I go every week (routine is important). Wednesdays at 7pm. Yesterday was my 3rd session.
I really like my counselor. We clicked right away and he is very easy to talk to. And I trust him which is KEY. And after reading some of the issues he helps people with I know I am not the most wacked out person he talks to. And in a warped way that is encouraging to me. When I explain feelings or thoughts that the average person might balk at he doesn’t even bat an eye. And he replies back with verbiage that lets me know that he gets it. I sense that he has a pretty good understanding of this disease. In his world I am very normal (if there really is such a thing as “normal”). The short time I have been seeing him has already helped immensely. I have a long way to go….but I am encouraged to stick with it. We went over some breathing exercises to use as tools to help navigate through some of the times when stress is about to send me over the deep end. Stress is a trigger for me. A trigger is something that can send me from one cycle to the next. So from normal to mania or depression. Sudden change and major stress are very hard on me. (and this winter there has been a boatload of both in my life. Which I think played a huge role in my “mixed-mania” episode)
Anyone who has taken a good yoga class can relate to how important and good focused breathing is for you. And how relaxed you feel afterwards (when done right.). So that is my focus this week. Practicing “breath focus”. Inhaling peace and calm (or the color blue as I described to him last night. Ya can’t shut down the artist in me! Loves me some COLORS!) and exhaling tension, anxiety or fear (which I saw to be the color red). A wise man once said-“In through nose. Out the mouth. Good, Daniel-san!”
In my recent sadness/madness I refused family and friend’s pleas to seek professional help in the form of therapy. It’s not that I didn’t want to talk to a counselor. It’s just at the time BREATHING was difficult. Let alone researching for a counselor, calling to make an appointment and actually drumming up the strength to follow through and go. The depression locks you into a bleak little black box. It was all I could do to make it to work and back each day. Getting out of bed to face the day seemed impossible. The most minute of tasks seemed beyond my capability. Have you ever sat in the edge of your bed for HOURS trying to talk yourself into just getting in the shower and getting ready for the day? No? Well I have. And it sucks. Total waste of time. (I apologize for many of you who saw me in my stinky state. I blame it on the box.)
A bit of advice for those of you who love and live with someone who is Bipolar. Instead of telling them what to do to get help…offer to help do it for them. Something like “I will research a list of counselors for you and once you pick one I will make the appointment for you and I am willing to drive you there and hang out in the lobby and drive you home when you are done. I love you enough to bear this burden with you.” The last thing I needed was a to-do list. I felt like my family was giving me one by suggesting I go see a Dr…because it required that I take action and I was paralyzed by life at the time. I know now that they weren’t pushing a to-do list at me…but it FELT that way. And feeling takes over reason when you are in that bleak little black box. (I friggin hate that box!)
As much as I doubt God’s goodness and purpose for my life I do need to publicly state how much He has tangibly cared for me during the recent rough patches. He used friends to reach me at very specific moments in time. One of these friends lives in Colorado and the other lives here. And I had not spoken to either in well over a year…..and miraculously during some of the darkest times (aka- me in the box!) I received texts from both of them saying “God put you on my heart. I can’t stop thinking about you. Are you ok?” And I wasn’t. Far from ok….and it was jarring that they seemed to know that I was on the brink of doing something harmful to myself at that very moment and their texts shook away the suicidal haze. Wowza.
I had stopped talking to God about what I was dealing with because I felt like He was the cause of it all. That somehow He was the hand pushing me down under the water rather than the hand offering to pull me up and out. Rather than seeing purpose in being Bipolar ….I find myself more prone to anger. “Why me? Why this?” Instead I hope to see it as “How can I use this to help others? How can I glorify Him in all of this?” This is why I am writing this blog. Because I will always be Bipolar. Rock on. That’s life. But if I can help encourage one other person facing the same fate then it’s worth it. So if you are reading this…you aren’t alone. There are a lot of us out there. And we are freakin’ awesome. Welcome to the crazy club….it’s one hell of a roller coaster. And not everyone meets the height requirements to get on said roller coaster. So keep that in mind. We are special.
; )
Sara Mo
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