I have group therapy every Wednesday. This one, unlike the DBT "classes" that I was doing last year, is not mandatory to continue my treatment. It's basically a group of DBT "grads" who are just there to support each other.
I haven't gone in like 6 weeks, until yesterday. I kind of went into it with ill will towards therapy because of Monday's debacle. I had a poor attitude. I didn't want to be there. But one of my groupmates called me on Monday and asked where I have been. So I figured I would go for them, for the members who have been wondering where I disappeared to.
I talked to one of the members that has the same therapist that I have. She and I actually started this therapy on the same day, so we've been together for the last year and a half through this huge change in our lives to live by these general rules. She asked me how I was feeling. I asked her if she meant physically or mentally/emotionally. She said both. I told her I was finally over the sinus infection crap that I've had for the last couple of months, but told her that I've been feeling more depressed than usual. Then we got into what happened in therapy. That I asked my doc to help me with meds, and that my therapist got "mad".
I cannot tell you how good it made me feel to have someone understand what I was saying. She's had the same problem before. She feels that the therapist is quite "anti-medication". Or rather she's just giving us that air about her. Both of us understand that using the skills to the max is of utmost importance, but having our therapist speak down about medication is very conflicting and hard to deal with. After Monday's therapy session, I thought a lot about what my doctor says and what my therapist says and just came out of it so confused and frustrated that it made me even more depressed. And apparently, I'm not the only one thinking/feeling that.
I intend on going to therapy as usual on Monday and explaining this. I'm not interested in her discussing my medications any longer as I feel like she thinks they are a negative entity in my treatment. I've seen me off meds, my psychiatrist has seen me off meds...there's no way I am ever going to go off of them, no matter how many skills I have "on board" in my life. I may have borderline personality disorder but I also have bipolar disorder and that, my dears, is a chemical imbalance and needs medication to treat. I need her to just understand that and get over it. If not, I'm going to resent her and get nothing out of therapy, and that's not acceptable.
On another note, I've been feeling alright this week. I've been keeping my hands constantly busy, lots of crocheting. I've been giving myself tasks that I want to get done each day so that I actually do something instead of sit around and wallow. Not that I was doing that, but having a list of stuff to do and getting to cross them off when they are done just raises my spirits a little bit. I'm using my skills even though I feel resentful about them, even though I feel like giving up and rebelling against this therapy.
Showing posts with label bipolar disorder. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bipolar disorder. Show all posts
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Friday, December 9, 2011
Clear or Rainbow Polka Dots on Plaid
For only five short, bold, beautiful minutes. Unscripted and unedited. We just write without worrying if it’s just right or not.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Graduate
The Wednesday after I got back from California (Aug 3), I graduated from the Dialectic Behavioral Therapy class I had been taking for the last year. I'm sure I've mentioned it in my blogs before, but DBT is basically reteaching oneself how to understand, describe, and handle emotions. It also deals with interpersonal communication skills as well. Wikipedia has a pretty good explanation of it: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dialectical_behavior_therapy. You'll notice it does say it's used for patience who exhibit self-injury behavior. And yes, that is me.
I supposed I don't need to get into complete details about my self-injury behavior, as to when specific incidents happened and what not.
Things you should know about MY cutting (and this is probably true for most other cutters as well, so DO NOT judge before you know the information):
I supposed I don't need to get into complete details about my self-injury behavior, as to when specific incidents happened and what not.
Things you should know about MY cutting (and this is probably true for most other cutters as well, so DO NOT judge before you know the information):
- I'll tell you that I would cut my upper left arm with a knife in little half inch superficial slits. .
- Suicide was never the intent, nor was it really on my mind.
- Severe injury wasn't either.
- It was not an attention-getter, as I hid it from everyone anyway.
- To me, the cutting was a way of taking an inside pain that I had no control over and bringing it outside to where I did have control over it. I caused it.
- And I will tell you I haven't done it in almost a year and a half
If you have questions about it, don't assume anything, just ask me. Yah'll know, I'm an open book!
I've learned so much through DBT.
It's helped me understand my emotions. Instead of saying, "I just don't feel right," I can now specifically tell myself what emotion I am having because of physical sensations (such as teeth clenching, hot ears, chest tightening, etc) and thoughts/urges (such as wanting to cut, wanting to give up, wanting to curl up in bed, etc). It's an amazing ability to actually understand your feelings. You have no idea how much that makes them actually tolerable.
I've learned how to handle my emotions, how to not make them go to the extremes (I'm so sad I want to die, I'm so anxious I want to give up, etc), how to talk to someone about them, how to get through a major emotional time (distress tolerance), how to feel the emotion and remember that it's not going to stay like that forever.
I've learned how to talk to people and how to understand that I don't know everything about them so I can't judge. How to relate to them, how to sympathize, how to firmly request what I need and to accept when I am told no.
I've learned to love the little things in life. I've learned that even though something shitty has happened in a day, there's probably something here and there that made the day worth while....and even if there wasn't, tomorrow will be better. To see that a bad thing happening doesn't have to ruin the rest of the day. That it happened, and I can't change that it happened, so I can move passed it.
I've learned to take time for myself to just reflect and think. To not let my emotions take over my brain so that I can't think straight, and to not get too analytical so that I don't feel anything at all. To not overreact, and even when I do over react to be able to step back and say, "I did that, now I can fix it."
My mother-in-law said something a couple months ago. She praised me for what I have been doing over the last year to better myself and to get a hold on my emotions. She said, "I'm glad to have my Taylor back."
Me too!
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
You know you've gained too much weight when....
...you still wear your maternity clothes even though you haven't been pregnant for almost 5 years...and they are even too small.
...you can't cross your legs because your thighs run into each other.
...your boobs spill out of the top of every bra you own.
...your kids tell you that you're the best pillow.
...you wear your husband's clothes more than your own.
I'm uncomfortable in my own skin. But I have a damn good reason for it: freaking bipolar medications. About 2 years ago, I lost 50 pounds on my own! Then I started Seroquel and gained it all back over the next 6 months. My psychiatrist told me that Seroquel blocks the part of the brain that tells you that you are full. So that ravenous feeling I constantly had I can blame on the medication. That's my story and I'm stickin' to it!
But in all honesty, I love to eat. And the things that are so not good for you are my favorites. I love cheese and bread. I love sweets. I'm an ice cream addict. Fried foods are to die for! Mmmmm burger...... Ok, enough, I'm drooling now.
At the beginning of 2011, Luke and I changed our diets completely by replacing healthier foods for the not so healthy ones. We did pretty well for 2 or 3 weeks, but if we are being truthful with ourselves, the replacements really didn't taste like the real deal that we were constantly craving. We quit the replacements and tried to just eat what we like, just in moderation instead. That took about a week to go out the window. Sigh...I have such horrible will power!
I have this theory that since I maintain the weight I am at (200 lbs) with my normal diet and activity level, that if I change just one of them, I should see results. After all, the first time I lost 50 lbs, all I did was eat better, no exercise changes. We failed miserably at the whole eating thing, so I tried tackling the exercise thing.
I loathe exercise. I've never been one to like it. I mean, even back when I was thin and fit, I was athletic (could kick anyone's butt in a race) and energetic (or manic, one of the two), but I hated actually buckling down and doing anything that was considered exercise. In fact, I studied karate from 11 to 16 (yah, I even have my blackbelt!), and during classes we had to warm up with exercise type stuff (sit ups, push ups, etc). I lazily went through that, and then when we got to the real karate stuff, I was back in full force. Exercise is not fun to me. I don't get the people who are addicted to exercising.
In January, we bought a Wii. I was super excited because I could play games (which were fun) and still be exercising (or at least tricking myself into exercising without even knowing it). We got the Wii Fit bundle, the sports resort games, and Just Dance 2. For a good few weeks, I was doing pretty well. I would commit to at least 30 minutes a day playing the Wii to get myself up and moving (hey, it was better than nothing, which is what I was previously doing). I liked that I was competing against myself in many of the games. Having that drive to beat my last score (or crush anyone else's saved score) was motivating.
But soon I got bored.....and my knees hurt, my left foot was having issues, my back ached. I quit again. How does a fat person exercise when all it does is hurt like hell? I'm getting old. No gray hairs, but damn, my joints hurt. From my knuckles to my shoulders, to each individual vertebrae in my back to my hips, my knees, my ankles...I'm in pain when I do any kind of exercise....even walking to the park and back (which is a block away).
It's an endless cycle...meds caused weight gain, weight gain makes me depressed even though meds are working, try to go off meds to lose weight, get depressed because meds were fixing the depression issues, go back on meds, gain weight back....then add in the more weight I have the more my joints hurt, so I need to lose weight to be able to lighten up on my joints, but to lose weight I need to exercise, and that hurts. AHHHHHH!
Like I said, I'm working on it. No pain, no gain, right? Wait, shouldn't that say, "No pain, no lose?" Anyway, I'm trying.
On another note, I wanted to point out something that I am sure everyone does. Have you ever seen an overweight lady who's clothes are too small and unflattering? And your immediate thought is "Ew, gross!" Right? Let me give you something to think about. Maybe that woman is on medications for bipolar, kidney disease, diabetes, high blood pressure or seizures, or even birth control or steroids for breathing problems and other illnesses, that is causing her to gain weight. Maybe she can't really afford to get a whole new wardrobe because of the weight gain, so she's just trying to make the best of what she has in her closet. Maybe her bigger clothes that she did purchase when she gained weight are all in the laundry so she's wearing what's left. Maybe her child spilled something on the shirt she was wearing earlier that fit her better and she had to grab something else to wear. Maybe her house burned down and the only clothes she has are the things people donated to her. So now do you think, "Ew gross!"? Naw, she seems a little more acceptable, right?
The fact is you do not know everything about anyone, so judging them isn't really fair. And you all like me, right? Well, everything about that woman (except the house burning down) applies to me. So are you thinking, "Ew gross!" still? Just something to think about. :-)
...you can't cross your legs because your thighs run into each other.
...your boobs spill out of the top of every bra you own.
...your kids tell you that you're the best pillow.
...you wear your husband's clothes more than your own.
I'm uncomfortable in my own skin. But I have a damn good reason for it: freaking bipolar medications. About 2 years ago, I lost 50 pounds on my own! Then I started Seroquel and gained it all back over the next 6 months. My psychiatrist told me that Seroquel blocks the part of the brain that tells you that you are full. So that ravenous feeling I constantly had I can blame on the medication. That's my story and I'm stickin' to it!
But in all honesty, I love to eat. And the things that are so not good for you are my favorites. I love cheese and bread. I love sweets. I'm an ice cream addict. Fried foods are to die for! Mmmmm burger...... Ok, enough, I'm drooling now.
At the beginning of 2011, Luke and I changed our diets completely by replacing healthier foods for the not so healthy ones. We did pretty well for 2 or 3 weeks, but if we are being truthful with ourselves, the replacements really didn't taste like the real deal that we were constantly craving. We quit the replacements and tried to just eat what we like, just in moderation instead. That took about a week to go out the window. Sigh...I have such horrible will power!
I have this theory that since I maintain the weight I am at (200 lbs) with my normal diet and activity level, that if I change just one of them, I should see results. After all, the first time I lost 50 lbs, all I did was eat better, no exercise changes. We failed miserably at the whole eating thing, so I tried tackling the exercise thing.
I loathe exercise. I've never been one to like it. I mean, even back when I was thin and fit, I was athletic (could kick anyone's butt in a race) and energetic (or manic, one of the two), but I hated actually buckling down and doing anything that was considered exercise. In fact, I studied karate from 11 to 16 (yah, I even have my blackbelt!), and during classes we had to warm up with exercise type stuff (sit ups, push ups, etc). I lazily went through that, and then when we got to the real karate stuff, I was back in full force. Exercise is not fun to me. I don't get the people who are addicted to exercising.
In January, we bought a Wii. I was super excited because I could play games (which were fun) and still be exercising (or at least tricking myself into exercising without even knowing it). We got the Wii Fit bundle, the sports resort games, and Just Dance 2. For a good few weeks, I was doing pretty well. I would commit to at least 30 minutes a day playing the Wii to get myself up and moving (hey, it was better than nothing, which is what I was previously doing). I liked that I was competing against myself in many of the games. Having that drive to beat my last score (or crush anyone else's saved score) was motivating.
But soon I got bored.....and my knees hurt, my left foot was having issues, my back ached. I quit again. How does a fat person exercise when all it does is hurt like hell? I'm getting old. No gray hairs, but damn, my joints hurt. From my knuckles to my shoulders, to each individual vertebrae in my back to my hips, my knees, my ankles...I'm in pain when I do any kind of exercise....even walking to the park and back (which is a block away).
It's an endless cycle...meds caused weight gain, weight gain makes me depressed even though meds are working, try to go off meds to lose weight, get depressed because meds were fixing the depression issues, go back on meds, gain weight back....then add in the more weight I have the more my joints hurt, so I need to lose weight to be able to lighten up on my joints, but to lose weight I need to exercise, and that hurts. AHHHHHH!
Like I said, I'm working on it. No pain, no gain, right? Wait, shouldn't that say, "No pain, no lose?" Anyway, I'm trying.
On another note, I wanted to point out something that I am sure everyone does. Have you ever seen an overweight lady who's clothes are too small and unflattering? And your immediate thought is "Ew, gross!" Right? Let me give you something to think about. Maybe that woman is on medications for bipolar, kidney disease, diabetes, high blood pressure or seizures, or even birth control or steroids for breathing problems and other illnesses, that is causing her to gain weight. Maybe she can't really afford to get a whole new wardrobe because of the weight gain, so she's just trying to make the best of what she has in her closet. Maybe her bigger clothes that she did purchase when she gained weight are all in the laundry so she's wearing what's left. Maybe her child spilled something on the shirt she was wearing earlier that fit her better and she had to grab something else to wear. Maybe her house burned down and the only clothes she has are the things people donated to her. So now do you think, "Ew gross!"? Naw, she seems a little more acceptable, right?
The fact is you do not know everything about anyone, so judging them isn't really fair. And you all like me, right? Well, everything about that woman (except the house burning down) applies to me. So are you thinking, "Ew gross!" still? Just something to think about. :-)
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Mental Illness
For updates on Tyson, go here.
I've come to terms over the years that I have a mental illness and I will forever. I can deal with that. It's a disease like any others. Instead of insulin to control sugar, I take antidepressants and mood stabilizers to control sanity. I'm not ashamed of it, I'm not afraid of it...it's just part of me.
I've often considered the fact that my kids are likely to have it as well. I've always watched their actions and behaviors closely for any signs that it's popping up so as to catch it before they don't know what's going on and lose all control. I never ever thought I would be faced with it with my 4.5 year old son.
Two times this week the psychologist has said that Tyson's episodes (the sudden anxiety a few weeks ago, and then the severe depression this week) are indicative of bipolar disorder. The psychiatrist said today that she believes he may have bipolar disorder and the medications made it present earlier than with anyone else by flaring up the extremes. I braced myself for this news since my kids were conceived...but I can't help but feel like I did it to him.
I know you are all going to say that I didn't do this as much as my mother and father didn't do it to me. But that's not going to stop that feeling that I am responsible for my son's mental illness. We all have those traits we carry genetically that we don't want passed on to our kids because they are a nuisance: frizzy curly hair, excessive freckles, allergies... But like diabetes, no one would ever want their worst enemies child, let alone their own child's genetics to hold their mental illness.
And unlike diabetes, mental illness cannot be measured by blood monitoring and lab work. It's all trial and error and close observation by a psychiatrist and psychologist and therapist and whatnot and so forth. I can barely handle this with my own crap, let alone now having to watch it in my son as well.
Now I know what my mom felt when I was spirally downward in my teens....
I've come to terms over the years that I have a mental illness and I will forever. I can deal with that. It's a disease like any others. Instead of insulin to control sugar, I take antidepressants and mood stabilizers to control sanity. I'm not ashamed of it, I'm not afraid of it...it's just part of me.
I've often considered the fact that my kids are likely to have it as well. I've always watched their actions and behaviors closely for any signs that it's popping up so as to catch it before they don't know what's going on and lose all control. I never ever thought I would be faced with it with my 4.5 year old son.
Two times this week the psychologist has said that Tyson's episodes (the sudden anxiety a few weeks ago, and then the severe depression this week) are indicative of bipolar disorder. The psychiatrist said today that she believes he may have bipolar disorder and the medications made it present earlier than with anyone else by flaring up the extremes. I braced myself for this news since my kids were conceived...but I can't help but feel like I did it to him.
I know you are all going to say that I didn't do this as much as my mother and father didn't do it to me. But that's not going to stop that feeling that I am responsible for my son's mental illness. We all have those traits we carry genetically that we don't want passed on to our kids because they are a nuisance: frizzy curly hair, excessive freckles, allergies... But like diabetes, no one would ever want their worst enemies child, let alone their own child's genetics to hold their mental illness.
And unlike diabetes, mental illness cannot be measured by blood monitoring and lab work. It's all trial and error and close observation by a psychiatrist and psychologist and therapist and whatnot and so forth. I can barely handle this with my own crap, let alone now having to watch it in my son as well.
Now I know what my mom felt when I was spirally downward in my teens....
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Not always a ray of sunshine...
Let me preface this with the fact that I have bipolar disorder and have been battling severe clinical depression and bouts of mania for over 13 years. My mental illness is under the care of a psychiatrist and therapists closely. I take 3 medications--antidepressants and mood stabilizers, and I am in an intense therapy program. I'm doing pretty well. It's been almost a year since my last major depression cycle. And I've learned to turn to my husband, therapists and psychiatrist when I feel a slide in my mood, which is very important when you have no control over which way you are going to go. With that all said....I still have bipolar disorder and I always will. I'm not ashamed of that in the slightest.
As I said, it's been almost a year since my last major depression cycle. Last May, I hit one of the hardest depressions of my life. I talked my psychiatrist into taking me off of a medication that caused me to gain weight because I was feeling good and didn't think I needed it. I wanted to try a different medication instead. Something that would allow me to not be fat (can you blame me?). Turns out that medication was working very well in controlling my depressions and going off of it was a very poor decision (on my part, not my psych's). I fell and I fell hard. Since then, my psych has been very careful about watching me....and my husband is on me like a fly on shit. But I like that. I will concede to the fact that I need help with this. I need them to back me up and make sure I can stand. Because when I fall there's no way I can get back up without them. Not just the medicine thing, but the support to get through the dip, just the reminder that this is a wave and soon I will be back to "normal" (whatever that may be).
I'm a control freak....wait let's say that better....Hello, My name is Taylor Lee Sawyer, and I am a control freak. "Hi Taylor!" It has been about 3 seconds from the last time I have been in control.... For someone that needs to be in control so much, it's a cruel cruel joke that God plagued me bipolar disorder! Or should we look at it less as a joke and more of a lesson? I constantly need to remind myself that it is ok when I am not in control (especially about this) and it's ok when I have to ask someone to help me through this. Luckily, I have the best husband EVER....and some pretty terrific friends and family too.
So it's been almost a year. I've been doing fab. I actually made it through a lot in the last year with out falling off the edge--my favorite uncle passed away after a long battle with cancer, I've had pneumonia and bronchitis twice this winter and then got slammed with Influenza B which STILL hasn't cleared up after 5 weeks, and so on and so forth. So why in the hell am I slumping right now??? Is it that I turned 30? Is it because Spring is having a really hard time beating Winter out? Is it because I'm more busy with work than I have ever been (which is actually a good thing) and it's becoming overwhelming? Or maybe I'm getting my period soon and I should just "get over it"...I have no clue. But the fact is, I'm down.
For the first time in a year, I've had a really rough couple of weeks where I have longed for my bed and a dark dark room to wallow in. I've been crying at the tip of a hat. And sometimes the crying lasts a really long time. I've been unmotivated and overwhelmed when faced with any task, even the minute ones like picking out clothes to wear. I've even had thoughts of cutting again (but have not acted on them).
Rest assured, my husband and therapists are fully aware of my state, so I won't fall off the deep end. But the fact remains that I'm stuck. I called my therapist yesterday while laying on the floor in my closet when I got overwhelmed trying to find some clothes to throw on to run errands (see, I wasn't exaggerating with that example). She said that no medicine or therapy is ever going to completely control these dips. She reminded me that it will get better soon, so "Ride the wave", she said. I have to trudge along trusting that there is a light at the end of the tunnel even though I can't see it right now. That may seem like some shitty advice, but really, just someone understanding and admitting that this is real helped immensely. I got dress...but I didn't shower because that was way too much work. I went and did what I had to do. And I felt better. Granted after it was all done, I went back to wishing I was in bed and away from the world...BUT the big thing is that I know I can get through this and I will like I always have before.
When I used to blog, it was all about this. Living with a mental illness. When I started this blog, I decided that it wouldn't be all about this. And I should remind you that I haven't felt like this in a loooooong time. So don't worry. I may throw this in now and again, but I'll be back to my normal wit and charm soon enough. But maybe this will help you understand others who may be in my same predicament.
As I said, it's been almost a year since my last major depression cycle. Last May, I hit one of the hardest depressions of my life. I talked my psychiatrist into taking me off of a medication that caused me to gain weight because I was feeling good and didn't think I needed it. I wanted to try a different medication instead. Something that would allow me to not be fat (can you blame me?). Turns out that medication was working very well in controlling my depressions and going off of it was a very poor decision (on my part, not my psych's). I fell and I fell hard. Since then, my psych has been very careful about watching me....and my husband is on me like a fly on shit. But I like that. I will concede to the fact that I need help with this. I need them to back me up and make sure I can stand. Because when I fall there's no way I can get back up without them. Not just the medicine thing, but the support to get through the dip, just the reminder that this is a wave and soon I will be back to "normal" (whatever that may be).
I'm a control freak....wait let's say that better....Hello, My name is Taylor Lee Sawyer, and I am a control freak. "Hi Taylor!" It has been about 3 seconds from the last time I have been in control.... For someone that needs to be in control so much, it's a cruel cruel joke that God plagued me bipolar disorder! Or should we look at it less as a joke and more of a lesson? I constantly need to remind myself that it is ok when I am not in control (especially about this) and it's ok when I have to ask someone to help me through this. Luckily, I have the best husband EVER....and some pretty terrific friends and family too.
So it's been almost a year. I've been doing fab. I actually made it through a lot in the last year with out falling off the edge--my favorite uncle passed away after a long battle with cancer, I've had pneumonia and bronchitis twice this winter and then got slammed with Influenza B which STILL hasn't cleared up after 5 weeks, and so on and so forth. So why in the hell am I slumping right now??? Is it that I turned 30? Is it because Spring is having a really hard time beating Winter out? Is it because I'm more busy with work than I have ever been (which is actually a good thing) and it's becoming overwhelming? Or maybe I'm getting my period soon and I should just "get over it"...I have no clue. But the fact is, I'm down.
For the first time in a year, I've had a really rough couple of weeks where I have longed for my bed and a dark dark room to wallow in. I've been crying at the tip of a hat. And sometimes the crying lasts a really long time. I've been unmotivated and overwhelmed when faced with any task, even the minute ones like picking out clothes to wear. I've even had thoughts of cutting again (but have not acted on them).
Rest assured, my husband and therapists are fully aware of my state, so I won't fall off the deep end. But the fact remains that I'm stuck. I called my therapist yesterday while laying on the floor in my closet when I got overwhelmed trying to find some clothes to throw on to run errands (see, I wasn't exaggerating with that example). She said that no medicine or therapy is ever going to completely control these dips. She reminded me that it will get better soon, so "Ride the wave", she said. I have to trudge along trusting that there is a light at the end of the tunnel even though I can't see it right now. That may seem like some shitty advice, but really, just someone understanding and admitting that this is real helped immensely. I got dress...but I didn't shower because that was way too much work. I went and did what I had to do. And I felt better. Granted after it was all done, I went back to wishing I was in bed and away from the world...BUT the big thing is that I know I can get through this and I will like I always have before.
When I used to blog, it was all about this. Living with a mental illness. When I started this blog, I decided that it wouldn't be all about this. And I should remind you that I haven't felt like this in a loooooong time. So don't worry. I may throw this in now and again, but I'll be back to my normal wit and charm soon enough. But maybe this will help you understand others who may be in my same predicament.
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