I've been sad the last couple of days. We are moving into town, have sold all the animals, and are wrapping things up out here in the country. Not that we are moving to a New York City or anything. Just down the road into a nearby small town. But still, it is a huge change in lifestyle for us. I was packing books yesterday and packed up all my books on farming, market gardening, homesteading, and animal husbandry. I felt sad about the animals I had sold and about the goat I had to put down earlier this year. Sad that I would not be there to watch my goats kid this Spring. Sad that I was letting go of this chapter in my life.
But sadness is not the same as clinical depression. It does not need to be avoided or treated. I do not need to drink over it or use over it or even to go see my psychiatrist over it. It's normal to feel sad when life presents you with saddening events. It's OK.
I felt refreshed tonight at a meeting where a friend of mine celebrated 11 years of continuous clean time. Life goes on and it is good. It'll be a blessing to me to move into town and be closer to meetings. Closer to my friends in recovery. I'll be able to go out for a cup of tea with my NA sponsor without having to drive for an hour and a half. We won't have to spend half the day driving kids into town. And we won't spend half our income on gasoline.
As sad as it is to leave farming, it is the right thing to do. It is the right time to do it. I feared the change. I feared it so much that I used it as an excuse to drink. A pretty sorry excuse but there you go. I'm not fearing the change as much now. I'll find new avenues to channel my energies. I'll certainly still be able to grow a garden. Maybe I'll get back into soap making. Maybe I'll make more sausage. I'll have to buy pork in bulk rather than butchering my own, but I might have more time for crafts like that.
As much as I miss the goats, it is nice to not have to milk them every single day in sub-zero temperatures. I've been milking goats and caring for animals every day for years.
Grieving is a part of life. Things pass, things are lost, things change. Yes, I am sad. But I welcome the sadness. At least I'm not numb. At least I'm not sitting drunk and alone in a crappy motel room. As sad as this change is, I still feel incredibly blessed.
Saturday, December 28, 2013
Sunday, December 22, 2013
Med change...again
Well, the favorite of bipolar folks everywhere. Time to make a change in medication. This has been happening far too often this year. Anyway, I'm coming off of Abilify, an expensive atypical antipsychotic, and either cutting it out completely or switching to a cheaper drug from the same family. I don't seem to be experiencing much difficulty except maybe a little change in the racing thoughts department. It is hard to tell though as I am traveling and going to family holiday parties. Traveling and holiday parties can cause racing thoughts for me all by themselves.
One problem with living with medication is that they can lose effectiveness over time. Something that worked great in the beginning, can stop working after a while. Or side effects can become problematic.
Racing thoughts are not my friend. They rarely race in a positive direction. Usually they go something like this. "I'm not good enough, I'll never succeed, I'll always feel THIS way, nothing will ever change." Of course, I am good enough, I frequently succeed, feeling come and go, and things are always changing.
How do I counteract these negative, racing thoughts? Prayer, meetings, meditation, and serving others. Getting active doing something positive. I prayed a lot last night. I was staying with some relatives. My wife was asleep in our bedroom. My sister-in-law was asleep in the living room. And I had insomnia. Nowhere to hang out and nothing to do. So, I lay in the dark praying and trying to sleep. Tonight is slightly better. I'm having insomnia in the hotel lobby while everybody sleeps.
We have a long drive tomorrow going home. It'll be good to be home. Now I just need to get some sleep so I can help with the driving.
One problem with living with medication is that they can lose effectiveness over time. Something that worked great in the beginning, can stop working after a while. Or side effects can become problematic.
Racing thoughts are not my friend. They rarely race in a positive direction. Usually they go something like this. "I'm not good enough, I'll never succeed, I'll always feel THIS way, nothing will ever change." Of course, I am good enough, I frequently succeed, feeling come and go, and things are always changing.
How do I counteract these negative, racing thoughts? Prayer, meetings, meditation, and serving others. Getting active doing something positive. I prayed a lot last night. I was staying with some relatives. My wife was asleep in our bedroom. My sister-in-law was asleep in the living room. And I had insomnia. Nowhere to hang out and nothing to do. So, I lay in the dark praying and trying to sleep. Tonight is slightly better. I'm having insomnia in the hotel lobby while everybody sleeps.
We have a long drive tomorrow going home. It'll be good to be home. Now I just need to get some sleep so I can help with the driving.
Friday, December 13, 2013
Writing
It is so hard to write when I'm not having regular manic episodes. The "loss" of creativity is often cited by bipolar folks as a good reason to stop taking their medications. Bipolar folks are frequently very creative. You know the mad artist or musician. Van Gogh, Edgar Allen Poe, Mozart. A good read on this is Kay Jamison's "Touched with Fire". It's kind of grandiose to think that I'm anything like these guys, but still, sometimes I feel like being bipolar has fueled my creativity. Not only has it been hard to write, I haven't been playing guitar either.
I'm doing great on the current medication regimen. Lithium in particular seems to be helping a great deal. The two months preceding my alcohol relapse were hell. One manic episode after another. No one in the house knew what the heck I would feel like, who I might be, from day to day. I finally got off the Paxil, which was incredibly difficult, and onto a higher dose of lithium. The Paxil may have been solving several problems, but it also may have been precipitating manic episodes.
The other problem that the Paxil had was that I couldn't seem to cry. Or at least not very often. I know crying doesn't seem like much of a plus, but when you haven't done it in ages, it is such a relief when it happens. Anyway, now I cry frequently. At first it was uncomfortable and weird. I'd be in church listening to the sermon and just start crying for no particular reason. Just now I was reading a book, "Carry On Warrior" by Glennen Doyle Melton, and just couldn't finish the chapter I was crying so hard. It felt good to cry at a sad book. It just feels good to be more emotionally alive.
So, why if I'm feeling more emotionally alive in some ways, do I feel as if my creativity is decreased? Just a hunch. Lithium has a reputation for this. Maybe I just need to force myself to pick up the pen or the guitar.
And that's my resolution for the day. To do some writing and play some guitar.
I'm doing great on the current medication regimen. Lithium in particular seems to be helping a great deal. The two months preceding my alcohol relapse were hell. One manic episode after another. No one in the house knew what the heck I would feel like, who I might be, from day to day. I finally got off the Paxil, which was incredibly difficult, and onto a higher dose of lithium. The Paxil may have been solving several problems, but it also may have been precipitating manic episodes.
The other problem that the Paxil had was that I couldn't seem to cry. Or at least not very often. I know crying doesn't seem like much of a plus, but when you haven't done it in ages, it is such a relief when it happens. Anyway, now I cry frequently. At first it was uncomfortable and weird. I'd be in church listening to the sermon and just start crying for no particular reason. Just now I was reading a book, "Carry On Warrior" by Glennen Doyle Melton, and just couldn't finish the chapter I was crying so hard. It felt good to cry at a sad book. It just feels good to be more emotionally alive.
So, why if I'm feeling more emotionally alive in some ways, do I feel as if my creativity is decreased? Just a hunch. Lithium has a reputation for this. Maybe I just need to force myself to pick up the pen or the guitar.
And that's my resolution for the day. To do some writing and play some guitar.
Saturday, November 30, 2013
Relapse and Recovery
I relapsed. On alcohol. With all its catastrophic consequences. I almost lost my family and next time, if there is a next time, I will. I suppose there are a million excuses I might give for why I relapsed, but the honest truth is that I just like to get high. Problem is, I don't like the consequences. Among other problems, there is the fact that once I start it is almost impossible for me to stop.
I made several obvious mistakes leading up to the relapse. I stopped going to meetings, I isolated myself from friends, I isolated myself from my wife and family, I stopped praying.
Luckily I only drank for four days or so. On the last day, I sat in the cheapest motel in town, glass in hand, and prayed. In addition to praying, I had also talked to my psychiatrist and my wife. I had reached out for help. I dumped out the booze.
In short order, after I had stopped, there was a whirlwind of Positive activity. I went to a meeting and admitted that I had relapsed. I got out of the motel and into a basement apartment in the home of some members of my church. I went to a meeting with my wife, my psychiatrist, and a couples counselor. I jumped back into recovery with renewed vigor. I jumped into my relationship with my wife with renewed vigor. And I ramped up the therapy with my psychiatrist.
Interestingly, this whole mess has produced a renewed closeness with my wife. We are planning to renew our wedding vows. With a twist. One of those vows will be that if I drink again, it will mean the end of our marriage. Our new vows will be a definition of what each of us will be bringing to the table, and of what each of us expects the other to bring to the table.
I am filled with gratitude. Not for having drank. But for the unexpected shakeup in my life and marriage. I am feeling a deep sense of joy and gratitude because I am still alive and that I get another chance to stay that way.
I made several obvious mistakes leading up to the relapse. I stopped going to meetings, I isolated myself from friends, I isolated myself from my wife and family, I stopped praying.
Luckily I only drank for four days or so. On the last day, I sat in the cheapest motel in town, glass in hand, and prayed. In addition to praying, I had also talked to my psychiatrist and my wife. I had reached out for help. I dumped out the booze.
In short order, after I had stopped, there was a whirlwind of Positive activity. I went to a meeting and admitted that I had relapsed. I got out of the motel and into a basement apartment in the home of some members of my church. I went to a meeting with my wife, my psychiatrist, and a couples counselor. I jumped back into recovery with renewed vigor. I jumped into my relationship with my wife with renewed vigor. And I ramped up the therapy with my psychiatrist.
Interestingly, this whole mess has produced a renewed closeness with my wife. We are planning to renew our wedding vows. With a twist. One of those vows will be that if I drink again, it will mean the end of our marriage. Our new vows will be a definition of what each of us will be bringing to the table, and of what each of us expects the other to bring to the table.
I am filled with gratitude. Not for having drank. But for the unexpected shakeup in my life and marriage. I am feeling a deep sense of joy and gratitude because I am still alive and that I get another chance to stay that way.
Tuesday, November 19, 2013
Rejoice
In the words of the Psalmist, "This is the day the day that the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it." Psalms 118: v. 24
While not an overly religious blog, this seemed to fit today. Attitude is everything, and Lord knows I have a lousy attitude much of the time.
Each new day in recovery and healthy living is a blessing to me. I'm lucky to be alive and sane at all with all the crazy stuff I've pulled.
When I approach each new day with the attitude that it is a gift and that I can greet it with a joyful countenance, I have a much better time of it. Certainly, there is plenty to be anxious about. Everybody has problems, but approaching those problems remembering that each day is indeed a gift. And more, that each day be enjoyed regardless of what problems it brings. Today we talked about some of the difficulties we face on the farm. But underlying that conversation was the knowledge that we will be guided through those difficulties. The certainty that a loving and caring creator will see us through. The knowledge that we will feel through our dilemmas and make the right decisions.
When I dwell in the negative, I run the risk of a relapse in addiction or mental health. I can get so spun out that using drugs and alcohol seems like a good alternative. Courting death and destruction for the notion that chemical peace of mind seems like a viable option. Luckily, sanity is a prayer, a meeting, or a phone call away. Just having someone on the other end of the line say, "so you're going to risk all that is good and right in your life so that you can get high?" is enough to get me centered again. Because the pill and the bottle are empty only provide empty promises.
The opposite of fear is faith. The antidote to that deadly despair is to rejoice. Seizing life is the opposite of chasing death. There are alternatives to active addiction and that is good news indeed.
While not an overly religious blog, this seemed to fit today. Attitude is everything, and Lord knows I have a lousy attitude much of the time.
Each new day in recovery and healthy living is a blessing to me. I'm lucky to be alive and sane at all with all the crazy stuff I've pulled.
When I approach each new day with the attitude that it is a gift and that I can greet it with a joyful countenance, I have a much better time of it. Certainly, there is plenty to be anxious about. Everybody has problems, but approaching those problems remembering that each day is indeed a gift. And more, that each day be enjoyed regardless of what problems it brings. Today we talked about some of the difficulties we face on the farm. But underlying that conversation was the knowledge that we will be guided through those difficulties. The certainty that a loving and caring creator will see us through. The knowledge that we will feel through our dilemmas and make the right decisions.
When I dwell in the negative, I run the risk of a relapse in addiction or mental health. I can get so spun out that using drugs and alcohol seems like a good alternative. Courting death and destruction for the notion that chemical peace of mind seems like a viable option. Luckily, sanity is a prayer, a meeting, or a phone call away. Just having someone on the other end of the line say, "so you're going to risk all that is good and right in your life so that you can get high?" is enough to get me centered again. Because the pill and the bottle are empty only provide empty promises.
The opposite of fear is faith. The antidote to that deadly despair is to rejoice. Seizing life is the opposite of chasing death. There are alternatives to active addiction and that is good news indeed.
Sunday, November 10, 2013
How can I help?
I read an amazing article called, "No one brings dinner when your daughter is an addict." by Larry M. Lake. It's a tear jerker but definitely worth the read. The general idea is that when someone gets sick with cancer, friends, family, and church communities show up to support the family. The symbol of this is the dozens of church casseroles that show up in addition to all the cards and calls. Unfortunately, usually no one shows up when a family member goes to a mental institution or gets locked up involuntarily in a alcohol rehabilitation facility.
I know, at least in my experience, that there was very little outside support for my wife and kids when I had troubles of this sort, although to be fair the pastor showed up at my hospital bed once when I was drunk and suicidal.
I'm not trying to say that anybody's being mean or anything. It's mostly that people haven't the faintest idea what to do or say. We are not prepared, by our experience or education, to deal with mental illness in our immediate families or communities. We are taught that addiction and mental illness are a family's "dirty laundry". We are taught that we ought not talk about it in public.
OK, so assuming we are at a place where we can acknowledge that we don't have a clue, what can we say or do?
We can offer assistance to the family who has a loved one ill or hospitalized. Card, calls, prayers, and, of course, casseroles.
We can ask the family if they care to talk about it. One could say, "I understand that Russ is ill, but I don't understand mental illness. Would you like to share with me what is going on?
We can confront our own fear and confusion about mental illness and addiction. Get it out there. In the light of day. Out of the closet.
Wednesday, November 6, 2013
Brokenness
I've been contemplating the idea that we are all broken and that somehow, someday maybe we become whole. Or maybe we never do. This is certainly not a new idea. It definitely fits in with my neo-Catholic world view.
Maybe the first step in coming to accept that we are broken is to see that we are. Some people limp along their whole lives thinking that they are OK and that this is as good as it gets. There is no doubt that with my addiction I had to first see that I was addicted. The same was true with mental illness. For a lot of years I just didn't see the elephant in the living room. I couldn't see that I was ill...seriously ill. Then for a while longer I thought maybe I had a bad case of Seasonal Affective Disorder. That seemed somehow better than coming to accept that I actually had bipolar disorder, which is really a nice way of saying MANIC DEPRESSION. Even after I was diagnosed with bipolar, I really didn't accept what that meant. Among other things it would mean that I would have to change my entire life around. It meant that recovering from addiction and mental illness would become the two most important things in my life.
So how do we become whole? First, we realize that we are broken. Then, through a series of seemingly unrelated actions, we begin to heal. It started with not taking that first drink or that first drug. Then I started hanging out with some scruffy drug addicts in church basements who said they had an answer. Then I started examining my life. Then I came to believe that I had something I could offer others. I could help others stay clean. Somehow, this led me back to a connection to a God of my understanding. Whether I prayed in church or on the trout stream I began to feel some kind of connection to something greater than myself.
The same is true of my journey through mental illness. First I came to accept that I was A MANIC DEPRESSIVE. When I accepted that, I was able to turn outward for help. First to a doctor. Then to medication. Then to lifestyle changes. Then to a God. And somehow I came to believe that I could be of service to others again. I could carry a message of hope, not just about recovery from addiction, but also about recovery from mental illness.
Somehow this combination of returning to a life of faith and hope, coupled with the sense that I can be of service, is leading me on a path towards wholeness.
Maybe the first step in coming to accept that we are broken is to see that we are. Some people limp along their whole lives thinking that they are OK and that this is as good as it gets. There is no doubt that with my addiction I had to first see that I was addicted. The same was true with mental illness. For a lot of years I just didn't see the elephant in the living room. I couldn't see that I was ill...seriously ill. Then for a while longer I thought maybe I had a bad case of Seasonal Affective Disorder. That seemed somehow better than coming to accept that I actually had bipolar disorder, which is really a nice way of saying MANIC DEPRESSION. Even after I was diagnosed with bipolar, I really didn't accept what that meant. Among other things it would mean that I would have to change my entire life around. It meant that recovering from addiction and mental illness would become the two most important things in my life.
So how do we become whole? First, we realize that we are broken. Then, through a series of seemingly unrelated actions, we begin to heal. It started with not taking that first drink or that first drug. Then I started hanging out with some scruffy drug addicts in church basements who said they had an answer. Then I started examining my life. Then I came to believe that I had something I could offer others. I could help others stay clean. Somehow, this led me back to a connection to a God of my understanding. Whether I prayed in church or on the trout stream I began to feel some kind of connection to something greater than myself.
The same is true of my journey through mental illness. First I came to accept that I was A MANIC DEPRESSIVE. When I accepted that, I was able to turn outward for help. First to a doctor. Then to medication. Then to lifestyle changes. Then to a God. And somehow I came to believe that I could be of service to others again. I could carry a message of hope, not just about recovery from addiction, but also about recovery from mental illness.
Somehow this combination of returning to a life of faith and hope, coupled with the sense that I can be of service, is leading me on a path towards wholeness.
Sunday, November 3, 2013
New Goals
In the past, I've always had pretty grand goals in life. Hiking and fly-fishing above the arctic circle, owning a farm, being a fantastic teacher, and many more. As grandiose as these may seem I've, over time, accomplished them and many more like them.
Therefore, I was taken aback when I recently went to examine what my life goals were at present and couldn't think of any. How could it be that I had come to have no goals in life? It all seemed really, really depressing. I had goals like, find my lost pocket knife, have my stomach feel better, make it through the day as at least a mediocre husband and father.
I brought this dilemma to the attention of some friends and my wife and they kind of got me back on the right track. It's not that I no longer had goals, it's that the nature of my goals had changed. I was no longer fixated on the sort of goals I used to have which mostly revolved around satisfying myself, I had a different sort of goal now.
Goals like, staying clean for the long haul, being a fantastic husband, being a fantastic parent, raising these kids up right. I guess I'd still like to sea kayak in Greece, but that somehow seems less important than it once did.
I did a brainstorming in my journal last night about it. I still have lots of big important goals, and many fun and exciting ones too. I just think my goals must be maturing...finally.
Therefore, I was taken aback when I recently went to examine what my life goals were at present and couldn't think of any. How could it be that I had come to have no goals in life? It all seemed really, really depressing. I had goals like, find my lost pocket knife, have my stomach feel better, make it through the day as at least a mediocre husband and father.
I brought this dilemma to the attention of some friends and my wife and they kind of got me back on the right track. It's not that I no longer had goals, it's that the nature of my goals had changed. I was no longer fixated on the sort of goals I used to have which mostly revolved around satisfying myself, I had a different sort of goal now.
Goals like, staying clean for the long haul, being a fantastic husband, being a fantastic parent, raising these kids up right. I guess I'd still like to sea kayak in Greece, but that somehow seems less important than it once did.
I did a brainstorming in my journal last night about it. I still have lots of big important goals, and many fun and exciting ones too. I just think my goals must be maturing...finally.
Thursday, October 31, 2013
Go gently...
I don't know how ready I am to write about this.
I've had a big Saanan wether for about five years now. He's been a great goat. He never had any economic value. He's always just been kind of a pet. A companion. When I was having a rough day, or if I just needed to take some time to get grounded I would go out to the goat pasture and sit with him. He had all kinds of funny expressions. He would nuzzle up against my shoulders and try to eat the buttons off my favorite shirts. We named him Caspian after Prince Caspian in the Narnia series.
Problem was, Caspian always had a genetic issue with his knees and legs. It would come and go, and we would always wonder whether this was the time we should finally put him down. He didn't seem to be in a great deal of pain, but it was hard to see a 200 pound goat crawling around on his knees.
When we decided to put him down, I sobbed. It took a couple of more days to find the time to take care of it and I was overcome by emotion several more times. I was a little frustrated with myself. This is a farm after all. Farm animals come and go. It's probably best not to get too emotionally attached to them. He's just a smelly, crippled, old goat after all. How hard should this be? But somehow this was different than sending a beef cow to the butcher. He was my buddy.
And so the time came. A few rough caresses. A little treat in the grain bucket. A quick goodbye. And a .32 caliber bullet to the head.
Goodbye Caspian my old friend. Go gently into that good night.
SSRI Discontinuation Syndrome
That's a fancy term for, "I got off of Paxil and survived." Holy cats that was rough. I've had some wicked alcohol and benzo withdrawals, but getting off of Paxil was by far the worst I've ever experienced.
Paxil, like Prozac, is a selective serotonin re-uptake inhibitor. (SSRI) It is used commonly to treat depression and anxiety. In my case, social anxiety. After discussing the possibility that the Paxil was triggering manic episodes, my doctor and I agreed to try to taper off the drug. Wow.
Nausea, vomiting, dramatic weight loss, loss of appetite, severe dizziness, fainting, mild hallucinations, and my favorite, waves of electric shock travelling down my extremities.
Not only that, it lasted for almost a month. I lost 15 pounds. I slept mostly on the couch because I didn't want to keep my wife and baby up all night.
Not only that, the dehydration caused by the nausea and vomiting spiked my recently increased Lithium levels and I had borderline Lithium toxicity.
Anyway, 6 weeks later I am starting to feel better. I wouldn't say I'm feeling "normal" because I don't even know what normal feels like anymore. I've been on Paxil for almost 15 years and being off of it is extremely emotionally intense.
The new normal is that my emotions are right at the surface. All of them. I'm happy, elated, excited, angry, irritable, sad, confused, all right at the surface. I start crying fifteen times a day. I feel ready to snarl and snap at the kids at the least provocation. But there is a flip side. It is so refreshing to feel so in touch with my emotions again. It feels like I've been comfortably numb for fifteen years. It feels like waking up from a light sleep.
I have a standing order from my psychiatrist to try a newer generation SSRI. She's not pushing the issue, but it is clear that she would recommend it. For today, at least, I'm not ready to start a new drug. I don't seem to be having any clear cut signs of depression. I'm on plenty of other medications that have anti-depressant qualities. I have moments that look a little like depression, but they seem to pass fairly quickly. I'm taking a wait and see attitude and watching to see what the NEW NORMAL looks like.
Paxil, like Prozac, is a selective serotonin re-uptake inhibitor. (SSRI) It is used commonly to treat depression and anxiety. In my case, social anxiety. After discussing the possibility that the Paxil was triggering manic episodes, my doctor and I agreed to try to taper off the drug. Wow.
Nausea, vomiting, dramatic weight loss, loss of appetite, severe dizziness, fainting, mild hallucinations, and my favorite, waves of electric shock travelling down my extremities.
Not only that, it lasted for almost a month. I lost 15 pounds. I slept mostly on the couch because I didn't want to keep my wife and baby up all night.
Not only that, the dehydration caused by the nausea and vomiting spiked my recently increased Lithium levels and I had borderline Lithium toxicity.
Anyway, 6 weeks later I am starting to feel better. I wouldn't say I'm feeling "normal" because I don't even know what normal feels like anymore. I've been on Paxil for almost 15 years and being off of it is extremely emotionally intense.
The new normal is that my emotions are right at the surface. All of them. I'm happy, elated, excited, angry, irritable, sad, confused, all right at the surface. I start crying fifteen times a day. I feel ready to snarl and snap at the kids at the least provocation. But there is a flip side. It is so refreshing to feel so in touch with my emotions again. It feels like I've been comfortably numb for fifteen years. It feels like waking up from a light sleep.
I have a standing order from my psychiatrist to try a newer generation SSRI. She's not pushing the issue, but it is clear that she would recommend it. For today, at least, I'm not ready to start a new drug. I don't seem to be having any clear cut signs of depression. I'm on plenty of other medications that have anti-depressant qualities. I have moments that look a little like depression, but they seem to pass fairly quickly. I'm taking a wait and see attitude and watching to see what the NEW NORMAL looks like.
Tuesday, September 24, 2013
Men's Gathering
I went to a Narcotics Anonymous men's retreat last weekend. It was amazing. The weekend consisted of a beautiful location, lots of great food, and a fireside speaker meeting. There weren't dozens of workshops and meetings to go to. Just a chance to spend time with other men who are on a spiritual path. I had the opportunity to play guitar with a friend. Had the opportunity to stay up until three talking with another man.
So what's the take away? Spending a weekend in the woods with a bunch of guys, many of whom were tough ex-cons, all of whom were ex-drug addicts. The value of the experience lay in taking time to learn to love and accept love from other men. Something our society doesn't value and certainly present many opportunities to practice.
I had a great weekend. I came home refreshed and excited to resume my life as a family man and a small farmer.
So what's the take away? Spending a weekend in the woods with a bunch of guys, many of whom were tough ex-cons, all of whom were ex-drug addicts. The value of the experience lay in taking time to learn to love and accept love from other men. Something our society doesn't value and certainly present many opportunities to practice.
I had a great weekend. I came home refreshed and excited to resume my life as a family man and a small farmer.
Friday, September 13, 2013
Teaching
An unexpected rush of feelings has sent me into a tailspin for the last couple of days. The first bout of depression I've had all summer.
I put on a suit and tie and went looking for some tutoring work at the local school districts. I thought I might just introduce myself to the special education teachers and drop off my business card. Somehow I ended up meeting the superintendent who practically begged me to get on the substitute teacher list and get my name known around the district. Maybe it was the suit and tie. Maybe it was being asked. Maybe it was the feeling having my services being needed in a district again.
I was a good teacher. A lot of the time I was a great teacher. For many years I felt as if teaching was my "calling". Problem was, near the end I just couldn't show up. Sometimes it was just short term bipolar symptoms that knocked me out for a day or two. Sometimes it was a more significant episode that took me out of a week or month long medical leave of absence. I couldn't keep doing that. It wasn't fair to the students, the district, or myself.
It took me a few hours, but eventually I realized that I just couldn't get back in the game. I thought I had accepted my bipolar disorder and most of the time I have. I thought I had accepted my disability diagnosis. Maybe it was that we could really use the money right now. Maybe it was the ever present societal pressure for men to work and provide. Whatever it was it knocked me out of commission.
I just couldn't accept that I wasn't going back to teaching. I'm out of that game. I thought I'd been through all of that years ago.
A couple of things snapped me back into focus. My wife and I spoke about what I am really "called" to today. It's not playing superhero as a public school special education teacher. It's not bringing down the salary. I think, or rather she thought, that it was something else. It's raising these kids. It's taking care of these animals on the farm. It's volunteering. And maybe it's carrying the message of Narcotics Anonymous to the still suffering addict and alcoholic.
And as for the finances, well, it was pointed out my a fellow NA member that I really have what's called "luxury problems." My car may be a piece of crap, but hey at least I have a car. It's paid for. It runs. I have a driver's license today. And I even have a full tank of gas. Yes, I have a lot to be grateful for. I am truly blessed.
I put on a suit and tie and went looking for some tutoring work at the local school districts. I thought I might just introduce myself to the special education teachers and drop off my business card. Somehow I ended up meeting the superintendent who practically begged me to get on the substitute teacher list and get my name known around the district. Maybe it was the suit and tie. Maybe it was being asked. Maybe it was the feeling having my services being needed in a district again.
I was a good teacher. A lot of the time I was a great teacher. For many years I felt as if teaching was my "calling". Problem was, near the end I just couldn't show up. Sometimes it was just short term bipolar symptoms that knocked me out for a day or two. Sometimes it was a more significant episode that took me out of a week or month long medical leave of absence. I couldn't keep doing that. It wasn't fair to the students, the district, or myself.
It took me a few hours, but eventually I realized that I just couldn't get back in the game. I thought I had accepted my bipolar disorder and most of the time I have. I thought I had accepted my disability diagnosis. Maybe it was that we could really use the money right now. Maybe it was the ever present societal pressure for men to work and provide. Whatever it was it knocked me out of commission.
I just couldn't accept that I wasn't going back to teaching. I'm out of that game. I thought I'd been through all of that years ago.
A couple of things snapped me back into focus. My wife and I spoke about what I am really "called" to today. It's not playing superhero as a public school special education teacher. It's not bringing down the salary. I think, or rather she thought, that it was something else. It's raising these kids. It's taking care of these animals on the farm. It's volunteering. And maybe it's carrying the message of Narcotics Anonymous to the still suffering addict and alcoholic.
And as for the finances, well, it was pointed out my a fellow NA member that I really have what's called "luxury problems." My car may be a piece of crap, but hey at least I have a car. It's paid for. It runs. I have a driver's license today. And I even have a full tank of gas. Yes, I have a lot to be grateful for. I am truly blessed.
Saturday, September 7, 2013
Meaningful Work
One of the facets of working with teens that was so rewarding is that it was always clear that I was doing Meaningful Work. What I did mattered. What I did made a difference.
Since I've left teaching, I haven't had the same sense that what I am doing is somehow of service to my society and to my community. I still need that connection to meaningful work though. I've had to re-think what it means to be meaningfully engaged in the lives of those around me.
On one level there is my family and my farm. I am a husband and a father. I am raising four boys, homeschooling them, and mentoring them. That is certainly meaningful work. I also care for my animals. That involves meaningful work. Feeding, milking, and caring for the animals. As part of the "feeding" of the animals we moved 16+ tons of hay this summer. That was most certainly a lot of work. It's been three weeks since we finished and my arms still hurt.
But how can I make that connection to being meaningfully engaged in my community if I am no longer playing super-hero as a special education teacher? The answer to that, for me, lies in something I mentioned in last nights blog post. I carry a message of recovery from active addiction and from bipolar disorder into the wider community. A message of hope and a promise of freedom. Lord knows I'm no super-hero at that either, but it is through the service of carrying the message that I am able to be of service to my community. Today that is my meaningful work. Whether I am volunteering to share on an informational panel at a local treatment center, participating in a local Narcotics Anonymous meeting, answering the phone when someone calls for help, or writing this blog, I am engaged in meaningful work in my community.
Tonight's presentation on the therapeutic day school made me nostalgic about teaching, but I don't think I'm going to jump into contracted teaching again just yet. I think I might seek out a volunteer opportunity though. Maybe I could be a volunteer tutor in a local literacy program. I could probably manage a couple hours a week doing that.
Caffeine...and now tobacco
I didn't really ever plan on quitting tobacco. I love tobacco. I love growing it, chewing it, smoking fine cigars. Then we hit a financial wall and decided that tobacco just wasn't in the budget. Just like that I quit cold turkey. Of course it didn't turn out to be that simple. Just when I was thinking, "gee, this isn't all that hard", I took the change jar and bought two tins of Copenhagen. I thought it would be fun to chew tobacco, drink iced tea, and stay up all night watching a movie. Wrong on all counts.
On the plus side, I've been really regular about taking my medication. I've been fairly symptom free as far as the bipolar goes. Still on the plus side I've been sober off of alcohol and other drugs.
I carried a meeting into a treatment facility the other night. It was a really rewarding experience. I don't think the clients at the treatment center were there voluntarily, but some of them seemed interested in our message of hope. The promise of freedom from active addiction.
Well short entry, but that's it for tonight.
On the plus side, I've been really regular about taking my medication. I've been fairly symptom free as far as the bipolar goes. Still on the plus side I've been sober off of alcohol and other drugs.
I carried a meeting into a treatment facility the other night. It was a really rewarding experience. I don't think the clients at the treatment center were there voluntarily, but some of them seemed interested in our message of hope. The promise of freedom from active addiction.
Well short entry, but that's it for tonight.
Thursday, August 15, 2013
The kitchen is very, very clean...
It's three am. I've watched a movie, listened to two entire Grateful Dead concerts, and cleaned the kitchen until it shines. I feel GREAT! Unfortunately, for folks with bipolar disorder great is a mixed blessing. Any departure from a baseline mood is likely to create waves for days to come. Will my mood, as it did two weeks ago, suddenly turn into mania or will I crash into a mild to moderate depression?
I'm sad about leaving my farm in Idaho. There is so much I had hoped to do there. Maybe start a CSA, continue to sell artisan cheeses at the Farmers Market, or work on selling more hogs. All those dreams are on hold right now. Farming has turned from a budding enterprise into a hobby. A therapeutic hobby to be sure, but that's not really how I envisioned things going. I'm discouraged.
On the other hand, I'm not discouraged about how many of the other areas of my life are going. I feel like my recovery and bipolar control are going extremely well. I rarely think about drinking. My bipolar symptoms are largely under control despite tonight's hypomania. My family life is wonderful. I'm making new friends here in Oregon. I am so grateful for all that I do have. I feel truly blessed. When I'm in a better frame of mind, I get the feeling that we are right where we are supposed to be at this particular moment in time.
When I think about what's really important, I guess I don't have much to complain about. Now I just have to try to get a little sleep.
I'm sad about leaving my farm in Idaho. There is so much I had hoped to do there. Maybe start a CSA, continue to sell artisan cheeses at the Farmers Market, or work on selling more hogs. All those dreams are on hold right now. Farming has turned from a budding enterprise into a hobby. A therapeutic hobby to be sure, but that's not really how I envisioned things going. I'm discouraged.
On the other hand, I'm not discouraged about how many of the other areas of my life are going. I feel like my recovery and bipolar control are going extremely well. I rarely think about drinking. My bipolar symptoms are largely under control despite tonight's hypomania. My family life is wonderful. I'm making new friends here in Oregon. I am so grateful for all that I do have. I feel truly blessed. When I'm in a better frame of mind, I get the feeling that we are right where we are supposed to be at this particular moment in time.
Friday, August 2, 2013
Manic Episode
I hadn't been writing much on the blog. After all, there hadn't been much to write about. I'd been going along doing quite well. Sleeping right. Eating right. My mood had been stable. More stable than it had been in a long time in fact. Then Bam!
I don't know what all of the "triggers" for the episode were, but letting my program of self-care go a little bit was one of the triggers for sure.
My wife left town for a couple of days. Friday night I fell asleep on the couch and forgot to take my evening meds. In the morning, I somehow rationalized that this would be a good opportunity to drink a whole bunch of caffeine. So I started hitting the iced tea and triple iced espressos. By the time evening rolled around I was feeling so good, so hypomanic, that I didn't want to take my evening meds again. I guess I was figuring they would bring down the ecstatic mood I was in. Then it turned on a dime and morphed into a full blown mania. Complete with agitation, feelings of impending doom, panic, paranoia, and yes even mild delusions. I was watching the two older boys, but by this time they were asleep. I was feeling like I was incapable of being a responisible parent should there be some emergency although was probably not the case in reality. I was wondering if I should call a friend to come over to be with me. I was feeling like perhaps I should take a ride in to the hospital to come down. I was feeling as if the episode would never end although I know that they always end. Knowing that I was out of control I began reaching out and connect with anyone who would listen on Facebook chat. Why I didn't call someone on the phone I don't know. By this time I was jumping at every little noise in the night. Finally a friend of mine convinced me to take my meds. He suggested drinking a bunch of water and lying down. I finally slept for a little bit and the meds knocked the whole episode down a notch. Sunday came and I was still pretty wrecked. I managed to go to an NA meeting which helped. All though Sunday I continued with a moderate mixed state mania. Another night of two hours of sleep. By this time I had only slept 4 hours in the last 48. Finally on Monday morning I got a hold of my psychiatrist. She suggested that I immediately stop drinking caffeine and dramatically increase my lithium dose. This I did and within a couple of hours the episode was over.
This was the worst manic episode I had had in years. I was shocked. Only a couple of days of shoddy self-care and I was out of control. What a wake up call.
In the aftermath the increased lithium was making me feel like a zombie, but anything was better than the mania. Later in the week, working with my doctor, we managed to lower the dosage to where I was neither manic or a zombie. I'm feeling pretty good, although sleeping was a little harder.
On the bright side the episode helped me recognize and reaffirm how important self care is. I need to take care of myself especially when my wife is out of town. I realize now how "addictive" my behavior was. What I fine line I was walking. In a scary way it could have easily been alcohol I was drinking instead of caffeine.
I made a nice little checklist of the 10 or so things I need to do for my bipolar and recovery self-care.
I have another chance to cope better this weekend. My wife is going out of town again. I'm going to try to stick to my regimen as closely as possible.
Wish me luck!
I don't know what all of the "triggers" for the episode were, but letting my program of self-care go a little bit was one of the triggers for sure.
My wife left town for a couple of days. Friday night I fell asleep on the couch and forgot to take my evening meds. In the morning, I somehow rationalized that this would be a good opportunity to drink a whole bunch of caffeine. So I started hitting the iced tea and triple iced espressos. By the time evening rolled around I was feeling so good, so hypomanic, that I didn't want to take my evening meds again. I guess I was figuring they would bring down the ecstatic mood I was in. Then it turned on a dime and morphed into a full blown mania. Complete with agitation, feelings of impending doom, panic, paranoia, and yes even mild delusions. I was watching the two older boys, but by this time they were asleep. I was feeling like I was incapable of being a responisible parent should there be some emergency although was probably not the case in reality. I was wondering if I should call a friend to come over to be with me. I was feeling like perhaps I should take a ride in to the hospital to come down. I was feeling as if the episode would never end although I know that they always end. Knowing that I was out of control I began reaching out and connect with anyone who would listen on Facebook chat. Why I didn't call someone on the phone I don't know. By this time I was jumping at every little noise in the night. Finally a friend of mine convinced me to take my meds. He suggested drinking a bunch of water and lying down. I finally slept for a little bit and the meds knocked the whole episode down a notch. Sunday came and I was still pretty wrecked. I managed to go to an NA meeting which helped. All though Sunday I continued with a moderate mixed state mania. Another night of two hours of sleep. By this time I had only slept 4 hours in the last 48. Finally on Monday morning I got a hold of my psychiatrist. She suggested that I immediately stop drinking caffeine and dramatically increase my lithium dose. This I did and within a couple of hours the episode was over.
This was the worst manic episode I had had in years. I was shocked. Only a couple of days of shoddy self-care and I was out of control. What a wake up call.
In the aftermath the increased lithium was making me feel like a zombie, but anything was better than the mania. Later in the week, working with my doctor, we managed to lower the dosage to where I was neither manic or a zombie. I'm feeling pretty good, although sleeping was a little harder.
On the bright side the episode helped me recognize and reaffirm how important self care is. I need to take care of myself especially when my wife is out of town. I realize now how "addictive" my behavior was. What I fine line I was walking. In a scary way it could have easily been alcohol I was drinking instead of caffeine.
I made a nice little checklist of the 10 or so things I need to do for my bipolar and recovery self-care.
No Booze
No Drugs
No Caffeine
Moderate Nicotine
Daily exercise
Sleep hygiene
Prayer
Meditation
Meetings
Eat RightI have another chance to cope better this weekend. My wife is going out of town again. I'm going to try to stick to my regimen as closely as possible.
Wish me luck!
Thursday, July 18, 2013
From there comes my help...
I haven't blogged here in a couple of weeks. Mostly because I've been sleeping well, and I've done most of my writing while having hypomania and insomnia. I've been fairly symptom free for a month or so. But not tonight.
I just got back from a trip to the mountains for a few days. I went alone except for the dog. The mountains are extremely therapeutic for me. Being there helps me find peace, serenity, and clarity.
I went backpacking for three days. I hiked up from about 5000 feet to 8400 feet. At the pass at 8400 the trail was blocked by snow, and I had to turn back. I had the opportunity to fly-fish some beautiful alpine lakes. The fishing wasn't so fantastic, but the scenery sure was. I had planned on hiking a 35 mile loop, but the snowfields prevented that. I still managed about 20 miles though.
Anyway, the excitement from the trip has me experiencing some hypomania and insomnia. I'm not too worried about it as long as it doesn't turn back into a chronic problem. We'll see. I have some things I can try with the sleep. I haven't been practicing all of the tricks I know to improve my sleep hygiene.
Here are a few pictures from the trip.
To paraphrase the Psalmist, I will lift my eyes up into the hills, it is from there that my help comes, my help comes from the Lord, creator of all heaven and earth.
Good night all.
I just got back from a trip to the mountains for a few days. I went alone except for the dog. The mountains are extremely therapeutic for me. Being there helps me find peace, serenity, and clarity.
I went backpacking for three days. I hiked up from about 5000 feet to 8400 feet. At the pass at 8400 the trail was blocked by snow, and I had to turn back. I had the opportunity to fly-fish some beautiful alpine lakes. The fishing wasn't so fantastic, but the scenery sure was. I had planned on hiking a 35 mile loop, but the snowfields prevented that. I still managed about 20 miles though.
Anyway, the excitement from the trip has me experiencing some hypomania and insomnia. I'm not too worried about it as long as it doesn't turn back into a chronic problem. We'll see. I have some things I can try with the sleep. I haven't been practicing all of the tricks I know to improve my sleep hygiene.
Here are a few pictures from the trip.
Good night all.
Saturday, June 22, 2013
a period of calm and then...
I've had a really balanced few weeks. I've been sleeping better than I have at any time in the last 20 years. My was is amazed. I think I slept through the night every night for over two weeks.
I quit caffeine altogether, switched one medication from morning to evening and one from evening to morning, got some exercise, ate well, and watched my sleep hygiene. All of these changes have leveled my mood considerably. I've felt really, well, normal. I wistfully miss the highs, but I don't miss the depression, anxiety, and mania.
I went on a really enjoyable vacation with my family, extended family, and friends. We went fishing and camping on the Oregon coast. Ordinarily this would completely activate my "social phobia." It really did not. I felt a little anxious and overwhelmed at times, but nothing like a full blown panic attack. But alas, it did catch up to me after we were back.
I became emotionally shut down, depressed, and irritable. I was snarly with everyone. Today I became so depressed that I hid under the covers and was sure I'd never come out. Depression feels as if it's going to last forever. I felt like I was drowning in molasses. My mind was racing in slow motion. Going over and over all the things that had to get done right away and that I was incapable of doing. Shear the sheep, milk the goats, fix the fence, load the hay. Too much to do to be lying in bed in the middle of the day.
My wife came in and urged me to go for a walk. This, of course, would have been a great way to snap out of a depression, exercise always is, but I just couldn't do it. "Well, at least milk the goats", she said. So after she had left, I crawled out of bed and got ready to do evening milking chores. Seeing the goats, who were excited to see me, made me feel a little better. Getting one goat finished. Cleaned up, milked, cared for, petted, scratched behind the ears, and put to bed made me feel even better. By the end of the second goat I was feeling like I might survive after all.
After finishing with the animal chores, I took a hot bath and a nice shave. Complete with aftershave. Definitely feeling like I would make it through the night.
I doubt I am through with this period of depression. But what I am sure of is that these simple chores and actions snapped me out of it for long enough to get a little perspective. To feel just a little bit better for long enough to see that depression is not a permanent condition. Tonight, at least, will be a little better than it would have been had I just stayed in bed perseverating about shearing sheep.
Tonight I will again, stay off the caffeine, take my medications at their appropriate times, and work on proper sleep hygiene. Hopefully I'll get a good night's sleep and be ready to welcome a new day no matter what it may bring.
And yes, I caught the smallest of the halibut at the coast. But I loved it. Matty, my youngest, caught the largest.
I quit caffeine altogether, switched one medication from morning to evening and one from evening to morning, got some exercise, ate well, and watched my sleep hygiene. All of these changes have leveled my mood considerably. I've felt really, well, normal. I wistfully miss the highs, but I don't miss the depression, anxiety, and mania.
I went on a really enjoyable vacation with my family, extended family, and friends. We went fishing and camping on the Oregon coast. Ordinarily this would completely activate my "social phobia." It really did not. I felt a little anxious and overwhelmed at times, but nothing like a full blown panic attack. But alas, it did catch up to me after we were back.
I became emotionally shut down, depressed, and irritable. I was snarly with everyone. Today I became so depressed that I hid under the covers and was sure I'd never come out. Depression feels as if it's going to last forever. I felt like I was drowning in molasses. My mind was racing in slow motion. Going over and over all the things that had to get done right away and that I was incapable of doing. Shear the sheep, milk the goats, fix the fence, load the hay. Too much to do to be lying in bed in the middle of the day.
My wife came in and urged me to go for a walk. This, of course, would have been a great way to snap out of a depression, exercise always is, but I just couldn't do it. "Well, at least milk the goats", she said. So after she had left, I crawled out of bed and got ready to do evening milking chores. Seeing the goats, who were excited to see me, made me feel a little better. Getting one goat finished. Cleaned up, milked, cared for, petted, scratched behind the ears, and put to bed made me feel even better. By the end of the second goat I was feeling like I might survive after all.
After finishing with the animal chores, I took a hot bath and a nice shave. Complete with aftershave. Definitely feeling like I would make it through the night.
I doubt I am through with this period of depression. But what I am sure of is that these simple chores and actions snapped me out of it for long enough to get a little perspective. To feel just a little bit better for long enough to see that depression is not a permanent condition. Tonight, at least, will be a little better than it would have been had I just stayed in bed perseverating about shearing sheep.
Tonight I will again, stay off the caffeine, take my medications at their appropriate times, and work on proper sleep hygiene. Hopefully I'll get a good night's sleep and be ready to welcome a new day no matter what it may bring.
Friday, June 7, 2013
Relapse...and recovery
Relapse doesn't have to be a part of recovery, but in my story it is. I didn't want to write and leave the mistaken impression that I have a million years of clean time because I don't. I had a relapse this year with heartbreaking results.
Addiction and bipolar disorder frequently go hand in hand. They certainly do for me. Bipolar disorder does not make it impossible to remain continuously abstinent, but it certainly doesn't help matters.
Relapse, for me, is a deep, dark, underwater cave. It feels like I'm drowning, and I can't reach the surface for air. When I relapse, I frequently stop taking my medications. Even if I try to take the medication, they don't work very well in concert with alcohol and other substances. The end result is some very erratic, sometimes dangerous behavior. I just get crazy in a really scary way. In a hurry.
I've chosen to make my (recovery) stand in 12 step programs. I'm in no way a good example of the message of hope the program offers. If I should relapse and implode, please don't consider that a failure of 12 step programs. It is only a failure on my part to put the program into continuous practice.
That said, I have had longer period of continuous sobriety in my past and am blessed to be clean right now. I am currently working (reworking) the first step. "We admitted we were powerless over our addiction and our lives had become unmanageable." I've known this is true, in some sense, my whole life but truly accepting this as a fact of my existence has been much harder.
The farm life, and its therapeutic power, has a huge positive effect on both my bipolar treatment and my addiction recovery. I've recently been working in the garden and getting my hands dirty has been a really grounding experience this year. "Humility", a key concept in recovery, is connected to the farm life for me in many ways. The word humility is connected to the Latin word for soil, humus. Humus, in Latin, means "of the earth". It is implied that "of the earth" is distinct from "of the heavens" which is where the Gods reside. When I work in the soil, in my garden, or when I work with the animals, I am learning about humility. My part is to plant the seed, to till the soil, hoe the weeds, and water the plants. The miracle comes when this whole process results in a bountiful harvest. It is a deeply spiritual practice for me. The Benedictines have a motto, To pray is to work, and to work is to pray. Orare est Laborare, Laborare est Orare. For me, that prayerful work is hear on the farm. And that prayerful work is an essential part of my recovery from both addiction and bipolar disorder.
Addiction and bipolar disorder frequently go hand in hand. They certainly do for me. Bipolar disorder does not make it impossible to remain continuously abstinent, but it certainly doesn't help matters.
Relapse, for me, is a deep, dark, underwater cave. It feels like I'm drowning, and I can't reach the surface for air. When I relapse, I frequently stop taking my medications. Even if I try to take the medication, they don't work very well in concert with alcohol and other substances. The end result is some very erratic, sometimes dangerous behavior. I just get crazy in a really scary way. In a hurry.
I've chosen to make my (recovery) stand in 12 step programs. I'm in no way a good example of the message of hope the program offers. If I should relapse and implode, please don't consider that a failure of 12 step programs. It is only a failure on my part to put the program into continuous practice.
That said, I have had longer period of continuous sobriety in my past and am blessed to be clean right now. I am currently working (reworking) the first step. "We admitted we were powerless over our addiction and our lives had become unmanageable." I've known this is true, in some sense, my whole life but truly accepting this as a fact of my existence has been much harder.
The farm life, and its therapeutic power, has a huge positive effect on both my bipolar treatment and my addiction recovery. I've recently been working in the garden and getting my hands dirty has been a really grounding experience this year. "Humility", a key concept in recovery, is connected to the farm life for me in many ways. The word humility is connected to the Latin word for soil, humus. Humus, in Latin, means "of the earth". It is implied that "of the earth" is distinct from "of the heavens" which is where the Gods reside. When I work in the soil, in my garden, or when I work with the animals, I am learning about humility. My part is to plant the seed, to till the soil, hoe the weeds, and water the plants. The miracle comes when this whole process results in a bountiful harvest. It is a deeply spiritual practice for me. The Benedictines have a motto, To pray is to work, and to work is to pray. Orare est Laborare, Laborare est Orare. For me, that prayerful work is hear on the farm. And that prayerful work is an essential part of my recovery from both addiction and bipolar disorder.
Tuesday, June 4, 2013
cyclothymia
While there is no doubt that I fall fully on the bipolar spectrum, I am currently experiencing a form of cyclothymia. Cyclothymia is a form of mild or subthreshold bipolar disorder. Instead of cycling from full blown manic to major depressive episodes, in cyclothymia the fluctuation is from hypomania to mild depression. I have been on a mild mood cycle all week. I feel good in the morning, hypomanic in the afternoon, and mildly depressed in the evening.
While cycling of this sort still allows me to be fairly functional, it is exhausting after a week of it. By evening I am overwhelmed by life and having a feeling of impending doom. Well, not doom exactly, more like...nothing's ever going to work out so why bother trying any more. And from that feeling it is easy to move on to, "since nothing's ever going to work out, why not get drunk." Obviously, getting drunk is not the answer, but it is hard to see what the answer might be.
At this juncture it is important to step up the basics. Take the positive actions that are fairly obvious.
1. Step up meeting attendance
2. Eat right
3. Exercise
4. Talk to somebody
5. Do the dishes
You can stay sober and reasonably sane for a long time by simply focusing on small victories. Victories like going to bed with a clean kitchen. Showering and shaving, complete with aftershave, is another tried and true for me. If you don't have bipolar disorder or you're not an addict, doing the dishes may seem like a trivial task. On some days doing the dishes can be a lifesaver for me.
The other basics I mentioned, meetings, eating, exercising, and sharing, all seem about as straightforward as the dishes...right? Well, they are straightforward in a way, but when you are feeling depressed and that your world is spiraling downward, the telephone can seem to weigh a hundred pounds. Or getting in the car and driving to a meeting can seem like an impossible journey.
And really that's what this whole bipolar recovering addict thing is. An incredible journey. Just like the Disney movie, only way weirder.
While cycling of this sort still allows me to be fairly functional, it is exhausting after a week of it. By evening I am overwhelmed by life and having a feeling of impending doom. Well, not doom exactly, more like...nothing's ever going to work out so why bother trying any more. And from that feeling it is easy to move on to, "since nothing's ever going to work out, why not get drunk." Obviously, getting drunk is not the answer, but it is hard to see what the answer might be.
At this juncture it is important to step up the basics. Take the positive actions that are fairly obvious.
1. Step up meeting attendance
2. Eat right
3. Exercise
4. Talk to somebody
5. Do the dishes
You can stay sober and reasonably sane for a long time by simply focusing on small victories. Victories like going to bed with a clean kitchen. Showering and shaving, complete with aftershave, is another tried and true for me. If you don't have bipolar disorder or you're not an addict, doing the dishes may seem like a trivial task. On some days doing the dishes can be a lifesaver for me.
The other basics I mentioned, meetings, eating, exercising, and sharing, all seem about as straightforward as the dishes...right? Well, they are straightforward in a way, but when you are feeling depressed and that your world is spiraling downward, the telephone can seem to weigh a hundred pounds. Or getting in the car and driving to a meeting can seem like an impossible journey.
And really that's what this whole bipolar recovering addict thing is. An incredible journey. Just like the Disney movie, only way weirder.
Thursday, May 30, 2013
Volunteerism/Feeding Your Soul
I went to a new psychiatrist today. She seemed very competent. Aside from the usual conversation about the "med-go-round" we talked about getting involved in something off the farm to "feed my soul". We discussed possibly working or volunteering as a special education tutor. That sounds cool, although as soon as I start making commitments like that the stress level goes up as I worry about actually showing up. Part of the reason I'm on disability in the first place.
The other idea we discussed is a place called "Clover Haven" near my house that provides "Equine Therapy" to special needs young people in our area. Equine Therapy is the use of horses in a variety of ways to reach cognitively or emotionally disabled young people. Anything from grooming to riding.
I don't know much about horses, but I am used to large animals, and, of course, I am trained and experienced with special needs students. I think it sounds really cool. I think I'll make a phone call tomorrow. It might be something off the farm that "feeds my soul".
The other idea we discussed is a place called "Clover Haven" near my house that provides "Equine Therapy" to special needs young people in our area. Equine Therapy is the use of horses in a variety of ways to reach cognitively or emotionally disabled young people. Anything from grooming to riding.
I don't know much about horses, but I am used to large animals, and, of course, I am trained and experienced with special needs students. I think it sounds really cool. I think I'll make a phone call tomorrow. It might be something off the farm that "feeds my soul".
Wednesday, May 29, 2013
self-examination
"We examined our lives and discovered who we really are. To be truly humble is to accept and honestly try to be ourselves...I can experience the freedom to be myself, the person my God intended me to be."
Just For Today
Accepting that I am an addict and always will be, accepting that I have bi-polar and always will has been a long process. I was like going through the various stages of the grieving process as proposed by Elisabeth Kubler-Ross. The steps are, denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance.
I spent a lot of time in denial of both my addiction and my bi-polar disorder. In some ways it's like peeling the skin of an onion. I thought I had accepted my bi-polar disorder completely until I applied for Social Security Disability and realized that I may never work as a teacher again. I had so much of my identity wrapped up in my teaching that it was really hard to admit to myself that the bipolar disorder was ending that career. As for addiction, we all have heard about denial related to the acceptance of addiction, and I certainly went through that as well.
The long process of accepting myself and learning to love myself has been a journey I've been on my entire adult life. When I say that I accept myself today and am free to be the person God intended me to be, it sounds like I've arrived at some cosmic, spiritual plateau. This is certainly not the case. I have a lot more to learn and accept about myself. There are many things about myself I'd like to work on and improve on.
Learning to live a fulfilling life with bipolar involves learning to accept that it is a part of who I am. I learn to accept the help of a psychiatrist. I learn that I will be on medication for the rest of my life. I learn that I have to structure my life in a way that minimizes episodes of bipolar symptoms. It means accepting my limitations...and my strengths.
And there are strengths. I am happy with who I am and the life I've led. And that life has been born out of my personality as a recovering addict with bipolar disorder. I've had some incredible adventures that have come as a result of my bipolar spontaneity. I wouldn't trade it all for a life of...of what?...sanity?
Just For Today
Accepting that I am an addict and always will be, accepting that I have bi-polar and always will has been a long process. I was like going through the various stages of the grieving process as proposed by Elisabeth Kubler-Ross. The steps are, denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance.
I spent a lot of time in denial of both my addiction and my bi-polar disorder. In some ways it's like peeling the skin of an onion. I thought I had accepted my bi-polar disorder completely until I applied for Social Security Disability and realized that I may never work as a teacher again. I had so much of my identity wrapped up in my teaching that it was really hard to admit to myself that the bipolar disorder was ending that career. As for addiction, we all have heard about denial related to the acceptance of addiction, and I certainly went through that as well.
The long process of accepting myself and learning to love myself has been a journey I've been on my entire adult life. When I say that I accept myself today and am free to be the person God intended me to be, it sounds like I've arrived at some cosmic, spiritual plateau. This is certainly not the case. I have a lot more to learn and accept about myself. There are many things about myself I'd like to work on and improve on.
Learning to live a fulfilling life with bipolar involves learning to accept that it is a part of who I am. I learn to accept the help of a psychiatrist. I learn that I will be on medication for the rest of my life. I learn that I have to structure my life in a way that minimizes episodes of bipolar symptoms. It means accepting my limitations...and my strengths.
And there are strengths. I am happy with who I am and the life I've led. And that life has been born out of my personality as a recovering addict with bipolar disorder. I've had some incredible adventures that have come as a result of my bipolar spontaneity. I wouldn't trade it all for a life of...of what?...sanity?
Sunday, May 26, 2013
Caffeine addiction
I quite drinking caffeine five days ago. It was contributing to my insomnia and fueling my mania. I have no moral problem with caffeine just as I have no moral problem with alcohol or other drugs. I just know that I can't have a safe relationship with any of them. Including caffeine, apparently. A cup of coffee a day might not have been much of a problem, but staying up all night drinking quarts of iced tea was just like banging myself in the head with a frying pan.
So, in any event, I quit drinking the stuff. I felt miserable for several long, long days. I did start sleeping though. I had headaches, stomach aches, a small fever, and was extremely irritable. Another difficulty I had with the caffeine withdrawals was that they felt reminiscent to alcohol and drug withdrawals. This is always a tricky spot for me as my mind likes to play tricks. I might think, for example, "gee, these are withdrawals. What is the appropriate response to withdrawal symptoms? More drugs, of course. Coffee, alcohol, pills...anything would work just as long as the withdrawal symptoms stop." What could be more logical, right? Except that for me it is pretzel logic. The appropriate answer to withdrawal symptoms is total abstinence from the drug (s) you are addicted to. And as for me, I happen to be addicted to just about every form of mind or mood altering substance.
As you might expect, the caffeine withdrawals stopped eventually and I feel quite well. In fact, I feel better than I did before because I am not staying awake all night feeding the mania machine. In fact, after a pleasant 8+ hours of sleep last night I feel downright balanced. Balance is something unusual in my life. Normal just doesn't quite feel normal.
Today I am trying to make a new cheese. Havarti. It doesn't look imposable but there are certainly a lot of different steps. I'm making a goat's milk Feta at the same time, but that is pretty routine. Making cheese seems to be a part of my daily and weekly routine. And now that that routine doesn't involve quarts of iced tea every day, I feel much more balanced and at peace. For today, at least, I am neither manic nor depressed, and I am clean and sober off of both caffeine and other even more dangerous substances. And that makes it a very good day indeed.
So, in any event, I quit drinking the stuff. I felt miserable for several long, long days. I did start sleeping though. I had headaches, stomach aches, a small fever, and was extremely irritable. Another difficulty I had with the caffeine withdrawals was that they felt reminiscent to alcohol and drug withdrawals. This is always a tricky spot for me as my mind likes to play tricks. I might think, for example, "gee, these are withdrawals. What is the appropriate response to withdrawal symptoms? More drugs, of course. Coffee, alcohol, pills...anything would work just as long as the withdrawal symptoms stop." What could be more logical, right? Except that for me it is pretzel logic. The appropriate answer to withdrawal symptoms is total abstinence from the drug (s) you are addicted to. And as for me, I happen to be addicted to just about every form of mind or mood altering substance.
As you might expect, the caffeine withdrawals stopped eventually and I feel quite well. In fact, I feel better than I did before because I am not staying awake all night feeding the mania machine. In fact, after a pleasant 8+ hours of sleep last night I feel downright balanced. Balance is something unusual in my life. Normal just doesn't quite feel normal.
Today I am trying to make a new cheese. Havarti. It doesn't look imposable but there are certainly a lot of different steps. I'm making a goat's milk Feta at the same time, but that is pretty routine. Making cheese seems to be a part of my daily and weekly routine. And now that that routine doesn't involve quarts of iced tea every day, I feel much more balanced and at peace. For today, at least, I am neither manic nor depressed, and I am clean and sober off of both caffeine and other even more dangerous substances. And that makes it a very good day indeed.
Tuesday, May 21, 2013
Isolating vs. Alone Time
I find social settings emotionally draining. So much so that I've been diagnosed as having "social phobia" for what that's worth. On the other hand, isolating myself is also not healthy. As with anything, striking a balance is the key.
I love the idea of being around people. I always want to plan big dinner parties and invite everyone I can think of. I really enjoy cooking for a crowd. Problem is, when the cooking is done and the guests arrive, I want to hide in the bedroom. Sometimes I actually do hide in the bedroom. So I try to order my social time in a way that is more manageable and enjoyable. It seems to work best to have a couple of guests over than to have 10 or 20 people over. I try to drive my own car to dinner parties and events to make sure I can leave when I'm ready to without inconveniencing my wife. I try to plan on only spending moderate amounts of time in crowds.
I also try to moderate my family time. I do this by building "alone" time into my day. I really enjoy getting a few minutes in the evening after everyone goes to bed or a few minutes in the morning before everyone wakes up. I don't always succeed in finding this alone time, but it is important to try.
Time alone, whether around the house or in the hiking in the mountains is so important. It can be a time for prayer, reflection, meditation, journaling, or reading. And, of course, sometimes it is just a time to noodle around on the internet.
Taking too much time alone is also not helpful to my recovery from bipolar disorder or addiction. It's a dangerous place to be...in between my ears. A couple of times recently I have taken my evening alone time to the extreme and stayed up most of the night. This is so hard on the bipolar in a couple of different ways. Staying up all night is definitely too much alone time. Staying up all night is a sign that my bipolar is getting out of control. And staying up all night tends to induce further symptoms. It can cause my mood to enter a mixed state. Negativity, irritability, excitability, and hyperactivity. It feels like drinking way too much caffeine, without the caffeine.
Speaking of caffeine, in an effort to regain control of my sleep patterns, I recently quit drinking caffeine...again. I really enjoy a little caffeine, but it never really works out that way. I always end up drinking too much of it and having trouble sleeping. We'll see how that goes. I'm currently still in the withdrawal stage. Yuck.
Well, blessings and goodnight...I hope.
I love the idea of being around people. I always want to plan big dinner parties and invite everyone I can think of. I really enjoy cooking for a crowd. Problem is, when the cooking is done and the guests arrive, I want to hide in the bedroom. Sometimes I actually do hide in the bedroom. So I try to order my social time in a way that is more manageable and enjoyable. It seems to work best to have a couple of guests over than to have 10 or 20 people over. I try to drive my own car to dinner parties and events to make sure I can leave when I'm ready to without inconveniencing my wife. I try to plan on only spending moderate amounts of time in crowds.
I also try to moderate my family time. I do this by building "alone" time into my day. I really enjoy getting a few minutes in the evening after everyone goes to bed or a few minutes in the morning before everyone wakes up. I don't always succeed in finding this alone time, but it is important to try.
Time alone, whether around the house or in the hiking in the mountains is so important. It can be a time for prayer, reflection, meditation, journaling, or reading. And, of course, sometimes it is just a time to noodle around on the internet.
Taking too much time alone is also not helpful to my recovery from bipolar disorder or addiction. It's a dangerous place to be...in between my ears. A couple of times recently I have taken my evening alone time to the extreme and stayed up most of the night. This is so hard on the bipolar in a couple of different ways. Staying up all night is definitely too much alone time. Staying up all night is a sign that my bipolar is getting out of control. And staying up all night tends to induce further symptoms. It can cause my mood to enter a mixed state. Negativity, irritability, excitability, and hyperactivity. It feels like drinking way too much caffeine, without the caffeine.
Speaking of caffeine, in an effort to regain control of my sleep patterns, I recently quit drinking caffeine...again. I really enjoy a little caffeine, but it never really works out that way. I always end up drinking too much of it and having trouble sleeping. We'll see how that goes. I'm currently still in the withdrawal stage. Yuck.
Well, blessings and goodnight...I hope.
Saturday, May 18, 2013
Hypocritical?
It’s kind of funny, or at least it would be if I weren’t so tired and frustrated. It is easy for me to write about techniques
for staying healthy. It’s easy to write
about how great everything is. But fact is, I’m having some fairly significant
symptoms concerning my bipolar disorder.
Or maybe it would be more accurate to say that some of my behaviors are
off the mark.
I haven’t been sleeping, and I have been using
caffeine. It’s been like this all week. I’ve been averaging about three to
four hours of sleep a night. Today I had to make a two hundred mile drive and I
got sleepy behind the wheel. So, of
course, I drank a 20 ounce truck stop
coffee. It didn’t keep me awake
behind the wheel. I still ended up pulling
off the road and taking a nap. But boy
is it keeping me awake now. It’s now
2:30 am and I’m wide awake.
I know what to do to address the situation. I just don’t seem to be able to do it. As tough as insomnia can be, the treatment
is, at least, fairly straightforward.
Establishing good sleep hygiene can be incredibly hard to do. My day has almost been the opposite of the list
provided in the “sleep hygiene” link.
Caffeine and nicotine-yup.
Naps-yup
Spicy food-oops
guess I shouldn’t have just eaten that jalepeno omelet.
Exercise-nope,
not today. Spent all day in the car.
Regular, relaxing
bedtime routine-actually my routine has been to crank up the rock-and-roll
and dance around the kitchen doing dishes.
Not exactly a relaxing bedtime routine, but at least the dishes are
getting done.
Tough part about addressing my sleep hygiene and getting to
bed is that I enjoy staying up. Some
nights I enjoy staying up clear through. The problem lies in the consequences
of not sleeping. There is always a
reckoning. When the reckoning comes it
is not just me who pays the price but my family as well. When I finally do crash, I am not able to
participate in family life. Not able to
be a good parent or partner. Ultimately
poor decision making in the sleep department can lead to significantly for
serious bipolar symptoms later.
All this said, it is important to remember one of the most
important positive behaviors for treating the bipolar is not to beat myself up.
I need to remember that bipolar is an illness and that my symptoms are just
that. Symptoms. Getting angry at myself doesn’t help
anything. I am responsible for my
choices and behavior, but it is important to remember that poor decision making
is part of the disorder.
Well, blessings and good night.
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