Bipolar 2 From Inside and Out

Posts tagged ‘my experiences’

Misery and Math

One day, when I had too much time on my hands, I came up with a theory: The Mathematics of Misery.

Basically, there are two stages of misery – wallowing and getting over it.

In my theory, the wallowing stage is necessary. You need to feel the misery, own the feeling, and try to figure out what (if anything) caused it. If you omit this stage, you won’t learn whatever lesson there is.

Then you move on to the getting over it stage. Ideally, the getting over it should involve eliminating the cause of the misery. (Keeping in mind that there are laws against homicide and you’re probably at that awkward age when you can be tried as an adult. I know I am.)

Now, here comes the mathematics.

According to my theory, the proper proportion should be 20 percent wallowing and 80 percent getting over it. But for me, that’s an unreachable goal (especially before I was medicated). Thirty to 35 percent wallowing is more realistic. It’s when the scale tips over 50 percent wallowing that you definitely need to get help. Preferably professional help. And I’ve been way over that tipping point.

It’s like the stupid scale in the doctor’s office. I just keep trying to slide the weight closer to the getting over it end.

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mental health

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Taking Turns

For the past several days, I have been dealing with a husband in severe pain from osteoarthritis, plantar fasciitis, and back spasms.

I have driven him to Urgent Care, picked up prescriptions, provided him with a walking stick and a cane, set up a heating pad, researched his conditions on the computer, talked him through his exercises, and more. I wish I could do all this without getting cranky. I wish he would follow my advice more, especially when I tell him to see a doctor. But sometimes he’s such a guy.

What I have been doing for him is nothing – at all – compared to what he did for me and how he supported me when I had my last breakdown, which lasted several years. He did everything. Shopping, pet care, cooking, paying bills, earning a paycheck. Not to mention loving me through the despair, irrational thinking, sobbing uncontrollably, immobilization, and all the rest.

He really took that whole “in sickness and in health” thing to heart. Now it’s my turn to do likewise.

I am completely out of spoons. I will carry on anyway. He deserves it.

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mental health

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Posting Weakly

Today I don’t feel like writing at all. It’s been a tough week.

Although I usually try to say something about mental health in general, bipolar disorder specifically, something relevant that caught my eye in the news, or a piece of my past that might be interesting or informative, today I can’t.

I’m very depressed. Or feeling sorry for myself. Sometimes I can’t tell the difference.

There’s a convention in July that I would really, REALLY like to go to. I could see many friends, including one I haven’t seen in literally years and have been fearing I may not have the chance to again (maybe irrational thinking, maybe not). I would have intellectual stimulation, friend, parties, laughs, all sorts of fun available to me.

And I can’t go.

Some of the reasons are practical. We can’t afford it. My husband has to work. Driving that far and carrying luggage would trigger back pain and the walking required would rapidly exhaust me. If I went, I might well spend much of my time flat on my back in a hotel room, wiped out or communing with Vicodin.

The other reasons I can’t go have to do with my mental disorders. I barely leave the house as it is, except for doctor and therapist appointments. A day with a few simple errands uses up every spoon I have and sometimes the next day’s as well.

But mostly, it’s my over-sensitivity to the crowds and the noise. I can’t tolerate either one for more than a few minutes without a panic attack or a meltdown. Neither of which is pretty and neither of which would add to my enjoyment of the convention, or anyone else’s, for that matter.

I’m now thinking about all the things I can no longer do for physical or mental reasons. My therapist would tell me to look at how far I’ve come – all the things I can do now that I couldn’t do a few years ago, like write a blog and maintain a goal of posting weekly.

She’s right, of course, but for now I just need to go back to bed, and try again to accomplish something after a nap.

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mental health

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Hired Help

Remember when you go to a therapist, you hire him or her. She/he works for you. And if it doesn’t work out you can fire your therapist.

I hate breaking in a new therapist. I hate having to do the little tap dance that is the Reader’s Digest Condensed version of my screwed-up life. But if I have to find a new therapist, I’ll keep reciting it until I find the right one.

Of course your choices may be limited by location, finances, or other factors (EAPs, for instance). You may not have that wide a range to choose from. But the better the “fit” between you and your therapist, the more likely you’ll make some progress.

When I need a new therapist (when mine has moved away, for instance) I go through a process.

Step One: I identify my current needs. Do I need counseling for grief? Mood disorders? Anxiety?

Step Two: I do research. Most therapists have websites and most of them list what they specialize in. Start making a list of those whose practices meet my needs.

Step 3: I make a list of my preferences. For me, this is easy. By now I know I need a therapist who is not Freudian or cognitive behavioralist or comes from any particular religious approach, but does deal with women’s issues and has a sense of humor.

Step 4: I make some calls. Is the therapist taking new patients? Is there a waiting list? Does he/she take my insurance? If not, is there a sliding fee scale based on need? Is long-term therapy possible, or is it 30 days max?

Step 5: I set up an “interview” appointment. I do the even-more-condensed version of my screwed-up life, ask a few questions and, if everything “feels” pretty good, make a follow-up appointment.

I know, that’s a lot of work. But in the long run, you can save yourself a lot of grief.

I’ve been to a couples counselor who absolutely shredded me, latching on to my husband’s difficulties with me and running with them. I felt she didn’t hear anything I said, or if she did, discounted it. I felt ganged up on. It was not pleasant. More important, it was not helpful.

(I’m not saying that she should have ignored my husband’s issues, which were important and valid. But I really needed to be navigating on a two-way street.)

Another therapist I went to decided that my problems stemmed from being an innocent led astray by an older man (ten years older) who got me into practices that went against my upbringing. Which is not the way it was at all. (It was the 70s. Some experimentation with sex and drugs for a woman in her 20s was not considered total depravity then.)

She also diagnosed me with PTSD because I said I had flashbacks and dreams about the bad parts.

In both of those cases, I got the hell out.

And that’s my point. I had a choice and I exercised it. I went looking for someone else who could help me with my problems. And I found a psychotherapist who could and has, plus a psychiatrist for my meds.

I’m not saying you should ditch your therapist when the process hits uncomfortable or even painful patches. It’s pretty much got to if it’s going to help.

But you made the choice of hiring this person. You also have the choice – and the right– to leave and go looking for someone else.

 

(Disclaimer again: I am not a medical or psychiatric professional and my comments are based on my own experience. YMMV.)

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mental health

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