Better by Noon

Crazy pill count:
AM 20 Adderall, 150 Lyrica
afternoon 20 Adderall, 150 Lyrica
PM 10 Zyprexa, 150 Lyrica, 25 Lamictal

When we're depressed it's easy to get immersed in the darkness. It's easy to get caught up in tears and sad songs. I won't lie. I've been listening to sad tunes. On repeat to boot. But is this the best way to deal with it?

Do we stay in our pj's all day and cry?
Or do we force ourselves to get dressed and leave the house?

Beats me.
Try them both and see what works.
Unfortunately, there is no secret to depression.

Dr. Crazy has explained there is an ebb and flow to depression and it is usually worse in the morning. You may be familiar with this scenario:

The sun rises.
It's another day.
Damn.
I was counting on today being the first day the sun didn't rise.
Can I leave these sheets?
I can't. I just can't.
How will I ever be able to get dressed?
I don't think I can. I know I can't.
I can't do it. I quit. I quit life.
Roll over, cry.

Does that sound at all familiar?

But as the day goes on it gets better. It might not get all better, as depression is a stubborn beast, but there is some sort of relief, no matter how small, even if it's not until 10:00pm. The next day you curse the sun. Repeat above. But then you have relief at 7:00pm. The next day at 4:30pm. The next day at noon. The next day at 10am. And soon you are happy to see the sun.

The sun does put on quite a good show.

Dr. Crazy has explained each day it gets better earlier than the day before. And I have found this to be true. Does it still feel awful in the morning? It does. But this is considered to be good progress. Are you wondering how I can call feeling like shit every morning progress? Well friends, sometimes bipolar disorder just sucks. I hate to be the one to break the news, but it does. At times, we take what we can get.

Of course, there are depressions that suck for a full 24 hours and what feels like infinity, but often they will eventually get into this better-earlier-each-day rhythm. And by the way, sorry to bring up crazy pills, but when we're depressed we have to take them. We might even have to take extras.

Sometimes understanding the science helps. You might want to punch me in the face and say it doesn't. And you can. You can punch me if it will make you feel better.

However, it helps me to look at the clock and know, "Yesterday I felt better at 3:00. This won't last forever. Turn off that damn forsaken sad music and get dressed. Maybe today it will be noon."

Now, it's beyond frustrating to feel better and wake up feeling terrible again. I know this. I won't discount that. But it will better. It always does. Heck, maybe it will be better by noon.

Bottomline?
Keep going, friends.
Just keep going...

Until next time...

The Great-Mysterious-Brain-Chemistry-Don't-Be-Batshit-Crazy Experiment

Crazy pill count:
AM 20 Adderall, 150 Lyrica
afternoon 20 Adderall, 150 Lyrica
PM 100 Lyrica, 10 Zyprexa, 25 Lamictal

If you ever take a peek at my crazy pill count you can witness how much and how often my medications change. Sometimes the changes are small, like simply taking a crazy pill at a slightly different time during the day, or a small increase or decrease in dosage.

Other times the change is more radical. During an all-hell-breaks-loose mania there may be a large jump in my Zyprexa. During a dark wave of depression I may take a quick hit of Prozac, Symbyax, or Cymbalta. During hair raising anxiety Ativan may make a brief appearance.

Other times a new drug may come onto the market. This is my favorite. Ahh, it is a time of immense hope and possibility. A chance to eliminate Zyprexa as a daily drug, or to be able to simplify my regiment.

Last week I had the pleasure of enduring a second degree burn on my right forearm while cooking. It's pretty gross and in the perfect shape of my pot's long handle. The pork loin I was cooking, however, turned out far from gross. Perhaps the best I've ever made. Silver lining people...

I'm not going to show you my burn because that's just gross.

But this is my bathroom. It looks a lot like CVS.

I'm bringing this up because I had to make a trip to my general doctor. He was concerned about how many pills I was taking and if they were really necessary. "Is Dr. Crazy taking good care of you?" he asked. "I mean do you really need that many medications? What happens if you don't take them?" he asked with a bit of judgment.

"What happens if I don't take my pills?!" I laughed. I couldn't help it. It seemed like the stupidest question in the universe. "I'm batshit crazy without my pills! I do need them. Dr. Crazy is doing a fine job, thank you very much." And he finished wrapping my mutant arm with gauze and I left.

This actually happens every time I go to any doctor. They don't understand what kind of doctor would have me on so many drugs.

I will tell you what kind of doctor. A really damn amazing one. Dr. Crazy is brilliant. I say it all the time, but I really mean it. I have been seeing Dr. Crazy seven days shy of six years. A lot of stuff has happened in six years and he has closely been there for all of it. He knows me. He knows my patterns my tendencies, yes, but he is also well acquainted with the mysteries of my brain.

To an outsider, and maybe even to you, it may seem extreme. But we're almost six years in - that's a hell of a long time to watch closely and gain information. I'm not recommending that you don't question a doctor's treatment plan. A doctor's opinion is just that - an opinion. It's easy to forget that sometimes. I'm not recommending that you blindly accept a treatment plan. However, Dr. Crazy's treatment plan has been ongoing for long enough for me to gain trust in him. Trust is a pretty big thing when you are considering putting something in your body that changes your brain chemistry. It's your brain for God's sake! Brains...pretty important stuff.

Dr. Crazy and I would love for my crazy pill regiment to be more simple. We're working on it. The goal is to take as few pills as possible to get the desired effect. And that desired effect is basically to not be batshit crazy. Not long ago we tried having me take only one crazy pill.  It was one of the worst two days of my life. But that doesn't mean you can't have your desired effect (not be batshit crazy) with only one pill, or that I couldn't on a different pill that Dr. Crazy and I haven't figured out yet. Everyone is different.

So what am I saying?

I am saying ask questions, but then put trust in your doctor and The Great-Mysterious-Brain-Chemistry-Don't-Be-Batshit-Crazy Experiment." This trust process is hard. I know it is. But the only way to develop trust is time. So unless there is something horribly wrong with your doctor, give them the time they deserve to develop your trust.

There have been plenty of doctors I only had one session with.

They seemed stupid, 

or lacked compassion,

or were outright offensive, 

or smelled bad. 

It's okay to say, "This doctor's not for me." But if that's the case make an appointment with a new one. And on and on until you find one that seems okay. With time that okay might turn out to be really damn brilliant and great.

Give them a chance. Give yourself the chance to have the support you need. And then give crazy pills a chance. Experiment.

I hope your experimentation won't be as complex and difficult as mine, but if it is, just keep the hell going...I am right here doing it with you...

Until next time...

The Patient Quest For Balance

Crazy pill count:
AM 20 Adderall, 100 Lyrica
afternoon 20 Adderall, 10 Zyprexa, 100 Lyrica
PM 100 Lyrica

When the sadness comes, it comes deeply.
When the acceleration hits, nothing can tether our feet to the ground.

Between these times of being anchored to the ocean floor or too high to reach, is when life happens. We go to work or school. We spend time with and enjoy those we love. We clean the floor and go to the grocery store.

The goal of bipolar disorder is to stay in this between - in a place of balance. Sometimes it happens effortlessly, and other times, no matter how many pills we swallow, it feels like we'll never be able to stay long enough to do all those things we need to and want to do. Sometimes it's never long enough to catch our breath.

He sure has good balance.

At times, the floor gets really dirty and the refrigerator gets really scarce, and they stay this way for far too long. It is during these times I am so thankful for the hubs's patience - for his quiet ability to eat cereal for dinner.

This is not my husband, but looking in my fridge is a lot like this:

But what about us?
We need to be patient too.

We need to be patient with ourselves and our ever so fragile brain chemistry that's not always quite in balance.

I know it's hard. I won't pretend it's not. There are so many times I want to scream at myself, "For the love of God, get up off the dirty floor and clean it!" I am saying this because I often find myself crying on the kitchen floor. Remember The Joy of Being Bipolar: Everyday moods that destroy your day's guide: Best Places to Cry? The kitchen floor is in the first chapter.

So today, I will be patient.
(Even though I had to eat chocolate chips for breakfast.)

my breakfast of champions

Today, I will happily swallow my pills.
Today, I will get off the floor.
I might even make it to the grocery store...

What about you?

Until next time...

Sniffle Sniffle

Crazy pill count:
AM 20 Adderall, 100 Lyrica
afternoon 20 Adderall, 10 Zyprexa, 100 Lyrica
PM 100 Lyrica

Last night I sat in the dark for hours and cried. I know how pathetic that sounds but it's my truth. It started out as a basic case of my Father's Day blues. Yesterday was my 21st Father's Day without my dad. You'd think twenty years would be sufficient for sadness, but it's a kind pain that never completely goes away and shows up like clockwork.

Soon my sadness took on a life of it's own and I cried for all of my losses. Loss is funny like that. The sadness of one loss brings on the pain of all of them collectively. I hadn't cried that hard in a long time.

Tears can be good. Although it's never fun to cry, especially when you hit the two hour mark, it can be the ultimate release of all those icky feelings - of pain that otherwise stays tucked deep inside, lurking, waiting for that one trigger to set them free. Father's Day was my trigger.

What's the lesson?
I don't know if there really is one.

Some things in life just hurt, and they hurt indefinitely, but giving ourselves the permission to sit in the dark, and indulge them, on occasion, can be freeing. I'm not recommending sitting in the dark crying every night, nor am I wishing for it, but at times tears can be good.

It's natural in our culture to want to hide our tears. To try to be a "big girl." To try to "brush it off." When we cry it makes others uncomfortable. No one wants to see anyone in pain. But some things are painful - tis' life, my friends.

If you need to sit in the dark and cry...go ahead...and don't feel ashamed about it. It's not really pathetic. I promise. However, if you are crying in the dark every night, that's a good indication to call your doctor. Sure life hurts sometimes, but it shouldn't hurt that much all the time.

I remember the year I cried a minimum of once a day. Yeah, it was a great year. One for the books. I thought crying everyday was normal. I really did. I assumed everyone cried every day. But they don't. And I hope you're not. If you are, don't just buy stock in Kleenex, call your doctor. There are crazy pills that can help.

Hey, crazy pills, remember those? I haven't talked about crazy pills in a long time. I'll let you in on a secret. If tears are good, crazy pills are even better.

Let yourself cry - but then call your doctor.
Sniffle sniffle...swallow a pill...tears won't fall forever...

Until next time...

P.S. Happy Father's Day, Daddy.

Dr. Crazy's Law of Bipolar Gravitation

Crazy pill count:
AM 20 Adderall, 7.5 Zyprexa, 100 Lyrica
afternoon 10 Adderall, 100 Lyrica
PM 5 Zyprexa, 100 Lyrica

I had an appointment with Dr. Crazy yesterday. We scratched our heads at my recent downswing wondering if it's time to reintroduce Lamictal, yet again. We scratched our heads at a lot of things.

For example, has extra gravity been placed on the entire Earth or just on me?

My body feels heavy and slow. It feels like extra gravity is pushing down on the entire surface area of my body.  I curse living on the third floor as I climb each stair. I curse the computer battery for running low feeling positive the little effort required to plug it into the wall will finish me.

I can imagine the evening news now:
"A crazy girl suddenly collapsed and died in her Annapolis bedroom earlier today. Officials say the effort required to bend over and plug her laptop into the wall was just too much. No foul play is suspected at this time."

I wanted to blame the Lyrica for this sensation of living in slow motion with an extra helping of gravity. Dr. Crazy doesn't think it's the Lyrica he just thinks it is what it is. "That's just the way it is - until it isn't." I don't think those were his exact words, but something similar.

It's funny because it's so true.
It is. All of it. It is how it is until it isn't anymore.
I laughed out loud, a good, full body, belly laugh. We both did.

This is not Dr. Crazy but we laughed this hard.

This simple truth struck such a chord with me.

Each episode, each up or down swing, each side effect is what it is and then one day, one moment, it won't be anymore.

It's easy to get caught up in this feeling of false permanence.
It will never get better.
I will be stuck like this forever.
No crazy pills will ever work.

Maybe you've felt that way before? I know I have.
Nope. It's not true. Eventually it does get better, eventually we're no longer stuck, and eventually a crazy pill works. Our job is simply to not give up. Please don't give up. Ever.

But until then, until what is no longer is, does anyone have an anti gravity chamber I can borrow?

Until next time...

Everything and Then Nothing

Crazy pill count:
AM 20 Adderall, 7.5 Zyprexa, 50 Lyrica
afternoon 10 Adderall, 100 Lyrica
PM 5 Zyprexa, 100 Lyrica

I haven't been in the best of states lately. Tearful mostly.
A dear friend posted this wonderful video "Why I Dance..." on Facebook the other day.

It got me thinking (and crying) about my own history of dance. I used to be a dancer. As cliche as the expression is, I lived for dance. Truthfully, I did. It was not just my passion, it was who I was. I was a dancer.

But now I'm not.

For years, you couldn't get me to stop moving. I was especially passionate about choreography. Oh, how I loved to tell stories with movement. And I couldn't stop. I choreographed in the studio, of course, but I was constantly thinking in dance, translating life into movement, like a foreign language. I choreographed while cooking dinner, while waiting in line in the grocery store, at stop lights. I literally couldn't stop creating dance.

But now I don't.

It makes me sad that I gave up something that was so important to who I was. It makes me beyond sad to watch my old dance videos on VHS. Yup, that's how long ago I was a dancer - the days of VCRs.

Are you wondering what this has to do with being crazy?

My bipolar nature constantly has me hot and cold with everything. With life. I devote my entire being to something and then I swiftly turn my back on it. It's not just about changing my major ten times, either. It's about changing who I am on a whim. Like a windstorm, it's everything, all powerful and unstoppable, and then it's nothing. I hate this about myself but it's something I repeat over and over in my life.

Is this something I can blame bipolar disorder for?
Is it my bipolar nature; or is it an excuse?

The simple answer is just don't do it. Don't turn your back on yourself.

But is it that simple?
Is it something I can control?

When I'm done with something I am done with it. I wash my hands of my passions and they go as fiercely as they came. My new conviction is not doing whatever it was I was convicted about.

It's everything and then it's nothing.

I devoted my life to dance wholeheartedly. I got accepted into UCLA's dance program - it was a goal I worked towards for years - and then I ditched it before it even began. The summer before my program started, a mania swept me away from California. I never looked back.  Until I did. And then it was too late. It has become my nagging regret. I can't comfortably say I regret all of it, as I sincerely love what my life has become, but damn is it ever hard to turn my back on "what if."

This series is the piece I'm most proud of that I choreographed. 

"Balance"

The problem is that "what if" is one of the most dangerous places to live. I try not to spend too much time there. What's important is to look forward, not behind. In my heart I know this truth, but I still can't help but wonder, if I didn't have that particular mania on that particular day, where would I be? Would I be a dancer? Would I be a choreographer? Or, more likely, would a different mania have swept me just as far away?

That's the problem with bipolar disorder. A mania or depression can change all of our cards, without a moment's notice, and change them for good.  For better or for worse our entire life path is altered.

What do we do about it?
Beats me. But, boo hoo, I know tears and regrets aren't the answer.

The answer is to do our best to look forward, to embrace what our life has become, and to let go of that nasty "what if." I sure as hell am working on it.

What about you?
Are you holding onto a "what if?"
Has a mania or depression altered your life course?

Until next time...

Crazy Lucky To Have You

Crazy pill count:
AM 20 Adderall, 7.5 Zyprexa, 50 Lyrica
afternoon 10 Adderall, 50 Lyrica
PM 5 Zyprexa, 50 Lyrica

Indeed, my crazy friends, indeed.

Until next time...

If only it were simple...

Crazy pill count:
AM 20 Adderall, 50 Lyrica, 7.5 Zyprexa
afternoon 10 Adderall, 50 Lyrica
PM 50 Lyrica, 5 Zyprexa

A post brought to you by The Topic Request Survey.
Strategies for supporting friends/family with mental illness

This seems simple enough, right? But I know it's not simple. Loving a crazy can be really damn hard. I will be the first person to admit it's not easy to love me.

I'm going to break it down to three parts.

{Part 1}
How to support a crazy who is depressed:

"Depressed" by Gianfranco Ferlazzo

Just be there.

Please don't try to"cheer" us up. Depression isn't a case of needing to be cheered up.
If we ask for a joke, by all means, give us the best "knock knock" you know, but if we don't ask for a joke - let us be sad. Let us cry. Let us know that it's okay with you for us to just be how we are in that moment. It's exhausting to pretend to be okay when we are feeling far from it. Let us know it's okay with you for us to feel the way we are feeling.

I know it's hard to see someone you love in pain. It's natural to want to "fix" us. But we're not broken. We can't just "suck it up" either. Trust me, if it were that easy we would already be doing it.

This was a Sunday Secret a few weeks ago.

There is nothing simple about depression. We might just need to sit in the dark. If that's the case, don't insist on turning on the light. We might want to talk, but we might just want to be silent. If that's the case, don't insist that we talk. Just silently be with us. Your mere presence is far more helpful than you know. Sometimes when I'm depressed I don't feel like talking or actively being around others, but just knowing the hubs is in the other room, doing his own thing, makes it less lonely.

Sometimes we want to be hugged and have our tears wiped away. Sometimes we want to be alone. I know you're not mind readers, and to be honest, even we don't always know what we want or need when we are lost in the dark. It's okay to ask us, "How can I be here for you?" At times, just the asking is enough.

I know everyone is different, but I always appreciate an occasional "check in." An email, or phone call that just says, "I've been thinking about you." Sometimes when I'm depressed I struggle with reaching out to others, so to have someone reach out to me can make all the difference.  You never know when your email, or your phone call, or your outstretched hand will give us the strength we need to stay far away from the ledge.

Speaking of the ledge, if we are suicidal, it's a whole different story. I talk about what to do here.

{Part 2}
How to support a crazy who is manic:

"A Touch of Mania V" by Kimberly Conrad

This is a tough one.

Mania can strike us all differently each time. We can be outrageously out of control. Everything is fast. The way we talk..the way we move...the way we think...it's all fast, fast, fast. It can be hard keep up with us. It can be impossible to catch us.

Because manias can be so destructive the best thing to do is to encourage us to call our doctor. Manias need crazy pills to get them under control and they need them asap.

This can be especially difficult because we might not want to give up our mania - we feel too happy and too good and too alive. We can also be really fun - what a hoot to be around us! We don't need to sleep. We're creative. We're hysterical. We're the life of the party. We feel like we are our best, happiest selves. But in reality we're not.

We can make horrible, fly-of-the-moment decisions that destroy things. We can quit our jobs our drop out of school. We have no sense of consequences. We can go on crazed shopping sprees. We can buy $600 bottles of champagne. We need to gingerly know it's time to call our doctor and take our pills. We might be really hard to reason with. I can guarantee you we will be. Who the hell wants to give up the ability to solve the secret of life and the power to fly? I know I don't. That's why we need you to help us call our doctor and take our pills.

{Part 3}
How to support a crazy who is mixed:

"Mixed Episode 2" by Numbaholic13

This can be the hardest one.

When mixed we can be raging. Anger and anxiety can completely overcome us. We can scream, and cry, and break things, and be mean. We feel like the worst version of our selves, caught in the depths of the worst version of hell. It's having the feelings and tears of a deep depression, with a side of uncontrollable rage, and the endless energy of a mania tainted with all consuming anxiety. It's the worst recipe. The all time worst. Again, encourage us to call our doctor and take our pills.

Crazy pills can get all of these situations under control - but only if we take them.

What if the crazy you love doesn't have a doctor?
Help us find one.
Volunteer to make an appointment for us. Drive us there. Sit in the waiting room.

What if the crazy you love refuses to go to the doctor?
For this I have no good answer. You need to bet the judge. But if we are damaging our relationship with you, or damaging your life, you don't have to put up with it. Being bipolar is not a get out of jail free card. You can tell us that you will be here for us once we seek treatment. This is still supporting us.

I hope this was at least a little helpful in answering your question.

Know...
We are so lucky that you love us.
We are so lucky to have you in our lives.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Until next time...

Once upon a time I was manic...

Crazy pill count:
AM 20 Adderall, 7.5 Zyprexa, 50 Lyrica
afternoon 10 Adderall, 50 Lyrica
PM 5 Zyprexa, 50 Lyrica

I thought I would share another story with you today...(book preview!)

I don't know how fast I was going because my speedometer only goes up to one hundred. How fast can a 1998 Jeep Cherokee go? That's how fast I was going. I was wearing nothing but my tiniest red bikini when the officer pulled me over on the shoulder of, somewhere in Kansas. All the windows were down and the volume dial on my radio was turned as far as to the right as it could reach.

"Hell ma'am," he said politely. "Would you please step out of the car so I can search it? Unless you would like to hand over all your narcotics, now, and save us both the time and trouble."

I stepped out of the car, the July asphalt scorching hot beneath my bare feet. "I don't have any drugs," I explained.

"Are you sure about that? Mind if I take a look myself?" he phrased it as a question but it was more like a nonnegotiable command. And so he did. He searched my car and found nothing but my frightened and tranquilized cat. I was moving across the country and so it took him a long stretch of time to search each nook and cranny with the contents of the last four years of my life, haphazardly, shoved into the back of my car.

"Where are you going, in a bikini, on a Tuesday afternoon, in the middle of rural Kansas, one hundred and fifteen miles per hour?" his eyebrows furrowed as he questioned me. Apparently one hundred and fifteen miles per hour is how fast a 1998 Jeep Cherokee can go.

"To Indiana. I didn't want to get a farmer's tan from the sunroof - that's why I'm wearing my bikini. One hundred and fifteen miles per hour, really? Wow, that's fast," I was trying to be charming. I thought it might help. It didn't.

One hundred and fifteen miles per hour is indeed fast, but not nearly as fast as the thoughts that raced in my crazy head, not nearly as fast as I left my life in California on a whim, not nearly as fast as the whirlwind of wreckage my life had become.

He finished searching the car, handed me a ticket, and I promised to be more careful. I sort of meant it, as I drove away barefoot, bikini clad, and out of my mind manic.

Until next time...

You Are Brave

Crazy pill count:

AM 20 Adderall, 7.5 Zyprexa, 50 Lyrica

afternoon 10 Adderall, 50 Lyrica

PM 5 Zyprexa, 50 Lyrica

A really, fabulous, special someone recently sent this to me.

What an amazing reminder and gift.

Being crazy can sometimes take us to the edge. We can feel like all our strength and bravery has vanished with our strained breath, and that the being crazy has sucked away that last, tiny, little bit of strength we were barley able to muster. At times, that damn black blanket completely covers us.

Like the end of a tube of toothpaste, we are struggling to squeeze out any bit of strength and will no matter how small. But it's not true. It feels that way, yes, but it's not so. We are, often, far braver than we know and than we feel.

She sure looks excited to brush her teeth.

You are brave.
I promise you, you are.

Sometimes, being brave is jumping off the high dive.
Sometimes, being brave is holding tight onto our lifeboat.
Sometimes, being brave is reaching out our shaking hands when we need others to offer their strength.
Sometimes, being brave is just swallowing our crazy pills.

You are brave.
Believe it.
Know it.
Own it.
Feel it in your heart.
Oh, and take your pills...

Until next time...

The Queen of Procrastination

Crazy pill count:

AM 20 Adderall, 7.5 Zyprexa, 50 Lyrica

afternoon 10 Adderall, 50 Lyrica

PM 5 Zyprexa, 50 Lyrica

Book progress?

It's coming along, sometimes labored and slowly, and other times so fast I can barley catch my breath. 

Lucy continues to help. She is proofreading, and judging my lack of spelling skills now. I tell ya, she sure can make it difficult to type, but she's just too damn cute to push away. Besides, she's been very instrumental in awarding me the new identity of being The Queen of Procrastination; and I find her interest in my book to be endearing. 

This is Iris.

She thinks my book is boring.

Have an idea for the book?

I value your opinion.

Tell me here.

Okay, no more procrastinating...back to the trenches...

Until next time...