The First Downfall – My Life: Part 3

Just before I turned 17, I met a guy and was immediately attracted to him. Jared had a personality that was appealing to many. He made friends with people easily, but he only let them see the side of his personality that he wanted them to see. For the first couple months of our relationship, he only let me see positive traits. Once we moved in together, everything changed. He became physically and emotionally abusive. He would tell me when I could see my friends. I had to have dinner on the table when he got home, or else. We did a lot of drugs together. I fell for every trick he played and didn’t stand up for myself at all. He had me convinced that I was lucky to have him; he made me believe that no one else would want me. The worst part of it all is that he broke up with me. He said I wasn’t happy anymore. I remember telling him he would regret it. I was devastated. I don’t know why I was so hung up on a guy that treated me like crap, but I was.

At a party, I met a guy who was so sweet. Chris was the exact opposite of Jared, except for the drug use. I started smoking crack when I met Chris. Jared tried to get back together with me, but I finally stood up for myself and told him no. Jared started stalking me at that point, so I became terrified for my safety even more than I already was. Chris and I dated for several months. He kept talking about getting sober, but I wasn’t ready for that. I was completely addicted to crack that it came before everything. I was even with Chris getting high instead of being at the hospital when my dad died. That is one of the biggest regrets I have. Chris ended up getting killed only a few months after we met.

The loss of my father was exceedingly difficult, even though I knew for years that it was coming. He had been sick for many years with cancer and kidney failure. He ended up dying from an infection on October 10th, 2003. He was in the ICU for a while before his death. I miss my father and think of him every day. Losing him was like losing a part of myself. I wish I had been there to support my family, but I was too far into my addiction. I wish he could have seen me get sober.

My drug use was insane, I was almost always drunk or high on something. All of this made my mental health even worse. I was dealing with rapid cycling; I was either manic or depressed at all times. I didn’t want to spend much time with my friends, the few that I had left. All I wanted to do was die. This was probably my lowest point in life. I finally decided I wanted to quit drinking and using, but I couldn’t do it. I wished I was dead every day. I had lost so much in life, but the worst thing I lost was my self-respect.

One day, I had finally had enough. I went to my mom and told her I couldn’t take it anymore. I told her I needed to go back into the hospital. She told me that a behavioral health hospital would not fix things. I needed more than that; I needed to get sober. Apparently, she had already been looking at places to send me. She showed me some of the places she found. I was interested in this one place in Arizona; it was a year-long in-patient treatment center. It treated drug and alcohol abuse as well as mental health. I actually became excited; I finally felt a glimmer of hope. I was scared, but so enthused about the possibility of feeling better, that it actually lessened the fear. Most people don’t go to rehab willingly. I went not only willingly, but eagerly. I was also terrified; the thought of something new scared me, but the depression was so horrible that I felt my only other option was death.

The Beginning Of It All – My Life: Part 2

Trigger Warning: The following talks about drug and alcohol abuse, cutting, and suicidal gestures.

I believe that I started to change when I was in 7^th or 8^th grade. The friends I chose were different from before and I became a sad and angry person on the inside. Many kids go through changes around this age, but I took it a bit too far. Then, one day, I was told that my dad was diagnosed with multiple myeloma (bone marrow cancer). I was devastated. My whole life was turned upside down. The day after I found out about my father’s diagnosis, I remember walking into town and feeling very upset. As I was walking, one of my new “friends” saw me and asked what was wrong. I told him about my father and how upset I was. He gave me cocaine and told me it would make me feel better. That was the start of a treacherous journey over the next many years. Cocaine made me forget how horrible I felt, although it caused so many other problems.

My dad’s diagnosis was a trigger for me, but if it hadn’t been that, it would have been something else. My drug and alcohol use as well as my mental health problems were not my father’s fault; in fact, they were no one’s fault. It’s just a part of my story. I couldn’t believe I was losing my father and I didn’t know how to handle it. My parents had me go to therapy, but it wasn’t helpful because I wasn’t honest with the therapist. Over the next six or seven years, I tried just about every drug except for meth, and that’s only because it wasn’t available where I lived. The beginning of my drug use was the beginning of my downfall, mentally and emotionally. I also started cutting around the same time that I started using drugs and alcohol. Cutting caused physical pain, which replaced the emotional pain. It was another outlet that caused more harm than good.

I remember that I got caught smoking one day. My parents confronted me about it and I lied to them, which is what they were more upset about. Instead of grounding me, I was allowed to do whatever I wanted, but I had to be with one of my parents at all times. My mom said that I lost their trust. The punishment lasted several months, which felt like forever, until I could prove that I was trustworthy again. I didn’t understand then, but I get it now. Trust is something that’s earned; it’s not a right for anyone.

When I was 14, I made a suicidal gesture. I took a lot of a medication, but I took just less than what would kill me. I knew exactly what I was doing; it was a cry for help. This was my first hospitalization. I met my first psychiatrist at this hospital; he treated me while I was admitted and I kept seeing him after. I was diagnosed with bipolar 1 and borderline personality disorder. I think the only reason I was diagnosed as borderline was because of the self-harm. I still think about cutting, but I haven’t done it in well over a decade. My family was very supportive and caring. I even remember at one point, my mom and sister completed the Family to Family course offered by NAMI so they could better understand me.

I tried just about every medication and med combo available, but nothing really worked. They probably didn’t work because I was also self-medicating with all sorts of drugs and alcohol. I actually told my psychiatrist about the drugs I was using. I often went to our appointments high. He did nothing about it except ask me not to do that again. Of course I didn’t listen to him. There were also some medications that caused me to gain weight. One med caused an 80 pound weight gain, yet he never mentioned that it was an issue at any of our appointments. Now, as an adult, I’m surprised and disappointed that he never informed my parents about my drug use or the side effects such as weight gain. It never seemed as if that psychiatrist at that time cared about my well-being.

I left high school after my sophomore year and went to college at the age of 16. The college was meant for “younger scholars”. I did meet some great friends there who I’m still friends with now, but I also started using more drugs. The actual school part was not a problem. I still did well in my classes, but I stopped caring about school in general. I only lasted one year at that school before dropping out. School was interfering with my drug use, and my mental health was a huge endeavor. I couldn’t do it all, so I left college and eventually got my GED, since I left high school before graduating.

I think that the biggest reason that every attempt to stabilize my mental health didn’t work when I was younger was because of my drug and alcohol abuse. I don’t know how to use anything in moderation. I could never have a drink, I would have a bottle. I couldn’t take just one hit; I had to smoke the whole thing. Even if I was doing well, the drug use would screw me up completely. I also didn’t work very hard on my mental health, I didn’t care very much. Now that I know how much of a difference I can make on my own mental health, I take responsibility for my teenage years being mostly a disaster.

Knowing Your Diagnosis

Understanding your own mental health is extremely important. Even though most of us have some type of support system, knowing your own illness is the best way to take care of ourselves. I know that I am diagnosed with Bipolar 1. I have manic, depressive, and mixed episodes. While others may be able to see some of my symptoms, I try to be the first person that can see them. I am aware of the symptoms I exhibit for each type of episode. Knowing my symptoms helps me to catch my episodes before they get too far. Those that I’m close with, such as my husband, family, and best friend are also able to see my symptoms when they start to appear. I can ask these individuals for help to better maintain my mental health.

Hopefully, by paying attention, I will be the first to notice when I’m not sleeping, if I become obsessive, if I have racing thoughts, if I spend too much money, or become overly talkative. These are all signs that I’m becoming manic. I also hope to be the first to notice if I’m sleeping too much, if I feel pathetic or empty, if I cannot find pleasure in activities, if I gain weight, or if I start planning a suicide. These are all signs that a depression is coming. A mixture of these symptoms can mean a mixed episode is starting. I want to be the first to notice my symptoms so that I can get a jump-start on treating the symptoms and episode.

It’s not easy to know and understand your own mental health. Every person’s bipolar disorder is different. Each person has different symptoms occur, and each person has different ways they have found that treat their symptoms. Knowing your symptoms also allows the individual to contact their doctor so he/she can alter medication as necessary. Some of our episodes come from medication changes, from stressful events, from medical changes, or even from out of the blue. The sooner we begin to treat our episodes, and allow our doctors to treat us, the better off we will be. Success comes from knowledge of our own diagnoses.

Waiting Is The Hardest Thing To Do

Right now, I’m waiting, and I’ve been waiting for days. I’m waiting for the results to my Clozapine level blood work. The results to this test will tell my doctor whether or not he wants to increase the dosage of my Clozapine. I’m currently at 200 mg every night. I did the blood work on Friday. My normal weekly blood work was completed on Friday, but the Clozapine level takes longer to come back. I just don’t know how long; I even tried to figure out how long it would take by researching it online, but I came up empty-handed. I told my psychiatrist that I’m in a depression. I informed him that I’m sleeping too much, I’m overeating, I feel worthless and empty, and I’m easily irritable. He told me to hang in there; we are waiting for the results of the Clozapine level. Once we have the results, then we can figure out our next step.

So now I’m just waiting. I’m waiting for my blood test results, I’m waiting to find out what change my psychiatrist wants to make, and I’m waiting to start feeling better. When you’re waiting for something, every moment seems to drag on and on. I’m just trying to get through this, one moment at a time, but how much longer do I have to wait? Even if my psychiatrist decides to add a new anti-depressant, we all know that it takes 4 to 6 weeks for the medication to start working, if it’s going to work at all. So that’s more waiting. No one should have to wait this long to feel better.

I’m compliant with anything I’m told to do by my doctors. However, I am getting sick and tired of it all. I wouldn’t mind the waiting, if I knew that there were going to be positive results. I also wouldn’t mind the waiting if I knew that the positive results that I was going to get would be more than just temporary. We all know that no medication to treat bipolar disorder is permanent. Every time we try a medication, our bodies react differently; we almost never react the same way twice. How a medication works varies depending on our current mental state, the medications we’re currently taking, and any treatments we’re currently undergoing.

I just wish there was an easy answer to treating bipolar depression and mania. There should be an answer, an easy way to help us, where we don’t have to spend most of our time waiting. My bipolar disorder is very gray, nothing is absolute, and everything is questionable. I wish my bipolar disorder was more black and white, I wish it had easier, faster, and more accurate answers.

Think Before Reacting

It is vital, but not easy, in life to think before reacting. People tend to react to situations automatically, at least I know that I do. I usually react by being overly polite, I almost always say yes to whatever anyone asks me, and I let people walk all over me. I have a very hard time standing up for myself. Some others have the opposite problem. Both situations are difficult to handle. This is why people could benefit from thinking before reacting. I’ve been trying to do this in my daily life, but I struggle to do it on my own. Some of the techniques I use are:

Take a moment to respond. Don’t force yourself to react immediately.
Think about what you would tell someone else to do/say if they were in your position.
Practice your response with another person if possible, or just practice with yourself.

I usually respond immediately, telling people I will do what they want and I insist that it’s no problem, even though it is an issue. I almost always put other people before myself. It’s important to stand up for yourself; I guess that’s something I’ll have to continue to work on.

When you stand up for yourself, you don’t necessarily have to explain your response to anyone. Your answer to someone’s question is enough. If you can’t do something for another person, then that should be enough. We are not children, we don’t need to justify everything we say. Speak up and clearly when you are standing up for yourself, and remember it’s okay to say “no”. Being assertive is a good thing; it’s not being mean or rude. Practice standing up for yourself. I ask my husband and my mom for help all the time. There’s nothing wrong with asking for help. I think it actually makes you stronger.

Another Day of Depression

I went to bed last night hoping that today was going to be different. When I woke up, I knew that it was going to be another day dealing with depression. The first sign was that I slept until 10am. I don’t sleep that late when I’m feeling well. Then my mom called me, which normally makes me happy, but this time I couldn’t feel anything. I’m dealing with a loss of interest in things I normally enjoy. My energy level is extremely low, everything feels like a major tasks. Even writing has become a huge task, but I force myself to do it.

Yesterday, I forced myself to get out of the house and go to my mother-in-laws when she invited me. It was extremely difficult, but I did it, and I’m glad I did it. It helped me feel a little better. Maybe today I should do the same thing. There’s a friend’s house I could go to; she understands depression and doesn’t judge me at all. I’m going to try my hardest to go over there in little while. I actually just made plans with her, that way I have someone to stay accountable to.

I’m pushing myself so hard. Sometimes I feel like I should just give in to the depression. It would be easier to just let go, but I need to put up a fight. Although, I’m wondering what the reason is why I’m fighting the depression. Am I doing this for my family or my husband? Is it possible that I’m doing this for myself? I don’t even know if the reason why matters. The most important thing is that I am fighting the depression. I’m not simply giving up. There are a lot of things that I could do to help. One thing I could do is to look at my Wellness Recovery Action Plan (WRAP) and looking through my wellness toolbox for suggestions that I know are helpful when I’m in a depression.

Allowing Others To Help You Is A Gift You Give Them

I always thought that asking for help was a sign of weakness or dependency. I felt that I was always better off doing everything on my own for many reasons. I don’t like letting other people know that I can’t handle everything. It seems as if my flaws are already extremely obvious to everyone; I never saw the purpose in pointing out my shortcomings and vulnerabilities. Plus, when I talk to others about my weaknesses, it means I’m admitting to myself that they’re real. I would rather pretend that everything is okay for as long as possible instead of admit that my issues are real, even though this usually makes my problems worse. Asking others for help requires a lot of trust. I never trusted anyone else to do a better job than I could do; if I couldn’t fix the issue or come up with a solution, then I doubted that someone else could.

I also felt that by not asking others for help, I was being kind to them; who really wanted to spend their time helping me? However, since I didn’t ask others for help, I never allowed people the ability to feel useful. I know that when I am able to help others, it makes me feel good about myself. I finally feel as if I’m important and worth something, which does not come easy for me. Who am I to say others would not feel the same way when helping me? I don’t have to push or force others into helping me, but it is important to give them the opportunity to be there for me and help me through situations.

We become vulnerable by asking others for assistance. I’m usually worried what people will think of me if I tell them what’s really going on. I think that if people knew what was happening in my mind, they would have me locked up. Suicidal ideations, thoughts of cutting, hallucinations, and paranoia; that’s who I really am. Instead, I fake things pretty well; I’m actually fairly talented at pretending everything is okay. However, when I do that, nothing gets better. There’s a saying, ‘Nothing changes if nothing changes’. If I want something to change, then I need to do something about it. Asking for help is doing something; it is taking that step toward change. If I allow myself to be vulnerable and ask someone for help, it could be the beginning of change and a deeper relationship.

My Side of the Pole

Bipolar – Mental Health

Category: Asking For Help