Summer Vacation

Today was C's last day of school for the term. She had a barbecue and bouncy house at the preschool, and I wish more than anything I had been there to see her bouncing around and laughing her head off. :D Now, we have seven weeks of summer vacation. SEVEN WEEKS. Of having her all day. Meaning no "free time" to go to the grocery store without her yelling and grabbing at everything she sees. No quiet brunches with my, well, imaginary friends, I suppose, since I no longer have people in the area to brunch with, heh. Seven weeks of caring for her 24/7 without those precious 16 hours a week to go to the salon, go to the gym, run errands... And all while my own school is starting back up for the summer term. Whee! Life is an adventure, LOL.

The new meds seem to be working remarkably well. I haven't had any mood issues whatsoever; the adjustment was pretty seamless. The only pitfall seems to be that they make me incredibly drowsy. It's not like the last meds, which made me pass out without warning behind the wheel of a car... This is gradual, a heaviness that drifts in like a slow-moving fog and takes over. That being said, I've been napping a lot lately. I'm hoping that will wear off as I get used to the new prescription, and, indeed, I slept much less today than I have been sleeping, so I'm taking that as a sign of progress!

It's great to be in a show again. Rehearsals are something I look forward to, and the work is... well, gratifying. I feel like I'm creating something again, like I'm collaborating creatively, and like I'm working toward an attainable end goal. In many ways, I feel like I'm starting over, trying to remember skills that I haven't practiced in half a decade... But it feels SO GOOD. I can't believe I've been doing anything else with my time for this long.

Adjustments

Day One on the new prescription:

Slept until 2pm. Went to get Hubby lunch. Came home, had to fight the urge to go back to bed. At 3pm. They weren't kidding when they said this stuff could make me drowsy... I hope I adjust soon. I have to be up early on Saturday!

And Sometimes, Dreams Come True!

I can hardly believe it. My head is spinning, my feet haven't touched the ground... I auditioned yesterday for a local production of The Tempest (which just so happens to be the first play I ever did, waaaaay back in 10th grade--AND the play in which my first-ever kiss occurred--ON STAGE!!). I went in prepared, professional, and expecting great things of myself. I didn't expect a role, because these people had never seen me before and didn't know me from Adam. I didn't expect applause or congratulations. I didn't expect anyone to acknowledge me, or my valiant attempts at returning to the stage after more than half a decade away. I expected nothing from them, and everything from myself. I delivered.

I wasn't nervous. I read with confidence. I didn't hesitate to try anything they asked of me. I walked in with head held high, and I left two inches taller than when I had come in. I was PROUD of myself... For the first time in *I don't know how long.*

This evening, I got the call. I got a part! With plenty of stage time, a handful of important lines, and OHMYGOSH A REAL PART IN A REAL PLAY FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE GRADUATING UNIVERSITY!!

This comes at an interesting time, because, as we all know, I've struggled very heavily with PTSD this year. I've gone through a great deal, and I've journeyed a long way to find inner peace and strength in my life. Additionally, as I mentioned before, I passed out behind the wheel on Friday and ran off the road, wrecking Hubby's car. This was the final straw for my current meds, which means I have to change them--tomorrow. I'm anticipating a couple of weeks where I'm not sure what I'm feeling, or where I feel very little (that's typically the case when I transition: I go a bit numb). I was feeling anxious about that, but now! NOW! I have something glorious to keep me on Cloud Nine for the next two months!!

My readers have seen me fluctuate heavily in the very recent past. First, I was bursting with inspiration and optimism. Next, I was in a pit of despair. Well, nearly killing myself on Friday gave me the final kick in the seat that I needed to get out and start to make things happen. No more excuses. If I want happiness, I have to go out and GET IT, instead of waiting for it to come to me. I spent ALL DAY Friday preparing for this audition, shopping for an appropriate outfit, hunting down my actin' shoes, planning my hair and makeup, taking self-portraits so I'd have something resembling a headshot, updating my horribly out-of-date and dusty resume... I turned a very scary moment into a moment of reawakening. It gave me the courage I needed to go out and TRY...

...And I succeeded! :D

So, of my 3 goals recently set (to lose 30 lbs, to get my voice back in shape, and to be on stage before the end of 2013), I am currently ACTIVELY working toward the first two, and I've managed to reach the third. The one that mattered the most to me is becoming a reality right before my eyes. I am coming back to the stage, and it feels like coming HOME.

I couldn't possibly be any happier than I am RIGHT NOW.

Dreams really DO come true!

Just Across the Horizon

Well, I can safely say the worst is behind me. My appetite is back to a healthy and appropriate size (meaning I didn't switch from fasting to emotional eating; I'm eating two small meals a day, which is my standard). I put myself out on a limb this morning, and I came out all the better for it.

Success can be measured in a variety of ways. For me, realizing I still have the strength to take risks, the confidence to be myself and give something my all, and the satisfaction of knowing I did an excellent job is going a really long way. I don't need reassurance that today was a success, which is evidence that *I* am a success. I don't have to let go of myself, and I don't have to get lost in a depression. Everything can be overcome.

Wake-Up Call

This morning, around 5am, I fell asleep behind the wheel of my husband's Prius. I was driving 55mph along the highway when I lost consciousness, and the car veered suddenly to the right. It was the THUNK! of losing my side mirror to a metal post that jolted me from my unintentional slumber. Yes, I fell asleep while driving and hit a metal post while going 55mph. C and I were both okay, although the car sustained some fairly heavy body damage, and that side mirror is resting somewhere along 395S. Frankly, I'm lucky to be alive, and I'm lucky that C was in the middle seat and didn't take any of the force of the impact.

So here I was, last week talking about dreams reborn, this week moping about life getting me down, and today? Well, today, I could easily have died. I could have lost my daughter. By no fault of my own, in that instant that I lost consciousness, everything could have ended. Instead, I have to come up with $1000 to fix the car and hope that our insurance premiums don't go up. (Also, I have to switch medications, because I've been having some trouble staying awake at the wheel ever since beginning this particular pharmaceutical. Pity, because it was really working very well for my moods...) All in all, a VERY small price to pay. Catastrophe narrowly averted. Life goes on...

But it got me thinking. Life is fragile, and it's a gift, not a guarantee. My father-in-law told me just yesterday to quit worrying so much or I was going to find myself in the hospital, and that his own brushes with mortality have taught him to think of each day as a bonus. If every day is a bonus day, you don't want to waste your bonus time on something as silly as worrying about things you can't control. What I am now learning is that every day IS a bonus, and I don't want to waste it on depression.

Now, now... I know what you're all thinking. "But you're bipolar. Of course you're going to experience periodic depression." Yes, I realize this... But something snapped in me today. Just because I'm feeling depressed, it doesn't mean I have to give myself over to those feelings. I can fight them! I used this morning's accident as an excuse to spend the day preparing for a theatrical audition this weekend. I'm not expecting to be cast, but I guarantee I won't be cast if I don't audition! If I want to regain control of my life--if I want to recapture my dreams--then I've got to put myself out there! I've got to TRY. I can't fear rejection or failure; I have to embrace the opportunities that are presented to me. I have to stay positive, and project that positive attitude into the universe. I have to believe that I can see my dreams come true, that I WILL see my dreams come true, and only then can they stand a fighting chance.

I'm still feeling depressed. I still have no self-confidence and can't eat (although I had some noodles last night, which is more than I've had since breakfast Wednesday, and more than I've had today), and I still hate what I see in the mirror... But I have the opportunity to change all that. If I go out and PURSUE LIFE, I can regain that vitality and brilliance that I thought I had lost long ago. If I CHERISH what I have, I'll learn to focus on that instead of worrying about what may be lacking. If I live fully and love freely, then life and love will envelop me.

That collision was a wake-up call. Not only to literally wake up and drive, but to wake up to what life has to offer, right here and right now. The Universe may very well be speaking to me now, and it's screaming its bloody head off to tell me to get off my rear and put wonderful things in motion. Life is, after all, what we make of it.

Darkness

Sometimes, I feel that I censor my blog too much. Try to keep the readers happy, you know? Fill them with words of inspiration, of strength, of hope... But that's not true to life, not for me. I have Bipolar II Disorder, so my moods fluctuate. I might be on top of the world, full of dreams and ambition, thrilled just to be alive... Only to fall abruptly down to earth, where I lie beaten, alone, and bloody as hell.

Just last week, I wrote that dreams never die. I wrote about new goals I was setting for myself. I wrote about hope for the future, and a desire to make my dreams come true. This week, I write about defeat. About giving up. About despair.

It can happen in the blink of an eye. A rose-colored world goes dark, and, all at once, everything that shone in the sun is now masked in darkness. All I see is blackness, and all I feel is the cold enveloping me. I want to push myself, to dream big, to pursue greatness... But I feel like a complete and utter failure at all aspects of life. I lose all self-confidence, all hope, all will to go on. I simply go through the motions of life as dictated by C's schedule. I get up to put her on the bus to school, and I get her off the bus. I feed her, I bathe her, I hold her... But I feel so incredibly alone. It's all a charade. I can't connect with her, because I feel like I've been cut off from myself. I can't FEEL anything that isn't dark and gloomy.

I know, intellectually, that things will get better. That this can only last a week or two, that the drugs I take at night will counteract the chemical changes in my brain, that the heart is just an organ pumping blood through your body and not the seat of emotion. You can't die of a million heartbreaks; they're all in your mind. You just have to struggle through until the lights come back on. And the lights always come back on. If they don't, I just go to the doctor and get another pill. It's easy, really. It's a game of endurance.

But here I am, at the beginning of the game, just setting out on my dark path back toward the light... And it all seems so far away, well beyond my reach. Dreams are a thing of the past, because I can't afford them anymore. Hope is useless; it doesn't make the journey any shorter or less arduous. I can't even muster a smile.

Perhaps the only good to come of this is that I can't seem to force myself to eat. Makes dieting and losing weight that much easier... So perhaps I'll make a little progress on that goal to lose 30lbs. Without love and inspiration to drive me, I sure as hell won't make any progress toward putting myself on stage, but I would probably wither in the heat of the spotlight at this point. No, I just need to stick to the shadows, lurk in the darkness, and push through until everything shifts back toward a life worth living. A life that WILL return... Eventually.

Broken

When I think of myself, I don't imagine some run-down, washed-up old woman. Sure, I'm not the vibrant dreamer I was when I was 20, but I haven't aged or fallen apart that much in the past 9 years (oh dear, my birthday's just around the corner now!). I see myself as a positive thinker, a strong woman, a mother, a friend, a wife. I see myself as someone who can weather any storm, and who has seen quite a few. I'm a fighter, although I'll never go looking for one. I'm a fixer, although I can't fix myself. I see myself as many things, and most of them are positive, but the one word that never changes is broken. I see myself as broken.

I've been broken for longer than I've been able to (legally) drink. Broken since long before I cast my first ballot in an election. Broken almost since I started to drive. I can hardly remember a time when I was whole...

Damaged goods.

I used to think someone would come along and patch me up, good as new. Some kind of hero would whisk me away, and life would be a fairy tale, fully of happily ever after. I thought someone would make the pain go away. Someone would shine a light into all the darkness and let in the sun forever. That never happened. That never will happen. It's a childhood fantasy. I'm a broken woman, and I always will be a broken woman. I'm okay with that.

Because, despite being broken, I've managed to piece together a pretty great life for myself. I have friends, I have family, I have people who love me and whom I love. I have dreams (still!), I have goals, I have drive. I have the determination to make it through every day and see through to the next. I have a daughter, a child, a little life who relies on me for her everything. And, broken as I may be, I give her everything. Everything I have, and more. I gave her life, and I will give her love until the end of time.

I may be broken. I'll always be broken, I'm sure... But that sure hasn't held me back yet!

So Far, So Good

Well, I've been doing my jaw exercises, my ice/massage/heating treatments, and taking my anti-inflammatories, and I'm definitely noticing some slight improvements with my TMJ. I still can't open my jaw straight up and down, but the deviation is DRASTICALLY reduced. I'm clenching my jaw a lot less, which means less tension, less popping, and less locking. All of which translates into less pain. So, if things keep up like this, maybe I won't need surgery after all. *crosses fingers*

On the friend front, I've met a LOT of promising prospects! I have plans to meet with someone tomorrow for lunch and someone else Thursday night for dinner and drinks. I have two other people that have expressed an interest in meeting, but we haven't tried to schedule anything yet, so we'll see. The girl I'm meeting Thursday has a very active circle of friends, so I'm hoping I can work my way in with them and meet even more new people through her. Hubby's a bit anxious about the guy I'm meeting tomorrow for lunch. He has every right to be uncomfortable, but I've made it very clear to all parties involved that I WILL NOT be engaging in any inappropriate activities, and the guy still wanted to meet me. He's either clueless or genuinely interested in a platonic relationship, so I've decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, meet, and figure out what his intentions are. One wrong move, and I simply block him. Easy enough!

A while back, I posted about some of the symptoms I was experiencing in relation to the reduction in my medication. Well, somehow, without me even noticing, those symptoms faded away into nothingness. I have adjusted to the lower dose now, and I'm sleeping well, functioning normally while awake, and my moods are nicely in check. I haven't fallen asleep behind the wheel driving since the dosage was changed, so all is looking good.

The contractor is back today. There are a few very minor touch-ups that need to be done. Today, he's replacing the hardware for the blinds that was lost so that we can re-hang them, and he's fixing the latch on our door that stopped lining up when they took out the carpet. We still haven't moved our stuff back into the room; I think Hubby and I are both kind of enjoying the clutter-free feeling of empty bookshelves and closet rods. ;)

C is on her first day of Spring Break today. Because her school is year-round, it's a three week break. Here's hoping we both get through it without any major meltdowns! All in all, though, life is really good right now.

Not Quite Right

Well, it's been about a week since I switched to the lower dose of meds, if my daily pill sorter can be trusted. So far, things are... not quite right.

Today, I feel like my skin is crawling, and I kinda want to just rip it off. I keep thinking about taking a shower, as if that might help. I'll probably give it a try, because, while it may be a stretch, it may have a placebo effect. At the gym today, I got dizzy (par for the course) and had to sit down on the gym floor for over 5 minutes (NOT normal) until my head got right. Even then, I felt nauseated and achy and all around WRONG. I felt like the only thing in the world I could do was crawl into bed and sleep it off.

I was really moody the first few days. Poor Hubby had to deal with quite a few temper flare-ups, mostly from my inability to take a joke. It's hard to be carefree and happy when your body feels terrible.

It's difficult to explain, but when your meds aren't right or you're adjusting to a new dose, there's this sort of disconnect between your head and the rest of your body, and things don't feel right in either place. In your head, there's a sensation of being detached from your thoughts, almost as if they're coming from an outside source. I'm not hearing voices or anything that extreme, but I feel like thoughts are handed to me instead of created within my own brain. On top of that, my body feels vaguely like I've got the flu, and my skin feels like it's been glued on top of my body. I feel like I could peel it off.

Emotionally, I'm doing alright. My moods have leveled back out again, although I'm experiencing some increased rates of anxiety (the reason my dose was up so high in the first place), and it can get a little emotional when you feel like your body's just OFF. So I cry a little. No big sobfests, but tears of frustration that I have to feel lousy and there's nothing I can do except wait for my body to adjust to the new levels of medication in my system.

In other news, I've set out on a mission to make some new, local friends. There's a website that's intended to be used as a dating site but has an option to select for just friends, too. I've met some really cool people on there in the past, so I started up a profile again and have started putting out feelers. I actually had plans to meet this really cool chick for drinks this evening, but something came up and she asked to postpone. Maybe she found my blog and realized I'm secretly crazy and got scared away. ;) In any event, I've met a couple of interesting people, mostly local. I'm having to be careful because there are far more guys on there than girls, and the hubby's not too interested in me making new guy friends, so I'm trying to be polite but distant with the men while sorting through the women and looking for those who have shared interests and/or interesting hobbies. I have GOT to get a social life! Our last local friends moved (ironically to the city where my parents live, so at least I'll still be seeing them a few times a year) on Saturday, and we didn't see THEM nearly often enough... I need to befriend someone who has a social circle so I can branch out and have people to see movies with, to go to dinner with, to go see local bands with, and maybe someone who doesn't work in the mornings who would like to get brunch once in a while while C is in school. My social life has been on the back burner for years now, and I think it's contributed a great deal to the troubles I've had. I can't keep waiting for my girlfriends in OK to suddenly decide they want to move to Reno or for us to get magically summoned back by some unforeseen job offer in Norman. We've settled in here; we bought a house here; I'm starting a career here... It's time to make it official and MAKE SOME FRIENDS HERE.

Side Effects and Withdrawals

Over the past several months, my medications have kept my moods stable. I have felt myself collected, on firm and steady ground, without any major mood swings or breakthrough episodes of mania or depression. Things have been good. However, a disturbing side effect began to rear its head some months ago, and, recently, it has become so severe that I've had to adjust the dosage of my meds. That side effect? Narcolepsy.

Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating a little. I don't know the clinical diagnostic criteria for narcolepsy, nor have I been diagnosed as having such. All I know is, I'll be fine, and then I can't keep my eyes open. Like, literally CANNOT keep them open. It doesn't matter if I'm standing, sitting, working, relaxing, carrying C, or even DRIVING (this is what gets so scary). I have become addicted to caffeine again in my attempts to overcome the overwhelming fatigue that hits suddenly and quickly makes me comatose. Even large doses of caffeine only dull the effects. I have fallen asleep in classes, and I have fallen asleep numerous times behind the wheel before I could get safely pulled over.

So, in an effort to protect not only myself but all the other good people who might be on the roads I drive, we have decreased the dosage of my primary mood stabilizer, Geodon. It's been about three days since I started the new dose, and last night, it hit me HARD. I take my pills at bedtime so any drowsiness will be put to good use as I settle in for the night, but at medication time, I started getting sweaty and shaky. My heart was racing, I couldn't catch my breath, and my thoughts went into a tailspin. I swear, I was hearing myself think at a hundred words a second, and none of it was in English. (I'm not claiming it was in any real language, mind you--I don't think I secretly know any other languages, nor do I believe it was any form of speaking in tongues, but the words that I was thinking--VERY LOUDLY--were definitely NOT English words.) My stomach ached, and I was on the verge of tears. I felt like I was dying. Every instinct in my body was screaming at me to go take another Geodon to increase the amount in my system, to combat the withdrawals. Of course, while trying to decrease a dose, taking extra medication doesn't do any good. Besides, there was no way to take a pill and get anything other than MORE than my previous dose, and who knows what effect that might have? For about an hour, while I waited for the evening's pills to kick in, I sat in bed and wished that I would die. Then, as suddenly as it started, the symptoms vanished, and I was able to enjoy a little television with the hubby before I rolled over to go to sleep.

We're not sure how effective this lower dose will be at controlling my moods. We're also not entirely sure that decreasing the dose will stop the frightening narcolepsy-like side effects. If the lower dose doesn't work, for whatever reason, I will have to change medications and begin again the arduous task of finding the right dose of the right medication. That means months of trial and error, of feeling like I'm walking a tightrope over a pit of bleak insanity, of struggling just to get through my day-to-day tasks. It's not something I want to go through again. Ever. It's a miserable process, to be sure. I'm hoping that, after these first few weeks of adjusting to the new dose, I'll be able to control my moods without falling asleep at inopportune times, and the withdrawal symptoms will cease. In the mean time, I am fortunate to have a strong and understanding husband to support me, to hold me, and to reassure me that these feelings will pass, and I'm not going to die.

To anyone who thinks that living with bipolar disorder is easy, let me assure you, it is not. Then again, living without bipolar disorder probably isn't so easy, either. We're all in this together.

Edit: It's only fair of me to point out the one positive side effect of this change in my medication: My appetite has decreased remarkably. I'm forgetting to eat, which means I'm not overeating for a change, which is always a good thing. We'll see how long THAT lasts, though. ;)

What A Great Day!

Today was one of those rare days when I truly get to sleep in as late as I want. Of course, it didn't quite work out that way, because my phone rang at the much-too-early 10:30 and woke me up. How rude! ;)

I had some work to get done today (in fact, at 9pm, I still have a few minutes' worth left to finish), but that's no big deal. It's mindless work, done at my home computer, while sipping Starbucks and listening to music if I feel like it. I don't mind working a few hours a day, especially when I think about the paycheck I'll be getting at the end of the month! ;)

I left the house three times today. The first trip out was to go sell an amp that I haven't been using, so I started the day out by clearing a large item out of my house and getting a handful of cash in exchange. Nice!

The second outing was a total surprise, out-of-the-blue, last-minute trip for something WONDERFUL: We adopted a kitty! I was trying to look up whether it's legal to own potbelly pigs within city limits here (in furtherance of a drawn-out IM joke with a friend about what to give Hubby for Valentine's Day), and I stumbled across the local animal shelter's website with a listing of adoptable pets. I only checked the cats to see if our missing cats happened to be on there, but instead, I found this beautiful little guy, only a few months older than the kitten. I linked his profile to Hubby, who responded by saying he preferred this other (female) cat. I agreed that she was quite lovely, and he pointed out that there were only 30 minutes until the shelter closed for the day, so I'd better get going! Hubby's not the impulsive type, but I guess he sensed that the house has felt a little bit empty since our two adult cats disappeared... In any event, once I had the go-ahead from him, I immediately packed up C, jumped in the car, and drove to the shelter to meet this lovely cat face-to-face! She was just THE sweetest cat I have ever met, she took to C right away, and she seemed like she'd be a perfect fit for our home.... So I signed the papers!

The only downside to the adoption is that she hasn't been spayed yet, and the shelter won't release an animal until it's been altered, so I called up our vet and made a surgery appointment. They're going to spay her on Tuesday, so the shelter will drop her off to be boarded overnight at the vet Monday night, and, once she's recovered from surgery Tuesday afternoon, I get to bring her home!

Because Hubby picked her out, and because my rule has always been female dogs and male cats only, I let him name her. Lady Gretchen Jameson McFluffington, 3rd Duchess Poofyhuntershire. Yeah, I married a strange one. ;) He actually chose Florence, but I vetoed that in favor of Gretchen. The vet said her name was too long for the file, so they're simply calling her Lady Gretchen and ignoring her title of nobility. That's okay, I think we can forgive them for that!

Lady Gretchen Jameson McFluffington, 3rd Duchess Poofyhuntershire.

The third venture out of the house today was to have a rare, delightful dinner out with Hubby and C. We rarely go out because C tends to get overly vocal at the dinner table, and we don't have a sitter, so when Hubby offers it up, I grab at it with both hands!

The highlight of the day was absolutely adopting Duchess Poofyhuntershire, but that wasn't the only bright moment in my day. I also received the copy of the Extended Protective Order in the mail--documentation that my abuser cannot come near me or C for an entire year (after which point, I suspect he'll be in prison for his pending felony charges). Although it's been official for two days, it was really reassuring to get the paperwork in the mail. I feel like framing it and putting it up on the wall!

Yet ANOTHER positive thing happened today (I know, it seems impossible for this much good to occur in a single day!) when I contacted the Disabiliy Resource Center at my university. As it turns out, my mental health diagnoses qualify me for disability services and accommodations. Things like untimed tests, or taking tests in a room without classmates, things to help ease stress about assignments and exams... All of these are good things that I have struggled all my life without, but am finally self-aware enough to ask for assistance with. Maybe the next time I'm too depressed to go to class for three weeks, I'll get some leeway instead of a D in my dance class! ;) It will be nice to have my disabilities documented and respected for what they are.

OH, and I got the call today that C's custom wheelchair is ready and can be picked up Monday! WOOHOO!!

On that note, I'm going to finish up my work for the night and wrap up this wonderful day with some television in bed. I get to sleep in again tomorrow... Here's hoping the rest of the day is as great as today was!

Starting Over

In today's mail, I received a DVD with a slideshow of pictures taken the day Hubby and I renewed our wedding vows in October. After a tough EMDR/therapy session and a long, emotional afternoon, seeing those images was just what I needed.

The hubster and I hadn't been getting along very well for a while. We were teetering near the brink of marital disaster, and I wondered what life would be like if I took C and walked away. All around me, marriages were crumbling, and family members were just walking away from years of commitment without any obvious troubles, so it was easy to imagine that I could do it, too.

I thought about it for a long while, and I realized that I had everything to lose and nothing to gain by walking away. I saw that I had turned my back on a love that I cherished, and I had cut myself off from the best friend I had ever known. I resolved to work th

ings out for myself so that we could be happy together, like we had been in the beginning. Then we hit rock bottom. For a week, it looked like there wasn't any choice. We were absolutely doomed. But then... Out of nowhere, hope! It started with a simple, "I love you." It involved many tearful hours of intense conversations about where we were, what we wanted moving forward, and how to get there. Somehow, we fought our way out of the darkness and back into the light.

Love may not conquer all, but it sure can conquer a hell of a lot! We decided that, coming out of our darkest hour, the best way to move forward was to start over, in a sense. We decided to renew our vows. We planned a small, casual event on our alma mater campus and invited a handful of close friends to witness. Then we went to a favorite pub and hung out with fabulous people as a very happy re-married couple. It was truly one of the greatest days of my life. We wrote out our promises to one another and read them in front of the people we loved, while C happily roamed around and played in friends' purses. ;) Honestly, it was beautiful. The only thing about it I would change is the minor hair dye disaster I experienced that made my hair look rather like a Jolly Rancher on our special day!

One of the conditions of our blissful reunion of souls, suggested by myself and agreed upon by my darling, was that I seek out therapy for the PTSD that had been lurking in the shadows and secretly running my life for nearly a decade. He, of course, had always seen it there, and had done everything he could to nourish and support me. I, on the other hand, had been in hardcore denial, because being a victim seemed to mean being weak. As it turns out, it's quite the other way around. Being a victim and identifying yourself as such gives you the strength you need to start to undo the damage of your traumas. Hubby knew this, and he quietly and gently nudged me along until I was ready to realize it for myself.

I do not write about my PTSD or my mental health issues in seek of pity. In fact, the very idea that someone would pity me for any aspect of my life seems ludicrous, because everywhere I look, I see blessings. I write about these things because expressing them helps me to empower myself, to overcome the obstacles in my life, and because there have been countless times when I felt all alone in the world, and I want others out there like myself to be able to stumble across this blog and see that nope, they're not the only ones struggling to make it in this world.

This blog is about a journey. A journey to reclaim my life, reclaim power over my life, and reclaim the unbridled joy I felt before a few jerks cruelly yanked it away. I'm taking it BACK, and how! I still have a long way to go before I'm fully healthy, but I make incredibly progress on a daily basis, and I can't remember ever having felt more loved, more special, or more fulfilled.

Inadequate

Some days (most days?), I feel inadequate as a mother. Here I have this amazing little girl who needs so much from me, and I always feel like I'm coming up short. Am I her therapist or her mother? There simply aren't enough hours in the day to work, take care of school stuff, clean the house, cook dinner, and take care of her every need... So sometimes I skip out on one the therapeutic activities I had planned, or I let her play in her room alone too long while I write a paper instead of playing with her, or I can't do much more than feed and diaper her because my head and my emotions are in too much turmoil, and I can't function at a higher level.

C's overall "umbrella" problem is that she has an unbalanced translocation of chromosomes 7 and 8. She has a partial trisomy (extra material) of 8, and she's missing genes on 7 that are crucial in spine and brain development. Because of that tiny little chromosomal mix-up, she has a whole slew of medical problems encompassing every major system in her body, and those have resulted in physical and developmental disabilities. There is no name for this particular genetic anomaly because it's incredibly rare--something like 15 recorded cases in all of recorded medical history, and 4 of them are in my family. I was told by doctors that there was no way I could be carrying the anomaly that my older brother carries, and yet, after C was born, BAM! Reality smacked us in the face. I had defied all odds and brought into the world a little girl whose chromosomes are all out of whack, and we have no idea what to expect from that, medically or developmentally.

In short, it's MY FAULT that my daughter has disabilities. MY chromosomes were the ones that were screwed up and passed on this anomaly. It wasn't just this pregnancy, it was the two pregnancies that miscarried (presumably because they were missing a huge chunk of genetic material), and it's 75% of any pregnancy I could conceivably carry. I didn't choose to carry this or to pass it on, but it's really hard not to feel responsible when it was your body, as a mother, that failed your child. Then there are the added bonuses like C's bilateral colobomas, which happened during fetal development and don't appear to be linked to the chromosomal situation. Just a fluke because, yet again, my body failed her.

Being bipolar is a daily struggle. With the right combination of medications, you can go days or weeks without even remembering your diagnosis, but then a day comes along where you're just disproportionately sad for no reason, or you have a manic episode and spend too much money and can't sleep and talk too fast because your brain won't slow down. Those days, it feels impossible to keep your head above water, much less take care of a completely dependent young child. The PTSD hits even harder, hurling me into flashbacks or keeping me up all night with night terrors, leaving me walking around in a raw emotional state and a complete mental haze. I just pray that my screwed up body didn't pass along the mental illness along with the crummy chromosomes. I wouldn't be able to take knowing that she suffered emotionally in addition to the many other challenges she faces.

Then there's the anxiety. I know I have to be her strongest advocate in healthcare and education, but it's tough to be assertive when calling a doctor's office triggers a mild panic attack and pushing people has never been your forte. When people aren't cooperative in getting my daughter what she needs, I have to fight every instinct in my body and, against my nature, insist that they listen to me and take care of my daughter. I have to hold my breath and pray sometimes that they won't see me shaking, because I have to appear calm and tough when fighting for her. It's really difficult!

She's an awesome kid, and I love her with all my heart. I treasure her every action and sound, and I melt when I watch her sleep and listen to her slow, steady breathing. She is my baby, the love of my life, my world... But sometimes the outside world steps in and makes showing C what she means to me a nearly impossible task. I don't want her growing up with a mother who is sometimes emotionally vacant or distant. I want her to feel loved at all times and to know she can count on me for anything and everything. But can she? I doubt my abilities as a parent, because I made her this way and can't fix her, and because I'm struggling with so much of my own, it's more difficult to be the mom that she needs. Of course, her needs always come first... But sometimes, I just feel I don't have enough to give. Sometimes, I feel like I'm failing... And that's a tough burden to carry.

Back on Track!

Well, the holiday long weekend is officially over, C is on the bus on her way to school, and I've got an appointment with my trainer in just under two hours.  I have to clean and vacuum two rooms before C gets home (asleep) at noon so the steam cleaners can clean those rooms (a little gift from the hubby!).  I also have a paper to write and an online final to take by Wednesday.  /whew!  Life is always just a little bit hectic around here.  :)

I am eating nothing but Nutrisystem today, because I need to get back on the dieting wagon ASAP if I'm gonna look good by the time I go home for Christmas in 3 weeks!  Going home means running into old high school acquaintances at restaurants and stores and clubs, which means being sized up to see who's got the better life, the better figure, and the better clothes now.  Well, I'm going to lose the clothing competition hands-down, and those who don't know better will think my life isn't perfect because my daughter has special needs (how very wrong they are!), so I really have to fight on the superficial front and at least have the better figure!  ;)

I'm nervous because my therapist hasn't called me back since the insurance company limited my visits to 3, so I don't know yet if we can start up with my EMDR, which I desperately need.  I feel pushed aside and insignificant because he couldn't even be bothered to return my call and say, "We'll work something out."  It's been nearly two weeks, and I just haven't heard a word from him.  I'm a little angry.  I feel marginalized.  He's supposed to be on my side, supposed to be helping me limp through recovering from my PTSD, and he can't even make a phone call when I'm in crisis?  That's just not cool...  But I'm not writing him off yet.  I need his expertise and experience too much, and he may have worked some insurance magic behind the scenes that I just don't know about yet.  We'll find out about that at tomorrow's appointment.  I won't have to fret much longer.

This was a great weekend for me on Twitter.  I found a whole bunch of great new people to follow, and I have several new followers, myself.  I'm building a network of people who have experiences with special needs, particularly autism (I am LOVING the autism crowd!), parenting, and teaching.  I view these people as companions, peers, and resources...  I am learning so much about parenting a child with autism, which will help me teach children with ASD in a few years when I'm finished with school, and it helps me parent my own little girl, who doesn't have ASD but isn't NT, either.  I am meeting people whose lives are as hectic and emotionally challenging as mine is--people who GET IT.  And then, on top of it all, I'm meeting other teachers who can help give me tips as I enter the world of Special Education.  All of this is huge for me, but I appreciate the companionship most.  It's a lonely, isolating world when your child isn't typically developing, and it's that much lonelier without people on your side who have been there and know what you're experiencing.  Invaluable.

It's Cyber Monday, so I should stay off the computer as much as possible today.  I am completely out of money and can't afford to get sucked in by the online specials!  Boot Barn and Kohl's have been bombarding me with emails, and I'm more than a little tempted...!  Excessive shopping can be a symptom of a manic episode, and those often end in me spending ~$4000 I don't have, so  I have to sit back, relax, take deep breaths, and try to keep my mouse away from the Add To Cart buttons so I don't put myself in financial trouble.  Ahh, the joys of being bipolar!

Alright, time to eat some Nutrisystem breakfast and hop in the shower.  After all, it's just rude to show up at the gym smelly--you're supposed to at least start out smelling fresh!  ;)

I stumbled onto this old post from my retired blog...

It was written 3 years ago, but it still speaks to me.  Of course, things have changed since I wrote it.  C's medical issues are just part of everyday life, not the constant struggle they used to be...  The death of my niece Rebecca seems like a lifetime ago, and while it still makes me sad, it doesn't eat away at me anymore.  And I've returned to a heavily medicated state to control my moods and help me be the best wife and mother that I can be.  Still, though.... It's good to remember where we started, to look back and see how far we've come....

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It's just hard right now.  I have to keep acknowledging that it's hard, which I hate, and reminding myself that it's *okay* that it's hard right now.  I shouldn't be fine with everything--not yet.  It's normal to be hurting.  Healthy, even.

I don't know why I felt such a connection with Rebecca.  I can't explain it; it was just something that was THERE, that was a part of me.  Losing her, particularly before I got a chance to meet her, hurt me in a very real and deep way.  Mom described it as still being "raw," and I guess she's right.  It is.  The slightest touch in that area stings and burns like a bitch, and it leaves a resounding dull ache that can last for hours.

Ceili can't see.  I mean, she sees SOME, but I lose hope that she'll see very much.  Or maybe it's not hope I'm losing; maybe I'm just moving past the denial.  In any event, it SUCKS, and it breaks my heart, and I wish I could do something--ANYTHING--to change it.  Same with everything else.  Her chromosomes:  can't I just go in and delete that extra material?  Undo that little glitch in her development?  I don't have high hopes after her MRI and xrays today; something about the shift in the xray tech's demeanor between when we walked in the room for the scans and when we left ten minutes later tells me he didn't see the kinds of things we had wanted him to see  (or, rather, that he saw the kinds of things we didn't want him to see).

I'm feeling like a failure.  Like a failure as a mother, because my body couldn't produce a healthy little girl, and because I can't have any more children without significant medical intervention to ensure that they're free of this anomaly.  Failure as a wife, because I couldn't give my husband a healthy baby, and I can't give him more babies without said intervention.  Failure as a woman?  I don't know.  I know better, but I just can't shake the sense that this is ALL MY FAULT.  Perhaps Asher would have been better off with someone else who could give him healthy babies the old-fashioned, normal way.  But then Ceili wouldn't have been born, and even if she isn't the typical picture of a "normal" baby, she's still beautiful and incredible, and I'm eternally grateful that she came into this world.  

I'm having a hard time talking to Asher about this stuff.  It seems the moment it comes up, I either start to cry or begin making inappropriate jokes about it, neither of which is particularly conducive to a constructive, healthy discussion of it all.  I'm clearly just not coping with it yet.

I wake up.  I feed Ceili, I change her, I schedule her doctors' appointments, I play with her, I love on her, I put her to sleep at night...  I do everything she needs me to do.  That's what keeps me going, what maintains some illusion of normalcy in my life.  It's easy to appear strong and composed when I cannot do otherwise and still care for her properly.  That doesn't make me FEEL any more strong or composed, though.  

I feel lost.  Frightened.  Devastated.  Ashamed.  Guilty, hopeless, angry...  A million other adjectives, all negative.

Through it all, though, I am reminded constantly of the depth of my love for Asher and Ceili.  They bring such joy into my life, peace and comfort and light.  They make the world a beautiful and glorious place, even though my little corner of it seems so dark and dreary right now.

I still have trouble understanding how I "landed" a man like Asher.  He is brilliant, kind, and a rock.  He holds me up when I feel like I can't bear my own weight.  I only wish I could turn to him more right now.  I seem to be stuck in this middle ground between trying to look to him for comfort and trying to offer him some comfort.  I don't want to lean too much, because he has his own share of the weight to shoulder through all of this.  I don't want to cry too much or seem to weak or frightened because I don't want to complicate his end of things any.  At the same time, I don't want to distance myself so much that he can't lean on me a little....  

I don't know.  I don't know what I'm feeling or what I'm trying to say...  I don't know how to handle all of this.  I also know that it doesn't matter if I know how to; I have no choice BUT to handle it.  So I will.  I will do everything I have to do for Ceili, for Asher, for my marriage and for my family....  And I will continue to treasure the incredible man I married, and I will continue to be amazed by this beautiful child we created.  I will continue to find happiness where I can, and hopefully someday soon, I'll be able to smile without it feeling forced.  I'll be able to talk about Rebecca and about Ceili's medical issues without fighting back tears or feeling my throat close up on me.

I just wish I could do more.  Be more.  For Asher, for Ceili, and for myself.

This was not the way I imagined our life with a baby.  I never thought she wouldn't be healthy or that there wouldn't be more "happy accidents" in our lifetime.  

On the other hand, I never thought I would love these two so much that it could actually overpower the mood swings and keep me stable without medication.  At least I can hold onto that and find true, easy happiness--no forced smiles there.

While We're Getting Situated...

I feel like I should post a brief comment about what I foresee this blog being.  I'm going to chronicle the life of a parent of a child with special needs because, well, that's what I am.  This will not, however, be a blog about how to be a parent or why you're a bad parent or what a great parent I am.  This blog will also not be an online shrine to my darling daughter.  I'll also try to keep the "icky" talk to a minimum, because, c'mon, no one wants to read about dirty diapers or vomit.  Let's get real here.

I intend to post about life as I see it, through the darkly-colored glasses of Bipolar II Disorder and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, but also through the rose-colored glasses  of a tireless optimist who finds the beauty in life's darkest moments.  Which isn't to imply that my life is dark.  Actually, my life is pretty amazing, but I won't rub that in your face.  I'll let you decide for yourself, fair enough?

Sometimes, I will post videos or pictures of my animals being cute, because who doesn't like cute animals?  Sometimes, I will grieve the heavy burden that's been placed upon my shoulders.  Other times, I will rejoice in life's many blessings.  (Am I allowed to say blessings, or does that make me sound religious?)

When I want a new tattoo (which is virtually ALL of the time), I will post about that.  When I bleach out my hair in an insane decision to go blonde or dye my bangs turquoise because I feel like a rock star, I will post about that.  When school's got me a little bit insane, I'll be just another grad student blogging about schoolday woes.

This will inevitably have some of the markings of a mommy blog, because I'm a mom... blogging.  However, there is so much more to my life than being a mom, and I intend to let all of it find its home in this safe little nook of the internet.

I encourage comments.  Comments are good.  Tell me if I'm posting about inane, drab stuff that no one wants to read.  Tell me my hair looks awful in that last picture or that I need to pick a different color eyeshadow.  Ask me questions.  Tell me your stories.  I would love to see this as more of a community and less of a diary... So speak up!  Let me know you're out there, and let's talk about what's on YOUR mind!

For now, it's 10pm, and I'm lame, so I'm gonna go take a pill and hit the hay.  Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!  I'm celebrating with sushi, because I'm not the greatest cook in the world.  How are you spending your day off?