You got it—I found out last year that my blood levels were consistent with menopause.
Oh crap.
In the midst of my bipolar madness, I am also experiencing the "joys" of menopause. At first, I thought wow, maybe it's the menopause causing all of my depresson, sadness, crying and hitting? Nope. Although it does contribute to menopause, it's not the sole reason why I am suffering from my bipolar disorder. It definitely accentuates it, but not the cause of it.
Ugh. Damn.
As I continued to enjoy my period-free bliss, I quickly realized that menopause wouldn't be as easy as I had hoped. Aside from the occasional night sweats (at that point) I figured it would be a positive step for me as I embarked on 'womanhood.'
Yeah, right.
I hated it—hated every minute of it. I knew what going through menopause meant. It meant I was getting old; to the point that I had already reached middle-age. So to add to my lovely mid-life crisis, I was going through menopause as a constant reminder of my "old age." In my mind, I felt deprived and basically screwed.
It's tough, with the flowing of emotions circulating through my veins, it was a harsh reality for me. I wanted to embrace it, but I just couldn't. I wanted to wake up and know that I was 30 years old again, not late 40's. Why do I feel like my life has passed me by at a rapid pace? Why do I feel like it was wasted? I should be wallowing in this peaceful tranquillity of no longer suffering from menstrual cramps every month since the age of 15. I should be finally moving forward with my life instead of dreading it. But I just couldn't. I didn't want to. I wanted to drown in self pity and the dream and hopes of going back in time. Time machine anyone?
What was wrong with me?
As if my bipolar disorder wasn't bad enough, I had to deal with my flooding of hormones on a daily basis as well? I hate my life and I hate this disease. I hate how women are constantly reminded of growing 'old.' Tell me, what do men have to deal with? Baldness? A rounded gut to remind them of eating a bit healthier and working out until they're sweating profusely? Gray hair? Umm, we have to deal with that as well. No pass there. At least we don't look ridiculous when dyeing our hair to cover the gray—but I only attribute that to wearing makeup to mask our pale skin. Unlike men who think the comb over will only enhance their hair, instead of looking hysterical and foolhardy? Still, that's a personal choice, not something they can't avoid.
Is life contemptible? It only reminds us how cruel life can be to a woman. Aside from the joys of pregnancy (ha, not me) and creating a new life, it basically sucks. Oh, and let's not forget the sagging and heading 'south' of our breasts. Gotta love gravity!
Lovely.
All I know is this, I can't go back, regardless of how often I pray and wish, but I can move forward with my life. Or at least try to. Can I change my life? For the most part, yes. We are in control of our destiny and our dreams—well, to a certain extent of course. I'm hoping that someday soon I will climb out of this mid-life funk and move forward and embrace my aging instead of crying over it—ugh, that word again—instead of being depressed from it. It's a part of life that I can't wriggle out of, and I can't escape it.
I love my wrinkles.
Bipolar Gal on Twitter
Showing posts with label Facebook. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Facebook. Show all posts
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
The Tide Will Turn
I feel great, I really do.
Ever since I started taking my medication, I feel wonderful. Yes, there are those occasional blips that encompass me on a daily basis, but overall, they're working! I never want to stop. There are still days as I regularly pop those pills in my mouth, that I often ask myself, "why do I need to take so many pills?" It's a tough 'pill' to swallow—no pun here—but I know if I don't take them, I will go down that rocky road where I was heading before.
And it wasn't good.
I try to remind myself that we're blessed to have such spectacular health benefits; we're lucky, very lucky. If it weren't for my husband's benefits, we wouldn't have the means to buy my meds and I know what a downward cycle that would bring me back into. That would not only be devastating, but shattering as well. I tell my husband everyday that we need to somehow prepare for the possibility—albeit a low possibility—that if he were to get laid off or fired, what would we do? Yes, he'd collect unemployment benefits, but what about health insurance? No such thing as health unemployment benefits. Oh ya, it's called COBRA.
More like NO-BRA. No bra because there's no support. Your premiums are double if not more than what you were paying while working with that company, so where's the coverage there?
Just like wearing 'No Bra.' Ultimately, we'd be screwed.
The last few weeks consisted of crying and fright. Those tears were all for my father. Nothing else. I didn't want to stop the ache because I wanted to continue to cry for the man that raised me. The man that I looked up to. I only felt it was justified and the right thing to do.
My husband had recommended that I take an anti-anxiety pill, but I refused. I told him this was legitimate, this is what I needed to feel, not numbness, but true sadness for someone I will miss and love for the rest of my life. And you know what, I'm OK with that.
Some tears are just worth shedding.
I believe that the next few months will be nothing shy of a challenge. As I received my very last unemployment check today, I now know that I can start working again and this time, I'm ready to face it head on. I'm ready to go to work and be surrounded by people in a socially thriving environment. I know I need this,but at this point, I have no other option. I must work.
The question is, am I emotionally ready? Can I do it?
As they say, only time will tell. I know once I get back into the groove of things, I will be ready and willing to move forward. I have to, because if I don't, what will happen? Will I go into a bipolar remission? Or just accept it as being a part of life and continue to plug away?
Again, only time will tell.
I'm ready to face rejection and I'm ready to face success. I need to. I have to. But I admit, it will be tough. My life is like a tidal wive. As I continue to surf, different waves will come and go. The same goes as I grieve my father's death—they will come and go, and some days it'll be OK, other days there'll come a huge wave aiming towards me that I know I'll have to ride, that I can't avoid, but other waves will be small and minimal. Those waves I know I'll be able to anticipate without consequence. Basically, I know that everyday will be a different experience for me.
Like life in general.
For me, it's a little more challenging than that, but I know as the "waves" come and go, so will my attitude. I will get better and then my tide will turn.
Bipolar Gal on Twitter
Ever since I started taking my medication, I feel wonderful. Yes, there are those occasional blips that encompass me on a daily basis, but overall, they're working! I never want to stop. There are still days as I regularly pop those pills in my mouth, that I often ask myself, "why do I need to take so many pills?" It's a tough 'pill' to swallow—no pun here—but I know if I don't take them, I will go down that rocky road where I was heading before.
And it wasn't good.
I try to remind myself that we're blessed to have such spectacular health benefits; we're lucky, very lucky. If it weren't for my husband's benefits, we wouldn't have the means to buy my meds and I know what a downward cycle that would bring me back into. That would not only be devastating, but shattering as well. I tell my husband everyday that we need to somehow prepare for the possibility—albeit a low possibility—that if he were to get laid off or fired, what would we do? Yes, he'd collect unemployment benefits, but what about health insurance? No such thing as health unemployment benefits. Oh ya, it's called COBRA.
More like NO-BRA. No bra because there's no support. Your premiums are double if not more than what you were paying while working with that company, so where's the coverage there?
Just like wearing 'No Bra.' Ultimately, we'd be screwed.
The last few weeks consisted of crying and fright. Those tears were all for my father. Nothing else. I didn't want to stop the ache because I wanted to continue to cry for the man that raised me. The man that I looked up to. I only felt it was justified and the right thing to do.
My husband had recommended that I take an anti-anxiety pill, but I refused. I told him this was legitimate, this is what I needed to feel, not numbness, but true sadness for someone I will miss and love for the rest of my life. And you know what, I'm OK with that.
Some tears are just worth shedding.
I believe that the next few months will be nothing shy of a challenge. As I received my very last unemployment check today, I now know that I can start working again and this time, I'm ready to face it head on. I'm ready to go to work and be surrounded by people in a socially thriving environment. I know I need this,but at this point, I have no other option. I must work.
The question is, am I emotionally ready? Can I do it?
As they say, only time will tell. I know once I get back into the groove of things, I will be ready and willing to move forward. I have to, because if I don't, what will happen? Will I go into a bipolar remission? Or just accept it as being a part of life and continue to plug away?
Again, only time will tell.
I'm ready to face rejection and I'm ready to face success. I need to. I have to. But I admit, it will be tough. My life is like a tidal wive. As I continue to surf, different waves will come and go. The same goes as I grieve my father's death—they will come and go, and some days it'll be OK, other days there'll come a huge wave aiming towards me that I know I'll have to ride, that I can't avoid, but other waves will be small and minimal. Those waves I know I'll be able to anticipate without consequence. Basically, I know that everyday will be a different experience for me.
Like life in general.
For me, it's a little more challenging than that, but I know as the "waves" come and go, so will my attitude. I will get better and then my tide will turn.
Bipolar Gal on Twitter
Monday, June 25, 2012
Woes of Anniversary
My anniversary this past year was a tough one. We got married on November 5, so since it is around the holidays, this past anniversary turned into an unhappy one. Leading up to these months were tough for all of us, myself included. I had been through a lot, and knowing that our anniversary and the holidays were rapidly approaching, it was devastatingly scary for me. I knew I'd have to face it, and I knew I couldn't run away from it. It was right there in front of me like a shark at the depth of the ocean. I had nowhere to run and I couldn't escape.
For many years, I loved celebrating our anniversary. With the exception of my daughter's birthday, it was the one day of the year that was most special to us. Although we couldn't afford to travel or buy lavish gifts for each other, we still celebrated it with excitement and angst. Once we chose the restaurant we were both happy with and felt would be enjoyable for our celebratory evening, my husband was eager to call and make the reservation.
Throughout the years for our anniversary, we would get a babysitter and enjoy it on our own, but the last 2 or 3 years, we decided to bring our daughter with us. We realized that she was a big part of our lives and felt she was why we were here and why we were together. She always enjoyed it as much as we did and took pride in participating with us. It brought us happiness.
We decided to eat at a local oyster & seafood bar that had recently opened several months prior, and it was only a few blocks from our loft. So aside from convenience, we figured we'd enjoy the new surroundings and experience. Since I had been wanting to eat there when it opened, it was the perfect choice. But something always came up, whether it be money or just time, we could never go. It seemed like there was always something; always a deterrent to keep us from going.
We didn't know how expensive it would be, so we ended up being conservative and would ultimately choose a more modest restaurant instead. This time, for our special day, my husband knew it'd be the perfect locale to honor our anniversary. He wanted to make me happy and make it unforgettable.
I didn't want to be there and I didn't want to celebrate. I just wanted to curl up in a fetal position and cry. I wanted to be alone. But how? How could I be alone on a day that involved another person? It wasn't my birthday and it wasn't another frivolous holiday, it was OUR anniversary; it was our day.
Maybe on most occasions I could pull off the self-pitying fetal position, but this year was different. I really wanted to go, I really did. But with how I had been feeling the prior months, I knew it was a risk being there and bringing our daughter to go with us. But how could I say no? They were both trying so hard to make me happy and they wanted so badly to bring a smile to my face. So I did what any mother and wife would do during these circumstances—I sucked it up, and I went.
This time, willingly.
What I would give to have it end there, but it didn't end happily. Not this time. At that point, I hadn't started hitting myself, so going home was not a scare nor was it a concern. However, my unhappiness was. Nothing could please me by this time, and nothing was "good enough."
All I did was complain about everything—the service, the food, the prices, the drinks—all of it. I couldn't find anything good about anything. As we were waiting anxiously for the check, I was sitting there tapping my leg as if I had to make an emergency run to the bathroom. I look back on that evening today, and realize how much I crave for a nice quiet evening such as that fateful night on our anniversary, and it saddens me. It only makes me realize how much pain I was in at that time. It was out of my control; it wasn't me back there.
But is it too late to make amends with myself? Give myself some peace?
I don't know. I honestly don't. I realize that having bipolar disorder is out of my control; it's something I can't change. All I can do is continue my medication and realize that everyday will be a challenge, a challenge that I am ready and willing to embark on. A new day.
I now think to myself how lucky I was for having the luxury of spending a lovely evening at a delicious restaurant with my family, and how evenings like that are too few. After recently coming home from my father's funeral, I realize how he can no longer enjoy a delightful evening with his wife, or take advantage of a delicious meal at a sensational restaurant—these are things that he loved to do on many occasions, and can no longer do so.
That breaks my heart.
Is it a cliché to continually remind yourself of a common sentiment that "life is short?" Or should we actually take this advice and try and see the good in everything and everyone? Is it unrealistic to have such a positive attitude, or just absurd?
For me, the answer isn't that clear yet, but I hope it will be someday—soon! I am very anxious for that answer. I need clarity in my life. Especially now.
I desire nothing more than sitting in a restaurant with my family so we can enjoy the time we are spending there together, not look at what's going wrong, or what's right, just enjoy it; embrace it. Whether or not the food is crap, service is slow or if the drinks are overpriced, will be irrelevant. I will only enjoy the time that I'm there with my family and take advantage of the precious time we have now and will continue to enjoy for the future.
Bipolar Gal on Twitter
For many years, I loved celebrating our anniversary. With the exception of my daughter's birthday, it was the one day of the year that was most special to us. Although we couldn't afford to travel or buy lavish gifts for each other, we still celebrated it with excitement and angst. Once we chose the restaurant we were both happy with and felt would be enjoyable for our celebratory evening, my husband was eager to call and make the reservation.
Throughout the years for our anniversary, we would get a babysitter and enjoy it on our own, but the last 2 or 3 years, we decided to bring our daughter with us. We realized that she was a big part of our lives and felt she was why we were here and why we were together. She always enjoyed it as much as we did and took pride in participating with us. It brought us happiness.
We decided to eat at a local oyster & seafood bar that had recently opened several months prior, and it was only a few blocks from our loft. So aside from convenience, we figured we'd enjoy the new surroundings and experience. Since I had been wanting to eat there when it opened, it was the perfect choice. But something always came up, whether it be money or just time, we could never go. It seemed like there was always something; always a deterrent to keep us from going.
We didn't know how expensive it would be, so we ended up being conservative and would ultimately choose a more modest restaurant instead. This time, for our special day, my husband knew it'd be the perfect locale to honor our anniversary. He wanted to make me happy and make it unforgettable.
But this last anniversary was different. So very different.
I didn't want to be there and I didn't want to celebrate. I just wanted to curl up in a fetal position and cry. I wanted to be alone. But how? How could I be alone on a day that involved another person? It wasn't my birthday and it wasn't another frivolous holiday, it was OUR anniversary; it was our day.
Maybe on most occasions I could pull off the self-pitying fetal position, but this year was different. I really wanted to go, I really did. But with how I had been feeling the prior months, I knew it was a risk being there and bringing our daughter to go with us. But how could I say no? They were both trying so hard to make me happy and they wanted so badly to bring a smile to my face. So I did what any mother and wife would do during these circumstances—I sucked it up, and I went.
This time, willingly.
What I would give to have it end there, but it didn't end happily. Not this time. At that point, I hadn't started hitting myself, so going home was not a scare nor was it a concern. However, my unhappiness was. Nothing could please me by this time, and nothing was "good enough."
All I did was complain about everything—the service, the food, the prices, the drinks—all of it. I couldn't find anything good about anything. As we were waiting anxiously for the check, I was sitting there tapping my leg as if I had to make an emergency run to the bathroom. I look back on that evening today, and realize how much I crave for a nice quiet evening such as that fateful night on our anniversary, and it saddens me. It only makes me realize how much pain I was in at that time. It was out of my control; it wasn't me back there.
But is it too late to make amends with myself? Give myself some peace?
I don't know. I honestly don't. I realize that having bipolar disorder is out of my control; it's something I can't change. All I can do is continue my medication and realize that everyday will be a challenge, a challenge that I am ready and willing to embark on. A new day.
I now think to myself how lucky I was for having the luxury of spending a lovely evening at a delicious restaurant with my family, and how evenings like that are too few. After recently coming home from my father's funeral, I realize how he can no longer enjoy a delightful evening with his wife, or take advantage of a delicious meal at a sensational restaurant—these are things that he loved to do on many occasions, and can no longer do so.
That breaks my heart.
Is it a cliché to continually remind yourself of a common sentiment that "life is short?" Or should we actually take this advice and try and see the good in everything and everyone? Is it unrealistic to have such a positive attitude, or just absurd?
For me, the answer isn't that clear yet, but I hope it will be someday—soon! I am very anxious for that answer. I need clarity in my life. Especially now.
I desire nothing more than sitting in a restaurant with my family so we can enjoy the time we are spending there together, not look at what's going wrong, or what's right, just enjoy it; embrace it. Whether or not the food is crap, service is slow or if the drinks are overpriced, will be irrelevant. I will only enjoy the time that I'm there with my family and take advantage of the precious time we have now and will continue to enjoy for the future.
Bipolar Gal on Twitter
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