Fall? Couldn't They Think of a Better Name? Like 'Everything Is Dying But Smile Anyway'?

I've commented before that I used to LOVE this time of year.

Actually, I still do.

Halloween remains my top favorite holiday, and I've been planning out our costumes for the past two months. And, as of today (2 1/2 weeks ago), I started decorating. I love me my pumpkins!

But what I've noticed over the past two years is that even though I manage a pretty stable life, it proves to be far more difficult to maintain that stability during the month of September. To be completely honest, I was so depressed last year at this time that I was having suicidal thoughts.

*Gasp*

Yes, I just said that.

Catch your breath yet?

Honestly, it's not THAT much of a shock. I would dare say that all, if not a VAST majority of adults have had fleeting thoughts of suicide, not to mention impulses to do things against their moral character, standards, etc. Plus, I AM bipolar, hence I do have an actual chemical imbalance which doesn't permit me to regulate my chemicals as efficiently as other people (like serotonin- one of the anti-depressant neurotransmitters). Hence the lean towards self-loathing, despair, and self-harm.

In case you were wondering, this is how I handled it last year:

Like the responsible Bipolar individual I am (I think it's a crime in most states to use 'responsible' and 'bipolar' in the same sentence, actually ;) I acknowledged those feelings and brought them to my husband's attention. I thought the depression was merely circumstantial, based on the fact we hardly saw each other during that time (I was home all day and night with our child). There was also some...family interference, and that was really beating down on me. After some thought and consideration we decided I should go see my doctor and get a prescription. Which I did. I was only on my meds for a few weeks (and on a really low dose) before I was stable again and ready to go off medication. Things have been fine since.

Until almost two weeks ago...when I got manic...

...and now I'm depressed.

Call me crazy (no pun intended) but I'm starting to see a pattern here. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not contemplating suicide again. It's not that extreme. I'm in classes and involved in clubs and so I have my mind fairly well occupied, fortunately.

What I'm really noticing is that I'm not just full blown depressed this time of year, but I'm more susceptible to mood swings. Things that don't typically bother me are now grinding on my nerves.

I actually snapped at my husband a week or so ago. He then told me to, "Calm down."

For those of you who don't know, saying those two words to someone who's mood cycling is like dumping a case of lighter fluid on a small fire...a fire someone is trying REALLY HARD to extinguish.

Big mistake.

BIG.

HUGE.

-Thank you, Julia Roberts-

I replied, "Tell me to calm down again and see what happens." And then, like a mature individual I gave myself a time out.

Five minutes later it was over and we were laughing- true Jekyll/Hyde style. Happy Halloween!

So what's causing my depression this time around?

Oh, lots of things...and then nothing...I tend to take a lot of things on that I don't really have time for. I'm getting overwhelmed and now it's turning into depression.

(Luckily, I'm also manic, so I've been bad and have been riding those high's like a safari surfer instead of going to bed at a reasonable hour like I should. I have to admit, I haven't pulled all nighters, and I haven't stayed up night after night. So there's a pat on the back for me, right?)

Then there's the little things that life throws your way and normally you can hack it, no sweat, but right now I find myself retreating to the rabbit hole of shame I spoke of last post. Recently, someone I had known a few years back realized his connection to me via an in-law. This individual is not the most tactful person, and I know that, but they asked my family member two questions point blank:

"Is she drama in your family?"

"Is she fat now?"

Awesome.

If that doesn't make you want to jump off a bridge then I don't know what would.

*JUST KIDDING*

So granted, it's not the WORST thing to say about someone, but I've never said anything negative about this individual, and I quite liked them as a person and thought we were friends.

This also bothered me because...

1) It shows what real people did think of me

and

2) Reminds me that there are people out there that don't know or see who I am now. Today.

No one is perfect, but I wasn't even on the same diamond field as most other players several years ago. I've changed and grown and I am so full of accomplishment because of that personal growth.

(Am I perfect now? Nope, still not even close.)

But I'm better.

I'm a pretty religious girl. I'm actually a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. Yup, I'm a Mormon and Bipolar, and I'm sure some readers are waiting for that last strike to quit reading this blog (that's if hating college football wasn't enough for them.) I know that mood disorders are a physical abnormality, but I believe that those thoughts and feelings that come from mental disorders are magnified by the influence of Satan. He's like the king of kicking someone who's already down, or hitting a kid with glasses, whichever you prefer.

But you know what I've found to be really good for me? Reading scriptures. I find that when I'm cycling between mania and depression, if I can find it in me to crack open the Bible or Book of Mormon and really read a few chapters, opening up my mind to ponder the verses, I instantly have better control. It's like the Spirit of God cauterizes my moodswings, decreasing them and allowing me to have the restraint over myself that I desire.

Yeah, sometimes I'm lame and I just try and suck it up and don't take the time to read and things are harder. Then I usually man-up, own up, and read up...it takes a little longer to kick in during those times since of course, I have to learn my lesson, yet again! (Wouldn't you hate to have been my parents?) But I get the strength I need in the end, and I'm grateful.

And I should also be REALLY thankful because as a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, I follow a modern day prophet who speaks to us semi-annually at a conference that is broadcasted world wide. It just so happens that conference is always the first weekend in October, right when I'm freaking out the most. So not only do I have my scrips handy, I get a total of 10 hours of religous instruction and prophecy that is intended to guide me to live a life that coincides more with the teachings of Christ. It sounds long and boring, but it's actually pretty great, and the Church leaders are actually pretty funny.

(Conference is also always the first weekend in April, too. I enjoy it then, too, but since I'm not all whacked out in April, I'm highlighting October's conference).

It's available to re-watch on lds.org...so when I'm up way to late I can turn on a conference talk and re-center myself. It's in those moments where I irrevently think to myself, "Thanks for the help, Dad." You could say I have this disease because He gave it to me, but it's because He know's I can handle it...and He's not leaving me alone to deal on my own. When I've asked I have always gotten the help I've needed.

Just like I have faith in Him, He has faith in me.

I like thinking about it that way.

Thankfully, October is here and I can feel myself stablizing again, so I'll lift my chin, square my shoulders, and climb out of my hiding place. I'm figuring myself out and I'm different than I used to be and I'm happy about that. So it's ok. Maybe one day those people I knew will know who am I now. Maybe not. But eh, I know what I'm for, and that continues to make me stronger.

And by the way, no, I'm not fat.

*She said with a sly, satisfying smirk on her face..*