All to the Glory of God–that is why I blog and share my story so openly. I want others to know it is possible to live and parent well with mental illness. This, by necessity, causes my posts to be brutally honest, and that is not always pretty.
I have always endeavored to live by the verse 2 Corinthians 12:9
But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.
One thought at a time comes.
It is unclouded by depression and thoughts of personal destruction.
I don’t need music or social media to drown out the torture.
I can have one thought at a time.
It has been months since I could say that. I find my thoughts come fast and furious at both parts of Bipolar Disorder–regardless of whether it is mania or depression. There are so many thoughts. So many. And they are so loud. Drowning out those things I want or need to think.
I have been fighting the thoughts of depression for months, with a crisis coming in January. For the first time in four years I knew I had to check myself into a behavioral health hospital if I wanted to be alive for all my tomorrows. So in I went–for 8 days.
In-patient care is not really a cure. Little is done to get you better. The focus is on keeping you safe and getting you stable enough to continue working with your regular doctors.
We made a couple medication adjustments in the hospital, and I hoped it was enough, but in actuality, I was worse when I left the hospital to come home than when I had left home to go in the hospital. My mind was completely overtaken by suicidal thoughts. All of my energy was invested in ignoring these thought trying to destroy me. I was overtaken with fear that there was no hope of ever getting better.
My doctor continued to urge me to consider a partial hospitalization program. I turned her down many times because I didn’t see anyway of getting someone to watch the girls for multiple days while I went each day, Monday through Friday, for six hours of treatment over two weeks.
But finally, I had run out of options. I had to go if I was going to fight for me and my family.
And the Lord had His hand in it. Family and friends were able to watch the girls for not just two, but THREE weeks while I learned new coping skills and got medications adjusted by a very skillful doctor. He even got my insurance company to approve medication they had previously said they would not pay for!!!
I have been back in my life since March 16–and it is a beautiful place to be. My mind is, did I mention, quiet. My smile is back, and anxiety is quite manageable. I am learning what I can eat with the new medication–it has made my stomach very sensitive and I am slowly becoming reacquainted with my emotions, and adjusting to the new demands for sleep that my body has.
It is not an overnight process. Life is not immediately perfect, but it is mine and it is lovely.