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Tag: family
#239; To sleep, perchance to dream.
This hasn’t been a good week for my sleep cycle. Post-Thanksgiving saw work rather forcefully punch me in the gut, holiday parties to be planned, a conference demanding my attention 24-hours a day, my surviving grandparent very suddenly in the hospital, and so many friendship/personal conflicts pop up that my head is spinning from the sheer volume. Needless to say, even with the help of more than one cocktail Tuesday night, I haven’t had a solid nights’ sleep since South Carolina.
When I lack sleep, the consequences are immediate and obvious. My mood turns sour no matter who I’m near, any concentration and memory retention (which I have problems anyway) disappear entirely, I feel aggressive and angry at the drop of a hat, and I have no balance in my battle with Bipolar Disorder. Fighting such a disorder on a daily basis requires concentration, energy, and calm. I have none of those things, and so I tend to throw my hands up in defeat and tell the BP “Okay, have fun, run free for a few days, I give up for now.” I continue to do my work (both at my job and outside of it in my volunteer roles) to the best of my ability, I get out of bed in the morning (which is an extreme challenge with those Chemicals running amok), I try to be supportive of friends and family, and I put what little energy I have leftover into my attitude, because if I break down and yell at my boss in frustration and exhaustion, I’m in deep trouble!
#237; the first roadtrip
Happy Thanksgiving, inhabitants of Limbo! I hope the weather around here treated you well for the holiday, and all your turkey-cravings, family-traditions, and Black Friday-binges were fulfilled!
I spent most of my time off on the road, braving the east coast storms to drive from Boston to my parents’ place in Myrtle Beach. I hadn’t seen my parents in 8 months, which had to have been some sort of family record. The drive was long but I went in hopeful. The first big road trip as a couple, 8 months into our re-kindled relationship, was a nerve-wracking thing. Would we be able to put up with each other’s taste in music? Would he mind when I sang along while driving? Who would drive? Who would rent the car or pay for the gas each time we stopped? Where would we stop, how often? Would we stay glued to our phones and email like we do when we’re in the city? How would the first holiday with my family go?
So I was hopeful, and nervous, and excited, and scared. All before I even picked up the rental car.
#221; a rose by any other name
I few weeks ago, I got a pretty big deal haircut, chopping off nearly all of my shoulder-length blond hair in favor of a darker pixie cut. When I did this, I decided it was a great time to bare a bit of my soul as well and wrote an entry telling the cosmos more about me and my life. I loved writing that entry, even if certain parts were difficult or personal, and so coupled with the inspiration of working on my personal ‘elevator pitch’ (thanks to helping a friend edit their own), I’ve decided to do another round.
When I was born, my father wanted to name me Mercerdes. Despite the awesome power of the name (and the car, naturally), I cannot picture myself being called Mercedes. What would my nickname be? Mere? Desi? I don’t seem like a Desi, I don’t think. Then again, I’ve never seen myself much as a Tina-Marie, either (my mother won the ‘naming the daughter’ debate and I was named for a dear friend of hers, hyphen and all, sans middle name).
I spent 13 years as a student and teacher at a dance academy. I’ve studied so many forms of dance, I’ve probably forgotten a few. My specialty (and what I taught to the little kids’ classes) was tap (Broadway, to be specific). I also studied ballet through advanced (pointe), choreography in ‘hip hop’, jazz, and modern styles, and musical theater. I was also a gymnast and Varsity cheerleader in high school.
I don’t like Shakespeare’s romances. I’m not going to fall for it if you’re quoting Romeo & Juliet, despite the title of this post. Quote Henry V‘s St. Crispen’s Day speech, then maybe we’ll talk.
I’m obsessed with history: American, personal, religious, fictional, it doesn’t matter. I can sit around arguing dates and facts with my father for literally hours. I will never tire of reading my own old diaries and journals and middle school class notes. My life has been one religious contradiction after another and I love studying how all of those forces came to be. And re-imagined history is absolutely one of my favorite genres of literature (Philip Roth’s Plot Against America is my favorite example).
If I could go back and do college again, I’d take a second major and get a second BA in environmental sciences rather than graduate early (possibly having to graduate late!). I’d keep my Poli Sci major and my American Literature minor. I have learned more about myself in the six years since I graduated than I ever knew before or during college. I have seen changes in myself – some for the better, some unfortunately for the worse – but this is one of the greatest. I never imagined life outside of policy and campaigning. Suitcase living, mobile offices, twenty hour car trips – these were what I wanted for my norm. As I’ve grown I’ve found there is more that I want, and a background in sciences, green technology, and immediate global climate issues would have been a great start.
#215; in gratitude
In November, I wrote a list out of things I was grateful for, from the small to the profound, and I find that it’s a wonderful way to boost your confidence in the everyday. This list included the phrase: “Knowing that Boston still stands & I can always go home.”
I have a bad habit of mentally longing for easier places to live – places where I already know the social & economic landscape (Maine); or where I have the comfort and familiarity of family and friends (South Carolina or Southern Virginia); places that miss me as much I miss them (DC); places that afford me a no-strings-attached approach to life (Rome or Paris or some other exotic, impossible locale). I have trouble, mentally, internally, giving Boston enough credit. And so here we go, after the jump, a list of things I’m grateful to Boston for, to get me through this short-week version of a hump day:
#191; a particular kind of pain
“There is a particular kind of pain, elation, loneliness, and terror involved in this kind of madness. When you’re high it’s tremendous. The ideas and feelings are fast and frequent like shooting stars….But, somewhere, this changes. The fast ideas are far too fast, and there are far too many; overwhelming confusion replaces clarity. Everything previously moving with the grain is now against–you are irritable, angry, frightened, uncontrollable….It will never end, for madness carves its own reality.” – Kay Redfield Jamison
Last week, when news broke that Catherine Zeta-Jones had sought treatment for Bipolar II Disorder, a dear friend sent me a BBC article before the news had even hit my Twitter feed. It’s not often someone of international prominence comes out and announces that they suffer from a mental illness (perhaps with the exception of addiction). It’s even more rare that someone announces they suffer from a mental illness that I also live with.
While CZJ has been diagnosed Bipolar II, as has 18 year old Disney star Demi Lovato (talk about brave – an 18 year old girl coming out as receiving help for eating disorders, self harm, and Bipolar II, that is some serious courage on her part), I have lived with Bipolar I Disorder* most of my life. Diagnosed with Panic Disorder & Bipolar I as a teenager, I was incredibly proud of both ladies last week for opening up about the disease and, whether they meant to or not, starting a dialog about mental illness. According to WCVB Boston, the condition is underdiagnosed in America, but some celebrities have ‘come out’ over the years to increase awareness:
“…celebrities like Jane Pauley, Carrie Fisher and Linda Hamilton have helped to raise awareness and decrease the stigma. There has been much speculation that actor Charlie Sheen could have the condition.”
So, why is it, that I’ve never spoken about it here at atlimbo? My friends and family have all known for years, I’ve struggled with medications, addictions, relationships, focus – it’s not a very easy secret to keep, and so I just never tried. But to write about it so specifically, so personally, here where everything will live forever in Google cache… It’s daunting. Scary, in a way. I admire these women, I believe that Charlie Sheen desperately needs to see a psychiatrist, I keep up with the news coming out of NAMI and I participate in online communities for people with these illnesses. I’ve been educating myself about BD, schizophrenia, sociopathy, depression, addiction, obsessive compulsive disorder, self-harm, and all manner of other chemical imbalances since I was a kid. And yet, I don’t know how to write about it in any real way. I don’t know how to tell the story of my diagnosis, my trials and errors with medication and other treatments.
I know that in many ways I’m lucky. My family has never been anything but supportive and while Bipolar I has a higher instance of hospitalization and suicide and yet here I am, nearly 27 and I can keep a job, have a conversation with a stranger, keep my own home in order, and I’m slowly but surely learning how to sustain relationships. This last one is my biggest struggle. There are a lot of stories online about failed attempts and outrageous statistics. I’m contemplating therapy in my new hometown and my boyfriend is as supportive and understanding as they come – he’s seen me through many of my phases in the nearly ten years we’ve known each other, and that comes in handy when I don’t know how describe what’s happening in my brain. He knows what I mean without my even having to say it.
But none of this is really getting to the point. Which is this. Why can’t I write about it? Why is the point so damned convoluted for me? I know that the disorder is a chemical imbalance. I know that there are a multitude of causes and the real 100% cause isn’t even known – for now it’s considered a mixture of genetics, chemical flow in the brain, physiology, psychology, stressers… I know all of this. I’m glad to say I don’t buy into the social stigmas attached to the disorder or the idea to simply medicate it away… And yet, I can’t write about it. I can’t tell my story, despite my being proud to trumpet others who have done exactly the same with their own.
* Bipolar I Disorder is considered the more severe of the two including higher, more sustained jaunts of hypomania and a less consistent depressive side – for more information and a general overview of the disorder, click here.
