While cruising Facebook, I've noticed that I have a lot more articles on Mental Health popping up as of late. I am in no way complaining, in fact I think it's about time we all stopped tip-toeing around. I am guilty of this, as I don't want to be judged, or looked at as if I am some kind of freak. But the reality is that my Bipolar Disorder is part of who I am. It contributes to my personality, how I think, the choices I make, etc. That being said, it does NOT DEFINE ME!! It's a small part of me, like my hair color, or favorite food. But I have learned a lot, not just about myself which I have.. But how those around me react or treat me when they find out.
My husband for instance.. It's been 18 years since we started dating. We've been married for just shy of 16 of those years, and it's been almost 14 years since we found out I had Bipolar Disorder Type II. Now, we were obviously kids when we started dating. He was only the 3rd serious relationship I had been in.. The other 2 where tumultuous and short lived in their own respect. For me, I wasn't looking at the long term. I was looking for someone to have some fun with, and to get away from my "usual type". Thank heavens I did!! He's seriously the best thing that has ever happened to me.. Now I am not saying it's always been smooth sailing, it hasn't! But hindsight is usually 20/20!! So, Hubs and I started dating.. we had the usual teenage spats here and there.. I was only 16 when we started dating.. I didn't know much about life, other than I tended to feel things either overwhelmingly or not at all. I was an "all or nothing" kind of person. Hubs was pretty laid back, and didn't seem bothered by this.. after all he does have 5 sisters.. He was prepared!! :)
Flash forward 2 years, we are getting married a few months after my HS graduation, we are pregnant with chicken #1.. A lot in any context, I am sure. But remember, I am an "all or nothing" person.. IT was a pretty easy pregnancy, if you excuse the fact that I was deathly ill from "morning sickness" for almost 8 months! I had my ups/downs which were attributed to me being pregnant. Then came the little chicken's big day!! I was sick, I was exhausted, I don't actually remember much because I was also heavily medicated. The after part was just as hard. I was tired, on my own and had no clue what the heck I was supposed to do with this little creature who'd just crawled out of my body. Now, Dr.'s talk a good game about Post Partum Depression, and The Baby Blues; But what they don't tell you is how debilitating you'll feel. How scared you are that they are going to take your baby away, or put you in the looney bin, etc. So, you force a smile, and nod when asked how you're doing.. Being tired is to be expected.. You just pushed a human from inside yourself!! After gestating that same being for 9 months! Just take it easy, sleep when the baby sleeps, etc... You get the drift.
I never got the hang of breastfeeding, so on formula chicken #1 went.. Oh the humanity!!! Let's talk about "mom shaming" for a moment.. As I said, you've been a human incubator for 9 months, given birth, and now you're expected to "know it all" when it comes to caring for the tiny human you've created.. and everyone expects you to do things Just Like Them.. whether or not it works for you is a moot point. Enter my In-Laws.. I was the devil for giving my child A. a bottle, and B. for inserting formula into said bottle. Never mind that I spent hours crying because I couldn't make the breastfeeding thing work, that I never got my milk in, so my kid spent hours crying due to hunger.. Formula just wasn't allowed. Period!! Finally, I bit the bullet and just ignored everyone.. it caused some strain within the Hubs and I's relationship.. but we made it work.. Then came the big news. We were expecting Chicken #2!!
Here's where things got fun... I wasn't sick.. Not one single day. Unless however I ate anything that ever had a face! I still had some ups/downs, but far less severe than with Chicken #1. Wahoo!! Maybe it was just the stress of being sick all the time with #1.. who knows.. It was brushed aside. Then came D-Day... Chicken #2 joined us 6 weeks early. My due date was WAYYYY off.. partly my fault, partly just the luck of the draw. She, yes chicken #2 was a girl and #1 was a boy, but we'll get to that in a minute! She, wasn't breathing well, and couldn't hold her body temp. All things that are normal with a premature birth. Here's the kicker... Hubs is about 30mins away with #1, and is unreachable because you can only dial "Local" area codes from the hospital.. Well, #2 is headed to the local Children's Hospital and is NICU bound.. Nurse sweetly asks if I would like to follow.. Umm Yes!! Duh!! That's my brand new baby!! Gosh!! So, followed I did.. and watched as my daughter stopped breathing and the Dr.'s lost her heartbeat 2 or 3 times.. I honestly can't remember. But there I sat.. in a cold, and sterile tunnel hallway watching my daughter die. Now, some would say this would be enough to make Anyone lost their shit.. and well, they'd be right.. Perhaps this was my Major trigger. Perhaps this was just what I needed to finally let go, and to really get the help that I needed.. I honestly don't know.. So, #2 spends the next 6 weeks in the NICU. Hubs and I spend all the time we can with her. I pump like a crazy person so she has breast milk, and fill a freezer twice over. She's got a tube down her throat to help her breath, she's got a feeding tube to give her nourishment, and 2 full IV stands full of medication to keep her alive. She has a whole in her heart, that needs to close or the surgeons will close it for her. All heavy shit. Agreed.
Enter the fabulous In-Laws again.. now, I am not sure that there is anyway to ever prepare for having a baby and not coming home with said child, or preparing children around you for that.. So looking back, I am sure my Sister-In-Law really wasn't sure what to do when her then toddler daughter asked where my new baby was. I however was thrashed, mentally and emotionally. I just snapped. Literally. I remember being angry.. livid even. I don't honestly remember much else. I do however remember waking up in a hospital bed, restrained for my own safety, and seeing the faces of my Hubs and the Dr.'s and even the sweet Social Worker from #2's NICU. They all had uber serious faces on.
This was the day I learned that I had Bipolar Disorder Type II. I had been in the hospital, in the psych ward for a few days. I had been sedated for my safety, and had been given anti-depressants intravenously. I spent 3 weeks there. I went home 1 week before #2. I stayed on my medications, I was visited weekly by the social worker, not only to check on my progress, but to check on #2 and hers as well. I did my best to hide the fact that the medication I was taking was causing me to hallucinate. It also caused me to withdraw from not only my children but my spouse as well. I was scared to tell anyone. I was scared they were going to take me away.. or take my kids away. Instead I almost lost everything anyway. These were dark days for Hubs and I. They were the darkest of days, and how we managed to pull through, always amazes me. I will forever be grateful to those who helped us. They saved us all. They helped me to face up to how I was feeling, and what the medications were causing. They helped me understand that I needed to speak up, that these meds were not a magic pill to "fix me". And that it was going to take some trial and error to find a good cocktail to help me feel better. I was able to find meds that worked, and stabilized my mood, etc. I stayed on my meds religiously. Even when I was surprised by Chicken #3. Going off, was the hardest thing I have ever done.. I was only off for my first trimester, and a little into my second, but man it felt like a lifetime. I was back on as quickly as my OBGYN thought safe, but I felt as if I was starting from square 1. #3 came a couple weeks early, and like his big sister spent some quality time in the NICU. He was not as sick, and came home much quicker.. But because I was already on my meds I was able to process things much better. I handled his NICU time much better that I had #2's. Again I went the "traditional" route of attempting to breastfeed.. after much discussion about medication passing through the milk, etc. Looking back, I think that because I was still all new to this.. being a mom, having my diagnosis..etc.. I think stress was a major factor in my lack of being able to breastfeed. 3mos old, and #3 was on a bottle, and happily sucking down formula. Now, after all that I had been through, and having 3 kids in 3 years.. I was DONE!! So, precautions were taken. I stayed on my meds, and had small adjustments here and there. I was stable and doing pretty well.
3 years later, Hubs and I had Chicken #4. Chicken #1/#2 were both in school, and #3 was the child from heaven; or so we thought!! a few months after #4 joined us we discovered that #3 had Autism. No biggie! Also, a story for another post! I was doing well. I was thriving, #4 was thriving. I was able to nurse her, which was amazing. I was blissfully happy. Then came the biggest surprise of our lives.. Chicken #5. #5 was a HUGE surprise, and yet the biggest blessing to our lives. She's also what put me over the edge for the 1st time in 7 years! Thankfully we had family to help us through again. They sat both myself and the Hubs down, read us the riot act, and told us we needed to get our crap together. God, I love them more for it all. It's extremely hard to sit, and listen to someone rip you apart and love them more for it in the end, but that's how it goes.
While I thought I had dodged PPD with #4. and even #5.. I quickly learned I had not. I got myself into a great Dr., got my meds adjusted and fixed. I was doing okay. Life continued on. Flash forward a few years.. I am still doing okay.. everyone has ups and downs, but mine are manageable. Get worse with stress, but I had found ways to channel that stress into something productive. I was active in my children's schools, I had a great group of friends, I was social and thriving. Even through some big moves, I was still doing well.
Then came the biggest move.. Hubs applied for and got hired for a new job.. in Idaho. Wahoo.. all excitement aside.. It was a great thing. We were all onboard with this move. I however, took advantage of my "well-being" and procrastinated on finding new dr.'s to refill my meds. About 3 months after we moved, I came crashing down. I had been living in a extreme manic phase for a little over 90 days. I didn't sleep, I hardly ate, and I was excessively "happy". When I crashed, I crashed hard. Hubs, being the amazing man that he is, did all the grunt work. He got me into the Dr., he was the gopher between the old ones and the new. He forced me to take my meds even when I didn't want to. He was the glue that held us together while I got back on track. So, here's something that no one ever really talks about.. How our environment affects us. I had lived my whole life in Sunny SoCal. I had been living a life OD'd in that vital supplement Vitamin D. Now, I live in SE Idaho.. Where.. well we got more snow that sun. Even when the sun is out in the winter, it's to freaking cold to go our and enjoy it.. I had never realized how important being outside was to MY well being. I had taken it for granted in SoCal. God, I miss the sun. I love the summer because it's sunny and warm, and I love being able to enjoy being outside. Now, when it gets colder, and I can't be outside as often as I would like I have to find other ways to supplement my need for Vitamin D. I had always made fun of those girls who spent their time "tanning" in a room, inside a box with lights.. Now, I am one of those girls.
I am not ashamed to say that I LOVE tanning beds, not that I am using them for tanning. I go 2-3 times a week during the late fall, through the winter and into the early spring. When it's darker earlier, and there's not as much daylight to enjoy or it's just to damn cold to go outside, I do this because research shows that it can help boost your vitamin D. My body is addicted to Vitamin D. It needs this to function, and survive. I use it just the same way I use my pharmaceutical medications. In my mind they are no different.
One of the greatest things BPD II has taught me is to be myself. To own who I am, not shy away. I cannot change how people choose to treat me, but I can choose how I let it affect me. I can choose to allow my BPD II diagnosis to define me, or I can use it to enlighten others around me to how it affects people. I can hide me need for medications, or make it something to be ashamed of. I don't, I am open with my children about the fact that their mom has this mental illness. It's something I wish was talked about more openly. It's not an excuse, a crutch or a definition. It's just part of who I am, of what makes me unique. Just like my Spanish/Basque heritage, or my dark skin, hair and eyes. As a little girl, I desperately wanted to look like everyone else. Blond/Light hair, blue eyes.. I wanted to "fit in". Now, as an adult I understand how important it is to Stand Out. I am not ashamed. I am not proud either. I am just who I am, and that is enough.
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