Bipolar 2 From Inside and Out

Archive for March, 2023

My Emotional Protection Animals

I have what I refer to as emotional support animals – principally my husband. He goes with me to places and into situations that upset me, like a dentist appointment or a class reunion. He puts a comforting hand on my shoulder and encourages me.

My cats provide emotional support as well. They ground me when I’m upset and help me calm down. They give me something to focus my attention on instead of the turmoil in my head. They soothe me with their purring and distract me with their antics.

You would think that the animals I identify with most would be cats. I do believe that if I could be any animal, I would choose to be a cat – as long as I could be one of my own cats and not an unwanted, feral stray.

But the animals I identify most with are bunnies and armadillos. Here’s why.

There’s an expression among chefs – when they’re absolutely slammed with work, falling further behind with each passing minute, they describe the situation as being “in the weeds.” I use the phrase a little differently. I was experiencing a mixture of anxiety and depression, totally overwhelmed, though not necessarily with work. Every day brought new challenges that terrified me. Every day I found myself immobilized. And every day I found myself retreating. I felt like a little bunny hiding in the weeds.

That became the shorthand my husband and I used to describe the feelings. He would ask me how I was feeling, and I would reply, “I’m hiding in the weeds.” When I couldn’t express what I was feeling, he would say, “Are you hiding in the weeds?” and I would nod. That’s how I felt – like I had to hide from the flood of feelings and problems that beset me. Like I needed a screen of weeds to offer me what little protection they could. Like I had to be ready to jump at any minute the next time I sensed a threat.

I moved past this phase. After years of therapy and medication, I no longer need the weeds. I have stronger forms of protection that come from inside now. (My husband does calls me “Bunny” as a term of endearment, though.)

Armadillos are another story. Again, though, my fascination with them was in relation to another form of protection, seemingly more solid than weeds.

Armadillos are covered, of course, with bands of scales that protect them from most dangers. They can also roll up in a ball to protect their soft underbellies. I tried to develop hard scales that would prevent trauma from invading my fragile emotional makeup. At times I even rolled up into a ball (or at least a fetal position) when I had a meltdown.

Eventually, I did learn that if you wall off your feelings, it’s hard to get back in touch with them. And the good emotions get blocked off as well as the bad ones. The armadillo armor was not a viable solution for the long term.

I also learned that the armadillo has another defense mechanism. It jumps straight up about two feet into the air, presumably to escape from or startle any predators. Unfortunately for the armadillo, their main predator is the automobile. The little critter’s jump puts it at just the right height to be smashed by the car’s bumper. As a defense mechanism goes, it’s not really what you’d call successful.

That’s when I realized that neither were mine. When I got jumpy – when my anxiety was out of control – I was often smashed by onrushing difficulties, the very ones I was trying to escape.

So, bunnies are out. Armadillos are out. Where can I find an animal to identify with in terms of protection? We’re back to cats, I guess. They at least have claws that they can choose to extend or sheathe. I like the idea of bringing out a defense mechanism only when I really need it.

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When I Need to Feel Normal

A lot of the time, I live with sort of a low-grade dread, kind of like coming down with a fever. I’m well-known for overthinking and catastrophizing. The combination is exhausting.

When anything alarming happens, I ratchet up into an agitated state. It could be anything – a relationship problem, a looming financial disaster, a health scare. I respond with racing thoughts, trembling hands, and sleep disturbances. I find myself at 2:00 a.m., wide awake though a little bit foggy, with no real idea what I should do. Most of the time, there isn’t really anything I can do.

This happened a lot when I was in college. My life was complicated then – well, it always has been and still is. I wasn’t particularly worried about my grades or about graduating. No, it was other things that occupied my troubled mind. A difficult relationship was ending in great turmoil. I had lost a lot of weight and didn’t look or feel healthy. I had to pack, move, and find a job. My parents were coming for the graduation ceremony and I didn’t want them to see me in such distress. It was all overwhelming.

I had insomnia that summer. I would find myself lying on the sofa, wide awake, my brain on overdrive, with only a large black cat to keep me company while everyone else in the house slept. That cat kept me anchored in a way. He distracted me with his solidity and his insistent purring. He was a soothing presence that helped me not feel totally alone, without putting any demands on me.

It was that summer when I learned a technique I could use when everything seemed to be spinning out of control. I found that I could ground myself and stop all the whirling thoughts, at least for a while, by doing something small and totally normal. Making myself a cup of tea was my go-to. The familiar actions of finding a mug and a teabag, heating the water, and steeping the tea gave me something physical to do that would get me out of my head and back into my body. No matter how distraught I was, I could always manage to make a cup of tea. It’s not a demanding task. I could do it practically by rote. But it was so familiar – so completely normal – that it was a form of reassurance.

It turns out that the feeling of normalcy can soothe other people too. Once that summer, my uncle Phil was also having a hard time sleeping. Like me, he was afflicted by personal problems and feeling out of touch with his body and tangled up in his head. I busied myself making him a can of soup. It kept me from getting swept up in his turmoil, and it helped him become calmer as he watched me puttering around the kitchen. Again, it was all so normal that it soothed us both.

Now, when I have racing thoughts and distress, I try to find something manageable and entirely normal to do – something I can do automatically, without expending any thought. Putting out fresh food for the cats. Making lists. Watering a plant. Anything that I can do with little expense of energy or thought. In a way, it’s kind of a mindfulness exercise, paying attention to the steps involved and experiencing every movement as I go about accomplishing my normal little task.

This technique doesn’t work for me if I’m having a full-blown panic attack, but maybe it at least helps me stave one off if I catch it creeping up on me. It’s one of my more effective – and non-counterproductive – coping mechanisms.

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What Does PMHNP Mean?

What the initials mean is Psychiatric-Mental Health Nurse Practitioner (also known as Psychiatric Nurse Practioner or PNP). What that may mean for mental healthcare is the potential for more treatment and access to therapy. Increasingly, nurse practitioners are taking over some of the duties of psychiatrists and providing services to people who have mental disorders, or even serious mental illness (SMI).

What qualifications do nurse practitioners have? They must have a master’s or doctorate in nursing with a psychiatric nurse practitioner concentration, plus two years of work experience. Unlike psychiatrists, they aren’t MDs.

Psychiatric nurse practitioners perform many of the same functions that psychiatrists do. They work in hospitals, rehab facilities, outpatient mental health centers, and even in private practice in many states. (Other states require that they work under the supervision of a physician.) In addition to providing psychotherapy, PNPs can write prescriptions – including for controlled substances – regulated by state boards of nursing. They work with other professionals and with families to meet patients’ needs and create a holistic care plan that typically includes therapy, counseling, and medication.

There’s a crying need for PNPs. It’s no secret that it’s difficult to find psychiatrists and psychotherapists and that the waiting list is long for a new patient seeking treatment. Last year, 151 million Americans lived in mental health professional shortage areas, according to the U.S. Health Resources and Services Administration (HRSA). They reported that those areas need 7,584 mental health care practitioners to fill the gap.

It’s a good field to go into, too. Salaries are reported as ranging from $81,000 up to $140,000 per year. And in 2021, the unemployment rate was less than 1%. Currently, there are over 10,000 PNPs in the US, of which 80% are women. The U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics (BLS) projects that the employment of all nurse practitioners will grow by 52% between 2020 and 2030! They anticipate 29,400 new job openings across the U.S. every year between 2020 and 2030. 

Minority Nurse magazine reported in 2020 on why there’s such a strong demand and positive job outlook for PNPs. They cited expanded insurance coverage for mental healthcare under the ACA, increased awareness of the importance of mental health, and the mental healthcare needs of veterans who served in Iraq and Afghanistan. The aging population of Americans may be another factor, as more and more people require services for disorders such as Alzheimer’s and dementia.

How good are PNPs? Psychiatric Times says that “patients report favorable experiences working with nurse practitioners.” Findings from one study determined that patients had “greater satisfaction with their care provided by nurse practitioners when compared with their MD colleagues….Investigators found that patient outcomes from nurse practitioners working independently or with MD collaboration had similar outcomes, when compared with the patients working with MDs alone.”

Although it seems that psychiatrists and PNPs ought to be natural allies, Psychiatric Times also notes that “national initiatives and some agencies have encouraged an us vs. them mentality, pitting psychiatrists against nurse practitioners and other advanced care providers.” That’s unfortunate for so many reasons.

I’ve never used the services of a psychiatric nurse practitioner, though there are several near me. If I had known about them when I was between psychiatrists, I certainly would have investigated the option. There’s something appealing about getting my therapy and my meds all from one person, a situation that hasn’t occurred since my previous psychiatrist retired. (I had to spend six months on a waiting list before I found another.)

For anyone in the same situation, I would suggest looking into it. I am convinced that PNPs have an important role to play in mental healthcare. If their presence reduces the problem of scarcity of mental health professionals, they should be welcomed, and awareness of their availability should be publicized. If more people knew about PMHNPs, it would expand the choices that mentally ill persons have. It would also benefit organizations, inpatient and outpatient facilities, and community-based care.

Is there a downside? I don’t see one.

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The School Shooter Problem and the Mental Healthcare System

It’s been reported lately that there is a mental health crisis among young people in the US. Depression and anxiety are on the rise. Some claim they know what causes it, and some don’t. The usual suspects include social media, bullying (especially bullying on social media), academic pressure, the COVID-19 pandemic, isolation, and uncertainty about the future. Fear of and reactions to school shootings are in the mix, too. The problem has garnered interest among the people who have the capacity to address, if not actually solve, the problems.

President Joe Biden announced in his 2023 State of the Union address that the Department of Education will divvy up $240 million in grants to help schools tackle the crisis. If you average that by 50 states, it comes to around $50 million per state. A more accurate estimation considers that, since there are 16,800 school districts in the US, that, on average, each district would get roughly $141,000 for youth mental health to be spread around all the schools in each district – not really very much. That money, plus the billion dollars invested last year, is earmarked for more mental health counselors and mental health professionals in the schools.

All that is well and wonderful, but what are the problems that lawmakers want those funds to solve? Apparently, many lawmakers and public policy boffins think that preventing school shooters should be the primary goal. Identifying the kids that are likely to resort to weapons to settle their differences with schoolmates and teachers seems to them to be the most effective use of the funds. The basic debate is whether those funds should be used to identify and treat potential school shooters or help the students who are traumatized by the incidents and by the looming threat of more – prevention of violence versus reaction to the threat itself. In general, Republicans want to address finding and preventing the shooters, while Democrats seem to prefer ministering to those affected by the shootings – and enacting gun control. (I’m not getting into the gun control debate right now.)

Democratic senator Chris Murphy raised the issue in the wake of the school shooting deaths in Uvalde, Texas. “Spare me the bullshit about mental illness,” Murphy said. “We don’t have any more mental illness than any other country in the world. You cannot explain this through a prism of mental illness because we’re not an outlier on mental illness.” Biden also played up the necessity of dealing with the repercussions of the school shootings: “Address the mental health crisis deepening the trauma of gun violence and as a consequence of that violence.”

When it comes to getting shooters into treatment, though, there are problems. Differences in opinion are rampant on whether psychological treatment can prevent school shootings. Partly, it’s a problem of anosognosia. The potential and actual school shooters do not think they have a problem – and the same can be said for many of their parents – so they’re not very likely to make it into the mental healthcare system or gain any benefit from it if they do.

Another reason is that CBT, the currently favored treatment option, really doesn’t have anything that would address the incipient violence of students who are so troubled that they think it would solve their problems of anger, isolation, revenge, desire for fame, bullying, or whatever other factors may be implicated. It’s also worth noting that many, many students are bullied, mocked, ostracized, or otherwise demeaned. The vast majority of them do not go on to become school shooters, or the problem would be worse than it already is. (Personally, I was subject to some extreme bullying in school – and had access to guns and no access to mental healthcare at the time. I never shot anyone or ever thought about it.)

Perhaps the best that can be expected of mental healthcare right now is ministering to the bereaved and the traumatized. Until or unless we come up with some way of more reliably identifying and treating potential shooters before they become actual shooters – something that has yet to be accomplished – we’ll be more adept at cleaning up the aftermath.

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