shtml

Statistically, as the National Institute of Mental Health state on their website, 2.6% of the US population has been diagnosed Bipolar. So 2.6% doesn’t sound like a lot, but when you take into consideration that is 2.6% of 318.9 million people. That translate into 8.3 million inhabitants with Bipolar Disorder in the United States alone.

That’s a lot of individuals.

Bipolar Disorder is a mental illness explained in the simple terms of the definition:

“a mental disorder marked by alternating periods of elation and depression.”

Okay, so it is a mental disorder with ups and downs. That seems simple, right? But when you know Bipolar Disorder you realize that the ups are like the farthest reach of the galaxy, and the lows are the deepest part of the ocean floor.

It can almost feel like an intricate dance that spins you one direction and then back another. Dealing with mental illness is never easy, the ups and downs of Bipolar Disorder stretch any strings of sanity to the very breaking point. So asking someone to hide or deny their problem is only sugar coating a pile of crap. Eventually, the sugar melts and guess what, a bunch of crap is all that is left.

That relatively straightforward to the point definition could be the reason that many Doctors are diagnosing Bipolar  Disorder for a record number of individuals. When the truth is,  overactive or unruly children with difficulty sitting still, paying attention, or even acting out are just doing what kids have done since the beginning of time.

The list of symptoms experienced by someone with Bipolar is a long grocery list of ups and downs. While anyone reading the list could answer yes to most of the symptoms, just remember that when you suffer from Bipolar Disorder, the sadness is the black abyss and the euphoria is riding the clouds.

When you have Bipolar  Disorder, your mood swings are such extreme opposites that it will seem the rest of the world never experiences such highs and lows. It is common for those who suffer from having instances of a god-like superiority. That is all except me; you see I am just that awesome.

Bipolar  Symptoms

mood swings

sadness

anger

anxiety

apathy

discontent

guilt

hopelessness                                                                           

unable to feel pleasure

lack of interest

apprehension

irritability

risky behavior

disorganized behavior

aggression

crying

increased desire for sex

impulsive

self-harm

agitation

delusion

lack of concentration

racing thoughts

the slowness of thought or activity

false sense of superiority

difficulty in falling asleep

sleepiness

depression

paranoia

weight problems could be gain or loss

rapid speech

fatigue

Medications (I don't even want to tell you how many I have used)

Mood stabilizer: The medication that will help control the ups and downs of Bipolar Disorder.

That makes this the one drug that works on both ends of the spectrum of the illness. Mania and depression.

Lithium

Lamictal

Seroquel

Zyprexa

Symbyax

Anticonvulsant: used to treat epilepsy or other convulsive disorders the anticonvulsant drugs have shown they can help relieve the symptoms of mania and slow down mood swings.

Divalproex (Depakote)

Carbamazepine (Tegretol, Equetro)

Lamotrigine (Lamictal ODT)

Topiramate

Oxcarbazepine (Trileptal)

Valproic Acid

Levetiracetam

Antidepressants:

Bupropion

Fluoxetine (Symbyax)

Antipsychotics:

Olanzapine (Zyprexa)

Quetiapine (Seroquel)

Risperidone

Aripiprazole (Abilify)

Ziprasidone (Geodon, Latuda)

Clozapine

Haloperidol (Haldol)

Asenapine (Saphris)

iloperidone

Lurasidone

Paliperidone

Perphenazine

Cariprazine (Vraylar)

Other Medications that can be used to help Bipolar  Disorder

Benzodiazepines

Klonopin (Clonazepam)

Doral (Quazepam)

Alprazolam (Xanax, Niravam)

Estazolam (Prosom)

Flurazepam (Dalmane)           

Diazepam (Diastay)

Chlordiazepoxide (Librium)

Clorazepate (Tranxene)

Lorazepam (Ativan),

Triazolam (Halcion)

Clobazam (Onfi)

Temazepam (Restoril)

Midazolam (Versed)

Antiadrenergic

Clonidine (Catapres)

Gamma-Aminobutyric Acid

Gabapentin (Tiagabine)

Selective Serotonin Reuptake Inhibitors/ Norepinephrine

Sertraline

Citalopraim (Citalopram)

Venlafaxine

Duloxetine

Escitalopram

Desvenlafaxine

Calcium Channel Blockers

Verapamil

CNS Stimulants

Armodafinil

When you have Bipolar  Disorder, the lists of medications soon becomes a list of been there and done that. You come to know the names: Lithium, Xanax, a Zyprexa Effexor, Prozac, and countless others as if they were a children’s nursery rhyme.

They are a part of the illness that we don’t often like, and it is common for those diagnosed to stop taking their medications. My personal pharmaceutical history holds more drugs than Pablo Escobar every had and unfortunately when you have dealt with this disorder as many years as I have, you tend to work up a tolerance and have to move to the next one on the list.

Treatment for your Bipolar Disorder means a broad spectrum of things. Medications are needed to regulate the imbalance, therapy of some kind whether it is a group, peer, personal, or institutional, and often cognitive behavioral therapy. Whichever method is best for you is a very personal thing between you and your Doctor.

This blog entry was a glimpse into my journey:  However, that glimpse was just an inkling of the inner workings of my warped mind.

Who Am I?

Who am I? I hate being Bipolar, It's awesome

 Being Bipolar means, I have ups that are higher than most people, and I have lows so low it was difficult to breathe. That is just a daily thing for me, and I have sort of learned to deal with it.

Well, life is not always the easiest, that has been my motto, especially in the last 20 years. I can't believe that it has been that long since I talked to my Mama. 20 years since I sat in that hospital room and watched her take her last breath, 20 years since I had a Mom to go to when I needed that particular moment.

20 years seems like such a long time ago, but it has been. And it has been 15 years since I could tell Daddy I love you and have him tell me he loved me too. Where has the time gone? I still feel like a little girl that just wants her Mama and Daddy.

How do I get over the fact that they are gone? How? People say time will heal all wounds, but it really doesn't. Not really. You just get to where you have cried so much that maybe the tears have a harder time coming, then again maybe they don't.

There are still moments that I can't take it, and I go off by myself and cry for all the moments that I wish they were here, for all the things that have happened that I wish they could have seen.

Mama, I will always need you to help me when I can't figure something out and Daddy, I will always look to you when I want a big hug. But the advice doesn't come, and the hug is not there. That makes more tears fall, and then I am once again that little girl that had a nightmare.

It is funny how I watch some people go through life without the same pain when they don't have their parents anymore. I see some who literally throw them away because they just don't want them around anymore. And I cry because I wish mine were here with every ounce of my being.

So how do I deal with this pain inside of me while trying to hold on to my sanity? I don't know all I know is that I have to. I have to hang on even when my grip gets loose.

The Black Abyss of Terror called a Panic Attack

Panic attacks. By definition, it is a sudden feeling of acute and disabling anxiety. For me, those words simply mean my general day.

Just how does a panic attack feel? To all those who have the fortunate luck of never experiencing one, this is like having a heart attack, thinking you are dying, hyperventilating, dizziness and pure, complete terror.

To the world who thinks this is made up or to those who want you to just 'get over it.' Oh my God I am not making it up, and no I can not get over it. WHY WOULD ANYONE MAKE THIS UP and FOR THE LOVE OF PETE STOP TELLING ME TO GET OVER IT.

The first panic attack I had was when I was just five years old. It was horrifying. My heart began to beat so loud I thought everyone could hear it. Crying, I told my Mama, but she didn't understand this thing that was going on with me. During the 60's honestly, no one understood it.

So, I heard 'get over it and go back to sleep.' It was not something I could just stop. So I lay in the dark, thinking I was going to die.

All I could think about was the pain I felt and the beating of my heart in my ears. I had no idea that this would go on for the rest of my life.

Today, that same panic attack comes on often and without warning. I stress out over the weather. And when I have a Doctor appointment, (I stress the night before an appointment so bad that sleep eludes me,  as if I ever sleep anyway). I stress over payday, over grocery shopping, over knowing someone is coming to visit, I stress over having to talk on the phone, over answering the phone, or the possibility that I might have to interact with someone online, so basically I stress.

So what is my life like? Well, you could say I live in a constant state of anxiety. Bipolar disorder is just one aspect of me, panic attacks are another, but I have learned to stop worrying about those things because that is just who I am.

Fear is an emotion that comes to me over so much. But the hopelessness I feel when a panic attack hits are just another thing I deal with every day. I thank all that is good that I have the support system of the world's greatest family.
If it wasn't for this little group, I call family and their ability to allow me all the eccentricities that are me, well I don't know where I would be.

Life is hard for most of the world. But for those like e dealing with mental issues well it is a little more difficult.

Anytime that the tears begin to streak down my cheeks at random well they just allow me to be me, and I cry.

Who Am I? Flat On My Back, Heart Attack Or What Am I Dying?

In our twenties, we are all guilty of feeling invincible, like nothing can happen to us. Not me, we tell ourselves. Those sorts of things happen to other people. Older people.

There I lay in the ER with wires hooked up to me. Could this be happening? Was I that person lying on that cold bed, while Doctors hurriedly worked around me?

This ER visit wasn't possible. I'm only twenty-seven and in great shape. I don't smoke, I eat healthily, and I go the gym at least three times a week. My head was swimming. I felt like I was dreaming. Then I stared at the beeping machines that filled the room. Lights and noises everywhere, my mind kept spinning.

The pain in my chest felt strange, my arms hurt and the pain kept going up into my neck.

What on Earth was going on? Then as I stared at the machine, suddenly the line went straight, and buzzers sounded everywhere.

As long as I live, I'll never forget the sight of that ominous flat line. It was as if the world went into slow motion, the Doctors and Nurses looked terrified.

My mind quickly grasped the moment as I realized, I was dead. Or at least my heart had stopped beating, but I could see everyone hurrying. Then to my horror, I saw a Nurse rush into the room with what I knew was a crash cart. Next the paddles. My mind screamed, oh my God.

Suddenly a horrid pain shot through my whole body, nearly causing me to jerk from the table. Instantly the line began to move, but all I could focus on was I had died. If only for a moment I had died.

That felt like the worst day of my life. Thoughts of my baby girls and my husband kept my mind focusing on making my heart beat, willing it to continue beat after beat.

Finally, I was feeling better, and the Doctors crowded around me. Somehow, here I lay on the verge of a massive heart attack. That was something that happened to people who weren't healthy, who didn't exercise or eat right. Not me. The Doctors were as baffled as I was.

The next year I spent undergoing frequent testing, in hopes that the problem could be isolated. Cardiac catheterization performed in the attempt to see if there was any blockage in my veins. But none was found. I wore machines called event detectors for 30 days at a time in the hopes a cause could be spotted.

When my heart would mysteriously skip beats, the device automatically called an ambulance. It happened so frequently that I was on a first name basis with the EMTs. Still, no one could tell me exactly what was wrong. They continually said they knew I was sick but didn't know why.

When nearly two years had passed with countless EKGs, monitors, and numerous trips to the ER, they finally came to the conclusion it was a severe case of arrhythmia.

At least now that I knew kind of what was wrong I began to focus on my mission of healing. The Doctors cut my caffeine intact down to virtually zero. I will be honest giving up soda was tough. But I have never been a coffee drinker, so I was good there.

I continue to walk a lot, trying to do at least 2 miles a day and I eat lots of fruit and veggies. My red meat consumption is minimal, and I watch the amount of sodium in my foods as well.

It's been quite a few years since the event happened, but I try to remember every day how lucky I am. Especially when I see others who aren't as fortunate.

But the fear remains every day that the tightness in my chest will be the big one. Funniest thing that the Doctors wanted me to do was to live stress-free. How hilarious, I'm married with kids. It's not going to happen.

Smile, laugh as often as possible. Eat healthily and exercise, keep a close eye on your heart health. Next time it could be you.

Who Am I? Does Anyone Really Know

Who am I? Sometimes I really wonder about that. Just who am I really?

Well, I know I am a wife, a mother, a grandmother, and a furry nana. But just exactly what does that mean?

I have no idea. The only thing is that I know I love my family with all my heart and I would do anything for them. Sometimes that means doing things that aren't exactly what I would like to do, but I do them.

So as I sit here once again I have celebrated another birthday without my parents, and without some who are so dear to me. It never gets easier. Not one bit. But it is the way life is, and there is nothing I can do about that.

All I do know is that I wish things were different. I wish my Mama and Daddy were here to call and say "Happy Birthday baby." But no they aren't. If you can hug your parents, then you should do that. I know not all relationships are perfect. Still, it is your parents. Tell your family how much you love them. Because just like a blink of the eye, they could be gone.

To the world I say spend time with your family, tell your loved ones how you feel, live each moment of each day as if there is no tomorrow, and have no regrets. Life is just a fleeting moment in this universe.

Life is such a strange thing. It is difficult to deal with at times and it is unbearable at times. Don't get me wrong I am so happy to have a life that is worth living and I am grateful for all I have. But there is so much about life that I wish was different. I know we can't change the way things are because no matter how much we would like to, it is impossible to make other people feel thing they don't want to feel.

As to the question of who I am; I am me and with that people have to accept that I am Bipolar, There are many, sadly, in this world that think this is just something that is made up. That Bipolar disorder is just a way of getting people to pay attention to us and a way to draw pity from the rest of the world. Haha, that is still so ironically funny to me. Because who in the world would want to be Bipolar, seriously? Why on earth would anyone use that as a way to get attention or make people feel sorry for them.

It took me so many years just to accept this in myself and to those who think it is bull, I wish you knew what it felt like to live inside my head for just a few minutes. Being bipolar is not easy by no means. It is a difficult thing that must be dealt with every second of every day. It is not something you can turn off or put away when you don't want to deal with it.

This is something that I must concentrate on every second of my life. If I forget just a moment then my mind swirls out of control. So you see this is me. That is who I am. If you can't deal with it, there is nothing I can do about that. It is your choice.

Back to who I am, well I guess it means I am just me. That is all. I am the best me I know how to be.

It means that when there is that person who has decided they do not want me in their lives, even though it kills my soul I do as they wish. Sure there are those who don't understand that. But when a person has chosen to hate and throw you away, well there really isn't much you can do. You can not force a person to love you, no matter how much you desire that result.

Who Am I? My Own Personal Hell on Earth

BiPolar disorder, when I was diagnosed it was merely known as Manic Depression. No one EVER talked about it and most had no idea what it even was. Then all of sudden those words came into my life.
My day had started like any other on that bitterly cold morning. The ice was hanging from the trees like lace, it was so beautiful. But after I arrived at Kindergarten that morning I would never be the same.

Our beloved teacher was out sick so we had a substitute. It really wasn't that unusual, even though we didn't have one very often it had occurred.
But today was to be a different experience altogether. I don't really remember how it started. I do however remember her face just inches from mine as she screamed. "WHY DID YOU DO THAT?"
I didn't even know what she was talking about but she just kept yelling. "LIAR, LIAR why are you lying?"

Ironically, I didn't really know that liars really existed. In my family, we didn't lie. Whatever I said my parents knew was the truth. That was just the way it was. So as she screamed liar, liar at me, my mind fell apart.
She grabbed me by the shoulders and shook as hard as she could. Thank heavens she was a tiny woman, but I was really little. The seams of my dress ripped as the material gave way to her vigorous shakes.
The tears fell down my cheeks as I kept saying "I'm not a liar." Nothing mattered to her. She was convinced I was guilty and whatever I said was inconsequential.

When my Mama picked me up I was deep in the darkness of a breakdown. It was a dark period for me, days later when I was so far into the world my parents didn't know anything about they took me to the doctor. Because they just wanted me to get over it. They were furious with the teacher and the school. (Side note) the teacher was never allowed to teach again. It didn't matter though the damage was done.
I remember the doctor who I had been seeing for the blue feelings I kept having even long before that day as he stood there trying to explain that the episode as he put it, had brought out my inner problems. The diagnosis of Manic Depression would come in the next few weeks as they tried to get me to move on.

No matter what I just could not get out of the sad deep dark hole I had crawled in to. For the, most part I have fought with that darkness every day since.
Manic Depression really big words for a five year to try and cope with. But as I took the lithium every morning.

Sitting on the cabinet as Mama would crush the little pill in a spoon, because I was horrified I would choke to death and die. Then, my days would consist of someone making me leave the house and go to school. At first, they would walk with us and go back home. I would stay for a few minutes then at the first chance I could get away without the teacher seeing me I ran home.
A few times of that and now Daddy began to drive me. It was horrible and I know he suffered too. But he would pull the car up to the corner by the school where two teachers met him. They would grab me by the arms and hold me as he sped away. I would scream, cry, beg and if they let I would run.
So with my flee instincts really strong I wasn't usually allowed outside during recess. I had to stay inside where someone could keep an eye on me.
Those were my days. But it was the night that was the worst. My heart would beat so loud it felt like you could hear it miles away. I would hyperventilate until I passed out and sit hidden in the darkness of the closet.

Those were the days of my life as I sank deeper within the dark world of my soul. The days when I became personal friends with panic attacks.
Five years old is supposed to be a time of happiness and laughter while you played. For me it was a learning period. Learning to hide what was going on inside of me.
My parents didn't understand, which they can't be blamed for. Mama just knew she had done something wrong and even though she never formed the words to me, I felt like she believed I wasn;t a good girl. Because if I was God would have answered her prayers and helped me.
It has been a long journey for me. One that I wouldn't wish on anyone. There are such highs for me and lows just as far down as the high was up.

Happy Mother's Day, My Mama Chose Me

Mother's Day.  Happy Mother's Day to all those who are able to hug their Moms and extra hugs to those who only have memories.

Happy Mother's Day to all those who celebrate alone.

Living life, for me, has always been a difficult task. I know that as a kid it was hard for Mama to deal with my problems because the world really didn't understand them. And both Mama and Daddy had absolutely no real knowledge on how to properly deal with my Bipolar disorder. They didn't have Google to look up the details, and the World Books didn't talk about it. Still, they endured and did the best they could.

So what it must have been for them to not really be able to 'band-aid' my problems away I have no idea. And I can't imagine what my Dad must have felt when he was forced to push me from the car into the arms of teachers so I would stay. Or how Mama felt as I cried for no reason and didn't have the vocabulary to explain what I felt.

No, I have no idea what it was like to be my Mama. I just know she tried. She hugged me, she made me laugh, she went fishing with me, and she never minded when we turned her house upside down. She drank her coffee, crocheted, sewed, and watched her stories while the world of play went around her feet.

She cooked supper while we pulled the pans out of the cabinet and climbed inside, she just stepped over us. She wasn't perfect, no one is. But she was my Mama, and I will alway miss her. I will always love her. Not a day goes by that I don't shed a tear that she isn't here to see Cole grow up, to see her great-grandkids grow into young women, and to share every moment of my life. I miss her so much, and I know that pain will always be a part of me.

What was her secret? I don't know. But I know she chose to have me even when it was a decision. My Mama had cancer. She found out when she was around 4 months pregnant with me, they wanted her to abort me and have surgery to remove the Cancer. Her reply was a simple No. Instead, she waited until I was 2 so I would always have the experience of having a mother as a baby. How many women would do that now? How many would choose their child over their own life? Would you?


Happy Mother's Day Mama you might not be here, but you are inside of me. You are inside my kids, and you are in my memories. You are in every moment of every day as I go through life and I will never forget and never stop loving you. Thank you, Mama, for choosing me and being the woman you were.

Who Am I? Bipolar Suffers Deep Dark Depression Excessive Misery, Gloom Despair and Me

My life dealing with Bipolar Disorder has been a jumble of sleepless nights, and both ends of the spectrum of emotions. My ups are as high as they can go and my lows so far down past the point that the average person has ever seen.

My morning began, well began long before the sun rose. If I want to be technical my night and day all merged into one. The air was crisp and the night beautiful, but I just was not in a place to enjoy any part of it.

How can I explain what it feels like inside my head?
Imagine if nothing but angry butterflies filled your head. That may seem ridiculous, but the mental illness of bipolar disorder can feel as if it sends your mind spinning out of control.

The thoughts that float around inside my brain go from having no context to being so deep. Imagine that your body and soul is like a line of dominos situated waiting to fall at just a slight flick of a finger. That is what I feel right now.

It is hard to breathe, hard to swallow. Bipolar Disorder is my life. It is who I am, and it can make life difficult.

The feelings that swarm can feel like a vise is squeezing so tight my ribs might crush. The pounding in my head seems like a million little villagers echoing the arrival of an enemy. Pounding, pounding. Drums that never stop, only get louder.

My arms and hands are numb, tingling. It makes the simple act of typing this blog a tough task. I can't think straight; I can't focus on things. All of that is how I feel today; it is just a day in the life of me. My Bipolar world.

Being Bipolar is such a rollercoaster of emotions that the days like today that go down so fast are some of the most difficult times I experience.

Dealing with the pain that comes from everywhere and nowhere at the same time makes me feel strange. Even those around me that deal with my moments of darkness and quiet solitude have a difficult time. It is not easy to deal with me.

I know they suffer from the desire to make me 'better'. It is just my reality. Sure, it is not perfect, but what part of life is perfection?

Everyone always wants to do something to make it stop, and everyone spends a lot of time saying 'I'm Sorry.' When the real truth is that it is no one's fault it is nothing anyone has done; it is nothing that I have done. It merely just one of the days of my life.

All I want to do is find somewhere dark, wrap in a warm blanket, cry myself into oblivion, and just sit. Depression is that way. Even when you have nothing to be depressed about, that is the actual existence for the Bipolar.

I try to always remind myself 'this too will pass'.Those little words are a mantra in my mind as I know the sadness I feel will cease, eventually.

Life's Little Ups and Downs Like a Merry Go Round Yet Mine is More Rollercoaster

Life has it's little ups and downs like ponies on a merry go round. ---- Ricky Van Shelton

That may be true, but mine definitely doesn't go round, and round it spins wildly in all directions.
Lately, it feels as if the lows are the only thing. This gives me the feeling of darkness that at times is overwhelming. But, as for the world, I keep the darkness to myself. When we have trials, we hide that, never letting anyone know anything.
I will never post to the world that there are financial strains in my life. I will never post to the world that I am ill. For me, those things are something you keep to yourself.
Even, though I see every day where people are airing their entire lives to the rest of the world. That is not me. Sure, I can hear everyone as they read my blog, say that I air everything. But I really don't. I keep all of that hidden away, this blog is my way of explaining what it feels like to live with bipolar disorder and what it is to deal with head injury in a family.


My life has been a rollercoaster of astronomical proportions. I have had ups so high it will give you a nosebleed and lows so low if I were still that little girl in the '60s I would have found China.

That is just how it is when you live with bipolar disorder. But my life hasn't stopped there I have endured the aftermath of my husband's head injury which takes a person on such a ride all by itself.
Funny when we were dealing with his injury at one point we ended up in a therapist's office. (Not that therapy was a new thing for me.) Anyway as we talked about what was going on, Lynn's doctor insisted we see the therapist because she thought he was suicidal, and that I was too close to the current situation to know better.


So then we sat in the office of an excellent therapist and spent hours talking. After we had discussed everything, the man very calmly looked at Lynn and spoke. "You are not depressed, and honestly you are handling your situation very well. However, your wife has problems, and I could make a career in helping her."

That has been my life. I have been in many positions like that. When I began having heart trouble I went to many; many doctors had every test possible. Spent hours, weeks, months hooked up to monitors. Eventually, I sat in the teaching center for the heart in St. Louis. Laying back on the examination table hooked to yet another machine. I had experienced so many it was old hat to me by now.

Good thing it was because you truly aren't a person in situations like this. Because here I sat with wires connected to me, my hospital gown spread wide open for God and everybody to see EVERYTHING. That was when I looked out the window to see I was situated straight across from the train station and it was CROWDED!!!! So my modesty aside I just waved at everyone. I mean what else could I do, try to hide. They had already witnessed all my glory so what was the use.

The end of my visit there resulted in: "We know you are sick, we are aware you are having these episodes. We just don't know why." Then they went on to tell me to go home and "live stress-free."

Seriously, Stress-free? How in the world was I supposed to do that? I had two small kids, a husband with a head injury and then just life in general. I mean I am bipolar how stress-free can that be?

So world, you can see that my rollercoaster has had so many ups and downs.

Who Am I? Spring has Sprung

Spring is one of my favorite times of the year. All the flowers are popping their little heads up and showing such bright, beautiful smiling faces to the world so tired after a long winter.

Easter lilies blooming makes me think of MamEaster lilies blooming makes me think of Mama and when I see the first tulips open up and I remember the Easter Sunday my family celebrated at Uncle Floyd's farm down at Lanton.


It was a glorious spring day the sun was shining, and we were all gathered together having a beautiful day. Then I followed a cousin to the tulips. Following my cousin to the beautiful flowers would prove to be a bad mistake. But we were little kids. Lisa said let's pick 'em. It's okay she said cause Aunt Hazel was her grandma, so it had to be okay. Right?

Well, Daddy didn't see it that way. Boy, was he mad? I had to apologize and then so I wouldn't forget what I had done, they insisted that every picture had to include the tulips. He told me that way I would remember and not pick someone else' flowers without permission again. Boy, it worked on me, Still, couldn't bring myself to pick someone's flowers today.

But what can I say, I love the beginning of each season the crisp, fresh air of fall mixed with the beautiful colors of the trees. Then, as fall has ended in rushes the snow that I totally adore and then we have summer with the warmth that wraps you like a blanket in its arms.

Today I will just concentrate on the beauty of the new growth that fills the trees and the flowers which are poking up to greet me with a vibrancy that is truly magical.

These are all things that being bipolar has caused me to learn to focus on. When my mind stays on point with something even as trivial as the blooming of a tiny flower it makes handling the complexities of life far easier. I have my methods of handling this thing that I was born with, and I hope that others who face the same trials can learn this little trick as well.

Who Am I? A Child That Grew Up In the 60's in an Ozarks Small Town

Growing up in the 60’s was something out of a movie. It was more “Leave it to Beaver” than anything. But then my life took an outside corner. I was diagnosed “manic depressive” at five years of age. Diagnosed at a time when the term bi-polar was not a common name. This diagnosis came into my life long before it was popular to be bipolar.

It most definitely was not popular, and to some degree, I think my parents were embarrassed that I wasn’t perfect. As they put “like my brother.” But it would become part of me, and I would have to come to terms with that.

How do you come to terms with something like this when you are only 5? All I knew for sure was I was told not to say anything to anyone about it, and they wanted me to “get over it” so I could move on.

Obviously, I did not nor could I just get over it. Bipolar is who I am.

Hiding this within me became second nature. Still, I remember the nights of fear when I would have manic episodes and no one to help me through them. I am not condemning my parents, this was a strange thing, and they had no idea what to do. They both were of the period when you got over your ‘illnesses, ’ and they only wanted for me to move on.

Those dark nights when I could hear my heart beat so loud, it felt as if the entire world could hear the pounding that I heard. It was a severe pounding, and I felt as if I would die if I closed my eyes. So night after night when that pounding began and I feared not just death, but absolutely everything, all I could think was that I was not normal.

Not feeling healthy is a horrible thing for a child. And my greatest wish was not to be a problem to my parents.

The mania ran all over me at times. Even to the point, I would get my school pictures, and as the whole class exchanged photos, I would participate only to run around later begging for them back.
It was a tough time living a life that I didn’t understand and having no one to explain anything to me.

I only desired to “get over it, ” and it felt as if it got worse every day. I would be many years before I understood anything.

I hope you will go on this journey with me as I describe what it was like to be bipolar long before anyone talked about it. Hopefully, my story will help at least one person to realize they are not alone.

So welcome, to this story of me. I am BIPOLAR, and I am not ashamed.

Who am I? Panic Attacks, Pain, and Seclusion a Bipolar Moment

Who am I? Well, today I am a bipolar woman who has had a rough month or so. I am just now feeling like I am once again part of the human race. Honestly, I don't know where my mind has been for the last month or so, it has had a mind of its own.

Life is not comfortable, no matter who you are, or what you comes your way. That's just the sad, cold truth of things. But when you deal with Bipolar Disorder on top of what life throws at you, well it can be more of an uphill struggle.

This last month or so, I have had panic attack after panic attack. The episodes have been so bad that for a significant part of the time I have had to use oxygen to help me even breathe. It feels like I can't catch my breath and that makes my heart work even harder. To top off my existence, I have an arrhythmia (Afib) issue accelerated when one of these attacks strikes.

I have kept as secluded as possible during this mentally difficult time, and I am just now feeling like I can join the world to some degree. Sure, I am not the most social person in the world. I would rather stay away from the hustle and bustle that the rest of the society calls life, I like the peace and quiet of solitude. I am the luckiest woman in the world to have a little family that understands I am better off away from crowds.

It is not fun. As a small child, I can remember sitting in the corner of my bed or even hidden in the back of my closet as one would grab me. I felt as if I were dying because I had no idea what was happening. At times I would sit with my hand on my heart wondering if I was dead. It was terrifying, to say the least.

Imagine as a child that your heart is beating so fast you feel like you will pass out and you have no idea what to do. Imagine that everyone tells you that it is in your head. They keep telling you to stop being dramatic. But this is not something that I want to do; it is not something I can make myself no do. The reality of panic attacks and Afib episodes are what life is like for me.

So, here I sit once again needing the oxygen machine to help me calm my racing heart and ease my shortness of breath. Why does this happen? I honestly wish I knew, the only thing I am sure of lies in the fact that it does happen.