Read This Post When You Forget How Brave You Are (Because You've Won This Battle Before)

Guess what? You made it. You made it through another day, and today, is a good day. You feel that emotion you don’t always trust: happiness.

Look at you, you’re smiling as you write out this letter. Just a little, a hint, but it’s there.


You feel calm, peace. Steady. Your mind isn’t criticizing you. Your body doesn’t feel numb. Your skin no long has that itchy feeling. The ache in your bones is gone.

You can simply

Be.

The Anxiety that crept into your mind, froze your body, and made you sure that you couldn’t do it has retreated back into the dark hole it came from.

The Depression that threatened to take over your entire body and rip you apart, making you care less about everything of importance has been banished.

It’s been replaced by hope. By love.

By simply knowing that you’re worthy.

That you are enough

That you deserve to feel

To feel loved

To feel happiness

So yeah, you did it. And when Anxiety comes back, you’ll fight again. And again. And again.

Depression? Yeah, you’ll kick it’s butt too. Because you already have.

Depression and Anxiety don’t stand a chance against you.

Why?

Because you know what you have to do to beat them. Their games are old and tired; you’ll destroy whatever they try to throw at you.

Remember:

You’re smart.

You’re brave.

You’re a warrior.

And you will survive.

Because you have already won this battle before
and you will again.

Reminding Myself I'm Okay

A lot has gone on over the past two months.

My Depakote level turned out to be very low, which could have been the cause for some anxiety over the past 3 months. It's back up to where it should be, but I feel as though my body had to readjust a little bit, which is why I've been worrying more than usual about my mental health.

For example, last night I didn't get much sleep, so this morning, even though I felt perfectly fine besides feeling tired, I started convincing myself that I might be showing symptoms of mania. I started crying and checked in with my mom and boyfriend to make sure that I was okay. Both of them reassured me that I seemed fine and that they hadn't noticed anything out of the usual.

It helps so much that I have people in my life that I trust to tell me when I'm okay, and when I'm not. I know not everyone is so fortunate as to have such a good support system.

I've started taking something as needed called GABA, which my psychiatrist described to me as a "natural, milder Xanax," and it's been really helping. So far I've only needed to take one tablet at a time rather than the recommended dose of 2 tablets (I'm pretty sensitive to medications) and it works well without making me feel too loopy or tired.

Writing and journaling is helping me keep myself from over thinking and worrying as well. As long as I can get my thoughts out on paper or on the screen and they make sense, then I know I'm okay.

via quickmeme

What are some of the things that help you remind yourself that you are okay?

Living with Bipolar Disorder: Ways to Cope

Mania:

The memory of mania has always felt fuzzy to me. The only ways I’ve learned to cope with mania is by using preventative measures. Taking my medications, and getting enough sleep at night. Staying away from caffeine and sugar.

This is what it feels like:

They tell me mania feels like being high. I’ve never been high, but if this is what feeling high feels like, I can understand why someone would want to feel this way.

This free feeling. Of wanting to dance, to sing, to paint, and most of all to write. They don’t understand the beauty, because they can’t see it. They can’t feel the words flowing through my mind. I pity them, even as I try to explain, because I must explain it to them. It’s my purpose.

It’s almost as though I’m on my own secret adventure or quest. I’ve become the most important person in the story of my life and only I know the way, only I can solve the puzzle.

The problem is when the thoughts start spinning out of control. I become lost and confused. Things suddenly don’t make sense anymore which makes me angry and irritated. The anger escalates quickly until I’m just a raging ball of fury that crumbles into sobbing depression.

Depression:

Writing has kept me sane. Even when I was in the deepest of depressions, one way I made myself come out of it was by writing down everything I needed to try to do that day.

I remember keeping a small notebook on a pillow next to my bed. I’d write out the date and then a list of things to do: Get up, Shower, Get Dressed, Eat, Take a Walk, Read, Go to Therapy. Small things that I knew I could do. I didn’t expect myself to do all of them. Sometimes I didn’t do any of them besides eat. It was almost like the list was a simple reminder or suggestions of things I should try and do that day.

Setting these small goals helped. Everyday I’d wake up, roll over, and see the list next to me and I’d choose what to do. As I became stronger, I’d be able to cross off more and more off the list. I’d even start adding more things to list as I became happier, because doing the simple things became easier, so easy that I didn’t even need to write them down. I’d still write things down though so that I would wake up every morning and feel like I had a purpose.

That was the thing about my depression. The phrase that would spin around in my head was: “What’s the point?” When your life loses meaning or you lose the point of getting up out of bed, it’s really hard to find it again. It’s almost like the list became the reasons for me to get out of bed in the morning or even two in afternoon. It would remind me that there was a reason to live, that the night before I felt there were things to do the next day.

Crossing off those small things made me feel better. Even if I only managed to cross off: Get up, Eat, and Shower. Taking a shower can feel like one of the hardest things in the world when you no longer see the point to anything.

Eventually though you start to see the point again, and doing things become easier and even enjoyable again. I know when you’re in a deep depression it seems like that long dark tunnel is never ending, but slowly putting one foot in front of the other you’ll find the light again.

I know that everyone copes differently.

These are the things that have worked for me.

Haunting Memories: A Poem About Depression

via shutterstock

It comes back in a hazy fog

They always do,

the memories.

You think they’ve faded

and just when you’re sure

you’re no longer sad

There it is again

haunting you:

As if to say

Remember me?

And then you remember

laying in bed

wishing to disappear

staring at the bubbles

in the cup of Sprite

next to your bed.

As each bubble rises

Another tear falls

You’re tired

But no matter how much you sleep

It’s never enough

Because you’re not enough

At least that’s what you’ve been telling yourself

over and over

the past few weeks.

You shake your head

Trying to erase the memory

bringing yourself back to the present

and you push it back

to the place where it belongs

The back of your mind

But you know it will return

at least it is now only

A haunting memory.

Writing About My Worries

I've just finished writing two pages worth of worries.

Usually I'll journal, or write emails to my therapist about what has been going on during the week. This time I felt like I needed to open a blank document and just write. So I did. I just let all my anxious thoughts about the past, present, and future come on to the page.

I feel so much better now.

I had trouble getting to work again this week, so I've been a little disappointed in myself, especially since I'd been doing pretty well. I'm trying not to focus too much on it, and focus on all of the things that have gone right this week instead. Still, it's hard to not beat myself about missing work.

I've been good about letting myself still enjoy the fun things I'd originally planned for this week by not telling myself "I don't deserve to have fun" and that sort of thing. Stupid negative thoughts.

You're your own worst critic as my mom is always telling me.

What are some ways you keep yourself from getting down and keeping the negative thoughts at bay?

Via lightwords

My Sixteenth Summer: The Year I was Diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder

I've never really written about how I was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder. So I thought I'd share my story from the beginning:

My Sixteenth Summer: The Year I was Diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder

The thoughts had been torturing me for days now, spinning around in my head over and over again. Most of them didn’t make sense, at least, not to anyone else. I knew what they meant and I knew what I had to do. I had to write them down, because they were important. So very--wait what was I thinking about again? Oh well, it doesn’t matter, nothing really matters actually. I don’t really care what people think anymore which is a relief.

My best friend is looking at me like she’s afraid of something, of me. I don’t know why. I’m just trying to tell her something. She says I’m acting differently. It’s hard to concentrate on what she’s saying. My mind is starting to zone out again as the thought start circling back. I try harder to concentrate, and suddenly I’m angry, very angry. I hear myself telling her if she doesn’t want to be friends anymore that’s fine, just fine. My voice is shrill in a pitch I’ve never heard before. It doesn’t even sound like me. I see her eyes go wide as she gets up to leave.

I’m left alone in the hallway. It was the last day of school. The last day of tenth grade. A horrible year. There had been weeks when I would feel as though I needed to leap out of my own skin. An itch I couldn’t get rid of. A hunger that was never satisfied. I became obsessed with certain things. Honey buns, a food I never even liked, suddenly I couldn’t get enough of them. I gained weight, and I gained it quickly. Luckily I was quite thin, so the weight gain didn’t cause too much alarm. But I was hungry, so hungry. I’d wake up at two in the morning starving as though I hadn’t eaten all day. Something was wrong, but no one  wanted to say what it was quite yet.

At thirteen I was diagnosed with anxiety and later depression. I had been having panic attacks every month for a week when I was twelve. This lasted for a year, until I was finally put on an anti anxiety medication. Things were good for a little while, although I had bouts of depression as well.

It wasn’t until I was sixteen that things began to go a little haywire.

Then, that summer, during a particularly bad period of depression, I cut myself. I remember going into the bathroom and getting out a razor, thinking if I could just feel something, anything, maybe it would “release the pain” I was feeling inside. I was numb and been for at least a week. I cut across my right wrist, twice, and then the crook of my elbow, twice. I remember being angry when the cuts barely bled.

I hadn’t wanted to kill myself, but I did want to feel something, even if that feeling was pain.

My mother noticed later that evening and I made up the excuse that the cat had scratched me. Later they took me to my therapist and then my psychiatrist, who after hearing about my erratic behavior finally diagnosed me with bipolar disorder type 2. He put me on a mood stabilizer and continued my anti anxiety medicine.

Eight years later, and several severe manic episodes later, I switched doctors because I was no longer stable. My first visit with my current psychiatrist was when I was in a manic and almost psychotic state of mind. She immediately recognized that I had not been properly diagnosed and re-diagnosed me with bipolar type I. She slowly weaned me off of my anti anxiety medicine which was doing more harm than good, and added another mood stabilizer as well as raising the dose of my current mood stabilizer. Later I was also given a very low dose of an antidepressant when my depression was still not lifting.

I have been doing very well over the past two years. I’m happily taking care of myself and doing what it takes to remain stable. Writing about my illness has been something that I find to be very helpful in more ways than one. I hope that sharing my story will help not only people living with bipolar, like me, but also help people understand what it’s like. I hope to show that people with bipolar disorder are just everyday people trying to live their lives. Living with bipolar disorder is hard sometimes, but really it is about taking care of yourself, and everyone should be taking care of themselves whether they are living with an illness or leading a healthy life. We all have our struggles in life, and this is just one of mine.

Thanks for reading!

Five Things I'm Thankful For

I thought I'd do a list of five things I'm thankful for. Sometimes it helps to remember all the good things you have going on in your life so you won't focus on some of the negative things.

So here they are:

1. My family: I'm thankful for the support my family has given me throughout the good times and bad. They've always shown me love even when they don't quite understand the decisions I've made. They are getting better at trusting me to know what is best for me, and for that I'm truly grateful. 

2. My friends: Again, I'm thankful for the support of my friends who I know I can talk to about anything. They may not always understand my mental illness but they are willing to be there and listen.

3. My friends on twitter with mental illness: Some days it really helps to scroll through twitter and see other people going through the exact same thing or something similar. Seeing their uplifting blog posts and tweets makes my day a little bit better, and knowing that my tweets are helping them too makes me happy. 

4. Music: Spotify playlists are almost always playing whether I'm writing, cooking, or doing some sort of yarn work. Music always helps me feel better. At the moment I've been really enjoying Jazzy Cocktail piano music. 

5. Writing: Writing out my thoughts and feelings is exceedingly helpful. It helps me realize that sometimes my thoughts are simply negative thoughts and they are just critical and untrue. It's also a helpful tool to keep track of how I'm feeling. Plus writing in general, like this blog, makes me happy! 

What are some things you are thankful for?

Five Things I've Learned This Year

This year has been full of changes for me, some harder than others, but I have definitely learned a lot from all of the things that have happened. 

To celebrate the New Year I'm going to tell you 5 things I've learned this year:

1. I can still travel overseas and handle jet lag without compromising my mental health. I went to Ireland and Scotland last Christmas and while near the end of the trip I did get a little cranky, I didn't end up having any anxiety attacks or have any episodes of mania or depression after I traveled home! It was beautiful:

 

Calton Hill, Edinburgh, Scotland

2. I'm learning what makes me happy and actually doing those things. I've found out that crocheting and knitting makes me happy and helps me when I'm feeling anxious. As a result I have probably two extra blankets I don't need haha, but hey it's good thing the winters are long in Michigan! I've also rediscovered my love for writing, and I'm learning to be less afraid of rejection. I've sent a few pieces of writing out into the internet world and am happy to say they've been published. It's amazing how good you can feel about yourself when you actually finish projects or share your writing with others. 

3. I'm learning to be kind to myself. This one was hard. However I've learned to not be so hard on myself or even mean. That negative voice in my head can be very critical sometimes. I wrote in a post a few weeks ago about loving yourself. I've been learning to enjoy my own company.

4. Giving myself a break. Not only am I learning to be kind but to also give myself permission to relax and sometimes do nothing if that's what I need to do. To be okay with the fact that sometimes I need a break from the stress and anxiety of the world. 

5. Most importantly, the only person who can take care of you and make you feel better is you. I'm not saying don't go to the doctor or take your medicine or stop seeing your therapist. I'm saying that only you can make those things work. If you don't listen to your doctor, or you decide to not actively keep yourself physically and mentally healthy, then you won't feel as well. For example, even if I take my medicine and everything but I choose to stay at home all the time and not do things that make me feel better and happy, then I won't feel as good. I still have the responsibility of taking care of myself and only I can do that. 

In the end this has been a really good year for me. For the most part I have been happy and healthy.

I hope you have had a really good year too!

Here's to hoping next year is even better! Happy New Years!

Blank Page: A Poem

Blank Page

I stare at this blank page with the cursor blinking back at me

begging me to write something, anything

does it matter

is it important

maybe not.

But maybe it’ll mean something someday

when I reread the words I wrote on this day

Maybe the words will relay the frustration I felt

over that incident

over what happened

or what didn’t.

I might not even remember

years from now

what happened today

but it was important

so I wrote these words

that were spilling out of me.

Writing about Mental Illness

Lately I've been lucky enough to get some of my writing out there online. I had a piece on Stigma Fighters and now I'm trying to write something to send into The Mighty.

I really like the website and I'd love to have my story shared on there too. I'm currently writing a "Letter to Those Around Me." Just something to sort of show how it's hard when the people you around you will never quite understand what you're going through. For example, because I don't work a full time job, sometimes I feel bad that I simply can't handle the stress of it all and be like everyone else. So, when people ask the everyday question of "What do you do?" It can be a hard question to answer especially before I started substituting because technically I didn't "do" anything when it comes to having a job.

In reality, I do things everyday. I help keep the house clean, do yoga, knit and crochet (like crazy haha!), but I mean I don't need to justify my lifestyle to anyone. It can just get frustrating when every time someone asks "What do you do?" you have to give them some sort of answer when in reality, what I do every day is take care of myself. And that is a hard job that is more than just an eight hour a day thing. It's a 24/7 job and you don't get to take off or have paid vacations. In fact vacations can sometimes make my mental health worse!

Anyways check out The Mighty and hopefully I'll be on that site soon!

What about you? What's you're pet peeve question? Or how do you answer the "What do you do?"

Writing

I'm a writer by nature, it would seem. Sometimes I have to write: poetry, stories, journal entries, or even just a sentence to try and get my thoughts in order.

Lately, I've been trying to finish a short story and I feel like the words simply won't come to me. I know, it's probably just writers block. I find that if a lot is going on my life, or maybe not even a lot of things happening really, but just if I'm having a lot of feelings, it's harder to write.

So if I write about all of the things I'm worried or anxious about, or things that are just bothering me it tends to clear my mind and help me be able to focus on the fictional world of the stories I've created in my head.

I guess what I'm saying is it seems really hard to focus on writing about fictional things when I have so much that is going on in my day to day life.

Keeping a journal whether in a word document or a notebook, has seemed to really help me through the ups and downs of my life. Not just the manias and depressions, but even the stable happy and sad moments that happen in life. Going to see a really good movie when I have a night out with my girlfriends, or when someone close to me passes away, keeping a record of how I'm feeling makes these things seem not as hard to face.

Of course it is always interesting to read through old journals and see what I kept track of. What was important to me five years ago seems almost trivial to me now. It makes m
e smile to read about how proud I was when I received my first A on an English paper in Professor Bond's class. Or getting my first gold medal in a figure skating competition. It reminds me while those things may seem trivial they are important. It reminds me of the little accomplishments that I have done over the years and that I should be proud of myself for those little things.

It really is the little things that matter most. And I will finish that short story!