Please don't Define me by my Disorders

I would like to reiterate what I said when I first began this blog a year and a half ago.

I am a happy person. I have great joy from my life and in the little things around me. I find nature fascinating and love the outdoors. I am artistic and find passion in music, writing, painting, and every crafty hobby you can think of. My faith blesses me on a daily basis, and I would be lost without it.

Please, rest assured that I am not a suicidal person. You may wonder how I've attempted suicide three times and could possibly not be suicidal, but it's simple really. I am not the diseases and disorders that afflict me. I have Bipolar Disorder, but it doesn't define who I am always and eternally. I constantly fight to gain my ground over these issues, and sometimes it's a lot more difficult than other times. Sometimes I make mistakes; unable to process anything but pain and the virulent - sometimes masochistic - ways to relieve that pain. Sometimes I can only think of dying and wishing I could be put out of my misery.

But somehow I've been protected from dying. I attribute it to the faith and prayers of my family members mostly and to God's mercy. Somehow in God's infinite plan I've been saved for something.

Now, this next 18 months is probably going to be extremely precarious for me. I worry that a major depressive episode paired with postpartum depression will be too much for me. I'm not afraid of death, but I do fear myself doing something irrational when I'm in a state of mind I can't control. Imagine my scary post from two days ago - now double the screaming in my head, and make it last 2-6 months. ...Yes, I am afraid of dying the wrong way. I'm terrified of the emotional damage I might inflict on my children when I'm beyond mental agony and can't stop crying and trying to scrape away the pain, and having to hide in my room so they won't see it anymore. I'm afraid of leaving my husband and children without a wife and mother, because I couldn't remember what love or happiness and anything aside from a crazed sense of inundating mental agony. I don't even know how I keep surviving.

But...I do hope and believe that I'll come out of it somehow - stronger, and hopefully more resilient than ever before.

I just have to keep clinging to that faith and hope as the days grow darker...and the episodes more severe.

Slightly better

Sometimes when a manic episode switches directly to a depressive one my brain goes into overload. I literally feel like my skin is on fire, and I scratch at it and feel like I'm suffocating, and, yes, it's like there's a screaming in my head that won't go away. It is an excruciating experience that I wish was one that I would grow out of, but so far in the last 14 years that unfortunately has not been the case.

I miraculously willed myself to leave my room, and with a silent embrace from my husband and the help of my three-year-old daughter singing "I'm a Little Teapot" several times I was able to emerge from that disastrous hour and a half relatively unscathed. Now I'm encompassed with fatigue, weighing down absolutely every molecule of my body, but I'll take that over screaming death-rage any day.

...Sometimes it's a wonder I'm alive at all.

mania is gone

I can't get rid of it. I can't get rid of it. The screaming in my head won't go away. Oh, God, why is this happening? Make it stop. make it stop. make it stop. oh, God, please make this go away. Take my pain away. Make it stop. Die. just let me die now. Don't. don't don't don't. I deserve this. I deserve everything. Make it hurt. Pain. pain pain pain. Pain, I need pain. Give me something. Anything. It won't go away. it won't go. Go. Leave me alone. Just let me die. My head won't shut up. shut up shut up shut up shut up shut up shut up shut up. I caaannn''t breathe. I cannot breathe. my head is suffocating me. why. why why. Why can't I ever shut up. why do I say stupid things. Why don't I work right? why don't I work right? stop crying. stop it stopit. I can't stop this pain and my mind won't stop screaming. I can't take this pain anymore. why am i alive. why does this always happen to me. why am i falling so far. why is my mind on fire. I can't breathe. I can't I can't I can't I can't I can't. just. just. shsuuat.......szldkgjakl;fa.sfd..vbfzcxv

Manic Morning Sickness

For the past two weeks and two days I have been experiencing a manic episode. Recognizing the signs of such an episode have made it easier to maximize directing my manic energy toward hobbies and tasks... with one caveat: my morning sickness.

Oh, yes, my morning sickness is still at large, laying in wait for the moments I feel well enough to do anything other than sit in bed...

...So I've had to utilize my manic energy in other ways, such as: writing stories, genealogy, reading, looking at houses, online school shopping, blogging, singing karaoke, photoshop, movie watching, coloring, playing with legos, taking naps.

It's kind of frustrating. My mind feels like there's an electrical current running through it, and I'm aching to go conquer the world! My stomach on the other hand feels like rotting fish and a family of rodents have taken residence. So I just sit here with my mind on fire, trying to be somewhat of a decent mom, and trying to figure out ways to direct my energy without the nausea.

Hopefully I'll be able to do more soon. :-/