The people who truly know me know that I have a really hard time letting go. Not so much of material things like that pair of cargo pants from 1997 that I was determined to fit my ass back into; I finally gave those to the Goodwill a couple of years ago. (I did fit back into them, but by that time they were completely out of style...) No, I'm referring to the people in my life that I hold onto based on what we once were to each other, and not what we are now. I think I hold on because I hope that eventually these relationships will fulfill me like they once did. It took me a very long time to realize that this is not the case. People change, grow; move on.
At the beginning of the year, something happened with one of my friends that forced a change in me. Our friendship had been on the decline for years, but I kept holding on even though I couldn't even relate to this person anymore. We had history together, we were friends in high school - never mind the fact that she was nothing like the person she used to be back then. The friendship ended in a fit of anger, but the relief I felt at finally being able to let go was cathartic. I felt free. I also experience the realization that I don't have to hold on to unhealthy relationships just because 'once upon a time' we were really great friends. Since then I have cut ties with several people whom I've felt to be toxic to me. I have culled the herd around me and now make it a point to only surround myself with healthy and interactive relationships -whether they be online or in real life - if there is no mutually satisfying give and take then I let them go. I want to be fully liberated and freed of all of the crap I carry around inside of me.
So this morning I emailed my high school tormentor. I have known that this girl was on Facebook for quite some time, but just ignored it. This girl made my life a living hell my sophomore year, so much so that I missed so much school trying to avoid her that I got expelled. The pain and the humiliation I suffered because of her has faded over time, but I have never forgotten it. I needed to confront her on it because I don't think she realized just how much damage she'd caused; or maybe she did and just didn't care - maybe she still won't. I don't expect anything in return, I just needed to get it off of my chest once and for all. I needed to let go of all of these things I've been holding on to for the past 24 years. I cried for the girl I was and the things I'd experienced, but the tears were also of joy for finally being able to let it go.
I hope this is a continuing trend; a sign of another life lesson mastered. I've become so much more aware of my time and a desire to fill it with quality interactions. I want to feel satisfied with my relationships; not burdened or strained. Life is much too short to waste on people who suck the life force out of you...
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
The ignorance of children...
I was randomly reading comments on Twitter where people were listing things that bother them; when I came across a gem obviously written by a little girl. She said she's bothered by 'older women who act like they're still young. You've had your time'... This irked me off for several reasons. First of all, who died and made you the age police? What, we're supposed to hit a certain age and then just stop living? And second of all - define 'old'. I'm fairly certain she's referring to the 30's through 40's crowd, and honey that ain't old! I fall into that category and trust me, I feel anything but.
If there is a rule book out there on what we're supposed to be doing at the certain phases in our lives, then by all means go ahead and quote it. But as far as I know we're all winging it. I'm sure once upon a time there was an 'accepted order of things' - once you hit 18 you'd get married, you'd have a bunch of kids so you could put them to work on your farm; and then you died miserably before you hit 60. These days there are plenty of illegal aliens to work the farms, people are getting married later in life and waiting to start families; if even. Some of us have figured out that life doesn't have to be all work and no play, there can be a very beautiful balance between being a responsible adult and still being a fun-loving child at heart. Young people can't fully grasp this yet because they don't know. Youth is definitely wasted on the young because the wisdom and experience gained during your 30's coupled with the joyful child within are an intoxicating mix. I wouldn't trade being the age I am now with any 20-something anywhere.
There is a line from that old John Cougar Mellencamp song 'Jack and Diane' that has stuck with me since I first heard it: "Oh yeah, life goes on long after the thrill of living is gone". I used to wonder why? Why does the thrill of living have to end? Maybe when you're in your 80's - but even then if you still have a breath in your body, the energy, stamina or desire; then the thrill of living should still be discovered in every waking moment. We have a limited amount of time here, so make very moment count. Or so that's how I'm chosing to live my life anyway...
There comes a point in every life where you are faced with the fact that you are not a kid anymore. You can either chose to accept defeat and become a statistic; allow your life to become a stagnant, boring rut - or you can get out there and live it to the fullest no matter how old you are. All I can say to the ignorant little girls and oblivious little boys is -- 'Just wait.'
If there is a rule book out there on what we're supposed to be doing at the certain phases in our lives, then by all means go ahead and quote it. But as far as I know we're all winging it. I'm sure once upon a time there was an 'accepted order of things' - once you hit 18 you'd get married, you'd have a bunch of kids so you could put them to work on your farm; and then you died miserably before you hit 60. These days there are plenty of illegal aliens to work the farms, people are getting married later in life and waiting to start families; if even. Some of us have figured out that life doesn't have to be all work and no play, there can be a very beautiful balance between being a responsible adult and still being a fun-loving child at heart. Young people can't fully grasp this yet because they don't know. Youth is definitely wasted on the young because the wisdom and experience gained during your 30's coupled with the joyful child within are an intoxicating mix. I wouldn't trade being the age I am now with any 20-something anywhere.
There is a line from that old John Cougar Mellencamp song 'Jack and Diane' that has stuck with me since I first heard it: "Oh yeah, life goes on long after the thrill of living is gone". I used to wonder why? Why does the thrill of living have to end? Maybe when you're in your 80's - but even then if you still have a breath in your body, the energy, stamina or desire; then the thrill of living should still be discovered in every waking moment. We have a limited amount of time here, so make very moment count. Or so that's how I'm chosing to live my life anyway...
There comes a point in every life where you are faced with the fact that you are not a kid anymore. You can either chose to accept defeat and become a statistic; allow your life to become a stagnant, boring rut - or you can get out there and live it to the fullest no matter how old you are. All I can say to the ignorant little girls and oblivious little boys is -- 'Just wait.'
Friday, February 5, 2010
Being Bipolar
Here is the definition of Bipolar Disorder according to Wikipedia: "Bipolar Disorder - or Manic-Depressive disorder - is a psychiatric diagnosis that describes a category of mood disorders defined by the presence of one or more episodes of abnormally elevated mood clinically referred to as mania or, if milder, hypomania. Individuals who experience manic episodes also commonly experience depressive episodes or symptoms, or mixed episodes in which features of both mania and depression are present at the same time. These episodes are usually separated by periods of 'normal' mood"
I was diagnosed with Bipolar II in July of 2000 at the age of 29. (Bipolar II is categorized by severe depressive episodes and hypomania.) I've probably been Bipolar since puberty but I'm sure my mood swings and what-not were explained away as me being 'moody'. I have memories of being so depressed I slept weeks of my life away; as well as periods of time I can now identify as giddy manic episodes. I've never been hospitalized but can recall two specific times in my life when I really should have been. Doctors have always thrown antidepressants at me and sent me on my way; something I now know only made things worse. (Antidepressants given without a mood stabilizer - such as Lithium - can actually cause a Bipolar person to go manic. When I was put on Prozac, I was manic for a year straight.)
My Bipolar disorder kicked into high gear following the death of my brother and mom. I went into a rapid cycle phase; which meant I cycled back and forth from mania to depression; sometimes within the same hour. My behavior was erratic and a few people became concerned. My primary care physician referred me to a psychiatrist; and this began a very important (and extremely painful) phase in my life. I went into his office completely trusting him to take my broken soul and make it whole again - and came out an advocate for being in control of your own health and well-being.
My doctor was an arrogant prick. He diagnosed me in less than four visits and immediately put me on Lithium. Since an uncomfortable symptom of my mania is acute paranoia, he also added an anti-psychotic called Zyprexa. He told me the side effects I could expect were weight gain, increased thirst and a tremor. I experienced weight gain, increased thirst, and a tremor. I also had difficulty swallowing, mental confusion, memory issues, choking fits, vertigo, headaches, nightmares, hallucinations and panic attacks. When I asked the doctor about THOSE symptoms; he told me to 'slow down' when I eat and that I must have a previously undiagnosed panic disorder. For the record - I've NEVER had any issues with panic/anxiety prior to getting on the Lithium and Zyprexa. He increased both medications and sent me on my way.
Looking to exchange information and communicate with other people like me, I signed up with an online community. I started going to my doctors appointments armed with questions based on things I'd read. My doctor told me to 'stop researching' my disorder because it 'fueled' my paranoia. I did no such thing. I read everything I could. I found people who were experiencing the same things I was. I found out the reason you needed your blood tested while on Lithium is because if you get too much in your body it can kill you. (He told me it was to make sure I was at an 'optimal' level.) I kept reading and learning, but I also continued to trust him. After all, he was a doctor and my health and well-being were his priority, right?
In August of 2000, I had just started a new job and was getting ready to start school. I had gained an astonishing 30 lbs in one month and my hands shook constantly. I struggled at my job because of the 'brain fog' but I was DETERMINED to get my life back on track. I woke up one morning not feeling right. My heart was racing, my legs were jello. I felt frantic, panicked. I tried to ignore it. I got in my car and drove to work. I resisted the urge to stop my car in the middle of the road and run. As soon as I got to work, I called my shrink in a panic. He told me to calm down, I was 'just' having a panic attack. It got worse. I went home from work that day and never went back.
The next six weeks are a blur of panic, mental anguish and being completely stoned on Klonopin - an anti-anxiety drug. My shrink finally relented to my demands to get off of Lithium and put me on Depakote: I put on 20 more lbs and half of my hair fell out. I switched from Zyprexa to Seroquel and traded the hallucinations for always feeling hot. (Seroquel effects your bodies internal thermometer so you are never at a consistent temperature. I suspect that this drug is the reason my Thyroid no longer functions.) I finally fired my shrink and found a new one. She was wonderful, but then she quit to raise a family so I found another shrink. And then another one. And another...
I spent the next six years trying to get my life back on track. Every new doctor meant a new regime of medications and side effects. At my worst I was 55 lbs overweight with a rash on my neck, thinning hair and psychological damage that could not be seen. Tears and rips in the fabric of my soul and everything that made me human. I walked around feeling like a zombie, a husk with no meat in it. I even had a doctor tell me that this was the 'desired' effect because numb meant no depression, no mania.
In 2006, I decided that I have had enough. I quit taking EVERY drug. At the time I was on Lamictal (the mood stabilizer) Wellbutrin, (an anti-depressant) and a birth control pill. I quit that too - I figured I'd let my body heal itself and that included my hormones. It took about a year but finally I started to have feeling again - like when you put a rubberband too tightly on your finger then when you take it off, your finger tingles and hurts but eventually it feels like your finger again. That was my soul.
I am not defined by my Bipolar disorder, nor do I try to contain or restrain it. Through cognitive behavioral therapy (the route I sincerely wish I would have taken FIRST) I have learned a level of self-awareness that some people probably never achieve. I know when hypomania is coming on. I know what to expect, what route it will take; the things I will feel and the things I will do. I channel my impulses into writing so I don't act out. When I hit a depressive cycle, I ride it out - I enjoy the gentle melancholy that circles around me like a blanket. I enjoy it because I FEEL it. It makes me feel alive. I write poetry, I take walks; I nap if I have to. I don't fight it - I let it be what it is, because it is a PART of who I am. I am not ashamed of it, nor am I embarrassed by it. My Bipolar disorder adds a new dimension to how I experience the world. I will never, ever try to slay the dragon again - now that I have learned how to co-habitate with it. I have found that maintaing a healthy lifestyle (diet, exercise and vitamins) helps; as does keeping my environment as stable as possible.
I feel I am very lucky that I can function this way; there are a lot of people who cannot function without the medications, but I also know that there are a LOT of people who are way over-medicated. I know people who use their Bipolar disorder as an excuse or a crutch. I know people with Bipolar disorder who deny they even have Bipolar disorder. Those are their lives to live, and their roads to travel, and their demons to tame. My journey is mine and I do not judge others on how they manage their burden. I've just learned how to embrace mine.
I was diagnosed with Bipolar II in July of 2000 at the age of 29. (Bipolar II is categorized by severe depressive episodes and hypomania.) I've probably been Bipolar since puberty but I'm sure my mood swings and what-not were explained away as me being 'moody'. I have memories of being so depressed I slept weeks of my life away; as well as periods of time I can now identify as giddy manic episodes. I've never been hospitalized but can recall two specific times in my life when I really should have been. Doctors have always thrown antidepressants at me and sent me on my way; something I now know only made things worse. (Antidepressants given without a mood stabilizer - such as Lithium - can actually cause a Bipolar person to go manic. When I was put on Prozac, I was manic for a year straight.)
My Bipolar disorder kicked into high gear following the death of my brother and mom. I went into a rapid cycle phase; which meant I cycled back and forth from mania to depression; sometimes within the same hour. My behavior was erratic and a few people became concerned. My primary care physician referred me to a psychiatrist; and this began a very important (and extremely painful) phase in my life. I went into his office completely trusting him to take my broken soul and make it whole again - and came out an advocate for being in control of your own health and well-being.
My doctor was an arrogant prick. He diagnosed me in less than four visits and immediately put me on Lithium. Since an uncomfortable symptom of my mania is acute paranoia, he also added an anti-psychotic called Zyprexa. He told me the side effects I could expect were weight gain, increased thirst and a tremor. I experienced weight gain, increased thirst, and a tremor. I also had difficulty swallowing, mental confusion, memory issues, choking fits, vertigo, headaches, nightmares, hallucinations and panic attacks. When I asked the doctor about THOSE symptoms; he told me to 'slow down' when I eat and that I must have a previously undiagnosed panic disorder. For the record - I've NEVER had any issues with panic/anxiety prior to getting on the Lithium and Zyprexa. He increased both medications and sent me on my way.
Looking to exchange information and communicate with other people like me, I signed up with an online community. I started going to my doctors appointments armed with questions based on things I'd read. My doctor told me to 'stop researching' my disorder because it 'fueled' my paranoia. I did no such thing. I read everything I could. I found people who were experiencing the same things I was. I found out the reason you needed your blood tested while on Lithium is because if you get too much in your body it can kill you. (He told me it was to make sure I was at an 'optimal' level.) I kept reading and learning, but I also continued to trust him. After all, he was a doctor and my health and well-being were his priority, right?
In August of 2000, I had just started a new job and was getting ready to start school. I had gained an astonishing 30 lbs in one month and my hands shook constantly. I struggled at my job because of the 'brain fog' but I was DETERMINED to get my life back on track. I woke up one morning not feeling right. My heart was racing, my legs were jello. I felt frantic, panicked. I tried to ignore it. I got in my car and drove to work. I resisted the urge to stop my car in the middle of the road and run. As soon as I got to work, I called my shrink in a panic. He told me to calm down, I was 'just' having a panic attack. It got worse. I went home from work that day and never went back.
The next six weeks are a blur of panic, mental anguish and being completely stoned on Klonopin - an anti-anxiety drug. My shrink finally relented to my demands to get off of Lithium and put me on Depakote: I put on 20 more lbs and half of my hair fell out. I switched from Zyprexa to Seroquel and traded the hallucinations for always feeling hot. (Seroquel effects your bodies internal thermometer so you are never at a consistent temperature. I suspect that this drug is the reason my Thyroid no longer functions.) I finally fired my shrink and found a new one. She was wonderful, but then she quit to raise a family so I found another shrink. And then another one. And another...
I spent the next six years trying to get my life back on track. Every new doctor meant a new regime of medications and side effects. At my worst I was 55 lbs overweight with a rash on my neck, thinning hair and psychological damage that could not be seen. Tears and rips in the fabric of my soul and everything that made me human. I walked around feeling like a zombie, a husk with no meat in it. I even had a doctor tell me that this was the 'desired' effect because numb meant no depression, no mania.
In 2006, I decided that I have had enough. I quit taking EVERY drug. At the time I was on Lamictal (the mood stabilizer) Wellbutrin, (an anti-depressant) and a birth control pill. I quit that too - I figured I'd let my body heal itself and that included my hormones. It took about a year but finally I started to have feeling again - like when you put a rubberband too tightly on your finger then when you take it off, your finger tingles and hurts but eventually it feels like your finger again. That was my soul.
I am not defined by my Bipolar disorder, nor do I try to contain or restrain it. Through cognitive behavioral therapy (the route I sincerely wish I would have taken FIRST) I have learned a level of self-awareness that some people probably never achieve. I know when hypomania is coming on. I know what to expect, what route it will take; the things I will feel and the things I will do. I channel my impulses into writing so I don't act out. When I hit a depressive cycle, I ride it out - I enjoy the gentle melancholy that circles around me like a blanket. I enjoy it because I FEEL it. It makes me feel alive. I write poetry, I take walks; I nap if I have to. I don't fight it - I let it be what it is, because it is a PART of who I am. I am not ashamed of it, nor am I embarrassed by it. My Bipolar disorder adds a new dimension to how I experience the world. I will never, ever try to slay the dragon again - now that I have learned how to co-habitate with it. I have found that maintaing a healthy lifestyle (diet, exercise and vitamins) helps; as does keeping my environment as stable as possible.
I feel I am very lucky that I can function this way; there are a lot of people who cannot function without the medications, but I also know that there are a LOT of people who are way over-medicated. I know people who use their Bipolar disorder as an excuse or a crutch. I know people with Bipolar disorder who deny they even have Bipolar disorder. Those are their lives to live, and their roads to travel, and their demons to tame. My journey is mine and I do not judge others on how they manage their burden. I've just learned how to embrace mine.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Children
Apparently a few people have the misconception that I do not like children. This is simply not true. While kids in general make me extremely uncomfortable (particularly the little ones) there are exceptions. My basic rules of thumb are: if I can carry on a relatively interactive and non-hostile conversation with a child, then I am good to go. If I can plop a child down in front of the TV to keep them entertained while I have grown-up time with their parents; I am good to go. If I can trust that a child won't steal my stuff, mess with my pets, or break anything; then I am good to go!
I don't like holding babies because diapers leak, spit-up happens; and when they cry it makes me feel like I did something wrong. Toddlers make me even more uncomfortable because they point and babble in a language that is gibberish to me but miraculously mom and dad always seem to understand. I hear 'bahbebbeblahgoo?' and mom goes 'oh, he wants his sippy cup'. Huh? Okay... Teen agers can go either way; sometimes they're shifty and make me nervous; other times they are highly entertaining. Again it goes back to being able to carry on an interactive and non-hostile conversation.
I'm sure there was a point in my life where I just assumed that one day I would breed. My first husband was all about procreation but I was still trying to grow up myself. Then when any of my friends would get pregnant, I experienced a mixed sense of awe and revulsion. Awe that they were creating a smash-up of them and the man they loved; and revulsion at what was happening to their bodies. Life rolled on, I remained child-free and came to accept that this was going to be my choice. I am perfectly okay with this. Plenty of other people are contributing to keeping our planet well populated so I'm sure my genes won't be missed.
I've been told by a couple of harried, exhausted looking mothers that my decision to not utilize my womb is a selfish and unrewarding choice. Selfish? Possibly. But sometimes being selfish is not entirely a bad thing. I know of plenty of people who've had children and shouldn't have. At least I recognized this prior to making the same mistake. I've also heard 'who will take care of you when you're old?'... Who's to say your kid will be there for you?? There are no guarantees of that! And as for unrewarding? Not hardly. My life is very fulfilling and I don't feel like I'm missing out on anything. In fact - I sometimes get the distinct impression of envy as I'm trotting out the door to do something fun while mom is stuck at home watching Barney. Again.
That being said, I do enjoy hearing stories from my friends about the trials and tribulations of parenting; as long as the TMI is kept at a minimum. While I cannot completely relate - I am often amused and sometimes feel smugly satisfied that it's them and not me. I will never have to deal with crayon ground into my carpet or unidentified smudges that smell like feet on my walls. I also understand that being a parent is an extremely rewarding and life-long experience. It's just not meant to be my experience.
I don't like holding babies because diapers leak, spit-up happens; and when they cry it makes me feel like I did something wrong. Toddlers make me even more uncomfortable because they point and babble in a language that is gibberish to me but miraculously mom and dad always seem to understand. I hear 'bahbebbeblahgoo?' and mom goes 'oh, he wants his sippy cup'. Huh? Okay... Teen agers can go either way; sometimes they're shifty and make me nervous; other times they are highly entertaining. Again it goes back to being able to carry on an interactive and non-hostile conversation.
I'm sure there was a point in my life where I just assumed that one day I would breed. My first husband was all about procreation but I was still trying to grow up myself. Then when any of my friends would get pregnant, I experienced a mixed sense of awe and revulsion. Awe that they were creating a smash-up of them and the man they loved; and revulsion at what was happening to their bodies. Life rolled on, I remained child-free and came to accept that this was going to be my choice. I am perfectly okay with this. Plenty of other people are contributing to keeping our planet well populated so I'm sure my genes won't be missed.
I've been told by a couple of harried, exhausted looking mothers that my decision to not utilize my womb is a selfish and unrewarding choice. Selfish? Possibly. But sometimes being selfish is not entirely a bad thing. I know of plenty of people who've had children and shouldn't have. At least I recognized this prior to making the same mistake. I've also heard 'who will take care of you when you're old?'... Who's to say your kid will be there for you?? There are no guarantees of that! And as for unrewarding? Not hardly. My life is very fulfilling and I don't feel like I'm missing out on anything. In fact - I sometimes get the distinct impression of envy as I'm trotting out the door to do something fun while mom is stuck at home watching Barney. Again.
That being said, I do enjoy hearing stories from my friends about the trials and tribulations of parenting; as long as the TMI is kept at a minimum. While I cannot completely relate - I am often amused and sometimes feel smugly satisfied that it's them and not me. I will never have to deal with crayon ground into my carpet or unidentified smudges that smell like feet on my walls. I also understand that being a parent is an extremely rewarding and life-long experience. It's just not meant to be my experience.
Monday, February 1, 2010
My friend Sally
When I was 27, I had this friend named Sally. Sally loved going to Jimmy's - a reggae bar we both lived by. I always got such a kick out of watching her get down out on the dance floor, she never had any shortage of dance partners because the guys loved her! She was vivacious, engergetic, outgoing, and more often than not she could out-dance, out-drink and out-last me! Oh, and Sally was 55 years old. She was a divorced breast cancer survivor with two grown children and the most amazingly positive outlook on life. Sally was my hero, she made me hope that when I got older, I would be like HER.
To Sally, age was a non-issue. She was all about taking full advantage of her new lease on life. She dated men who were much younger than her and she had no qualms about venturing out into the nightlife that is so often dominated by the 20-something crowd. I loved her for that. As a 20-something myself at the time, I didn't fully realize just how unusual that was. Now that I'm fast approaching 40 [but still feel like I'm 25] I totally see it.
I am all about living in the now. For me, part of succeeding at that is listening to music that is current. I still love my 80's music, but it ties me to my past and listening to it takes me back to places I've already seen. I want to be present in the moment - and since music creates such a solid connection between time and place; I am completely into music that is new. The bands I like also tend to be very young - most of the members are just kids! I go to the shows and I meet them and I feel excited to be a part of the scene; then I stop and notice that I'm surrounded by kids. Sometimes it gives me a complex. I really wish I could be more like Sally and just not give a damn...
Sally and I lost touch about a year or so after my mom died, she tried to maintain the bond but I was just too lost. I think I'll put forth the effort to try and find her; see if she'd be up for going dancing...
To Sally, age was a non-issue. She was all about taking full advantage of her new lease on life. She dated men who were much younger than her and she had no qualms about venturing out into the nightlife that is so often dominated by the 20-something crowd. I loved her for that. As a 20-something myself at the time, I didn't fully realize just how unusual that was. Now that I'm fast approaching 40 [but still feel like I'm 25] I totally see it.
I am all about living in the now. For me, part of succeeding at that is listening to music that is current. I still love my 80's music, but it ties me to my past and listening to it takes me back to places I've already seen. I want to be present in the moment - and since music creates such a solid connection between time and place; I am completely into music that is new. The bands I like also tend to be very young - most of the members are just kids! I go to the shows and I meet them and I feel excited to be a part of the scene; then I stop and notice that I'm surrounded by kids. Sometimes it gives me a complex. I really wish I could be more like Sally and just not give a damn...
Sally and I lost touch about a year or so after my mom died, she tried to maintain the bond but I was just too lost. I think I'll put forth the effort to try and find her; see if she'd be up for going dancing...
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