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.

The Time Has Come To Say Farewell... Again

Tomorrow I pack up my worries in my own bag and smile. Or at least try to. I have so many feels and not all of them are good. How do I cope out there? What will be different? Will these meds work? I feel like these questions are just spinning around in my mind all day long. I get excited. I cry. I get excited. I cry. I feel dead on the inside. I cry. Blah blah blah.

I've come up with a few coping strategies. Exercise being one of them. Yep, you heard me right. I am going to get myself walking. Much easier now that the sun isn't trying to suffocate me every time I step out the door. I am going to walk, chuck in my earphones, listen to music, and zone out. There is also a thing called a worry box. You can either have a physical or metaphorical worry box. If there is a worry I write it down and put it in the box. It then gets dealt with at a particular time of the day. Say 7pm. The rest of the day I don't worry about those things. They get pushed aside to a time that is more convenient. Apparently most of the time people find that the things they worried about are no longer that important.

My attitude needs to be different to what it was last time. I need to stop being the victim. I need to stop running away. I need to stop catastrophising. That is one of my biggest issues. "If you got  problem, yo I'll make it a thousand times worse!"does not need to be my mantra. I need to learn to breathe deeper and slower and try to remain focused in the moment. Committing to things is important to. I am doing this Acceptance and Commitment Therapy class on Fridays. I need to commit to that. I am also starting a Cert III in Pathology Assistance in July. So I need to commit to that too. These aren't monumental tasks so I am pretty sure that I can do it. I just have to keep myself motivated. Any tips?

Recently I have begun taking Lithium. It's a mood stabiliser and reminds me of the Nirvana song of the same name. Usually I will read the heck out of the medication list, finding out the side effects, etc. To be honest I think that's made me feel worse. Almost in a psychosomatic sense. However what I do know is that it is used to treat the swinging moods of people with bipolar. So since it seems to be having a good affect on me so far the doctor said that it is a possibility that I have Bipolar Affective Disorder. So now I am on so many meds that I can't believe I have much room left for food. And yet I do!

I'm still waiting to see my doctor for the day, which is a bit annoying since I have been waiting since this morning. I understand he is busy, but I am very busy just sitting around and thinking about how shit I am.

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.

You know you are in a psych hospital when

There are so many subtle differences ​in this ward that make you realise the seriousness of what some people go through. These are all related to stopping people from suiciding. Consider this a trigger warning.

Where do we keep our clothes? In a series of shelves. No wardrobe rail. Fold your things and put them away. Stuff that requires hanging, like dresses, you can skilfully manage to get them on the curtain rail if you are tricky enough​. There are no coat or hat hooks, so thankfully we don't live in the 1950s.

The bathroom makes me feel really sad. The mirror is made of glass. The hand rails are completely covered over so that nobody can get any material through it.

From the moment I first stepped in to the shower I was so confused. How the fuck do I get the water out. They only have these small things that you have to twist to get the water out. The hot water is that hot that I only need to turn the cold on a smidge. I have my theories about the reason behind this, but I won't delve in to that part.

Here's the shower curtain. It is connected by a strong magnet. You can give it a good tug but any extra weight would result in the connection breaking. The shower rod and anything/one conected to it would collapse to the floor.

The door handles are at an angle. Makes it really hard to open them when you have are.s full of stuff. But...

That is probably enough of the dramatic stuff. Just thought that it was really interpreting (interesting/depressing).

Hope you're having a wonderful weekend x