No sense in beating around the bush. 10 days ago I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. Flipped me on my ass, to tell the truth. I had totally lost control of my life; heard things that weren't there, saw things no one else saw. Couldn't stop my racing thoughts long enough to put two meaningful ideas into practice. I was useless at my job, left early three days in a row because I couldn't focus on anything besides the anxiety of what a failure I had turned into. I have never felt such a horrible feeling before; I knew I was nuts, but there was nothing I could do to stop it. So I went home and wallowed in my insanity to the point of such a deep dark depression that I went in my head to the one place no one wants to go. I saw no other end. But I learned from my last go-round with this, and told my ever-loving husband the sad and scary and tormenting thoughts I was having. And we agreed that I needed to go in for help.
Signing yourself in to a psych facility is one of the most difficult things to do for a control freak. "Here--I'm going to give up all of my control to you whom I don't know, in the hope of getting better at some point in the future." And the bitch of it was, after I told my story and admitted everything to this stoic, coiffed, monotonous woman, I get put on the infamous "hold". For those of you who don't know, it is a legal binding hold that keeps you in a psych facility for up to 72 hours. I knew it was coming, but it still stung. And it took three days, but I got answers, and a diagnosis, and a plan. I thought that would make me feel better.
But this disease, this illness, whatever you want to call it, doesn't play by the rules. It makes you second guess your own sanity, your abilities, your dreams, your goals, your life. The self-pitying "why me?" whines in my head, surpassed only by "great, now you're crazy." What nurse, what mother, what wife gets herself wrapped up in a mess like this? My daughter doesn't deserve a nut-job for a mom. My husband shouldn't have to take care of a fool, a psychotic freak. My patients, my job expect a stable nurse that can keep it together every day and get things accomplished. And the fear of this stigma, this judgment, keeps me telling anyone else; not my parents, or my brother, or my coworkers, or anyone besides my one closest friend.
It's amazing how much it takes out of a person just to rehash the crazy. I'll try to bring it together some more here in a day or two.
Wednesday, April 2, 2014
Sunday, May 19, 2013
It Has Been Forever and a Day
2009. It has been 4 years since I have poured out my heart and soul on the proverbial paper for all to read. I looked back over the posts that I had written, during a very tumultous time in my life, only to realize two things: I wish my life was only that complicated now, and I miss writing. My life is so completely different now than it was then. We finally moved to that beautiful place in the mountains, the one we always dreamed of, with land and peace and animals and the ability to see for miles. We have to search to see our neighbors, and the stars are so brilliant against the black darkness without the city lights.
But happiness still eludes me. Things were great the first couple of years, full of joy and serenity and gratitude. But, as life always does, it changed into a drastic combination of ups and downs, so much so that I wished for a stronger seatbelt to endure the ride. I suppose it would have helped if my relationship with God hadn't completely deteriorated over the past 2 years. Probably why I feel like a fart in a windstorm at this point in my life. I spent some time trying to get my act together last year, after a full-on mental breakdown, and although I'm better than I was, I still don't feel like myself.
It's a strange feeling to have no direction, wanting to go in a million directions at once. I went to Nicaragua last year to teach BLS and ACLS to the Nicaraguan doctors there. It was a wonderful experience, and sadly made me long to travel the world. But realistically, who can afford that? I want to learn to play the banjo and the violin, and I want to go to a yoga conference this July, and I want...and I want...and I want. I took time off from my nurse practitioner program to try and get myself together, and I'm supposed to go back in the fall. But I don't know if I even want to, nor if I will have the strength and intelligence to finish. But when I'm only a year from graduation, what sense would it make to stop now?
I finally figured out, through the astute self-diagnostic tools of the typical nurse, that I have celiac disease. Gluten, as much as I love it, does not love me. And so, in a quite ironic twist, I come to find that my go-to comfort foods can't bring me any comfort at all. Pasta, baked goods, gravy, beer, anything with a wheat/barley/rye ingredient--all cause me pain and profuse amounts of bodily fluids that shouldn't ever be discussed. And to go along with that, I have the "leaky gut syndrome" and multiple vitamin deficiencies that accompany such a wonderful affliction. So, long and short, I feel like crap physically and mentally overall.
I work with a great group of people (for the most part), but as I do ever so often, I'm feeling the nomad spirit creeping up on me again. I don't know what I really want anymore, but the definition of insanity is doing the same things and expecting different results, so shouldn't I be doing something else? I wish things were clearer in my life, or at least clearer than the mud caked on the cracked windshield of my car. I know life isn't easy or fair. I just want it to be a little more mundane with a splash of happy excitement or peaceful satisfaction. Maybe the loser who broke into my car a month ago and stole a bunch of stuff also stole the last piece of peace from my heart. Jackass.
So hopefully this is enough of the whining pity party that has become my baseline. I'm optimistic that getting it all out, in front of me on the screen, will be enough therapy here shortly to help me reset my outlook on life again. Many apologies to those who I may have depressed with my rantings. Here's to hoping that I'll get back to the simple cynicism and moderately jaded attitude I once had, that was overshadowed by satisfaction and happiness and pride in myself.
But happiness still eludes me. Things were great the first couple of years, full of joy and serenity and gratitude. But, as life always does, it changed into a drastic combination of ups and downs, so much so that I wished for a stronger seatbelt to endure the ride. I suppose it would have helped if my relationship with God hadn't completely deteriorated over the past 2 years. Probably why I feel like a fart in a windstorm at this point in my life. I spent some time trying to get my act together last year, after a full-on mental breakdown, and although I'm better than I was, I still don't feel like myself.
It's a strange feeling to have no direction, wanting to go in a million directions at once. I went to Nicaragua last year to teach BLS and ACLS to the Nicaraguan doctors there. It was a wonderful experience, and sadly made me long to travel the world. But realistically, who can afford that? I want to learn to play the banjo and the violin, and I want to go to a yoga conference this July, and I want...and I want...and I want. I took time off from my nurse practitioner program to try and get myself together, and I'm supposed to go back in the fall. But I don't know if I even want to, nor if I will have the strength and intelligence to finish. But when I'm only a year from graduation, what sense would it make to stop now?
I finally figured out, through the astute self-diagnostic tools of the typical nurse, that I have celiac disease. Gluten, as much as I love it, does not love me. And so, in a quite ironic twist, I come to find that my go-to comfort foods can't bring me any comfort at all. Pasta, baked goods, gravy, beer, anything with a wheat/barley/rye ingredient--all cause me pain and profuse amounts of bodily fluids that shouldn't ever be discussed. And to go along with that, I have the "leaky gut syndrome" and multiple vitamin deficiencies that accompany such a wonderful affliction. So, long and short, I feel like crap physically and mentally overall.
I work with a great group of people (for the most part), but as I do ever so often, I'm feeling the nomad spirit creeping up on me again. I don't know what I really want anymore, but the definition of insanity is doing the same things and expecting different results, so shouldn't I be doing something else? I wish things were clearer in my life, or at least clearer than the mud caked on the cracked windshield of my car. I know life isn't easy or fair. I just want it to be a little more mundane with a splash of happy excitement or peaceful satisfaction. Maybe the loser who broke into my car a month ago and stole a bunch of stuff also stole the last piece of peace from my heart. Jackass.
So hopefully this is enough of the whining pity party that has become my baseline. I'm optimistic that getting it all out, in front of me on the screen, will be enough therapy here shortly to help me reset my outlook on life again. Many apologies to those who I may have depressed with my rantings. Here's to hoping that I'll get back to the simple cynicism and moderately jaded attitude I once had, that was overshadowed by satisfaction and happiness and pride in myself.
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