I know the next post was to be Part 2 of this post:
http://thequietinme40.blogspot.com/2018/04/did-your-brain-surgery-make-you-gay-and.html
However, being mental health awareness month, and some recent issues I have been struggling with, I figured now was a good time to write about this. Many of you know my history with mental illness. It's like a pink elephant in the room. We all know it is there, but we don't talk about it much. I don't talk about it much outside of my small inner circle. (I mean I joke about it, but that is a coping mechanism.) There is still a stigma attached to mental health. There are a lot of myths and preconceived ideas still out there about mental illness. For something that is so common, so overly diagnosed, and so destructive to individuals as well as families, I guess I kind of feel like those who can talk about it and have a dialogue about it, should. So here goes.
My mental problems started to develop about two years after my brain surgery. I had times of depression before, I am sure of it, but I never really understood mental illness. My thought process prior to all this was that if people were depressed, or anxious, that it isn't a real mental illness. Make some changes and get on with it. In hind sight, I am sure I handled it very poorly, especially with family members and friends who were suffering at the time.
According to Psychiatric Times, 1 in 8 people will develop psychiatric conditions after brain surgery. Combined with traumatic experiences going on in my life, I was struggling. My primary doctor at the time put me on Wellbutrin and Lexapro. I am in the small percentage of people who respond poorly to this combination of medicine, and was in the hospital within 3 weeks of beginning that medicine with my first overdose. My intent was to kill myself. That began a year long cycle of overdoses, hospitalizations, losing my kids and watching my life fall apart. I was officially diagnosed with Bipolar type 2, with suicidal ideations, and generalized anxiety disorder. It took 2 years to get a diagnosis. 2 years before someone in my medical team actually told me that mental illness is pretty common after brain surgery. By the way, for some of you still following my life hoping to watch my demise, no, mental illness did not make me gay, and no, I am not mentally ill because I am gay. My sexuality is what it is, and If I were being honest, I probably new I was gay when I was a teen. According to the CDC, homosexuals are in fact at a higher risk for experiencing mental illness. This isn't because of being homosexual, but the stigma and challenges of being gay in a world that has been built on heterosexual norms. In 1973 homosexuality was declassified as mental illness in the UK. In America, this didn't happen until 1986. Also worth pointing out, specifically because of my past in the church and as a church leader, the bible does mention homosexuality. 6 times to be exact. Never once did Jesus mention it. The references to homosexuality in the bible aren't as cut and dry as the church likes to say it is. Here is a good read, easy to follow, about this particular issue.
www.upworthy.com/there-are-6-scriptures-about-homosexuality-in-the-bible-heres-what-they-really-say
So with a newly revealed diagnoses, a couple of hospitalizations later, I decided it was time to take my life back, and gain some control over my mental illness. I had a fantastic counselor who helped me through some of the worst times as far as symptoms go. My medical team finally found treatments that helped me manage the worst of the pain, and as of typing this post, I have been almost 2 years without a hospitalization. It is hard work keeping on top of your mental health. Sometimes putting in the work is painful. Sometimes it is as simple as trying new coping mechanisms. So where am I at today?
I am struggling. Where I would have manic episodes every couple months, they now are occurring every couple weeks. (Seriously, look through my facebook feed. Pretty easy to see when I am manic.) This is common with bipolar, and usually just means it is time to tweak my meds. Mark and I have become pretty adept at recognizing signs that precede a manic episode, but where we used to have days before to recognize it, sometimes now we have hours. I have an amazing support system in place too. Mark loves me through it. He is the real unsung hero in this. Never in my life have I had someone who throws himself into helping me through this, being their for me, and helping me get my shit together after the bottom falls out. I know it is painful for him to watch and to go through. There are times that I can see the hurt in his eyes. He does a great job at understanding that these episodes aren't really me, but it still is hard. Talk about love in action! I keep my darkest struggles away from the kids, and Mark really helps me at keeping thing normal for them. But they are smart, sensitive, and intuitive, so they know. And they love me through it as well. And then there is my best friend Wendie. She lets me get only so far gone before she calls me out on it. (Sometimes it takes some threats too. She scares me.) She really has become family to me and to Mark. I have other friends who always seem to magically reach out to me, or even show up at my house when I am struggling. They are amazing. My family is amazing. They love me so much, and want to see me happy, and whole, and succeeding. I have everything I need to do well. Yet, these episodes still occur. No matter how much therapy and medication I throw at it, they will happen for the rest of my life. I grapple with that almost daily. But I am accepting it.
I want to try to describe what it feels like and how my manic episodes play out. I will share some of the signs and things that have not only helped me, but Mark as well. Mental illness is just a taxing on our loved ones.
For me, it usually starts with a day or two of being very productive. In that time, my eating habits become almost non-existent, and there are times Mark will literally nag me until he sees me eat. Sleep usually evades me for a couple days. There aren't really any triggers, although when I have bouts of severe headaches, that escalates things quicker. Usually the day of or the day before the bottom drops out, my attitude changes. My thought processes and decision making becomes risky and destructive. Last week, it got to the point where I was ready to run. In my craziness, I truly thought I was going to be able to pack a bag, head south, and disappear. Mark actually had to leave work early and come home to stop me. When I am struggling really bad, I usually shave my head, and groom my beard very differently that I usually wear it. I change my clothes two or three times a day. Same with my hats. The only thing I can attribute this to is just feeling off, knowing I am off, and trying to get comfortable, or at least not crawling in my skin. I struggle with higher anxiety and paranoia for a couple days before my mood cycles. I become mean. I say things that are just awful. This is the destructive part. I withdraw from my family and friends, and get quiet on social media. Usually just sharing memes or posts that I relate to. Making plans during this time is impossible. Going out terrifies me. I become paranoid, and think everyone and everything is out to hurt me, betray me, use me. Then it happens. The bottom just drops out. For a day or two, I cry for hours. I rarely accomplish anything after that for a couple days. Getting out of bed and getting dressed is even overwhelming. For me anyways, the crash after a manic episode is way worse than the episode itself. It literally feels like I am in this dark, unfamiliar place. I am usually very quiet and withdrawn, and it starts to subside after a couple days.
During the days before a mood flip, when I am at my worst, there are some things that help. First, Mark will usually respond with "you don't mean that", or "I'm not gonna engage you right now". That usually gets me angry, but it stops the rage in its tracks, and I usually back down. Yes, when I am in my crazy, I am aware of it. It's like I hear my normal self, telling my crazy self to calm down. Don't go there. Why would you do something like that? Myself is still in there, but I am helpless to take control back. Mark also helps me by making sure we don't have any plans coming up, and he tries to keep anything stressful or any triggers at bay. And then he loves me. For me, the loneliness and the paranoia are the worst. I feel so isolated. Mark has gotten really good at finding me in the dark, bringing in some light, and leading me out. If I am laying in bed because I couldn't do anything else, he lays with me. Just so I know I am not alone. He makes sure to give me hugs, and cuddles, and sometimes he just rubs my head. All so I know I am not alone, he is still with me, and he isn't going anywhere. When the paranoia takes over, he comes at me with facts and reason. When it gets really bad and I am not listening to him, he brings in reinforcements. He doesn't force me to do anything, or be productive. When all is said and done, and all I can do is apologize and tell him how he deserves so much more than me, he reassures me that we have got this, there is nothing to apologize for, its out of my control. He makes sure I understand that he isn't going anywhere, and he has worked on eliminating triggers. He gives me hope. He helps me feel like I can beat this. And after this past week, he has encouraged me and supported me in getting back into critical treatment, Which I start Wednesday.
Mental illness is most definitely the hardest battle I have ever faced in my life. But with the right support, flexible treatments, and some love and understanding from my family and friends, I am winning. I am succeeding at things I had written off a long time ago. I am loved, and have learned how to be better at loving. Mental illness is a part of me, but it doesn't define me. So this month especially, reach out to those you know struggling with mental illness. You don't have to give them advice. You don't have to tell them what worked for aunt Mary. Just let them know you love them, and that they matter.
Light and love to all you!
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