Wind in Heart

The wind in my heart. That refreshing breeze that sweeps away the anguish, hurt and confusion. And like the eye of the hurricane, you find yourself in a calm place amid the whirling world your mind can be.

Sure, I might be pulled into the swirl of hurricane winds but for now I enjoy the calm and, I suppose, the stability.

The days of struggle. They’ve come to an end, which in hindsight, after the maelstrom, is the natural turn of events in the life of one who has bipolar.

I don’t say this with much confidence though. However, I do take solace in today. I think that I’m making progress in accepting each day as it. Moreover, I want to really take charge of bipolar disorder, to hold the reins and steer my own direction.

I recently read an interview with Lama Yeshe on Buddhism and mental illness. He said, “There’s no way you can understand your own mental problems without your becoming your own psychologist. It’s impossible.” I believe he is right. We each have this responsibility.”

Even in the darkest moments or the soaring highs, I think we have this ability. We may not know it. We may need help to find it. We may need time to understand it and put it in use. But I think it’s there, We can act as our own psychologist or psychiatrist, and take power over our disease.

In writing this, I am not in any way dismissing or undermining the value and need of a good psychiatrist and proper medication. The vital importance of support. Knowing that when we are overwhelmed we can reach out and someone will be there.

I’m saying that we can take charge and still work in concert with medical expertise for support.

After the struggling and frightening period I went through, I wasn’t able to do this. I have not grasped he concept fully nor do I yet have the tools. I want to develop and learn though.

Today is a good day. I’m thankful for these moments.

I’m also thankfully, incredibly so, that when I believed I had nowhere to turn, I found the help I was searching for. Not permanent but what I needed to get through.

Where I live, Ottawa, the capital of Canada, there is an excellent support. A high-quality hospital only dealing with mental illness populated by fine and dedicated doctors, nurses, social workers to name a few. Having had stays in this hospital, the level of care and knowledge is astounding.

Also, two or three crisis lines are available 24 hours a day. In the lonely and desperate hours of the morning, when all I wanted was more darkness, I somehow thought of these. Perhaps I paid attention to numbers lying on the table within my reach.

More importantly, I called.

In the past, I had hesitated or even avoided these services. My bias? Not wanting to admit to needing crucial help? Yes to both.

What I found on the other end of the line – non-judgmental support and understanding. Advice and hope.  A tender ear, reassuring voice.

The crisis line worker eventually decided to send help to my home despite the hour. A fellow came and simply sat with me a while. He convinced me that he should call for medical help. I spent two days in hospital. It was the right place for me to be.

The final outcome? Saviour? Realizing I wasn’t alone in the bleakness? Help just a call away?

All of these.

I’m grateful.

 

Hope and love to all

Terry

The Pendulum

The swing of the bipolar pendulum is confounding to say the least. It is unpredictable in too many cases. It is difficult to treat in too many cases. However, we should and must continue to believe and hope.

I should and must continue to believe and hope.

My last post was, frankly, a hopeless cry in the dark. Coming from the most empty and lonely place deep inside my soul. When I started this blog, the only promise I made was that I would be completely honest. Why write at all if at the time this is what I’m feeling, what my thoughts are. This is how my disease is impacting my life.

This is me. For better or worse.

This past week I went through two very dark, frightening and intensely disturbing days. These days left me questioning everything. Worse I believed I was on the cusp of another major depressive episode.

The pendulum was swinging and I was swinging along with it.

However, after these despairing days, I woke to a surprise. These feelings had mostly disappeared. I do not understand why.

The pendulum lost its momentum.

The only sense I can make out of it, as I look back, is that I simple rode it out. Let the feelings be as difficult as that was. But I didn’t do this purposefully. It just seemed to be that way.

I remember someone once told that feelings, no matter how intense or frightening, were just feelings. Not good or bad. That they shouldn’t be judged as that only strengthens them, gives them fuel to last and grow. In the case of bipolar disorder I argued this quite vociferously. Somewhere though I kept that thought in mind unacknowledged.

That’s an immense challenge when you feel out of control and the intensity of these feelings cannot be overcome. I really cannot be certain if this idea helped me at all. Later I wondered. Now I believe, as much as possible, we should take this to heart.

Perhaps this simply means taking each day, each as it comes. We should live with this in mind. Not looking forward, not looking backward. Being in the moment, elated, bad or happy.

Even as we watch the pendulum. Even if the pendulum swings as watch.

Hope and love to all

Terry

Every Once in a While…

Sure. a real stigma about mental illness exists. It’s undeniable. It’s sometimes blatant, sometimes subtle, sometimes ignorant and sometimes discriminatory. I have been alternately bemused, confused, confounded and just plain hurt.

It’s particularly distressing when someone close to you, someone you rely on for support, either cannot or will not understand the reality of bipolar disorder and its impacts. Or worse, in my opinion, thinks it’s a matter of will power or imaginary manifested to gain attention or escape responsibility. Why on earth would someone even consider conjuring the impacts of bipolar disorder? It’s just a plain stupid thought.

Recently though a neighbour restored some hope that attitudes are beginning to change. I don’t know him that well but have had him look in on my plants while I was away. Over Christmas, while quite manic, I decided I was going to take a trip and for some reason I barged in on him for help in arranging the flight.

He immediately realised something was wrong but didn’t know the reason behind my wild thinking. He was patient but adamantly refused to help. Moreover, he managed to actually calm me down. (That’s an achievement that deserves applause anytime).

A few days later he knocked on my door. He kindly wanted to know if I was alright and understandably asked what had happened. I’m normally reticent to divulge that I’m bipolar, let alone try to explain it. But his interest was borne of concern and I felt earnest.

He knew nothing of bipolar disorder but wanted to understand. So over the course of a couple of hours, we had a real conversation and he was happy to learn about bipolar, it’s effects, how it is diagnosed and treated and if it is curable. I told him that one of the best ‘treatments’ is support from friends and family. Since, he has often dropped in, called me or dropped me an email just to check in.

I now consider him a true friend and a man with a compassionate heart. I greatly appreciate him.

Wow.

Sometimes people can really surprise you.