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..*

Bipolar Roller

As you can probably tell from the title of this entry, I am bipolar.

Surprise!

And before you break out the torches and accuse me of lying I will openly admit that maybe I don't really roller skate. However, there was a Law and Order episode titled 'Bipolar Roller' and I couldn't think of anything else clever for this post...so I went with it.

Anyway, as I was saying...

Oh, wait, you thought I was implying that I was lying about being bipolar? Yeah, I get that a lot. (Well, now I do, anyway.)

I'm bipolar/manic depressive/"mentally ill" (if you must). And you know, today is one of those days where I know if I don't calm myself down I may just get a little...frustrated. :)

I was diagnosed at 19, which was a few years late considering how early the symptoms had actually surfaced. I stem from a looooonngggg line of women who have 'mental illnesses.' Also, did you know that 26% of Americans will experience being diagnosed with a mental illness at some point in their life (Nevid, J., Rathus, S. & Greene, B. 2011)? So I guess, according to those last two preveious statements, that makes me...

normal.

Funny word, 'normal.' I've met a lot of people with mental illnesses, and their common complaint is that they just want to be normal again. What is normal, though, really? In statistical standards, meaning essentially that the majority rules, the norm is actually being crazy (Ok, ok, having a "chemical imbalance.") Crazy- I hate that word, too. I've been called that a time or two by sanists- the people that are prejudice against those with mental illnesses (Yes, they actually have a word to describe those people. One point for the mentally unstable!).

I've also found 'sane' people (which just means those with disorders that aren't diagnosed, so I use that term loosely) like to blame their mistakes, or in their eyes the lack of, on me. "Are you having a mood swing?" No. I am genuinely frustrated with your behavior and it is upsetting to me, but because I'm the one lumped into a group of people deemed 'crazy,' I must be the only one with the problem. Ugh...

Truth be told, and don't FREAK OUT on me here, I've been off my meds since just after I got married. And yes, I've been stable. I check in with the hubs every so often to make sure he doesn't see something that I've missed as far as my moods go. I still keep my psychiatrist on speed dial just in case (ok, not REALLY, but his number is always in my contact list). I actually only have mood swings now when I have run in's with family- you know, the people that I spent 23 years of my life with every single day. *Isn't it ironic...don't ya think?*

To answer another question: Yes, I have been to a therapist before. Three, actually. (The first two were for the disease, the third one was to counter act the resurfacing of my CSA history (Child Sexual Abuse). That's another post. :)

You know the funny thing? I'm going to school to be...a therapist. I guess I'm just 'nuts' all around, aren't I?

Why am I posting this? It's so....taboo! "Why would you tell people that?!"

Um...because I don't care...

I'd rather 50 people genuinely think I'm 'nuts' and have one person say, "Oh, she's bipolar too? At least there's someone else like me!" then have 51 people whisper about me that they know this deep, dark, embarrassing secret. I'm not embarrassed at all, actually. It's so fun to hear stories where the narrator is talking about a person who's "Crazy, like she was bipolar or something," (why is it always a she?) as if it's this disease that turns you into the Mad Hatter or that judge from 'Who Framed Roger Rabbit?'. So I usually interject and inform them that they need to be nice, and when they question me I tell them that I'm bipolar- which they don't immediately believe. (Later, they'll forget and make other comments, and I'm quick to remind them. Of course.)

I'm kind of glad I have this, though. (I know, I know, even other bipolars think I'm crazy for saying that). I manage my disease, so in spite of it I've become someone I really like. I wasn't always this way, but I am now, and I think that's what matters.

Does it bother me that there are still people out there that remember the old me and all those awful memories that come along with it?

Sometimes.

Sometimes I want to climb into a dark hole because of the shame and never come back out. That's the disease talking...and then I tell it very nicely to shut up. (And yes, apparently I talk to myself as well.) Heh heh, I've even imagined people saying in their heads, "EEewwwwww...diseeeeaase..." and then I laugh. It reminds of an animated cartoon, like Bugs Bunny or something.

Moving along...

So days like today I sit, establish the origin of what is stressing me out so much that it is inducing a mood swing, and then I try to calmly address the underlying issues that are causing me to have such a strong emotional response. Life is built out of facts. It's what we take from those facts that creates our emotional responses and that then determines our moods.

In regards to that, today was pretty successful. Although, I did have a 6 pack of Golden Oreos and a 3 Musketeers bar to help me along. (The Oreos were great, the 3 Musketeers was highly unnecessary.) I don't condone emotional eating. That's actually habitual characteristic I've learned from my family, one that's also very prominent in our society and one that I have been very successful at smoldering out of my life.

But I did cave today.

(Mr. Mars, it's been a looong time, but you'll have to leave because I just don't like you that much anymore. lol)

After a little work, my sanity is back (for the moment- jk). I don't always come off as great of a conqueror as I would like, but it doesn't always have to be pretty to be a success, right?

You win some days.

You lose other days.

There's only one thing that really matters...

I am winning the war.

Nevid, J., Rathus, S., & Greene, B. Abnormal psychology in a changing world. 2011. Upper Saddle River, NJ; Prentice Hall.

EEEAAAAASSSSSYYYYY...This Might Sting A Little

(If you've been waiting for the juicy, no-spin-my-life-isn't-perfect post, you're going to enjoy this. If you're one of those that's completely concerned with every individual and it pains you to hear hard things about people (you know, the type of person we all wish we could be but still succumb to our natural, beastly ways) then you probably won't care to read this.)

I hate college football.

HATE.

IT.

Like I said, this might sting a little... :)

I was a cheerleader my freshman year in high school and I was on the dance team my junior and senior year. I was also in the marching band.

For FOUR YEARS.

So I've been exposed to football, or rather high levels of testosterone and excuses to use profanity, make sexual jestures, or beat the crap out of someone else for the high of it...using the excuse of a 'tackle' to do so. (Also known as the rediculous practice of "team contact sports.")

I can't drive past a football field at night and not instantly be taken back to Monday night band rehersals and Friday night games. The wet, grassy smell, the heavy late night fog, and the stadium lights definetly left their...scars, we'll say. Lol. However, unlike some people, I choose not to revel in it.

I should preface this by informing you that I used to REALLY hate sports. Why? It wasn't the 50:1 pig football player to decent human being ratio, the being harrassed by players AND COACHES during games, or the emphasis on a crap male's team over an excelling female's team. It stemmed from the fact that my dad always watched sports on tv....and they took priority.

I remember one night, desperately waiting to go trick-or-treating on Halloween. If you know me at all, you know Halloween is my favorite holiday, hands down. As soon as dusk hit I was on the street, baby. That year my dad was taking me...and I had to wait...and wait, long after it got dark, for the game to finish.

I hated sports so much back then that my dad used to give me hard time, even when I got older. He'd tell me I had to like sports because guys liked sports. And afterall, if you want boys to like you, you have to like what they like. *gag me with insecurity*

So...what did I do?

Date the guys that liked cars.

Boo-yah.

Well...that crowd ran a little rough, so after I dabbled a bit with the MMA lovers, I returned to the greasemonkeys only to quit the habit completely.

Then, one day, (on the off season) I met a great guy...who turned out to be a football player.

So mmmaaaaaayyyyyyybbbbeeeeee I adapted.

I bought him several college football books, painted logos of PAC 10 colleges with him, learned the REDICULOUS game rules, remembered the names of quarterbacks that HE didn't even remember, and even named our fish after Alabama's mascot (Roll Tide!- Wait, why did I just write that? Ugh.). Why did I do this? It was important to him. He was a great match, had a lot of the qualities I thought I'd have to settle without, loved me, and most importantly, I met him at THE END of college football season...

...and I forgot what it meant to be a football player.

I should have known better.

How am I feeling right now, 3 days into the season?

I.

HATE.

COLLEGE FOOTBALL.

At least I got action at the games in high school.

(Oh yes, I went there.)

Football is like a deteriorating disease, it seems to get worse with age. Could it be the only thing that ties people to their younger years, the only time they see themselves as fully happy? Or in control? Or is it remaniscent of what could have been? Thus, the farther from that time of life one gets, the harder they fight to feel connected to it.

He re-routed after meeting me, dropping possible division-1 and/or scholarship opportunities to get married and start a family and sometimes I really feel like a regret. Not all the time, but there is the slight glimmer of hesitance and neglect during this time of year (which ironically is also around our wedding anniversary).

I've learned a lot lately about "not living your story." We have things happen to us, events/stories/defining 'Rudy' moments, whatever, (see, ANOTHER stupid football reference) but when we repeat the same stories over and over again to different people...doesn't it tend to chip away at you, leaving your story feeling empty? That's my experience. I can't understand why people want to relieve, 'what could have been' unless they are unhappy with their current situation and already feel that emptiness, the lack of having 'something'.

Even now, I have Secondhand Serenade on, my favorite cd, remembering all the feelings and memories attached to it, because I'm already sad and lonely. It feels good, like a relief, but I actually have an even stronger desire...to curl up with him, listening to this music, and enjoying being with him, making new memories with HIM.

Am I not enjoyable, more so than sports?

Should I resurrect the stupid cheerleader uniform?! (I've lost enough weight to fit into it now, in regards to my previous post. Down 21 lbs!)

I see other people discussing their marriages and there seems to be lots that say, "If I had known ------ about them, I probably wouldn't have married them."

Is that normal?

Is it the habit that's the real deal breaker, or is it the prevelance that it holds that causes the real harm? When you marry someone, you see their potential, what they could be, flaws included. Yet, when the grappling for the 'vices' continues, possibly increasing, causes marital strife, is that when the regrets start to occupy one's thoughts? I almost married a guy once who just couldn't quite let go of so many things, things I knew to be damaging. And I almost took the plunge anyway. Now I wonder- is it even possible to really let go or are we destined to hold on to the things that keep us from perfecting ourselves? (Clarification: never have and never will regret not marrying that guy or any other I dated, in case you were wondering.)

How selfish is TOO selfish? We all have to be selfish to maintain sanity, but how much is too much?

How much do we 'adapt' to those around us? Are they supposed to adapt as much in return? Should adapting even take place?

I used to love this time of year...now, I just want it to be over.

I hate college football!!

-Disgruntled Housewife :)