My Bipolar Marriage

It's not easy having Bipolar Affective Disorder and being married. My moods rapidly cycle. It's hard to love someone else when you don't love yourself. Sometimes I have to be selfish and take time out for myself. Sometimes I feel like I can't even function as a human, let alone a wife.

With my moods, at one moment I'm up, the next I'm way way way down. It's hard to live happily ever after when you hit rock bottom and get out of bed. It can be dizzying for my husband when one moment I'm lower than low and the next I'm bouncing around the house wanting to do everything at once. However most often I find myself on the depressed side of my disorder. I can also be the angriest, crankiest bitch when I want to be. My flight response is so ingrained that every other week I've decided it is probably best that I leave the relationship.

It's hard to love your husband when you can't even love yourself. It's a bloody horrible thing to say, but there are days where I feel that there is just not an ounce of love in my body that I just muster to share with anyone. What little I have, I give to my children. Unfortunately sometimes he misses out. That makes me feel like a really shitty person.

There are weeks where I have to take time out to focus on my own mental health, leaving my husband behind to deal with all of the stress and responsibility. This past two months I have been in a psychiatric hospital three times. For a minimum of two weeks at a time. During that time he has had to endure his own issues that have made life harder for him than it should be. What makes me feel even more terrible is knowing that I am not there for him when he needs me most.

Sometimes the illness takes over and I feel like I don't even want to get out of bed. I either start the day not wanting to get out of bed and have to get Husbfriend to look after getting the kids organised for school/care while I stay in bed, or I start the day OK and then find myself in my bed with no way of getting out again. Then he finds that instead of just coming straight home and relaxing, he has to do the child care run to get the baby to bring home to the lazy wife. On these days I am lucky to have showered, let alone made dinner.

However other days I decide that I want to get everyting done at once and I start cleaning every room at the one time. Pull all of the crap out of every room and put it on the dining table. I zip around from room to room doing bits and pieces here and there, only to find that I haven't actually achieved anything much and it is time for dinner and all of the shit that I have piled on the dining table needs to be shoved back in to the rooms they came from and I have wasted a whole day.

Thankfully through all of this I have a kind, loving, caring man who is a pillar of strength in our family. Without him being the person that he is, my marriage would have dissolved a long time ago. I do realise each and every day how lucky I am to be married to a man like him. I'm looking forward to getting this illness of mine managed enough for me to be able to be at least half the wife this amazing man deserves.

Double Denim Day

Yesterday I had a chat with a friend about her outside view on the private psychiatric hospital that I'm in. We discussed her views before she came to visit, and after she arrived. We also discussed if she would consider admission if the situation were to arise for herself or for her make believe late teens child. We also talk about cheesy bread. A lot.

Prior India was under the impression that it would be a lot more clinical. Like, much less nice and comfortable. Originally she didn't think there would be anything nice about it at all, assuming it would be bare rooms, barred windows, typical movie type set up. Initially she was concerned she would have to sign in like a jail, behind locked doors. She expected the patients would not appear to be as "normal"as they mostly are. Another thing that struck her was the limited number of staff that are in the ward. There is more free reign and not as stringent monitoring. I filled her in on the fact that it is up to the doctors about who is monitored how regularly. I am not monitored regularly at all as I am much less of a risk to myself and others. It really isn't possible for me to just organise to sign in and out. The psychiatrist needs to give approval for me to have leave, how often they need to check me, etc. based on risk. Although those on stricter monitoring aren't watched by orderlies in white coats, like they are in the movies. I originally expected it to be more like https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ioBueVTZ0RM

India admitted to me that she has had some encounters in public mental health as a child seeing a psychiatrist, but never admitted as a patient at all. When asked if she'd consider being admitted if a health professional told her she would  benefit from being hospitalised, would she consider it, she said "Yeah I’d definitely be more inclined to do so. Less afraid. I’d be like wondering where the drugs are at. Hook a sister up! Where’s my sizzler buffet you c*nts are talking about? I want my cheesy bread!" Prior to having visited the hospital and seen it with her own eyes she originally would have told them to "literally go fuck themselves. No chance. None."!

What if the time came that she had a teenager sick enough to be here? "Fucking oath. Absolutely." I think that is something that is confronting for both of us as a parent. This isn’t as if it is an unrealistic possibility. Both of us have our own mental health issues, and that does increase the possibility of a child of our own growing up with them too. My stepson said to me “Yeah cool. I will probably need to come stay here myself sometime soon” hahahahaha. I find it frustrating seeing “normal”people out there who don’t come to places like this when clearly they should. And that is where the problem is. People are too afraid because they don't understand the reality.

To India, the place has a nice tone to it. Although the first time she visited and we went to dinner (still no fucking cheesy bread) she felt rather confronted by seeing some of the people were clearly depressed, or had obvious physical ailments, and those who were sitting alone because they are socially isolated and don’t know anyone or they are too anxious to sit with others. I must admit that I find the communal style of dining to be quite difficult and having to sit and eat with people I don’t know. Even after 4 or so weeks I still find it really awkward to sit across from someone I don’t know. I usually just plug in my earphones and listen to music while I eat.

The worst part about it would have to be the cost. A couple of weeks in a place like this would set you back a couple of thousand dollars. And there are some self funded people here. However with private health funds you are usually covered for psychiatric treatment 2 months after you start yor policy. Please check with a provider and don't take that as gospel. But for anyone who might need some extra help, please look in to it. Private psychiatric inpatient time is vastly different to public inpatient time.

It's Today! It's Today!

Well, I made it. I got out the other side of my time at Belmont Private Hospital. There is a mixture of joy and anxiety. Getting home vs leaving the comfort of a controlled environment.

Flowers from my beautiful Nanny's garden xx

Most of my morning was spent saying goodbye. I don't want to tag anyone due to their own privacy, but to the Unicorn Pony Queen I want to say thank you. You opened your heart and your arms, hugging me physically and figuratively. I know that life has dealt you a shitty hand, but you are tough enough to make it through. To my lovely Emerald Technology girl, thank you for being you. Thank you for arting with me, for eating with me, for walking with me, and for letting me in to your world. I'm sorry for the recent heartache you have to endure. Let me know if you need a wing man. Then there has been a lovely gentle, soft, kind-hearted Nina, who I don't have on Facebook so she isn't easily recognisable. I am not sure if you realise how far you have come since I first met you. You are an absolute credit to yourself. You are a fighter underneath that gentle facade. So keep fighting. Lastly thank you you roomie. Not only for being an amazing woman who I am glad to call a friend, but for the invaluable advice and support you offered me, particularly on the early days.

Discharge with my psychiatrist went very well. Just ticked the boxes, planned my appointments and my ACT group that I need to attend after here. It feels good to not be cast adrift, so to speak. The nursing station hadn't given me my discharge paperwork the evening before so that delayed my departure. All it took was a quick scribble with the pen on numerous bits of paper and I was good to go.

It was good to see my big boys as soon as I got home. Debbie Did Queensland which meant the kids were home. So I saw their faces as soon as I got in the door. I did feel missed, I must say. Although nobody made me feel more welcome than my pupper. Renly of House Barkratheon could barely contain himself. It was a battle between the dog and the baby for my attention. My heart swelled with pride. As we speak I have a cat friend chilling next to me, as close as he can get.

Both of our big boys wanted to attend Youth Group this evening. We dropped them off around 6.30pm and grabbed some Thai takeout for a night alone with the bub. I had the best Thai Green curry that I mixed with some extra frozen vegetables to replace the rice. Oh did I mention I've been doing Optifast for 2 meals a day since last Monday and I have already lost 2 kg? I haven't said? Well I have! Yahoo! But I digress. We fed ourselves and the baby. It was delicious and exactly what dinner after a return from 3 weeks in hospital should taste like.

We did set up the bed in Ezra's room to start a new habit. I lay down with him to watch some Brum reruns on Stan, only for me to fall asleep with him. Apparently I was asleep before him!  Not sure how long he will stay asleep before he cracks a shit, but I don't doubt we will figure it out.

I've dumped my nights worth of beds for the evening so I need to get to work closing my eyes. I don't want to half finishing this post and then fade off in to a series of zzzzzzzz. So I will wish you a goodnight from my own bed, while I try to simultaneously fall asleep and anxiously listen out for my baby boy in his own room. Sweet dreams to those of you still awake before reading this.

Love to you all xxx

This is what depression and anxiety looks like

My day started off relatively well. I'm doing Optifast this week (planning to continue and will post about this some other time) and I start to the food plan. There was a session on called "Managing Your Emotions" which seemed like a really appropriate session for me. We all got seated, I borrowed a pen because I didn't think to take one, and then I got called to my appointment with my psychiatrist. So bang went that crystal set. However the session with my psychiatrist went relatively well and I left feeling pretty good about taking on the day.

At 3pm there was a relaxation session that I wanted to go to for the second time. It is located in this weird little section where you enter on the ground floor, yet somehow you have to go down the lift to get to the other ground floor. I had arrived early because I wanted to make sure I was there on time. Seeing the little kitchen nearby prompted me to go make myself a cup of tea (Madura tea bag, a splash of zymil milk and an Equal to sweeten it). "Wouldn't it be a nice idea to go and have this cup of tea in the sun?" I asked myself. Back to the lift I went and pressed the button to go to the other ground level. However I ended up in the Basement. Fuck knows how that happened. But I could see trees and figured it was as good an exit point as any. Down the drive there was a shady path surrounded in fresh air. Just what I needed! When I had a few minutes before the relaxation class was due to start, I made my way back to the lift. I pressed the button. Nothing happened. I pressed it again. Still nothing. Then I noticed a swipe card thingo there. I could only get in if I had access. So I had to try to find my way back by walking the long way around. Unfortunately I didn't have a lot of success.

Before long I found my brain going down the rabbit hole. It started with "Urgh you're an idiot. You can't even make it to class properly". Followed with "There goes my three sessions a day target. Looks like I've failed again". Then we spiraled in to thinking about all of the times I haven't succeeded or completed something, That I'm useless. That I'm a bad example to my children. That they'd be better off without me. That I should just walk down the hill to Creek Rd (a busy street in Brisbane) and walk in to the middle of the traffic. I transformed into a crying, heaving, puffy eyed mess. Nobody ever said that depression isn't pretty, but not many people show exactly how that looks. I want to change that. Here is me and here is an explanation of how I feel.

My eyes hurt. They feel scratchy, puffy, tight and dry. Crying has a really horrid affect on my eyes. They become these little slits that make it hard to see much in my peripheral. Which isn't really a bad thing since I'm feeling pretty self-centered at the time. Being a glasses wearer increases the level of discomfort. I can't wear my glasses when I'm crying, but I also can't see for shit and therefore my self-loathing only increases. "I'm so useless. I can't even wipe my tears or stop myself from bumping in to things, or find where I've flung my glasses when I needed to find a tissue."

Snot is a part of life. It is there to make us look awkward when someone points out that we have bats in the cave. It runs out of our nose like a tap when we have hay fever and the season changes. It goes green when we have some kind of funky infection. It also clogs up my face as soon as I cry for more than 2 minutes. Before long I'm in a position where I can't breathe through my nose. Unfortunately this makes it really difficult when the nurse comes to try to assist me by telling me to "take a biiiiiiiiig deep breath in through your nose and then sloooooooowly exhale". Ummmmmm I can't even breathe in through my nose AT ALL. So how the feck am I going to do that???

One of the stupidest things that I did in my self hatred moment was clean my lipstick off. Very vigorously. With a dry face washer. All the while I was telling myself how ugly I was and that I shouldn't even bother putting lipstick on in the first place because I'm such an ugly fat beast that makeup only serves to make me look ridiculous. So I hate-cleaned my beautiful Lime Crime lipstick off. Eventually I wet the cloth because I found the dryness wasn't appropriate for actually removing shit. But now here I am, with the shiniest feeling lips in the universe. Shiny, but not in a good way. I need to get some moisture in those buggers any minute now. BRB.

Yeah, now that I think about it I should have done something for my skin while I was off looking after the moisture on my lips. In order to clear up my nose I wet another cloth and then put some drops of  Wide Awake essential oil from Plumeria which I huffed and puffed until I could blow air out of my nose. Now my face feels drier than a you know what. So I think it's time for a shower and a moisturise.

This is the physical side of depression. Well, part of it. Sometimes it is easier. Sometimes it can be much much worse. But this is a pretty good insight.

Love and good wishes to you all, and thanks for the positive feedback so far xx

Medication Change Fun

I've been in the process of changing my antidepressant medication. I've been taking Prozac, however in the past I have had Lexapro, Cipramil, Cymbalta, Zoloft, and Effexor. Today I started Pristiq after a few days of weaning off the Prozac. Fingers crossed I have a better result with this one. Apparently it is a new medication (only about 5 years old) so there is a good chance they have learnt from previous mistakes when it comes to making meds.

Anyway, today I had my first dose. I also had my usual pain medications (Lyrica and Targin), with a side of endone and valium. Breakfast was almost like some kind of chemical degustation. I had slept through breakfast so I had no actual food in my tummy. Well provided you don't count the single serve box of Coco Pops that I ate while watching Iron Fist on Netflix last night.

This morning I had my CBT session which started out great. As the minutes ticked by I found that the coffee wasn't doing its job. Slowly but surely my eyes began dripping and I found it hard to keep them open. My facilitator agreed that I should come back to bed. Which is where I am now, typing all of this with my left eye closed. I think now is the time for me to close the other. But not without sharing a pic of how exhausted I look because I think it is kinda funny.

Love and stuff to you all xxx

The First of Many

Today I woke feeling a little less enthusiastic than the day before. The reality of being away from my family had hit a bit, and so did the snoring of my roommate. Although to be fair she wasn't as loud as Trent is.

I made my way to the cafe after breakfast and got myself a coffee, which wasn't too terrible and made me not want to stab something. I did try the machine coffee in the kitchen but it was a Nescafe machine and the coffee tasted like a mixture of dirt and ash. Although to be fair I did kind of expect that it would, so at least I wasn't let down. The little cafe is pretty cute. There is indoor and outdoor seating, and some food options. The coffee was decent and it made me feel less like I was in hospital and unable to leave the grounds for 72 hours. When Trent came to visit a little later we walked down to grab a coffee and share a brownie together (nawwww).

Therapy wise I met with my psychiatrist again and talked a little about how I'm doing and what I'm going to be doing. He has got me in to a 2 week CBT course starting tomorrow morning. I do about 2 hours a day there learning about Cognitive Behavioural​ Therapy and how to use it in my every day life. The course actually started on Monday so to save me waiting another week they have managed to get me in if I do a bit of catchup reading tonight. Thankfully I don't have Foxtel here otherwise I'd be all "sorry but I really have to watch the latest episode of The Walking Dead. BYEEEEEE".

I went to the gym today and did a workout with the exercise physiologist which was great. He did a bit of an assessment first and I talked about my nerve root issues and my joint pain. He got me doing some treadmill, exercise bike, rower, and some hand weights. I'm not gonna lie. It felt good man. The sweat was dripping off me like crazy so I can back to my room for a shower and to spend some more time with Trent before he went home.

It was after he left that I felt like I was going to crumble. I didn't sleep too well and then I exhausted myself at the gym. I miss my boys. I am yearning for a cuddle with my baby. So while the facilities are amazing, I still have this brain of mine for company. And the depression and anxiety follows me everywhere I go. Even to the dinner buffet.

I am hoping that I am able to work on what I need to do to make life more positive and fulfilling. Depression has taken so much from me and let it hang on like a toxic friend. The kind of toxic friend I really need to get rid of.

By My Own Admission

I've had mental health issues since I was around 15 years old. I have struggled with depression and anxiety, signs of PTSD, and suicidal ideations. I have taken more medications that you can poke a stick at, and seen more therapists than I have fingers. Yet here I am almost 26 years later still struggling with the black dog.

Today I took the plunge and did something I've needed to do for a long time. I checked in to a private psychiatric hospital as an inpatient. There is a reason why I have done this now, and I will talk about that some other time. For now I want to talk about what my first day has been like.

I received a call this morning advising me that I needed to be here at 1pm. What the fuck! I thought I was going to be admitted on Tues or Weds. I don't have enough clean clothes! Ezra had gone to his Family Day Carer and I didn't get to say a proper goodbye! Cue internal meltdown. I still managed to get my stuff packed and buy myself some new pyjamas while Trent (my husbfriend) toddled off and bought me a freaking Nintendo Switch. Fuck yes! He wins best human of the year award.

We arrived here just after 1pm and waited for someone to come take me to my room and show me around. And waited. And waited. Eventually the nurse showed up and took me to my room to fill out forms before she took me for a tour. So I filled them out and waited. And waited. And waited. Finally a friend of mine with some experience here had popped in to see me so she gave me the tour. Hooray!

I got to meet the psychiatrist who I will be treated by. He seems really nice and has super clear handwriting, so I'm not sure that he actually is a doctor. I might need to check his credentials next time to make sure he isn't another patient who is delusional, who just thinks he is a doctor.

Dinner time came and went. There is a cute little buffet which the nurse told me was a more upmarket version of Sizzler. There was a distinct lack of cheesy toast so I have decided that she is either a liar or fucking delusional :D But seriously the food is pretty decent and there is also a cafe here so here's hoping they make a decent cup of coffee in the morning. Otherwise I will likely end up on the section with the padded cells.

All in all, my first experience here has been pretty good. I have a roomie who is nice and pretty much does her own thing. The psychiatrist told me that I am looking at a minimum of two weeks here. I will be chilling out, doing some group therapy, taking part is an exercise program and making sweet arse art projects. Just waiting for Angelina Jolie to swing by soon to take me on some crazy night time adventure like in Girl, Interrupted.

Good night lovers ❤️