Category Archives: Bipolar Disorder

Our family does some volunteering that I love. It involves helping people, meeting amazing people, living and loving with people very intentionally and hopefully well.

It has been the joy of my life to have this opportunity over the last several years. Truly. It can be an emotional work being truly in people’s lives, but I recommend it 200%.

The last couple of weeks has been incredibly rewarding as we have met new families and are getting to know them as they build their lives. But when I tell you it is exactly where I want to be, I am not kidding or exaggerating.

It has even given me many, many opportunities to use the Arabic I have been studying for the last 5 years. And it has been amazing. Challenging and exhausting. Exposed my weaknesses while encouraging me in how much I have actually learned.

My kids are working hard and succeeding in their studies. They are really great and fun kids. They continue to me witty, heartwarming, thoughtful, and smart…seriously, I can’t complain.

The only problem is me.

I hate myself.

I cried on my run today while considering my day.

Every interaction I have is tainted by how much I talk. I talk too much. It’s not because I want to monopolize the conversation. I truly can’t help it.

And it ruins me after every social interaction. I often say I am afraid to be around people. That is not incorrect but to put a finer point on it, I hate who I am around people. My stomach hurts just thinking about it. Actually, my whole body hurts.

I also hate the feeling that people really don’t want me around. I am always waiting for the other shoe to drop–walking on eggshells because I am sure people are angry with me and going to yell at me. I don’t intend to be needy or desperate but I am scared–all.the.time.

Scared of friends. Scared of family. Scared of acquaintances. Scared the things I love will be taken away from me as punishment. It never ends.

My life is amazing. I only wish…

If you have been around here for awhile…you know it can get messy in my brain…I am constantly trying to understand, explain, put my finger on what is going on in there.

If I could express my bipolar in one word I would say rage. The depression shows up as rage. The hypomania shows up as rage.

A few weeks ago I found myself in that place again. I was upset about something (a home repair) and just started SCREAMING at my husband. Thankfully, he is a saint about this and just kept saying, “Charity, where is this coming from? What is this about?” I kept saying it was about the house issue but it wasn’t and I couldn’t stop.

I finally climbed out of the rage with a sore throat and shame as my reward and we fixed the house issue.

But why was I there again? Why was the rage there again? Why?

This week I think I finally figured out why. I don’t know how to fix it, but I might know why.

In that place, I feel something wrong with me. As I rage I know there is something wrong with me. It would make sense to stop, but in that place, I know something is wrong, something is broken and I think if I just keep raging, that thing will get fixed or go away. If I can just rage long enough.

But I never can. I never ever can.

*the rage is often a sign I need a medication adjustment so I called the doc and we made that adjustment. It has helped. It really has.

**sometimes my hubby just stays quiet and that is quite wise, but sometimes he needs to speak up–this was one of those times.

Bipolar is a jerk.  Even in the times you are well and stable, you’re not normal.  But you get used to that normal.  You adjust your expectations, you learn your oddities and live.

I had a blip during our shelter in place because of medications getting messed up, but I knew what it was and why it was.  That made it easier to live with.  I cried a lot and got emotional, but that was part of a collective angst.  I was not alone.  That was not necessarily even the Bipolar.

But then I got tired.  If you ask my friends how I was doing, for weeks they would tell you I was tired.  No matter how much sleep I got, I was tired.  And that hasn’t changed, but the reality of Bipolar has made itself known.

Last week it messed me up good…making it so, so, so hard to leave the house.  Even when I knew I would enjoy where I was going the dread was devastating.  And Friday knocked me for a loop.  I had to go somewhere.  I had to talk to people.  And I talked to too much.

And I remembered what I forgot…

How much I hate myself.

A few years back we decided to get involved with a particular group of people in a particular life circumstance and see if we could help.

And I think we have.

But not nearly as much as they have helped my family, and me, especially.

A little over 3 years ago I went to a family’s house.  I didn’t know the family.  I didn’t know what to expect.  We met that day.  I helped with something and she sent food home with me.  For the first of what has literally become thousands of times.

God has used her to carry me many times.

Three, in particular, come to mind.

The first was a year ago.  Earlier in the spring, the doctors found a lump.  It wasn’t cancer but had to come out because it has such a high likelihood of becoming cancer.  A year ago, right now, they removed the lump.  The surgery went great. I had no pain.  That was a Monday.  I expected to go right back to my life on Tuesday.  But I didn’t.  I dropped my girls off at an activity and I went to her house.  And sat there.  I just sat.  I didn’t even hold her newborn daughter.  That’s what I did for the rest of the week.  She had a newborn baby but she was the one taking care of me.  She just sat with me and sent dinner home to my family every night.

Another time was a month or so ago.  The bipolar had been playing mean.  But I was okay, just a rough evening.  And she saw it.  She messaged me on my home and used our particular code to ask if I was really okay.  She saw it.  My hubby can see it sometimes.  And I have people who I can reach out to but they are not nearby so I have to tell them when I am struggling.  But. she. saw. it.

That brings us to today.  The last two weeks have been hard. I still do the things that need to be done but I really just want to hide.  I am always exhausted no matter how much I sleep.  I have seen her a few times this week but just for accomplishing a few things, not to visit.  I love being with her when I am there but it is just hard to be anywhere.  It took me until Friday to ask if it is the Bipolar.  And today I have just not done anything and have done little to connect.  But she did the work to connect with me.  A couple of hours ago my daughter yelled, “she’s here.”  And she was.  And again she knew just the right time to be here.

Funny, a few years ago I thought I would help her when I was the one that needed her help.

If you want something done, ask the busiest person?  No, just ask the person who can’t say no.

Last year, I was asked to run for a position on our co-op board.  I won.  I ran unopposed.  Now, don’t even think I am doing this on my own…the other board members do so dang much.  And my committee members.  They do so much.  And I am so thankful.

People think I do everything last minute because I am so busy—nope, it is because a lot of times my anxiety keeps me from doing any of the things, so I have to wait until my brain gives me a bit of slack.

I’ve been fighting a hypomania phase with the bipolar for what feels like months and I finally found out why–I have been.  I was doubting that fact because then it would feel different…turns out, according to the doctor, I am in a mixed episode.

Yeah, that right there would explain it.

The yo-yo.  The back and forth.

Right now I feel like I am collapsing into it.

A family emergency last week pulled me out of my routine that helps protect me.

Some other struggles have me thinking too much.

My pride has me smarting over an e-mail where I want to scream, hey, I did the work, I laid the groundwork…why are they getting credit?

That one hurts and exacerbates the other issues.

I have spent a lot of time thinking the bipolar was no longer an issue.

I was wrong.