We Are One – Part II

I wrote part one last night at the birthday dinner for a dear friend. I knew I’d come home and post it on my blog. I hadn’t actually intended to show anybody at the party. I just needed to get my thoughts down on paper like the crazy writer who scribbles his manuscript on cocktail napkins. I folded up my paper and prepared to put it in my bag… but there was something about what I’d written that demanded it be shared. I let one of the ladies sitting next to me read it. Then, just before we dished up the desert crepes, I felt like I was supposed to read it to the birthday girl. That was odd because it wasn’t really for her even though it was about her. As my days go on I am getting more and more of a passion for people who are at the end of their rope. I wrote that post last night with the student from work who killed himself in mind. Or maybe not him specifically, but people like him. Christians who feel like they are at the end of their rope with nothing to hope in and nothing to look forward to but grief and more grief.

I’ve been asking God to give me a passion and lately, I’ve been  wanting to hold out hope to other people who feel broken like I used to be. Not my normal Bipolar Soapbox. This is more specific. Saturday morning I met with a friend of mine for breakfast . She’s an older lady. Her daughter had Bipolar Disorder and killed herself years ago. What I didn’t know was that her husband also committed suicide. Her story made my heart ache. It also made me conscious of how blessed I am. It is only by the grace of God that I am still alive to experience wonderful days like today. IF I’d given up on God and life on any one of the million times that  I contemplated suicide in the past, so much of the wonder I’m experiencing now would never have a chance to be. I always had a slight hope that things would get better and now that they have I really want to draw vivid contrasts between what my life was and what it is now. My hope is that another Christian contemplating suicide might be encouraged to go get help. It might take years of seeking help… but help is there if you seek it.

Today I’ve gotten many reminders from many different sources that the body of Christ is one. That encourages me. Because as part of a larger body, I don’t always have to have my act together. I just have to know where to go for help. There can be tremendous support and love within the body of Christ for people who struggle with depression. I have been blessed to find such love and support. Unfortunately, there is a lot of ignorance masquerading as religious truth within the church. Listening to my friend recount the events following her husband’s death made me sad and angry at the same time. Many people condemned her husband and insisted that he must not be a real Christian if he could take his eyes off of God to do that. From my own experience, I’ve had people tell me that I’d go to hell if I killed myself. And the internet is full of religious crackpots who have no understanding of the grace and mercy of God.

I don’t want to debate theology with stiff necked people. I just want to comfort people with the comfort I’ve received from God. It took a lot of years for my life to turn around and when I was in the thick of it, I felt like it would NEVER turn around. Religious sound bites did not help me. Telling me to have more faith and to stop worrying didn’t help me either. Why are there so many callous words directed at hurting people from people who mean well?? Condemnation is never going to stop anybody from committing suicide.

People willing to come along side of me and share my struggles and my pain? That helped. Was it enough to make my depression go away? No. But it certainly helped keep my hope alive. And now that God has come in and delivered me from the darkness… I want other people to know that there is always hope. For me hope included years of therapy and medication. It included blogging and writing a book. It’s included letting God remove unhealthy relationships and mindsets from my life. And it has meant coming in from the fringe and not trying to be the Lone Ranger Christian. There might not be anybody in your immediate circle who understands what you’re going through… Or maybe there are people who could help keep your hope alive… and you’re just so caught up in wearing a mask that you can’t see them.

Being whole? I’m learning that it means being a healthy, functioning member of the body of Christ not a maverick off doing my own thing. The bad times were really bad for me. Probably worse because I had to suffer through them alone. But the good times that I’m experiencing now? They are great. The best thing about my life now is that I’m not walking through the good parts alone. My circle of friends and supporters is broadening and I’m glad. Last night I have a revelation about being part of a larger thing and the best part about that… is that it never stops. Of course, if I had killed myself… I believe that by God’s grace I’d be in heaven and that makes things on earth pale. But honestly? If I went to heaven, that would be all about me. If I stay here maybe, just maybe, I might have an impact on somebody who is standing on the edge or knows somebody standing on the edge. If anything that I write could help someone step away from the edge… then staying here rather than going there is well worth it.

We Are One…

I’m actually writing this by hand on paper at a dinner party. We’re between the main course and desert. The woman of the hour — the birthday girl, is serenading us on the keyboard and our friends are preparing desert crepes in the kitchen. Hysterectomy Girl was taking a breather on the couch listening to the music when it dawned on me how blessed I am to be in this moment.

All of us are Christian and this moment, all aglow with candles and the pleasing aroma of camaraderie in the air, is charmed. Nights like this never existed for me in the past. Oh, I might have been invited… but I would have felt tense and stressed. I was the broken one. The one who never fit in.

Tonight, I’m thinking of how involved I feel. Accepted. Loved. I belong. Where I once  felt like the amputated pinkie toe on the body of Christ, now I can come together with other believers and just be me. Even if that means writing in the middle of a party. I’m a writer with a short memory. Writing is what I do and this is a moment I didn’t want to lose.

The body of Christ is a beautiful thing when it works as it should. Tonight we’re all functioning in our gifts and abilities and it’s good. Natural talents are abounding and coming together to make this night special.

And I’m here. No longer an amputated baby toe. I’m here with women who love Jesus and, by extension, love me. Where once I used to be isolated and alone, now I am here... and we are one.

Near Perfect

Today was about as near a perfect day as one could possibly get this side of heaven. And considering that I’ve spent so many days feeling like I was trapped in hell, I’m documenting days like this so that I don’t forget them. Nothing out of the ordinary happened. Publisher’s Clearing House did not show up at my door with one of the humongous checks. Mr. Right did not pop up on my doorstep and declare love at first sight. All the critters in my home did not up and die simultaneously (although the clean up from that would be really gross).

I got up and sat at my little kitchen table while I ate breakfast watching “White Collar” on my laptop. I got dressed, drove to work, and parked my car. I didn’t have a clue what I would do for lessons today because I didn’t have a firm plan when I left work yesterday. I’d told myself that I’d suss it out once I got home. Yeah. Right. I sussed out what I wanted to watch on my laptop and camped there.

So whose fault was it when I got to work totally unprepared? I don’t do “unprepared.” It freaks me out. The minute my first class arrived, however, I was on. You don’t teach for 11 years without stockpiling some valuable skills and mine came out full force today. I was SO pleased with the job that I did today and the most important point was that I’d never done any of those lessons before today. They just came to me as I went along. Of course, I did pray about my lack of a plan before going to work, so I see today as mega answered prayer. But the best part is how differently I handled today than I would have… say… a year ago. I would have flipped out. Trying to get through a day in the fourth grade with no plan whatsoever is crazy. My eyes would have been blood shot from all the crying I’d done. I would have felt mentally fragile because my class would have been out of control. I HATE not being prepared for class because the resulting fallout is so ugly. That’s why I always have some sort of a plan. Routine Girl that I am, I need to have some structure to work with and then I build in spontaneous moments. Having no plan at all is like me jumping out of a plane without a parachute — never going to happen. Until today. I had no plan. Zip. Zilch. Zero. Nada. Was I risking a meltdown? It was the recipe for disaster after all.

Or it was in the past. Even though I’m still having surgery related problems I breezed through my day doing one really cool lesson after another. The students were engaged, which says a lot for this crowd. I managed to get a bunch of 20-something non-native speakers  interested in writing and reading today. It was great. I felt great despite the pain that is becoming my constant companion these days. Even better, my head was clear. I keep saying that… because you can’t really appreciate what having a clear mind means to a person with a mental illness. You can’t put a price tag on what I’m  feeling. I smiled my way through the entire day.

In fact, I started my day with a smile for a weird reason. I had cause to go to the campus clinic to discuss a student with the head nurse. While I was there I told her that I had Bipolar Disorder and that this student’s behavior and comments was giving me cause for concern. When I told her that I had Bipolar she commented on how I seemed very stable and she would have had no clue. Not that I am embarrassed about my Bipolar — I’m not — but it makes me feel really good when people can’t tell that I have a mental illness. That means I’m doing something right. When I walk around looking mentally ill… that’s never a good thing. Most of the time I come across as moody and quirky with a dash of anti-social tossed in, but these days those words don’t even apply to me anymore. I was able to tell her that I’m very stable and I manage my disorder really well. What I should have said was that I think that God has healed me in the wake of my hysterectomy. She would have thought I was a religious freak, but I’m learning not to care. If I want to believe that God healed me… then who’s to prove otherwise?? Granted, I won’t have definitive proof of the healing until I’m at my life’s end, but because I’m blessedly free of depression and suicidal thoughts right now… my life’s end won’t be any time soon.

I’m dead tired and I ache in too many places to count, but I am happy. I’m going to take my meds and go to bed. I just wanted to post this — so I have a reminder that today was near perfect. What would have made today perfect?? Nothing short of the second coming of Jesus.

“I-G-N” is for “Anal Retentive”

I have to be one of the most anal retentive people I know.

Unfortunately, I can’t blame it on my Bipolar Disorder or on my Asperger’s Syndrome. It’s just part of my natural personality. Some people are wired to be carefree and spontaneous. Me? I’m wired for sound. I’m uptight. I have been tightly wound for as long as I can remember — LONG before my Bipolar began to manifest. It is a part of my “individual style.” Evidently, God wired me up that way. It dawns on me daily that God has a weird sense of humour.

It has also dawned on me that it’s taking me a really long time to review my notes from the DESIGN workshop. I only started this particular series because my pastor said that we should consider our God-given design before getting married and I did that. But now I’m done and I want to wrap it up… so I’m going to combine the last three topics in the acrostic and be done with it for now. What are the last three points?

“I” is for “Individual Style.” Most people think that being anal retentive is a bad thing… but I’m learning to embrace my inner anal retention. Ew. That sounds kinda gross. Let me rephrase and explain: I want to embrace my total personality no matter what it looks like. We did a brief assessment that focused on questions related to how we are organized and how are we energized. Simple questions with a sliding scale between two opposing choices. For example:

(How are You Organized?) – circle the number that best applies to you

• I prefer projects that have………… variety << 1    2   3   4 >> routine
• I prefer to set guidelines that are… general << 1   2   3   4>>  specific
• I find routine…………………………….boring << 1   2   3   4 >> restful

(How are You Energized?)

• I’m more comfortable… ……………..doing things for people <<1   2  3  4>> being with people
• I place a higher value on…………….. action<< 1  2  3  4>> communication
• I get more excited about…………….. advancing a cause << 1  2  3  4>> creating community

My resulting score was used to chart my “Personal Style Intensity.” And I’m just anal retentive enough to find something like this TOTALLY fascinating.  I looked back over my notes and recalculated my answers to see if I’d changed any since my surgery…. but I guess it’s like that saying: Ugly goes to the bone. Evidently, so does personality style. Even though my life circumstances have changed drastically and I feel like a different person, my personality style hasn’t changed one bit. There were four basic personality style groupings: People who were “task/routine,” “people/routine,” “people/spontaneous,” and “task/spontaneous.” Guess which ones I’m not??? To date, I have never blogged about anything that would make anybody, anywhere think that I have a spontaneous bone in my body. So that rules out two of the types. Given my love of the Bipolar Bubble… one might think anything with “people” in the title would be ruled out too. But you’d be wrong. I might not relate well to people… but I desperately want to. So what’s my personality style?

“People/Routine” is defined thusly: If you are people/routine, you like defined relations, feeling secure in familiar surroundings, project warmth and enjoy familiar relationships. If this is your Personal Style, consider the kind of ministry position that will enable you to interact with people in more stable or defined settings.

If this isn’t me, I don’t know what is. One reason my last relationship didn’t work was because he was extreme  Task/Spontaneous. He was a maverick that liked to do things off the cuff and it stressed me out. Were I to marry a guy who was ultra-spontaneous that would create a lot of emotional stress and mental unrest for me. I need a certain amount of routine in my life in order to be stable. I also need to be around familiar people and settings or I get punchy. My ex wanted me to move to Australia where he was from. He could not understand how badly the notion of permanently leaving my country rocked my equilibrium. Familiar surroundings are essential for a happy Bipolar Girl. That’s why teaching is a good job for me… but why teaching children was the wrong environment. Children are unpredictable and that makes for a chaotic environment. My current job totally works with my personality style. I’m game for trying to step out of my comfort zone, but not in radical degrees. The bottom line is mental wellness and I don’t think that’s selfish. If I want a happy marriage it’s wise to know this about myself.

That section of the workshop also dealt with personality type... like whether you’re a beaver, an otter, a Golden Retriever, or a lion. You can find those kinds of personality assessments online. And again, Anal Retentive Girl LOVES stuff like that. Myers-Briggs, Florence Littauer, you name the personality test… and I’m gonna take it. I ended up being a beaver:

Organized. Beavers think that there is a right way to do everything and they want to do it exactly that way. Beaver personalities are very creative. They desire to solve everything. Desire to take their time and do it right. Beavers do not like sudden changes. They need reassurance.

There was more… strengths, weaknesses, and limitations… but I want to cover all three points. If I go into all the minutia this post is going to be epic in length. Bottom line, my future spouse and I will have distinct personalities and we need to respect the other for who they are and not who we want them to be. I kept trying to remake my ex in my image and that was wrong. If  I meet somebody on eHarmony, if I can’t appreciate him for who he actually is, then I have no business dating him.

“G” is for “Growth Stage.”

I like this one because it was short and to the point: Are you a seeker, new believer, stable and growing in your faith, or leading and guiding others?? My ex was a new believer. I’d been a Christian for years, albeit a very immature one. I kept trying to cram my faith down his throat so I could fatten him up for marriage. If God wasn’t going to bring me a mature Christian mate then I assumed that I had to make my own. I wasn’t a new believer… but I could hardly be considered stable and growing. They need to put another level on that assessment: Saved, but stupid. It took getting burned really badly in that last relationship for me to take a serious look at what was wrong with my spiritual life. I was trying to take a guy and cram him into the God-sized void in my life. Dumb idea. That  never works. The only one who can fill that God-sized void is God.

Now? I’m older and wiser. Sure, I want to get married… but I’m not assuming that my spouse will be able to complete me the way that only God can. I am stable in my spiritual walk and that has led to mental and emotional stability. I’m growing in my faith even though that growth is slow. The main point is that I’m growing and it’s steady. That means I don’t even consider marrying a non-believer or a new believer or somebody who is not going to be able to be the spiritual leader of our family. Now does this mean I have to marry some old geezer? I sincerely hope not. I am praying that my spouse will  be stable in his faith and growing so that we can continue to grow together. But I’m also praying that he’ll be easy on the eyes.

“N” is for “Natural Gifts.”

Everybody has God-given natural gifts whether they attribute them to God or not.  I used to think that because I couldn’t paint or sculpt or do ballet or fix/build things that I didn’t have any talents. I desperately want to do those kinds of things. I’ve got a big case of envy towards people who can do those things.  Plus, it seems that the things that I actually can do, I’m only mediocre. I can sing and I pretend to play the piano and the guitar… but I have very limited talent. Nothing that I paint will ever be on display in a museum and my singing will never get me on “American Idol.”

It was only once I stopped insisting on perfection that I was able to see talents that existed in embryo form. I also started broadening my view of what a talent/natural ability actually is. So what that I’m not a performance artist. I’m a writer and a fairly good one. I dabbles in poetry. I’m an extremely talented public speaker. I paint ceramic pigs. I make a mean rack of pork. I’m incredibly humble.  It’s important to believe that you have talent and it’s important to use your natural abilities. My anal retention often blocks me from recognizing my talents or working in them because I demand perfection and get mad when I can’t achieve it. Even as I type, my guitar is gathering dust in the corner. I need to re-evaluate my natural abilities and start using them. Some of them definitely fall into the “use it or lose it” category and I don’t want that. Over the next year I want to invest time honing my natural abilities.

I want a spouse who has natural talents, it’s only fair that I have some too. Otherwise I’d be really one dimensional. I don’t my spouse and I to live in each other’s back pocket. Will I want to try out some of his talents and natural abilities? I will if it doesn’t include rock climbing and other extreme sports. My natural abilities lie in the realm of the cerebral or that which you can do indoors. I’d love to meet a guy who could get me out on a hike or out in a kayak. Of course, he’ll have to teach me how to swim first… but for the right guy anything is possible.

Now, as I end this series I would like to point out that I wasn’t considering my God-given DESIGN for the sole purposes of finding a spouse. I think it’s good to know who you are and how God made you so that you can lead a fuller, more colorful life. I am not living my life to the fullest right now,  but I intend to. As I recover from my surgery I want to start moving out into new talents and interests. I want to start building new memories and working in more of my spiritual gifts. My future is wide open and the walls of the Bipolar Bubble have never been so low. I’m not trapped anymore. I can move forward. I will move forward. And if that forward movement involves a mate then that would be FABULOUS… but even if I never meet anybody, I’ll be a better person for striving to live out my life according to the way that God designed me. And the one thing that is really comforting to me as I ponder my future… is that God is bigger than my anal retention. He’s going to use me as long as I keep showing up and I’m willing.

You Can’t Always Get What You Want

Right now I’d like to be perfectly healed from any and all after effects of my hysterectomy. I’m exhausted this morning and would give almost anything to go back to bed. My abdomen feels weighted down, achy, and sore. The incision is itchy. My mind is dull and fuzzy. Because they also had to remove a section of my small intestine I still continue to have issues with that. Additionally, I had a bunch of random dreams last night and I always wake up tired when I dream. And when I wasn’t dreaming I was getting up to go to the bathroom or trying to walk off the muscle cramp in my leg. What I want is a few more hours of sleep. But like the song says… you can’t always get what you want.

I have, however, gotten what I need. Despite all this stuff coming at me this morning I am mentally stable. My surgery was in May and despite continued challenges with recovery, the challenges with moving into a critter infested new home, the challenges that come from not having a full time job, and the challenges that exist only in my mind…. I’m stable. Without any debate, this is one of the most precious things I could ever be given. So what’s a little exhaustion and a leg cramp? They will pass. I’m exhausted now… but once I get to work I’ll be engaged in my job.

One of my dreams was that I told my boss if they hired somebody else for the job I applied for that I’d have to look elsewhere for work. That is a very real possibility. They passed me over once for a job last year which is how I became a sub-instructor. Seeing somebody else doing the job that I want wasn’t so hard the first time because I knew that God had a different plan for me. If he’d wanted me to have the job it would have been mine. And after nearly a year being a sub-Instructor I can honestly say that I’m glad that I didn’t get the job. And if I’m even more honest, I have to say that I don’t want the job that I applied for, I want the job that I’m doing. It a government contracted job. It’s confusing, but I had to apply for the job that I didn’t get the first time but no longer want in order to be considered for the job that I’m doing and really want. That job wasn’t open last year and only just became open after I interviewed for the other job.

I didn’t get the job I wanted last year, but I’m convinced that I got the job that I needed. I’m tired and don’t really want to go to any job this morning… but the fact that I know that I’ll be happy once I get there and start working is such a departure from what my work life used to be like… I can’t help but be grateful in part for this fatigue. I wouldn’t see how much I appreciate my job if I didn’t feel as blah as I do now. It’s easy to love your job when everything is going well. It’s not so easy to love it when you don’t feel well. Plus I’ve been there long enough to take off the rose-colored sun glasses. My workplace, like all work places has its issues. I’ve seen some things that give me pause and other things that I do not agree with, but overall, my place of employ is a good place doing good work. I want to be there even if I lack the energy to want to drive there. I never would have felt like this teaching elementary school.

Unfortunately, I can’t keep blogging to help shake the cobwebs out of my head. If I keep at it I’m going to be late and rushing when I don’t feel well is never good. It stresses me out. So… I’m going to get dressed, drive to work, understanding that while I might want to go back to bed… God knows that I need to go to work.

In Memory Of…

They had the memorial for the young man who killed himself. It was today after class. I stayed to pay my respects even though I didn’t know him. He’d been in a class or two of mine but I never moved beyond knowing who he was. The emotions that welled up in me during the service are intensely personal. They fall into “need to know” category and the only one who needs to know is Jesus.

Afterward, I drove to the beach. I needed to remind myself that I am still alive. I needed to be surrounded by the creation. God is so much bigger than the sum total of all of the good and the bad that has ever happened to me in my lifetime and I needed to remember just how big he is. So I went to my spot on the rocks and sang. I talked to Jesus and I just enjoyed feeling the wind on my face and in my hair.

Clearly, this who thing has brought suicide to the forefront of my thoughts. And if I continue to dwell on it and try to wrap my mind around it, I risk falling into a depression. Death is a depressing thought if you allow it to be. If I look at it through the lens of hopelessness that the rest of the world does it could make me really depressed. As a Christian I believe that death is not an end. For this young man there is an afterlife and he’s in it.

When my friend killed himself I was inconsolable for months. I still don’t quite get the whole christian-committing-suicide thing… so it’s  going to have to be one of those things I accept that I will never fully understand. Personally, I’m tired of focusing on death. I’m alive and I want to live my life abundantly. I still don’t know what that looks like so I’m not going to stop looking until I find it. The pastor who spoke at the service said that we should all go out and live the best lives we could. Maybe not a direct quote, but close enough.

My best life involves writing books. I do not know how I’m actually going to get from my current Point A to that distant Point B… but that’s what I believe God has called me to do. An idea has just hit me. I don’t know that this boy had any mental health issues… but you kind of have to figure that anybody who takes his own life had to be dealing with some pretty heavy emotions. My book isn’t just to those with Bipolar Disorder. It’s to the neurotic in all of us. Should my book ever get picked up by a publisher I want to dedicate it to this boy. I didn’t know him… so I couldn’t have done anything to try to help him. But I want my book(s) to help people see that where there is hope there is life. At one point… at many points in my life, I thought that my life was too much to bear and that death would be preferable to the pain. I now know that life is preferable to the pain. The stark black non-choice that is death is not the only option.

Today I went to the beach in memory of this boy because I wanted to feel alive. Tonight I’m going to sleep just thankful to be alive. I don’t want to think about or write about death anymore. I want my future blogs to be in memory of life.

Yesterday, All My Troubles Seemed So Far Away…

This general feeling of not feeling well continues to persists. Am I really looking at the next six months to a year of this? Given the fact that I spent the past year and a half in excruciating pain… I’ll settle for “not feeling well.” But I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t blog about it. In so many ways the hysterectomy changed my life. I’ve discussed the mental effects more than once. The fact that I’m physically dealing with discomfort, pain, and fatigue should be working on my nerves. Historically, I never really handled pain well. Today, I’m functional.

Yesterday I didn’t want to go to work. I felt exhausted and the imaginary knot in my right side was giving me pain. I say imaginary because when I press the area firmly, I don’t feel anything. When I’m not touching it, it feels like there’s something the size of a cantaloupe resting just below the surface of my skin. Phantom pains?? When my mom got her leg amputated she started to experience phantom itches. The leg, now gone, itches and hurts. Since both my doctors assured me that they didn’t feel anything and that some pain was normal I’m not weirding out about this but maybe I’m having phantom pains where my uterus used to be. Ok… that seems like a stretch even for Bipolar Girl, but I need something to hang these pains on or I am going to get paranoid.

I’m starting my days physically depleted and ending my days pretty much the same way. Last night I was in bed before 9am and lights were out pretty much by that time. I am exhausted now. The plus was that I was able to go to work and teach. My mood was good and my students and other staff had no clue that  I’m struggling physically. I think I was doing well until I started trying to do that workout video. SEE. Exercise is DANGEROUS. I should have left well enough alone. I’ve been hurting ever since.

Now, I just want to go to sleep. But work calls. I need to remember that this lingering trouble isn’t really a trouble. I know it’s going to pass. Unlike my depressed and suicidal episodes or even some long lasting serious condition, this physical trouble is going to go away eventually. Six months to a year seems a long time to wait, but it’s not an eternity. That my head is clear enough to see that is yet another reason for me to give praise. I figure if I focus on all the reasons I have to praise Jesus today… I will have less time to focus on the pain and the fatigue. Now let’s pray that I’m not too sleepy to drive. Crashing into a palm tree on the way to work because I fell asleep at the wheel would NOT be the best way to start my morning. For those praying folk in my audience… prayers would be greatly appreciated.

Fear Not

I went to sleep afraid.
In the night I had bad dreams.

This morning I continue to feel the post-op pains in my abdomen and right side… and I’m feeling a little “less than.” It stops shy of being an actual “bad hair day” because I know that once I get to work the cobwebs in my mind will disappear. Reality is the antidote for nightmares and bad dreams.

For all intents and purposes I had a good weekend. My birthday was on Friday and people were still giving me cards, gifts, and well wishes on Sunday. My car was fixed and the bill was not astronomical. The wedding I attended was sweet and endearing. And my church family (we call it “ohana”) had a meeting last night to discuss church affairs and I was there. I consider myself part of the ohana and so do they. I stepped way outside the confines of the Bipolar Bubble this weekend.

The fear that crawled into bed with me last night was based in reality, but it hasn’t yet happened. Fears over what might be are just as bad as fears over that which is. Fear is fear. My fear? Centipedes. I killed on by my bed Saturday morning. I killed a scorpion Saturday night. Every time I closed my eyes last night imagined one in bed with me, crawling all over me. A friend had told me on Saturday of how she woke to feel something on her neck — yep, it was a centipede. The one by my slipper on the floor by my bed was too close to home. I lifted up a hasty prayer last night when I turned out the light…but it was more like the fox-hole prayer that people lift up during times of war. It was a “just in case” kind of prayer. Not a prayer of faith. And I dreamed of critters until another dream equally based in grains of truth took over. I had the dream that only teachers dream: the unruly, out of control classroom. Don’t think that scary?? Try facing 25 angry students who refuse to listen to you. Make those students the young adults I teach now and it’s really scary.

But the thing about the fear and the dream is that neither are real. Neither has happened and yet they have the power to throw me off my game this morning. They are having a bigger impact than the physical pain I’m feeling from my surgery, which is rather profound this morning. People might dismiss things as being “all in your mind,” but the mind is a powerful thing. Things that only used to exist in my mind could control my entire day, my entire mindset, and the way in which I viewed the world. When I used to have chronic nightmares I almost couldn’t function the next morning. It took great effort to move myself beyond the cocoon of my bed and into the world that seemed to be filled with so many glaring sights and sounds. I would be emotionally fragile and worried about things in the real world completing the destruction started in my mind by fear and dreams. That nobody could understand this only made it seem worse.

My fears were seemingly limitless. Prayer didn’t seem to make them or the dreams go away. I began to fear sleep which is not good for a person with Bipolar Disorder. Yet, I also began to fear waking up because I didn’t think I could handle the pressures of life in my diminished mental state. It was the cliched vicious cycle. This morning, I’m breaking the cycle. These days my nightmares are almost non-existent and my bad dreams are few and far between. I know that my dream was not real and that it won’t happen. It can’t. Maybe in the past it could have happened… but it can’t happen now.  And as for my fears? It could happen… but I’ve been forced to face my fears of all things that crawl on the ground since I moved into my new home. There is a different Creature Feature playing in my home every night. And since I have no plan to move out any time soon… I have to face my fears. Even the very real possibility that I might wake up one night and find a centipede or a scorpion or a cane spider in bed with me. The key, I think, is to have a plan that involves more than just screaming and having a heart attack. My plan has to include faith as well as action.

My life is no longer shrouded in fear, mental pain, and nightmares. So it’s with that in mind that I can thank God for the bad dream that I had last night. It’s not real and I can see that. I couldn’t always distinguish my dreams from reality and that kept me forever on the edge. Life lived in fear and dread isn’t worth living…. but I’m glad I never gave up on life and the hope of a better life. I’d have been missing out on all that I have now. Back then I couldn’t see God. I thought that he’d abandoned me or at least gotten so fed  up with me and my inconsistencies and sins that he was leaving me to it. At the wedding a guest made a rather harsh and sweeping judgment about suicide when I told her about the events at work. I wanted to smack her… but I settled for trying to get her to understand so that she’d have more grace. Sadly, my words didn’t work. I didn’t tell her about my own history with suicide and suicidal ideation. She walked away as closed minded and lacking in compassion as she was when we first started talking. The temptation to judge her is high, but I have to stop myself.

If I’d never lived through the waking nightmare that was my life, I doubt that I’d have any real understanding or compassion for people who take their lives. Since I never actually got to the point where any of my attempts actually succeeded… there is still a point at which my understanding stops. I don’t know why my friend or this student committed suicide. I don’t get it and I’m glad I don’t get it. I know how fear and hopelessness nearly drove me to take my life… but praise God, it never got that far with me. I think my dreams and my fears are work related. I don’t know how the students are going to be at work today. I do not know how I’m going to handle work given the fact that I am physically feeling bad and mentally feeling “less than.” I’m anxious and my anxiety showed up in my dream. But if I’m learning one thing, it’s that God only needs me to show up. He’s not expecting me to solve anybody’s problems, especially since I could never seem to solve any of my own. He just expects me to be there and be willing. I can’t do anything about the dream. It’s over. Last night is over too. I survived the night without any signs of centipedes in my bed. Today? Today is real and is yet to be. But I know that I can face today because  in my mind I keep hearing God say, “Fear not, for I am with you.”

Have You Hugged Your Bipolar Girl Today??

I’m one of those people who have few qualms about shameless self-promotion. On some things in particular… and today is one such particular thing: It’s my BIRTHDAY!!! And since I have lived 12 years longer than I thought I would, this is major cause for celebration. Today I am 42  years old and my life is better than I ever could have imagined it could ever be. I still have problems and not everything is going my way… but I have an appreciation for life that I didn’t have in the past. I want to live and I want to live large.

When I was in college I turned in a paper that had to have made my instructor wet his pants. The first line was meant to make a statement, so it was as bold as it was stark. After 20 years I can’t remember a direct quote… but it went something like this:

“The song that says that ‘suicide is painless lies.’ I know because I’ve been there.”

The rest of the paragraph went on to say how I was in so much mental/emotional pain that it felt like a cancer was growing. The cancer was so great that I saw amputation (suicide) as the only way out. The paper was brilliant, but creepy with a dash of demented. The instructor gave me an “A.” but for the life of me, I wonder if he was just afraid of pushing me over the edge. In the paper I said that I didn’t think I’d live to see thirty years old because my life was such a nightmare. I didn’t think I’d be able to last that long. I figured I’d perform my own amputation and be done with it.

Well... when I actually did reach 30 I was surprised. My life was still a mess, but I now had a hope that I didn’t have when I was an ignorant co-ed at Berkeley. God might not have come in and totally fixed every problem in my life, but he did give me something to hope in so that I could deal with the various stages of my mental illness as I got older. There were many birthdays that passed where I continued to wonder if I’d live out another year… but in the darkest of it, Jesus was always there. I am not sure why he didn’t just step aside and let my free will take over. He could have let me commit suicide… but for whatever reason, I’m still here. And for that I praise him.

I have no real idea what I’m going to do today aside from take my car into the shop. I’ll be stranded in town without a car… but it beats being dead. Some friends are taking me out for a birthday breakfast and I’m sure people on facebook have wished me well. I won’t hear from anybody in my family, but I’m used to that. The state of Hawaii graciously declared my birthday a state holiday, but to avoid other people getting upset over how THEIR birthday wasn’t so special, the state officials came up with a cover story about today being “Admissions Day” (the day when Hawaii became a state). Whatever works, right? What matters is that I get the day off to do what I want… and I want to get my car fixed before the idiot light explodes. Since I know that this “state holiday” is  really all about me… I’m ok with that. But I take small opportunities like this to get the real reason out there to the masses.

The best present anybody could ever have given me today was life. Anything beyond that is icing. There are only three people who can take credit for giving me life: my dad (who’s dead), my mom (who remains dead to me) and my Jesus, who is very much alive and working in my life. I prayed for my mom today and I still have a hope that Jesus could reconcile us before she dies. I reconciled with my dad a few years ago, but he’s been dead since I was 11, so the closure was for my benefit alone. I want to have a healthy relationship with my mom before she dies and that’s one of my birthday prayers. I also want to spend time with people today because people confirm life and today I am very much alive.

Happy Birthday to me!

In honor of your favorite Bipolar Girl… hug a neurotic person today.

I Don’t Want to Live without You…

That line from a song is going through my mind. It’s a song to God and unfortunately, I don’t know the rest of the lyrics. But if anything had to be going through my mind this morning, I guess it couldn’t get better than this. I don’t want to go to work this morning. The headache that I noticed when I opened my eyes a half hour ago is starting to take over the rest of my face. It started on the right side and now it’s advancing across my head like a marauding army. I’m congested and achy. My acid reflux is acting up. Part of me wants to call in sick.

I couldn’t even figure out why I was taking yesterday so badly. When I got home I felt numb. I blogged here then I tried to zone out watching movies on Hulu.com but the tears just started and wouldn’t stop. Sometimes I use movies as a sort of emotional release valve. I do not always know how to respond to situations that come my way so I watch a movie and allow myself to cry. There is also a time limit. I can cry for the length of the movie. Otherwise emotions that I can’t identify start to back up and I end up in a dark place trying to dog paddle my way out. Yesterday, there was nothing emotional in the movie I watched. I wasn’t responding to the emotions of fictional characters. Then it dawned on me that I was mourning with those who mourn. I knew that was in the bible somewhere… but heck if I knew where.

Later last night a friend emailed me for prayer. A series of family tragedies and a report of another suicide. I just lost it. My cries were jagged and raw. Immediately I started praying. The drama du jour was not about me, but neither was I distancing myself from it like I normally would. Generally, the only drama that I can really relate to is my own. I used to obsess over the fact that I had no warm fuzzies and was generally unable to have appropriate levels of compassion at the right time. Evidently, God was changing me when I was too busy focusing on my own life because last night I was feeling all the backlog of emotions that I was feeling for other people… the student from work, all of his friends, the entire shell shocked campus, my friend, her family, that other person who committed suicide… it was all hitting me and I cared.

This morning I picked up my bible because I wanted to find scriptures to comfort any of the Christian students at work who might come to me. I wanted to be ready today because yesterday I hadn’t felt  ready. I felt out of my depths and helpless. The events of the day had struck too close to my home. I used to feel like that poor boy. It doesn’t matter what the exact causes of his depression were. They were probably as far removed from the things that caused my own depression as you can possibly get… and it’s moot now anyways. Maybe it might have mattered while he was still alive because somebody might have intervened. But now… I say the cliche that most people hate to hear: he’s in a better place.

He is. He was a believer. I don’t know the condition of his relationship with Jesus. I don’t need to… but I found enough scriptures this morning to give me comfort so that I might comfort others. Were his last thoughts, “I just don’t want to live?” We will never know. Has he left this earth to be at home with God? I believe so. This is cause for rejoicing. Of course, most people on the campus won’t see it that way. Wading through the grief is going to be hard. Work is going to be surreal today. I’m exhausted. My mind hurts. This has brought up bad memories and today promises much of the same. I don’t want to move. I don’t want to go to work. I don’t want to live… without God. That is where any and all similarities between me and this dead young man end. He got to the end of his hope and gave up. I’m still clinging on to mine. It is a dark place to be when you think that not even God can help you. I know. I’ve been there.

Now I’m singing a different tune. Literally. Without God in my life I would be dead now. Even with God in my life the last 15 years were not easy. Thoughts of death hounded me and I didn’t trust God to rescue me. I do not know why God allowed this boy to die and me to live. Some people will even look at this tragedy and question God’s goodness, but it doesn’t change my view of God or shake my faith in him.

What does today hold? I have no idea. My thoughts aren’t very coherent and I feel like I’m babbling in this post. Both my head and my stomach hurt and I’m lethargic. My percentage is dropping quickly but, again, percentages mean nothing to God. In order to be used by him in my workplace all I have to do is show up and be willing. I should change that song lyric to, “I don’t want to work without you.”