Or so they say. If it's good, then this week should have been great; family emergency, change in living situation, change in friendships. The fact I've kept my sanity is amazing to me. Typically, I would have shut down by now. Pushed everyone away and become a recluse. I refuse to let the old me creep out. I'm learning that change is not always a bad thing. Family emergencies, well.. They are so far out of our control. Adding stress to it would only make it more difficult to deal with. And the sad fact of life is people leave. That's their choice and their right. I can hold my head high, know I tried my hardest and let them go. But the feeling of being taken for granted of is a horrible one. One day at a time and this will all get easier. I'll be damned if I let this pull me down.
- Red
Sunday, March 31, 2013
Saturday, March 23, 2013
Think before you speak.
The idea of thinking before you speak seems to be something that goes out the window for me when I'm in a manic state. Sometimes, I get so fired up that I say things I don't even mean. Or things that are down right untrue. Afterward, I feel so guilty which only feeds in to the depressive state that is bound to follow. It's an uphill battle but someday I hope to be able to better control my tongue.
- Red
Photo by Unknown
- Red
Photo by Unknown
Wednesday, March 20, 2013
My journey to diagnosis.
Driving down the road with my mother, I sat in the passenger seat as she drove me home from school. I was suddenly overwhelmed with a racing feeling in my heart as my mind began to wander and a tingling sensation took over my limbs. I could feel the color escaping from my pre teen face. My mother must have noticed as well. She comfortingly reached for my hand and coaxing told me everything was going to be ok. I was experiencing my very first severe panic attack.
Since then, my life has been riddled with panic attacks which have seemed to only get worse after the death of a very close family member. I was to the point of having them daily. From the outside looking in, I'm sure it's difficult to understand how debilitating anxiety attacks can be. But from the inside looking out, I felt I couldn't escape in any way, shape or form. I was trapped. It wasn't until I began confiding in my very loving, supportive boyfriend that I realized not everyone experiences what I was going through. He convinced me to reach out for help medically. For that, I could never repay him. Had he not been so supportive in me seeking help, I wouldn't have done it and I would still be where I was six months ago.
Fast forward a bit. I made an appointment with my general doctor who prescribed me an anti depressant and referred me to a psychiatrist who would further my testing. Little did I know, the testing included three hours of talking about myself followed by an hour of actual tests. I felt overwhelmed upon beginning the testing, but the psychiatrist joked with me and made me feel so comfortable that I soon felt like I was just talking with a friend. I left his office excited to hear the results.
I met with him again a few weeks later to go over my results. He handed me a list that had my diagnosis as well as the suggested methods of treatment. I felt overwhelmed but began to understand more as he explained each one individually. He then suggested that I find a therapist that could help me. I went home and began looking for therapists in my area that would be a good fit for for me. After all, this is definitely not something to go in to blindly. That's when I found my current therapist whom I am very happy with. Upon our first appointment, he said something that really stuck in with me; It is important to make sure you have a connection with your therapist. You will need to trust them so that you can be open with them otherwise it will hinder your progress throughout treatment. I believe that I have this connection with my therapist and am very excited to see how he helps me learn more about how to live with bipolar disorder in a healthy way as well as help me take some of my severe phobias head on.
The gist of me telling you my story more in detail is to hopefully convey to those who are thinking about reaching out for help, or have recently just reached out for help that this process may take a bit. It has now been five months since I first talked to my general doctor. Yet, I have only met with my therapist twice now. I wish this process would speed up a bit however I have to keep in mind that treatment is something that should not be rushed. And I hope those reading my blog keep that in mind as well. Go slow and you will see progress in the long run.
- Red
Since then, my life has been riddled with panic attacks which have seemed to only get worse after the death of a very close family member. I was to the point of having them daily. From the outside looking in, I'm sure it's difficult to understand how debilitating anxiety attacks can be. But from the inside looking out, I felt I couldn't escape in any way, shape or form. I was trapped. It wasn't until I began confiding in my very loving, supportive boyfriend that I realized not everyone experiences what I was going through. He convinced me to reach out for help medically. For that, I could never repay him. Had he not been so supportive in me seeking help, I wouldn't have done it and I would still be where I was six months ago.
Fast forward a bit. I made an appointment with my general doctor who prescribed me an anti depressant and referred me to a psychiatrist who would further my testing. Little did I know, the testing included three hours of talking about myself followed by an hour of actual tests. I felt overwhelmed upon beginning the testing, but the psychiatrist joked with me and made me feel so comfortable that I soon felt like I was just talking with a friend. I left his office excited to hear the results.
I met with him again a few weeks later to go over my results. He handed me a list that had my diagnosis as well as the suggested methods of treatment. I felt overwhelmed but began to understand more as he explained each one individually. He then suggested that I find a therapist that could help me. I went home and began looking for therapists in my area that would be a good fit for for me. After all, this is definitely not something to go in to blindly. That's when I found my current therapist whom I am very happy with. Upon our first appointment, he said something that really stuck in with me; It is important to make sure you have a connection with your therapist. You will need to trust them so that you can be open with them otherwise it will hinder your progress throughout treatment. I believe that I have this connection with my therapist and am very excited to see how he helps me learn more about how to live with bipolar disorder in a healthy way as well as help me take some of my severe phobias head on.
The gist of me telling you my story more in detail is to hopefully convey to those who are thinking about reaching out for help, or have recently just reached out for help that this process may take a bit. It has now been five months since I first talked to my general doctor. Yet, I have only met with my therapist twice now. I wish this process would speed up a bit however I have to keep in mind that treatment is something that should not be rushed. And I hope those reading my blog keep that in mind as well. Go slow and you will see progress in the long run.
- Red
I can do it.
When it's good, it's great! When it's bad, it's truly awful.. It seems so simple but on a daily basis, I have to remind myself that this too shall pass. I will be ok.
-Red
Photo by Unknown
-Red
Photo by Unknown
Here it goes..
Where to begin.. Sitting here, staring at my screen I find that this is the hardest part. Therefore, I'll just dive in. I was diagnosed with bipolar II in January 2013. When the psychiatrist began listing off my diagnosises, I sat in shock. General Anxiety disorder, social anxiety, PTSD, misophonia, severe arachnophobia...on and on. I left feeling absolutely overwhelmed yet relieved. Finally, an answer. Something I could pin point and say "THAT explains it!".
But bipolar? The idea of being bipolar didn't sit well. It was as if I viewed it as some awful curse. Maybe it had something to do with the negative stigma we, as a society, have given bipolar disorder. Yet, at the same time, it made sense. I've always been known for having a "short fuse". I'm a spitfire. I can say such hurtful things when my anger takes over. It's as if I seek out words that will cut like a knife. Yet I find that as my anger decreases and I come down from the manic high, the guilt sets in as I realize what I've said. The more I think about my actions, both past and present, my diagnosis begins to make more and more sense.
Today, just a few short months after diagnosis, I've come to terms with having bipolar disorder. I'm not ashamed of this. I'm not ashamed of any of my diagnosises. I have always viewed myself as a typical woman in her twenties. Yes, I experience an extreme range of emotions. And yes, sometimes they can be far too much for me. But I will not let bipolar define me.
With this blog, I hope to help others. When I began looking for answers after my diagnosis, there really wasnt a lot out there that appealed to me. Yes, there are plenty of blogs but none of them seemed to be something I could connect with. I am raw and real just like the disorder itself. My hope is to connect with others who have been diagnosed, let those who have recently been diagnosed know they're not alone, and hopefully provide a little insight to those who have a loved one with bipolar disorder. Bold idea, I know. My story, as you are reading it, is from the beginning not somewhere in the middle of my treatment. As I go through the battle of discovering how to release the hold this disorder has on my life, my blog is going to be making the trek with me each step of the way.
Well, that's it. The basic idea of me and my diagnosis. I'm excited to see where this blog will go, and hope you, the reader, will enjoy the ride just as much.
- Red
But bipolar? The idea of being bipolar didn't sit well. It was as if I viewed it as some awful curse. Maybe it had something to do with the negative stigma we, as a society, have given bipolar disorder. Yet, at the same time, it made sense. I've always been known for having a "short fuse". I'm a spitfire. I can say such hurtful things when my anger takes over. It's as if I seek out words that will cut like a knife. Yet I find that as my anger decreases and I come down from the manic high, the guilt sets in as I realize what I've said. The more I think about my actions, both past and present, my diagnosis begins to make more and more sense.
Today, just a few short months after diagnosis, I've come to terms with having bipolar disorder. I'm not ashamed of this. I'm not ashamed of any of my diagnosises. I have always viewed myself as a typical woman in her twenties. Yes, I experience an extreme range of emotions. And yes, sometimes they can be far too much for me. But I will not let bipolar define me.
With this blog, I hope to help others. When I began looking for answers after my diagnosis, there really wasnt a lot out there that appealed to me. Yes, there are plenty of blogs but none of them seemed to be something I could connect with. I am raw and real just like the disorder itself. My hope is to connect with others who have been diagnosed, let those who have recently been diagnosed know they're not alone, and hopefully provide a little insight to those who have a loved one with bipolar disorder. Bold idea, I know. My story, as you are reading it, is from the beginning not somewhere in the middle of my treatment. As I go through the battle of discovering how to release the hold this disorder has on my life, my blog is going to be making the trek with me each step of the way.
Well, that's it. The basic idea of me and my diagnosis. I'm excited to see where this blog will go, and hope you, the reader, will enjoy the ride just as much.
- Red
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