Hope as Faith

In the last few weeks, I have felt pieces of myself fall away. Like a snake molts, sheds dead skin. Like a sculptor chisels away stone to discover the inherent art.

Is this what a rebirth is? I have no experience but it’s the only word that comes to mind. Not a rebirth in the religious sense but surely spiritual. Not a ritual baptism, something more fundamental, more personal – a renewal of hope.

Let me ask a question, rhetorical but important. What if tomorrow we all woke up with past firmly behind, with a rejuvenated optimism and a startling new hope? How would this change your life and world, the lives of your friends and family, even change the world?

That change could be fantastic and open our eyes to a realm of endless possibilities. A change that could turn us away from the hurt, despair and misunderstanding of the past.

Sure, this is a utopian vision. Perhaps it’s hubris to suggest. But why shouldn’t we believe that a better life is possible, that a better world is possible. That compassion and understanding can prevail.

As recent days have passed, I have felt a new hope sweeping through me. A hope, or dream, that I have never encountered, never known.

I hope this hope is a permanent part of my life.

Many people find this same hope by having faith in a formal religion. By believing that everything, good or bad, happens for a reason.

For me, I have not found a religion that I can fully trust. Religions, in general, have been at the centre of so much injustice, violence, intolerance and war. This is only my opinion and I certainly am not denigrating anyone’s beliefs. I respect these convictions and sometimes I wish I could have the same.

But I don’t.

However, when it comes to my life and mental illness, I have to hold onto hope. For a fulfilling life, for proper treatment, for a cure. I hope this for all of us.

I choose hope. I choose love as my doctrine.

Hope as Faith.

Moving Forward, Looking Back

Looking back on many of my posts in this blog, I was struck by a couple of things. First, many posts were fueled by anger and confusion. Second, a good number of them were decidedly negative.

Recently, I have been spending time with a psychologist. It’s been a mind opening experience. I have realized that for years and decades I have carried around so much negativity.

It’s a heavy burden, an anchor, a wretched gravity that has left me stuck or worse losing ground. I have for decades defined myself by my past which, without going into detail, is best described as dysfunctional. By defining who and what I am by past hurt and wounds I have very effectively never broken away from the past.

I have never understood, perhaps purposefully, who I could or should be today, this moment. I really have never looked to the future with hope, joy and wonder.

And this has showed in much of my writing in this blog. It has been what I was feeling. Now I’m uncomfortable with that anger, that remorse and that sense of pervading loss.

This is not the way to lead a life. In fact, it exaggerates the already strong feeling of being a victim and being helpless. This is not leading a life; it is wallowing in how the past has conquered me.

I realize that only I can break that backward definition. I still have to put the past in proper perspective and I will always carry it. That takes work and it’s not a particularly easy thing to accomplish.

But it isn’t who I am, who I want to be. I have the power to redefine myself. To resurrect myself is not an understatement.

When I first began working with the psychologist, one of the first words she offered to describe me was resilient. I would never have even thought to use this word in relation to myself. However, to come this far in my life I am resilient and I have accomplished many things. The exact problem is that I haven’t given myself any credit; I haven’t let myself be proud.

I haven’t allowed myself to be happy and hopeful.

All this is a revelation, it’s an epiphany. I’m trying to cut those cords, allow myself to be who I want to be and what I want to achieve.

My goal is to recognize my strengths, my talents and that I can contribute to the world rather than a burden. I can’t promise that I will never get angry or lash out at an unfair past.

I can promise, though, I will do my utmost to look at myself positively, with hope and with a quiet pride.

 

 

Peace and love Terry

 

Lean On Us

Hi, it’s me.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qb5w3pGhhQ4&feature=youtu.be

Love and Understanding

Love and understanding are the best words I’ve heard yet – Blue Rodeo

I have been, as of late, curious and exploring different ways to treat and deal with, for lack of a better term, mental illness and in my case bipolar disorder. Mostly, I have been asking how meditation, particularly within Buddhism, and mindfulness can be a positive force in treatment.

As far as I have read, and I’m certainly not claiming to be an expert, I believe this can be a wonderful tool, I don’t think it precludes the need for medications and psychotherapy. Everything has to mesh together as we move toward the goal of leading happy, fulfilling lives.

As an offshoot of considering this, I also began thinking about a wish list. What could improve our lives?

For me, it comes down to two fundamental wishes. I could probably add on others but I think these two cover quite a lot of ground.

First, and most obvious, I hope for a true and full cure for all mental illness. A wide range of hurdles remain before this is reality. However, I think it’s important that we do not give up believing that one day this will happen.

Second, I want more love, understanding and compassion. This extends beyond mental illness. The world would be an immensely better place if compassion and understanding were the norm rather than the exception.

As I look at mental illness and consider love, understanding and understanding, I see a two-way road. We need more from the world. Undeniably. We need to treat ourselves with more love, understanding and compassion. This too is undeniable.

And this is where I think meditation and mindfulness meets medical treatment.

This excerpt from an article entitled “Buddhism and My Psychiatric Practice” by Charles Byrne sheds light on how he brings these two together.

At first I was concerned there might be some contradiction between my Buddhist practice and my work in psychiatry. I later realised, however, that fundamentally my work involves helping people and therefore is fully compatible with Buddhism. I do not tell my patients about Buddhism. But its philosophy helps me in my work and I tell my friends in the profession about its humanistic ideals. Buddhist theory has influenced the way I do therapy.

Buddhist beliefs ring with compassion and understanding. Isn’t it worthwhile to consider this? Why not.

If we can cultivate compassion and understanding as the general public and some public figures view mental illness, it’s not wasted effort. We should open windows on our world and how we live. We should consider how we can encourage the world to offer compassion, just as we need to find ways to be compassionate to ourselves.

Ultimately, let’s continue to hope. Without hope, we will be lost.

 

Hope and love to all

Terry

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.