Support Systems

Well look at me go!   Even though I have a new posting schedule, this is the second post I am writing today.  Now that I am all organized and have my ducks in the same pond (I have given up on having them in a row), I feel empowered and ready to accomplish anything!  That anything today is going to be telling you about my support system and how important they are to me. 

My support system changes every so often, or people’s roles change, but for the most part, my family has been the base of it.  They have helped me emotionally and financially through the downs, and were there to celebrate the ups. 

My mom is still my mom, and even though I am 38 years old, she still calls to make sure I am doing okay and taking my meds (she is adorable).  She is always telling me about something she read on the internet about Bipolar Disorder and wondering if I have heard of it or tried it before.    If I tell her that I am going to try something new, like a vitamin or whatever, she always follows up with me about it.  She also buys me coloring books.  That is probably the coolest thing.  And it is always random-they just arrive in the mail with a note saying something like-“Saw this and thought of you! Love, Mom.”  I mean, how can you just not love that?

My aunt is pretty much the same way, always there.  She will send me random text messages just to say hi, or see if I am available to talk-I talk to both her and mom about once a week.  We can gab till all hours of the night if it weren’t for work.  She loves to hear about everything that is going on in life and I love to hear about everything going on in hers since we do not have the chance to see each other often.  We are probably each other’s biggest supporter.

My brother is great because, like me, he also understands that sometimes you do not want to be cheered up, but want someone to say “Fuck it all” with you “Piss on them.”  I mean, if you do not work through and embrace your feelings, what is the point?  He is also really good at distracting me from any woes I may be feeling.

I could go on all day about the friends I lean on, the family that helps me out, but that is not what I really want to get at.  What I want to get at is why I think it is so important you have a support system.  Everyone needs a support system; everyone. Whether they realize it or not, people at one point or another require some sort of human interaction to help them.  This may be a coworker’s opinion on a project, or even a “Great job, Danielle!” when you get an “A” on a paper you were excited about.  Those with mental disorders need a support system to survive sometimes. 

Me, I require a lot of support.  I have my friends, family, boyfriend, I am in some groups online, have a psychiatrist, and a therapist.  This might seem like over-kill for some, and it probably is.  Only you can know how much is enough support, or too little.  If you have too little, when then we (I mean you) need to change that. 

I have heard it all before, and I am guilty of it myself-people do not want to hear about my problems; they have their own lives to worry about; they will think different of me.  Well let me tell you, if your friend/family member is worth the title, then they DO care, and will not think different of you.  Those that do, just dump them, not worth the extra stress in your life.  When I started opening up to everyone about being bipolar, I found that not only did I feel 1,000 pounds lighter, but everyone was extremely supportive (except for my ex-husband).  Some of my friends even felt relieved because they wanted to talk about their own mental health and did not want me to think they were crazy!

(I just want you to know that I am on day three of writing this.)

My friends are really understanding, especially one who I do a lot of things with.  If I start feeling overwhelmed, I can just tell her and we will go to a quieter place so I can pull myself together.  If that is not an option, well then we just leave, and she is completely okay with that.  If she doesn’t hear from me for a couple of days, then I start getting text messages that literally say “just checking up on you.” 

My friends and family did not turn their backs on me; they look up to me.  They tell me all of the time how proud they are for me; tell me they love me, ask how they can help, empathize with me.  I feel like I broke down a wall, a wall that was keeping me locked away from everyone I cared about.  Now we have an open dialogue about mental health and we are trying to erase the stigma, raise awareness, help each other, and help others.  Are we going to change the world?  Probably not, but maybe!

No one knows what you are going through until you tell them.  Tell them.  They love you.  They want to help.  Show them articles that have helped you, direct them to groups that you may think help them.  If you do not think you can tell them straight out, well, then write them a letter, or send them an email!  Hell, post it on Facebook!  Just please, do not hold it in.  No good will come of it. 

I put a few resources at the end, but check back periodically (or subscribe!), because I plan on doing more on resources. 

Resources:

• ·         National Alliance on Mental Illness
• ·         Depression & Bipolar Support Alliance
• ·         Your local library
• ·         Your local Health Department
• ·         Power of Positivity (Facebook page)
• ·         Mental Health on The Mighty (Facebook page)
• ·         Depression & Life (Facebook page)
• ·         International Bipolar Foundation (Facebook page)
• ·         Bipolar/Depression/Anxiety Open Page (Facebook page)
• ·         Mental Health America (Facebook page)
• ·         BP Magazine for Bipolar (Facebook page)
• ·         Bipolar Disorder-Newlifeoutlook (Facebook page)
• ·         My Depression Team
• ·         BPD Pieces of Me (Facebook page)
• ·         Bipolar Awareness ~ Stop the Stigman (Facebook page)

·         Bipolar people are awesome (Facebook page)

I did not include links because I think searching for them may lead you to find something that may help you that is not listed.

Grandma Paula

Back in the days when I had cable, I use to watch Paula’s Home Cooking, (I think that is what it was called) with Paula Deen, on the Food Network.  I never really cared for the food she made, not that it looked bad or anything, nothing just struck me as a must-make except her gravy for biscuits and gravy.  Yet, I watched the show for years.  There was just something about her southern twang, bright blue eyes, perfectly manicured nails, and big hair that made me want her as my grandmother.  Not in place of my grandmothers, but like an extra one. 

I could listen to her talk for hours, watch her cook with her sons, or feed her charming husband, Michael.  With her dogs under her feat, dishes piling up, and her hands covered in flour she just glowed to me.  She always made me feel warm, comfortable, inspired, like grandmas do. 

I bet that she is the type that goes to every little league game, yelling at the sideline, and then has treats for the whole team ready for after.  Or makes you homemade chicken soup when you are sick and throws another blanket on you every hour.  Bet she would probably spank an ass or two for too much sass. 

Maybe that is what we need in the world, more grandmas.  

A New Book for a New Year

For about the last two or three years, I have utilized a planner to keep me organized.  I read a lot about organization and probably over a hundred articles on how to organize my life.  To be honest, I have never found one way that works just perfect for me, but I have found things that work and things that do not. 

I tried using the calendar in my phone, which was a real flop.  The only thing it is really good for is setting up reminders when I have to feed my friend’s dog two weeks from now.  I have a calendar on the wall at home and one at work.  The one at work is mainly for reference and has very little written in; the one at home hangs right by the door and has things like birthdays, appointments, and school schedules on it.  Great for reference, but still could not keep me organized.  I do not always look at this calendar, and when I do, I do not always realize there is something written on it that I should be planning for. 

It all really was not that terrible until I went back to school and became completely overwhelmed with assignments.  That is when I decided I needed to find or create a system that worked for me.  Now, apps are great, do not get me wrong.  I used AnyDo for quite a long time with great results, but they changed the format and it no longer works for me.  EverNote is great for keeping track of projects; it has gotten me through many home improvements.  But for overall life, I decided that I needed to go back to good, old fashioned paper and pen. 

The last two years, I have utilized a formatted planner by Iconic, which I purchased on Amazon.  The size was perfect to put just about anywhere, and the format provided me with plenty of room for each day and has separate note and list sections which were utilized to the max.  The problem is that the format changes a little each year; so while 2015 was perfect, 2016 ended up being okay, and I never found 2017’s.  I did not fret though; I decided it was time to go in a slightly different direction: Customization. 

Have you heard of bullet journals? How about happy journals?  Well, the bullet journal seemed like way too much work for me, but the happy journal did not seem budget friendly.  I knew what I wanted my new planner to include, so I went more towards the bullet journal style.  In the entire collection of articles I have read, they all mentioned their favorite picks for books and I decided on a lemon colored Leuchtturm1917, purchased from Amazon.  I will not bore you with the details of it, but I knew it was going to be perfect when I opened it up for the first time. 

For almost the last two months in 2016, I started figuring out what I wanted to keep in 2017’s planner, so by the time I actually purchased one, and received it; I was all set to get started.  It was very therapeutic and almost empowering to draft out my whole year.  It really gave me a sense of control to be able to essentially format my life for the next 365 days.  I took me almost two days to get it completed to the point that that can be considered complete on the second day of the year, but it is a thing of beauty.

I originally wanted four sections in one book, but ended up with eight in three books!  Yes, I got a little crazy, but it makes total sense to me, and that is really all that matters.  In the main book, my Lemon Leuchtturm, I have all of the things necessary for the household, such as a budget, a bills paid section, outstanding checks (yes, I still write checks), and even a daily chore list. 

The next section is what I titled “Personal Growth.”  While I do not seem to have a lot of “growing” in there, it just seemed an appropriate title.  This includes a few pages for tattoo ideas, movies I want to watch, books I want to read, quotes that I find inspirational, personal goals for 2017, and the ever important bucket list.

The third and final section in this book is dedicated to my son.  In here I have everything I want to do with him, such as going to a really cool place I saw on TV, seeing a specific movie, or reading him a special book.  It is by far the smallest section, but the most important. 

The second book is an inexpensive impulsive buy from Target, which has been collecting dust (lime green in case you were wondering). It contains all of my “projects.”  This includes sections for my business, Colt’s Bones, my blog, notes for all of my social media accounts that I use to promote them, and my personal projects, such as making curtains for my bedroom.  In here I also have goals listed and tips on how to achieve them.

The third book is a soft-covered, black Moleskine.  I have always been a fan of this brand for journals, and that is exactly what I am using for-a personal journal.  I have always found that writing/typing out my thoughts has given my mind some piece, slows it down a bit so I can focus on things instead of filtering through the little thoughts or subconscious ones. 

I still use sticky notes because they are easy to move from week to week, and can be transferred from the fridge to the planner or what not.  I also just found out about an app for my favorite grocery store that I am downloading and going to check out.

Do you need three books? Probably not, but this is what works for me. I hope it helps you in your journey of organization.

The Tide is Changing

I can feel it, the levelness breaking away. Insomnia is starting,  staying up later. Which way will it go; mania or depression? How long will it last? To what extreme?

It is nice to be so aware,  but it is also a curse.  It's not just the insomnia,  the eating too. My mood has been very snappy.

Let's see where this goes and how long it keeps me there.

New Found Sanity

Recently, with a lot of help from my mother,  I moved out of the place I had with my boyfriend and his children and into a place that I can call my own. Granted, I am not alone; I have my son, dog, and cat with me, but it is all mine.

It is a cozy (small) two bedroom house with a great yard,  down the street from a playground.  Just enough for us.

In the weeks that have followed the move, I have noticed a huge reduction in stress and better use if coping skills. Yes, it is scary being responsible for all of this and not being able to predict or control certain changes or events, but with the support of family and friends, I got this!

My Time in the Psych Ward: What Tomorrow Brought

I woke up that Tuesday morning to the sun shining in through the window. The clock on the otherwise bare, stark white wall, said it was a little after seven. The door to my room was open a few inches, but I did not hear much outside if it.  I vaguely remembered someone telling me breakfast was at eight, but first things first, I had to pee.

I walked down to the nurses station, trying to observe and take in everything I could. No one at the station was familiar from the night before, but that would make sense. I did not speak when I got to the nurse's station; I didn't have to. My blank stare and wide eyes, a look they must have seen a million times before, spoke for me. One woman asked very sweetly, like if I were a lost three-year old, if I was Danielle. I just nodded. They all greeted me and a short round of introductions were given. Then she asked me, in that soft, sweet voice, if I need to use the bathroom. Again, I just nodded and someone came with me back to my room to unlock my bathroom door.

Bathroom doors are locked until you get doctor’s approval to have it kept unlocked.

I opened the shower curtain and realized the all-in-one cleanser was mounted to the wall in a soap dispenser. My hair was gonna love this… I turned on the water for the shower and was blown away; it had so much pressure that I actually let it beat on my shoulders, back, and neck for a massage. I stayed in there so long, had it so hot, I was almost limp when I got out, but I felt amazing.

Now I was ready to face my day.

For the next two days I spent most of my time in some sort of therapy. It was very therapeutic and I really started to feel better, like I had more direction, an idea of what I needed to help myself.

The rest of my visit was pretty much therapy and eating, three hots and cot, with my own bathroom, and housekeeping was through daily. The social worker gave me a list of resources to help me when I went back home.

Wednesday night, I ate my last meal with my new friends and left the hospital. My first stop was the pharmacy to fill a bunch of new prescriptions, the second stop was to see my son. It had been almost a week since I had seen him, and when he called me when I was in the hospital, I almost cried talking to him. I went to his dad’s house, gave him the biggest hug I could. I tucked him into bed, we chatted a little, and I sang Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star for him.

I collected my dog, who was also staying at dad’s, and went home. As a side note, the dog was so happy to see me, that he pushed my son out of the way multiple times to get a hug.

When I got home, everyone was watching tv in the living room. I got the dog set up, said hello to the cat, made a very stiff drink and just went into my room and closed over the door.

A little bit later, my boyfriend came in to check on me, sat with me for a little bit and then just let me be. Tomorrow was going to be a whole new day.

My Time in the Psych Ward: The First Night

As I mentioned previously, this is actually something I thought would be easy to talk about, but to describe it is just really weird.  I wish I had a better word for it.

Walking up to the Adult Psychiatric Unit was scary; it was dark and we were escorted by security.  I had no idea what to expect.  The nurses for the unit told me to have a seat in a chair across from the nurse's station.  They took my bag and went through it; I was able to keep my journal and colored pencils.  I traded in my draw-string shorts for scrub pants, and my hair clip for a elastic pony.  I was handed a paper cup with a toothbrush and toothpaste in it.  They took my blood pressure, temperature, and asked me a bunch of intake questions while I was eating a box lunch.

I just remember being scared.  Everyone kept telling me I was safe; but I was still scared.  Of what?  Well I am not exactly sure.  Everything I guess.  What was tomorrow going to bring?  What was going to happen to my son?  Sure he was with his dad that night, but I was supposed to pick him up from the sitter the next day.  How was he going to react when I asked him to pick him up.  Would I be able to ask him?  What was tomorrow going to bring?

I was assigned my room, given a list of rules and told what time breakfast was.  I was also given two towels and one of those huge water mugs/bottles that are so common in hospitals.  It even had my name on it.  I took in the room; it could easily be converted for two people if needed, two desks, two dressers, two chairs, two sitting chairs, but only one bed.

I laid down and tried to sleep, my mind was pretty numb at this point, but all I could do was cry.  I cried for at least another hour.  Who knew I had any more tears to shed.  Eventually I fell asleep.  I slept solid, for the first time in a long time, even though I had no idea what morning, as it was already tomorrow, would bring.