Day 21: Disclosure

How many people know about your diagnosis? Well, for starters, everyone who’s read my page!

Honestly though, I really don’t think I’ve come out and told  people. It’s a little hard to bring up in every day conversation. “Hey, everybody, I’m emotionally unstable! Isn’t that something?”

Not that I wouldn’t do that, because I totally would if the occasion called for it, but so far, it’s been a little unnecessary.

This Borderline thing has been a hypothesis that I brought to my therapist. I read a description of it while reearching how to deal with something different and the book made me cry so I figured I should look at it. My psychiatrist asked if I’d been diagnosed with Bipolar II when I told him of my latest shenenigans. He’d never seen me other than depressed but when I told him that I was looking at Borderline, he told me it was difficult to differentiate the two until a long period of time had passed as they are similar in a number of ways, all under the same umbrella as PTSD and a few others. We need to consider them all, therefore I don’t think I’ve been all out diagnosed. My therapist is working with me on it since I seem to be fitting a lot of the profile and I’ve asked a few of my close friends for their opinion. To everyone so far, it’s made a heck of a lot of sense. There have been many “Oh! Of course!” expressions floating around. It does indeed fit rather well, but as far as telling people? I haven’t even told my mom. I certainly haven’t told my dad. They’re just both aware that I’ve been having “problems”.

Even at work, my bosses are aware of my panic disorder. I never went into the severe depression with them, though I believe that’s obvious to everyone. After that it all seemed unnecessary information. They know I go to therapy and psychiatric appointments. As long as things improve, I see no reason to delve. I didn’t omit it out of shame or worry. Quite the contrary.

I came out with my panic diagnosis because I felt that people I interacted with every day needed to know. At first I didn’t want to be treated differently, but after a while I realized that I indeed needed to be treated differently, with a bit more patience and understanding. Hell, everyone does, I just have an excuse that works in my favor on that level. I haven’t felt the need to update anyone. The people who need to know do. I’m not against bringing it to the attention of more people once I’m sure. If anything, I think there needs to be more awareness and understanding and less judgment.

There are a few people that wouldn’t understand. I know that. I’ve told one who consistently judges me for my reactions just so they will know that sometimes (all the time) it’s been beyond my control. My emotions are huge. Things effect me deeply and I react in an over the top way. I’m working on that. It’ll take years. I’m not pulling anything, trying to create drama, trying to manipulate the situation or people, it’s just the way I feel. The more people understand about that the better off I’ll be I think.

In the meantime, I get to experiment with a pile of pills that make me better or worse. Lately, it’s been worse. I can be dry as a Looney Tunes character before the big gag hits or as over the top as a drag queen who’s just been read. I have a wide berth with my level of animation. The pills complicate when they’re wrong and we’ve yet to hit the right ones. So, to any of my loved ones, know that it’s hit or miss given the day and circumstances. Lately, I’ve been coping and odd things bring up high emotion. I hide it as best I can when I’m out. At work I have crying fits that I’m waiting for someone to walk in on, but so far so good.  If that time comes, I’ll spill the beans.

I’d rather sooner. A clear cut set of criteria is always easier to work with than a cloud of mental “problems”. The second sounds worse. Even if I get a room full of freaked out expressions, there’s something to work with. I’m used to getting looked at like that anyway. I just hate to lose my air of mystery…

Day 12: Family Dynamics *

What’s your relationship with your family?

Like everyone, my relationship with my immediate family is complicated. I’m focusing on the family that’s local since I have family in another state who are really quite different, but I don’t get to see them often, unfortunately. Locally, there is a lot of criticism running through everything like blood through a major artery. There’s non-stop negativity and some high drama, though, also like most people, things look nice and normal from the outside.

My parents were a bit of a mess and honestly, I find it difficult to write about still. Things were not happy growing up. My dad is an unhappy person and particularly self-involved. My mother was extremely caring but had her co-dependence issues. My mother is now ill and in care. My dad remains as he always has, though now that he’s all alone in the house, I believe he understands what he’s lost. He’s a bit nicer but still remains up to his drinking shenanigans and doesn’t take proper care of himself.

The rest of the family is, like I said, critical. There’s a lot of it disguised as lighthearted jabbing, but really, no one has anything nice or supportive to say. If there’s a flaw, it gets pointed out. If there isn’t one, something is found. It’s easier to deal with now that I can see what’s going on, but as a kid, it was difficult to gain any kind of positive reinforcement.

Now that I’m older, I go out of my way to make sure my son gets that from me, since I don’t want him to think that there’s no safe place to be himself. He’s fully accepted for who he is in our tiny corner. Elsewhere, he knows to take everything with a grain of salt, or if he’s upset, I make sure to talk to him about it. Nothing is fun when you feel like you’re picked on 24/7. I know. That’s how I grew up and look at what a ball of positive confidence I am! Bahahahahaha!

These days, in my older age, I’m learning to identify other people’s crap, to distance my values from theirs, and accept my views and identity as ok, even if no one else agrees.  That’s a hard thing to do in that dynamic. I’ve tried to help another member of my family get there, but she’s a mini me if I ever saw it. I keep hacking away.

Coming upon the holidays, I’m starting to fortify myself for the dynamic of everyone being together. It’s its own kind of dysfunction like every family. All the same stories get rehashed, the insults fly, laughter erupts, I have to try to set new boundaries so that I don’t get triggered and hope for the best. Some things still set me off but I’m finally starting to get better at seeing what they are and to diffuse myself. I still get to be the acting babysitter of the drunkards, and that’s stressful for a number of reasons and sets off all manner of bad memories, but all we can do is take it a day at a time. I just got hosed with the hard stuff.

I just remember that everyone has their particular family issues. Everyone has the holiday battle to fight. Most of us make it through relatively unscathed. My job now is making sure my kid comes out less damaged than I did. If I can manage that, I will truly have a happy holiday season.

** You know, I was looking at this this morning and realized something that further shows me how skewed my thinking can be, not that any of it is untrue. It all is. It’s just the view from the family from when I was a kid. What it doesn’t show is just how lucky I’ve been in the family lottery. While I realized that I tend to see only the dark side of things, (I’m learning that’s a big part of this) I realized that my family has been there for me when no one else was. My uncle’s family took me in when I had nowhere to go. He just found me a car and fixed it up when my last car tanked it. Despite my differences in some values and beliefs, I really like them, a lot. They’ve put up with my neuroses as well, regardless of the cause and have, I believe, always wanted the best for me and my son. So, that makes things a bit more even and equal and shows that every family, and every person, is made up of the good and not so good; of what works and elements of things broken. Somehow all the pieces come together to form the intricate emotional experiences of our lives. I just needed to remember that mine aren’t all black. There have been bright colors too.

Day 11: Anchors

Is there anything you do that helps keep you grounded?

Why yes, Professor. As a matter of fact there is. It’s less something I do and more something that keeps me from going too far afoul of where I should be.

My son.

It’s not an off the wall answer. In fact it’s pretty typical but I can say, like so many others before me and mean it, that my kid has saved my life. I wouldn’t be here without him.

During every depressive episode where I’ve thought of doing myself in, he’s the thing that keeps me holding on. The past several days, I’ve only made it through the day by looking forward to seeing him at the end of it and having a cuddle on the couch. When I cry, though I try to shield him from such things, he comes up to me and hugs me and gives me kisses so I’m not so sad. Last night, for example, when he could see that I was struggling and trying not to cry, he came up and smiled and wrapped his little arms around me and told me that he loved me. No amount of affirmations, vision boards, or goals can compete. Nothing beats that. Nothing.

My therapist yesterday was talking about anchor thoughts to hold on to when I’m going off a cliff into the ocean of big emotions. Even if I can’t see the shore, or even have faith that there is a shore to swim to somewhere out there, I do have the thought of my son. In my darkest moments, no matter what he’s done or how mad I get, it’s the thought that he would never understand if something happened to me that keeps me afloat.

Of course there are other things, my writing goals, my family, the things I’d like to see, and places I want to visit. My grand dream of getting to England is one of the stronger anchors, but in the really dark times, I can’t see the foggy forest for the trees. Singing is another. Singing is great if you’re in the midst of anxiety or any other fit of emotions really. It releases so much. Sing out those feelings! I can’t tell you how many times I’ve sung/cried the lyrics to a song I love to just get it all out. It also helps you to keep breathing regularly and fends off anxiety attacks. Singing is great.

So, for right now in my time of bitter regret when I’m thinking of how I’ve been had and what a maroon I am, you can bet your butt that I’m singing…loudly and possibly badly just waiting for the time when I can go home and cuddle with my kid. It’s those small things in life that turn into big things when you look. For right now I’m digging into the rock on the side of that cliff and slowly climbing up. It may take a while, but the weather’s nice and at the end, though I can’t see what’s ahead, I’m going to just pretend I get cake!

Why not? Whatever keeps you afloat!

Day 26 – Misty

Name a song that makes you cry every time you hear it and why? Ok, the title is a fake out. I actually can’t stand Misty as a song, maybe because I equate it with knife wielding crazy girlfriends and Clint Eastwood. Neither of those things make me tear up on a regular basis unless it involves talking to empty chairs.

I’ve had several songs over the years turn me into a mush pile. As I’ve said before, I’m sentimental and tear up at the drop of a hat, but there’s one that never fails to turn me into a mess. My grandmother loved Nat King Cole. She used to listen to him every holiday season and sometimes in between. Hearing him sing usually brings back memories of her in our old house while I was growing up and sends me to missing her. The one particular song that gets me though, and it can only be sung by him, is Stardust.

I don’t know what it is. It feels like the saddest song that ever was. It’s romantic and tragic and beautiful, but if I listen to it in the car I have to pull over. If it comes on in the market, I stop dead with the shopping cart in the middle of the aisle. There’s a forlorn quality to his voice and to the arrangement that, despite hearing it more times than can be counted, still brings on instant melancholy. Perhaps it’s the feeling of loss that’s so pervasive, of love,  of someone I miss, of happiness long gone.

I’ve gone and put it on and sure enough, the tears are welling up. It’s a gorgeous song and an unforgettable one for the memories it brings.

Day 23 – Smile and Nod

Talk about a moment when you got annoyed with a married friend, a person in a relationship, or a person with kids (Be honest! No judgment!).

To be honest, I don’t get annoyed much anymore. For the longest time just the sight of a happy couple or the mention of someone’s boyfriend in a conversation would send my eye to twitching. Over the past months as I’ve realized that I can really be happy alone, it doesn’t phase me much anymore. I’ve actually caught myself watching My Fair Wedding a few times with no negative effects. Progress I think. There was, however, one recent time when the whole subject irked me. Getting advice on ending your single life from a happy couple is always so much fun, isn’t it?

It was a random weekend and my relatives were going on about a trip they were taking and one of them seemed less enthused about it. I asked him why he agreed to go since it wasn’t his thing at all. Well, it it became a big discussion about how relationships were a compromise and how I’d never get everything I wanted, that I should be less picky. At that point it was brought up that I should try this new online dating site. When I pointed out that I didn’t subscribe to the religion it was based around, I actually heard these words of advice,  “Who cares? You can fake it. You’re getting older and you need a man around the house.”

So the happy couple was giving me the message that faking my most deeply held beliefs was better than being alone. Somehow neither of them batted a lash at this. It made me wonder just how fake their relationship was, how much each of them was lying to the other, and if either of them realized that implication for themselves when they’d said it. According to that advice, being dishonest about myself was preferable.  Somehow being in a relationship is supposed to trump being true to myself because, you know, compromise. At that point it was more stories about how each of them did things for the other that they didn’t enjoy because you have to.  Compromise is all well and good, and it’s not that I’m incapable of it, but I’d much rather be alone and real than fake and in a relationship that won’t last the second a little tremor reveals it’s shaky foundation.

I’m over hearing about it. I’m over couples’ advice, I just smile and nod and wait for them to stop. That was the last time I got the eye twitch and the last time I argued on the point. I’ve decided no matter what the examples are in front of me, I’m going to follow my heart on this one. What the heck is the point of a relationship if you’re not allowed to be yourself? Now that I think about it, I wonder if that present they got me was really from where they said it was from…hmmm.

Day 14 – Now With 30% More Happiness!

Describe the last moment you felt really, truly blissful. According to commercials, I should feel pretty blissful every time I do everything from crack open a new box of dryer sheets to indulging in a tiny square of chocolate. I’m pretty sure I’ve never made the bliss face like the ladies in the yogurt commercials. Maybe the chocolate did it once, but I doubt that’s the kind of real bliss we’re talking here.

When trying to think back on a time when I felt truly peacefully happy, I have a hard time. I’m not really the blissful type…or the relaxing type. I have a lousy tendency to ruin my quiet moments by thinking about things that I should be doing instead of enjoying myself. As a single mom, there are more chores than I care to think about. I do occasionally catch myself in a me moment but not much does it. Even during my last bath I was uncomfortable, vanilla scented salts and all…

I started with  a memory of the beach. Where I currently live is the furthest from the beach I’ve ever lived. Until now, I’ve always been within walking distance. There’s a real sense of inner peace that I’ve gained from the ocean during every crisis in my life. The past several times I’ve managed to get to the nearest shoreline, my son has not enjoyed it much. He’s a mover. He needs to entertain himself by climbing and jumping and dismantling things, so sitting pensively and listening to the waves isn’t in his nature. That joy is something I miss and it’s a memory that’s far too old.

Then it hit me. Not long ago, I did find myself grinning ear to ear, excited and truly happy at the core. Something I never expected happened and it lit me up inside.

When I started this challenge. I did it as a personal jump-start, like a writing prompt because I’d been blocked for so long. I also loved the idea of delving a little further into those questions. I was used to no one reading this page but me. Then my friend read it. Then a few. Someone I didn’t know read it, and then I got a like. Then followers! Soon…minions! Bwuhahahahaha!

Ahem. Ok…maybe not.

Anyway, I’ve had quite a few more than I could have expected. When I saw that I had people reading it, I was first completely nervous, but then, I felt awesome. I had such a sense of happiness and I remember noticing that I was grinning wide which usually makes people run for the hills since it’s such a rare sight, people assume I’ve cracked…kind of like seeing Wednesday Addams smile…but smile I did.

I’ve been working so hard to make my book happen; so much time worrying and wondering what the next step should be, that I hadn’t taken the time to enjoy the process anymore. How can I find my voice? How can I find which way to go? Can I ever write anything again? How will I know if anyone will ever enjoy this stuff? Fret, fret, fret. It’s my M.O. Doing this turned out to be the greatest kick-start I could have asked for. I feel a bit of momentum behind me now and a lot of gratitude for everyone who’s looked at the page. It truly has brought me happiness. My few posts are certainly no grand accomplishment, but I never expected the confidence I’ve gained from it or the renewed enjoyment of writing. It’s been the best kind of gift. Plus, it’s a really good excuse to get a new party dress!

Day 12 – Victory!

I wanted to say that my proudest accomplishment was my son, but I can’t really take credit for that, at least not all the way. I steer a little here and there but he’s his own driver. It’s also a cop out answer.

An accomplishment should be something that you plan and work toward and complete from beginning to end without quitting. That’s what makes my answer hard. I’m not really great at celebrating victories or taking note of small steps, which really is a lousy habit. I tend to notice the things I didn’t do. I never learned to swim. I can’t ride a bike (no, really), I never got that degree out of indecision…

An accomplishment is something that should have you falling asleep in your corn flakes, buying extra concealer for the dark circles, and drowning in coffee. Thinking back, I do this every year in a contest called NaNoWriMo. National Novel Writing Month, It’s really more of a challenge than a contest because you don’t really win anything other than a little winners badge and the satisfaction of knowing you’ve written 50,000 words. I’ve finished every year for the past few. I have a bunch of almost-books in the wings just sitting there waiting to become something. 

One of them, however, I actually went back to, revised, revised again, and revised again until I had a 300 page piece of…work. I stayed up day and night for weeks. I drank tons of coffee. My eyes went blurry. I did laps. I procrastinated. I tore out hair, I yelled out loud and sat alone at my desk in the middle of a world of my own making. It was mostly a filthy world because I was too tired and engrossed to do much cleaning, or actually anything else, but hey, I was dedicated. I wrote when I hated writing. I had fantastic moments of sudden inspiration. I came up with things that were amazing that I can’t believe I wrote and then I came up with things that were horrid that I can’t believe I wrote. The experience was both wonderful and so much more difficult than I can ever describe.

The book is still nowhere near perfect. It’s still not agent ready let alone sitting on a book store shelf, but I did see the story to the end. I fleshed it out and I intend to keep working on it until it is something that people will read. Now those people may be the population of my office and my family home, but hey, it’s people!

The point really is that I finally did have that experience of seeing something through. I know now that I can do it. The next time it will be a little easier and hopefully a lot better. I hope to have book signings and maybe a graphic novel (and maybe people arguing on a forum about what some nit picky thing in one of my chapters really was supposed to mean) one day. Why not dream big? There’s nothing to lose by dreaming. Anything can happen. Make it big and then a little bigger! I just want fan boys! Not too much to ask…