This Bipolar Life: Stripped bare

I was in a relationship once where I thought everything was great. And I thought he did too. Of course, I speak in past tense now. I often wonder what happened to cause this man to walk away. He knew I have bipolar disorder. I asked him if it mattered. He said no. But I don’t know if I really believed him. He sounded sincere enough, but really? Did he honestly believe that the bipolar didn’t matter? Or was he just trying to appease me before leaving a few months later.

He had his own issues. They truly never mattered to me. Maybe he didn’t believe me-- just like I didn’t believe him. But I do believe he loved me. I certainly loved him. I tried many times to figure things out. Wondering why things ended. Could they begin again. Praying to God that He might make it all better. At least my version of better. But He didn’t.

So I feel stripped bare. Down to the raw emotions trying to find the logic in my life. Not knowing how to allow myself to love someone else. What if the next man loves me but decides to act as the previous one did? What if I just can’t get this one out of my head and heart? And let me tell you, having bipolar disorder is rough. It comes with anxiety, depression, mania, obsessive thinking, paranoia, etc. The journey has not been easy. 

I am ever grateful to this man because I am a better woman having met him. And I am most grateful to my family and friends who have helped me along this interesting, dynamic, and at times painful journey of trying to leave behind a loved one. My Faith in God has truly been my saving grace. We are all human and we all have our struggles. This is one of mine. 

'Til next time,

Arla

After stealing a car at 16, I never wanted to end up in the Bishop’s office again. Ever.

I was a good kid growing up. I followed the rules. As a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, I only remember having to go to the Bishop’s office once. I was 16 years old. And I had stolen a car- for seven minutes- during a church youth summer trip. My bishop said I must tell my parents about the incident. I did not. I was too afraid. So I held onto my crime- crushing it into my chest- for months. Finally, I was 17 years old and my parents found out from the owner of the car at a church luncheon. My Dad took me to the police station. As I waited in the lobby, my Dad explained the situation to the sheriff asking him to teach me a lesson. Which the sheriff happily did, not understanding that I was an overall good kid, he laid it on real thick. Explaining that I was lucky he didn’t arrest me that very day! I lost my license (from my parents) for a couple months. But my chest started to feel better.  After that experience I never wanted to end up in the Bishop’s office again. Ever.

Yet at age 33 I was sitting outside my Bishop’s office waiting to see him. Scared to death. This time I had sinned and I couldn’t stop. This was not the same as a one time deal of taking a car. I felt compelled, overwhelmed with my sins. What would the Bishop say? What would he think of me? I was so embarrassed. So ashamed. I felt so unloved.

My Bishop listened and said only things that the Lord would know I needed to hear. His counsel was direct yet still compassionate. And I was grateful.

However, I still struggled. When I moved several months later, I didn’t want to see my new Bishop. I felt even more embarrassed and ashamed because I had ALREADY talked to a Bishop, tried to follow his counsel, and failed because I was not better. This time though, I knew my covenants that I’d made with the Lord were at a critical point. At the same time my local church’s Addiction Recovery Program (ARP)- similar to AA only with a foundation in Jesus Christ- had started up. So I began to attend the Saturday meetings. Sometimes I came without makeup and messy hair and other times I came dressed up because I was going out afterwards. But I always attended.

The ARP meetings weren’t enough though. I needed to see my Bishop. I was so afraid to go that first time. With a heavy heart I cried and told my Bishop what had been going on. He listened. When he spoke he said things only the Lord would know I needed to hear. He gave direct counsel full of compassion. I saw my Bishop every month for a year and a half. I reported to him my successes and my failings. I built a relationship with him. He became my mentor. My confident. My friend. He guided me through a very difficult seeming neverending chapter of time for me.

Bishops hold many functions in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. When we allow them into our lives, they will give the counsel and wisdom that we need to hear to right our wrongs and correctly repent of our sins. And if we’re lucky, some of them will become great friends in the process.

I’m grateful that as I prayed for courage to keep my hope and faith, I was able to continue to enter my Bishop’s office month after month until I knew the last visit was indeed the last because of hard work and trust and faith in the Lord and my Bishop. I could not have gone through my repentance process without them.

'Til next time,

Arla

This Bipolar Life: Never Ending Roller Coaster

Living with bipolar is like living on a never ending roller coaster. Sure the moods can be tamed, controlled for significant periods of time. Even the wildest roller coasters level off at times.

Bipolar is more than a mood disorder. It’s a relationship disorder. It’s an organ failure disorder. It’s a sleep disorder.

Just when you think you’ve got the mania and depression under control, you find you’ve lost friendships, some forever. You want to work harder at rebuilding friendships after the number of doctors increases because the very essential medications keeping you sane are slowly destroying the rest of your body-- and who wants to be alone at such times? All the while, sleep evades or drags you down until soon your moods begin a creeping shift-- continuing on the roller coaster ride of this bipolar life.

'Til next time,

Arla

This Bipolar Life: Mental Illness does not equate Patronizing Disrespect. You are a Valued Person

Sharing my Bipolar with the expansive world knowingly sets me up for increased prejudices and biases. It also allows me freedom to express and be oneself without the crippling fear and anxiety from hiding.

Knowing this, I find some of the most patronizing and condescending people I deal with are within the very community I must live within. When I must communicate with my physician’s office, some of the staff treat me in such patronizing ways, it is almost intolerable! None of my other medical teams treat me thus.

Why is it, when you find out someone has high cholesterol, they are not viewed as blocked arteries? Or a person with anemia as a glass half full? But when you find out someone has a mental illness, they are viewed as crazy, moody, out of control, “just like my aunt.. she was ____”, dangerous, necessary to avoid at all costs, nothing in common with, not in their right mind, etc. I could keep on going. And going.

Those with mental illness live in variating stages. The idea of treating them as though each and every person is at their worst point is repulsive and unprofessional. Effective communication stops. The encounter can quickly escalate to heated even damaging proportions. And most often, the role the medical professionals, caregivers, etc is seen as appropriate and the person with mental illness seen negative and assumed to be so.

Please note, I said Person -not patient- with mental illness. If we can all remember that no matter whether you have high cholesterol, anemia, or bipolar, like me, you are a Valued Person. And must be treated with respect, kindness, and politeness. Patronizing others in any fashion is demeaning and hurtful. May we be evermore mindful of our words and actions.

‘Til next time

Arla

This Bipolar Life: Step One Step Two

Some days it’s all I can do to just step outside my door. Because really, I don’t want to step outside my door. I’d rather stay inside. Keep the world in it’s place and me in mine. My mind can easily handle the solitude that comes adjoined with my tiny apartment. I am used to the quiet.

Yet, my mind still craves life. The sounds of life. The smells of life. So I open my front door-- inwards to the apartment. I push on the screen door-- outwards to the world. I stand there. Is it enough? Can I hear anything? Can I smell anything? No.

One step forward. Another step forward. I’m out! And I am free! Even for a few moments-- I am free from my suffocation. I stand upright. I breathe in and out deeply. I look. I listen. I smell a neighbor’s fireplace, some fresh cut grass, exhaust from an old car down the street.

And then, I sigh. Step one foot backwards into my apartment. The second foot back into my apartment. Close the screen door. Close the front door. Then find myself in the quiet solitude of my apartment again. Yet it feels less suffocating. More alive now. I hear the animals outside now.

Maybe I’ll open the door and step outside again. Later today perhaps.

'Til next time,

Arla

Grief and Recovery: Swirling, Strumming, Strangling

A friend of mine lost her husband last night. He passed away telling her how much he loved her. They had only known each other for four years, but he was the light of her life and the joy in her children’s lives as well.

I found out about it on Facebook. This was appropriate for our level of friendship. I was sitting in the doctor’s office. As I read her post I made an audible cry of sadness. And then I began to cry. Not so much outwardly. Just those leaky tears that you have to constantly brush away but don’t mess up your makeup. Yet inwardly my heart cried tremendously. How could God take her husband away from her? Why would God even bring such happiness only to take it away so soon? And so many more questions.

I must confess, part of the pain I feel for my friend is pain I identify in my own life. Perhaps that’s why this news has grieved me so greatly. Only her grief has a more final mark.

Four and a half years ago I met the man I’d come to love. We had some wonderful times. He is a wonderful man. Eventually, a few years later, however, he left one night. He didn’t pass away. He just slipped away without a word. No reason. Just gone.

Those same questions: How could God take him away from me? Why would God bring him into my life only to take him away? Swirl, Strum, and Strangle my brain and heart. And then I asked- through the Void- God, what can I do to survive? What can I do to keep going? Once I made it through the Void, I continued to ask God, How can I continue to have happiness in my life. What must I do to have Your guidance in my life?

Always, always, I feel urged to pray. Pray first for him. Then for me. I pray that he is happy- feels fulfilled in life. That he does remember me, but is able to keep going on, guided by God, Himself.

This may seem a bit odd of an entry, but when you’ve loved one so deeply and you’ve lost them, in any way, the way you process that grief is vital for recovery. Do you get stuck in the Why did this happen? Why did God take that person away? Or are you able to move forward to What can I do to feel better? Be happier? In these difficult, tragic, devastating times, this process of grief and recovery is ever evolving. We can go back and forth, up and down. If we can reach that calming peaceful state the most often, then I believe we are closest to that “recovery”. Or rather, we are most close to the love that we feel for God, our loved ones, and then the despair of grief is a hint in our lives.

God loves each of us. He knows there will be times, many times, that we may ask Him Why? Or, How Could You? Yet, He is still always there listening and loving. Our recovery can be a daily process. So today is a day that I pray for my love, and for my friend who has lost her love.

The Heavens Above
charcoal and pen, 9"x12"
by Arla Louise

‘Til next time.

Arla

This Bipolar Life: Hypothyroidism

When I started taking lithium at age 23, I only thought of my bipolar. How the lithium would help “fix” my bipolar. (I also took a couple other psychotropic medications at that time as well to create a balance. As I still do.) At age 25, I had a few health complications and was told I had hypothyroidism. Lithium induced hypothyroidism. It would never go away. I would always require medication. Take synthroid once a day. A sure and easy “fix” to the hypothyroidism.

What is Hypothyroidism? It is an underactive thyroid. What’s important is knowing the symptoms.

• Fatigue
• Increased sensitivity to cold
• Constipation
• Dry skin
• Weight gain or difficulty losing weight (despite reduced food intake)
• Puffy face
• Hoarseness
• Muscle weakness
• Elevated blood cholesterol level
• Muscle aches, tenderness and stiffness
• Pain, stiffness or swelling in your joints
• Heavier than normal or irregular menstrual periods
• Thinning hair
• Slowed heart rate
• Depression
• Memory loss**

A couple years ago I began exhibiting some of these symptoms again. Then almost all of them. My primary care doctor ordered blood work then changed my synthroid dosage. I got better. A few months would go by and I’d start feeling the same things. I’d see my doctor. He’d order blood work then change the dosage again. Around and around. I’m currently in the process of finding the right specialist.

The lithium has been, over time, the stable constant psychotropic medication that has worked for me. I do not make any endorsement of it in my writings. It is simply a great choice for me. But even if I stopped it today, I would still have hypothyroidism. I would still have gained the 35 lbs in 2 years filled with exercise and healthy eating. I have struggled with depression wondering if it is a bipolar depression or a thyroid depression. I have a support system that helps to keep tabs on me. But since I live on my own, I know it is so important to be ever vigilant in my mental health care. Luckily, my lab work tells me if the thyroid is off balance.

I admit, sometimes I feel overwhelmed and/or angry about the situation. Why did God make me bipolar? Why does lithium have to be so destructive? Why does my body have to fall apart all the time? Woe Is Me!

But let me tell you something. I am so grateful for all the times when I feel healthy and happy. Yet it’s the feeling happy that helps get through the unhealthy times. Sometimes it can take time to get my thyroid depression to go away simply because it can take time for the medication and thyroid itself to level out. So I have to be willing to go to my psychiatrist for help. I know that it’s a thyroid depression that will be gone in about a month. Or just two weeks. But do I really want to live that much longer like this? My psychiatrist doesn’t always give me a prescription. Sometimes it’s just a pep-talk and the recognition of her awareness and a doctor’s appointment within 2-4 weeks to check up on me that makes all the difference. I’ve taken lithium for nearly 14 years, and I will continue to do so. My doctors are all aware that I am bipolar. That I take lithium and that won’t change anytime soon. That I have hypothyroidism, and it’s unstable. And that I do my best to stay healthy and happy.

As to God giving me bipolar. Maybe I agreed in the Heavens Above to have this before I was born. Why oh why? Some days it’s a mystery. But I tell you this, I am grateful that if I have to have bipolar and take lithium, and if I have to have hypothyroidism, then I am grateful that God provides the many means for a healthy and happy life. Especially happy!

‘Til next time,

Arla

**http://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/hypothyroidism/symptoms-causes/dxc-20155382

https://www.endocrineweb.com/conditions/hypothyroidism/symptoms-hypothyroidism