Bipolar Disorder: Variation on a theme and then some

Disorders

• ·      The most recent diagnosis – Bipolar Disorder – coupled with two psychiatric hospital stays (the first to get me stable enough to re-board the plane as I was relocating to my original home state; the second for identification of a diagnosis and to begin treatment) and preceded by three progressively bold delusional (manic) episodes, caught my attention.
• ·       A year ago, informed that ADD (Adult Attention Disorder without the hyperactive) applied to me, I set out to find out what that may mean for me without allowing a diagnosis to limit my dreams. I also grieved the loss of decades challenged by unidentified ADD.
• ·       For a decade or more, I have been treated for hypothyroidism. My strained thyroid was noticed when I gained 40 pounds in 4-6 weeks (normally I’m lean and my weight fluctuates by only 3-5 pounds) after my thyroid “burnt out” (an assumption shared by my M.D. at the time).
• ·       For several years I’ve also been treated medically for anxiety. Growing in seriousness to match an increase in adult responsibilities, anxiety has been with me for as long as I can remember. At the beginning, it accompanied significant events, happy and sad alike, but soon was associated with frightful events only. I’ve long associated anxiety with scary events, but I’m left to wonder how many potentially happy events from which I’ve self diverted and how I might remedy those situations.

Medications

• ·        I am loathe to take medications; natural remedies strike me as the logical choice. As mentioned, Bipolar Disorder caught my attention, so without hesitation I now take one medication to reduce mania, one to balance my mood, and a third that helps with anxiety, nausea, sleep, and pain. If Bipolar Disporder wasn’t identified and treated soon, alcohol abuse was looming as a conscious option of last resort, although I am a light drinker (my dad teases me for tossing a beer that I’ve nursed all day). For several months, I took an ADD medication that now is ceased. For a decade or so, I’ve taken thyroid hormone to keep me at a natural level. And I’ve taken various forms of anti-anxiety medications for several years; prior to that time, Vitamin B-12 (and later, B Complex) was identified accurately as a help. Dairy products are my lifelong means of self-medication (a glass of whole milk sits next to me as I write); the body knows, so recently I’ve added a healthy dose of Vitamin D to my daily supplements.

Bipolar Disorder: Two Differences

• ·         One difference, this time I find myself challenged with reading and writing; my concentration is challenged in a way I’ve never before experienced. I must say, I’m frightened as I search for reliable explanation(s). An old standby, voracious research, doesn’t seem an option for now. As mentioned, my ability to concentrate on written materials is hampered. Although I can organize my thoughts, albeit a bit more slowly than formerly, I am challenged in organizing the words that appear on the page.
• ·         A second difference I call “part of the humor of bipolar disorder.” This time one of the medications seems to slow down the pace at which I can talk, think, and act. In the past, mindfulness and other approaches recommended one task at a time. Something tells me to take seriously this message.

Clever idea!

My smart phone now has an alarm that talks to me. It's meant to tell me the time and temperature, but I can replace the text with anything I like. I've converted this alarm to make it ADD-friendly!

First thing in the morning, it tells me that I want to get out of bed to work on my priorities and make the world a better place. Thirty-five (35) minutes before I leave for work, my favorite alarm reminds me that I've been working on my priorities one day at a time, so breathe and keep moving forward. On weekends, the morning alarm tells me it's time to get up and enjoy my weekend. At work, I choose not to disturb or amuse co-workers with these verbal alarms, so I set them to pop up visually. After work, I have more alarms that remind me to return to priorities, get ready for the next day, and "Turn off the computer and go to bed. A well-rested Frances is a happy and productive Frances."

Friends, of course, laugh and ask, "What is that?" when the alarms go off during dinner or discussions. Yet I find these alarms useful and kindly motivating. The grief group finds them absolutely wonderful, too. As it turns out, ADD isn't the only thing that challenges the memory!

Community

Since we met two years ago, I have enjoyed the company of J, who is smart and fun. For ten months, J and I have shared living quarters. For the last 2-1/2 weeks, she has been out of town. Even on vacation, she is ridiculously productive. If there is something called anti-ADD, she has it.

For the first several days of J's absence, I felt free to pursue my own interests without with or around her concerns. As time passed, I missed her presence. I also noticed that my productivity level at home plummeted. Although my intentions were good and the tasks were things I could do on my own, I found myself unable to concentrate. Craving company, I turned to social media, leaving most of my tasks yet undone.

Exasperated, I called friend B who lives nearby. I asked if she could just sit with me while I went through paperwork. She agreed, adding that she would even be willing to file! With B's help, I put the most urgent and emotionally laden papers into order. She offered that she would return in the New Year, bringing colored files to replace the manila ones I have been using. She stayed a bit longer to chat while I managed other tasks on my own. She asked if I needed her help with the dishes. I laughed and said no, I'd be okay with those.

As it happens, B is part of a small group of us who continue to meet weekly for coffee before work (months after I started the group as a way to distract myself from the feeling of dread for too many difficult tasks in the day). Along with other friends, I was invited to the home of B and her spouse for Thanksgiving dinner. I had a wonderful time eating, laughing, and enjoying their company. When I mentioned to B that I needed more "community" in my life, she said, "They're called friends."

Thanksgiving is my favorite of holidays. A day set aside specifically for gratitude, along with food, family, and friends is meaningful and wonderful. By telephone I spoke with family and friends who live in other towns and states to wish them a happy day of thanks and to express my gratitude for them in my life.

Friday again brought meager attempts at "getting stuff done." Yay, J arrived home Friday night! I talked with her about this post, which by then, was partially written. She reflected on past feelings of self judgment for her dislike of being alone. And I stated the obvious. Human beings are social creatures; we need one another.

Saturday afternoon, while J worked, I met with B and a few others for coffee and a discussion around having closer, more connected relationships with neighbors and friends. Ironic because we drove an hour to get there! Great discussion and some baby steps made.

It's late Sunday morning, and I still have plenty of tasks before me. But J is here, B and I were on the phone briefly this morning, and one of the members from Saturday's discussion is joining me for more discussion and a walk of my dog this coming week.

As I sit here, watching with guilt as J cleans the kitchen from top to bottom, I'm left with a few thoughts. Like most things in life, community is fluid. Sometimes we feel that we have too much and sometimes too little. At some point, being alone becomes overwhelming because I become aware of all that needs to be done without the ability to manage it all. I have many gifts which become only more meaningful when I notice, honor, and appreciate them. Frustrations and disappointments are temporary conditions that I can observe, experience, or change.

Frances and Frannie

It can be amazing to look at my life in hindsight.

For as long as I can remember, anxiety has been in my life. Aware that anxiety is an uncommon response to stress, I assumed that anxiety "happened" to me under certain circumstances. In response, I developed coping mechanisms that "protected" me from facing certain fears. Not surprisingly, the fears and anxiety increased over time. Clearly, something needed changing.

When my partner D was diagnosed in January 2008 with Acute Leukemia (fast-growing blood cancer), one of my first thoughts was, "It's not about me this time." Cancer clearly is more serious than any trouble I faced or feared facing, and I rose to the occasion. During her 20 months of treatment, anxiety came about for me on only two occasions.

As D's family caregiver, I could not be in her presence if I developed something as simple as the common cold; her diminished immune system couldn't manage it. When my nose began to drip or my throat began to itch, I suffered great fear that I had been a carrier of a cold. I head to the nearest medical provider, who relieved my guilt by assuring me that I had an allergy, which is not contagious.

Since D's medical care was enormously expensive, the insurance company was persistently cruel in their attempts to avoid payment. This meant a legal conflict with vast amounts of documentation and the hope that we would prevail. My anxiety level skyrocketed. Despite knowingly facing the end of her life, D led the charge to secure the financial future of her heirs, of which I am one.

When I began to face some challenges that I had been avoiding for the two years since D's death, anxiety re-appeared, undermining the courage and wisdom that I had gained as her caregiver and then as her widow. For nine months, I met with my therapist, spoke with loving family and friends, read from Pema Chodron and other helpful books, and faced the challenge one day at a time. Despite my pride and satisfaction in facing fears and making progress toward practical goals, the anxiety did not lift and I found myself in a downward spiral. Which led me to hypnosis, as described in my post three weeks ago on October 21, 2012.

Since then, I have become more trustful of the world and myself. To increase my self confidence (not to be confused with arrogance), I remind myself that I must care for myself. Hence I must rely upon both Frances and Frannie within me. Frances is "the strong one;" Frannie is more "sensitive."

For many years, Frances and Frannie offered their strengths and vulnerabilities to loved ones, but they neglected one another. Now I am aware that I am at my best when Frances and Frannie cooperate. Frances requires peace - calm, trust, and appreciation. Frannie requires nurturing - time, attention, adventure, food, exercise, meditation, and sleep. Now Frances encourages and attends to Frannie who, when heard and valued, then supports Frances. Together they create structure, patience, resolve, passion, persistence, and joy.

Frances and Frannie - two names for different parts of me. Together they are me!

Hypnosis!

If you've read my recent posts - or for those "fortunate" enough to be around me lately - I have been a mess! My anxiety level was through the roof. I was in a "loop;" I was overwhelmed and "stuck." Luckily, I recently started a small coffee group before work once per week - as a way to coax myself out of bed without resentment. One member, a few years into retirement from a more conventional job, has been certified in hypnosis. Nothing else was working and, luckily, I'm open to trying things outside of western medicine. So I scheduled an appointment for last weekend. And a second appointment for this weekend.

Now when I feel my stress level rising, instead of worrying, complaining or crying, I simply rub two fingers on my left hand together and get on with my day. And when I feel myself judging myself or others or beginning a string of useless worry, I simply watch a virtual penny bounce into a virtual wishing well and get on with my day. Yesterday, while walking the dog, I caught myself beginning to worry, "Uh oh, what will happen if I don't worry." Oh, for goodness sake! Another penny into the well as I laughed at how ridiculous my thoughts can be and how ridiculous that I had been believing the worst of them.

Important realizations I've made in the last week are that I must trust the world to hold me up and I must trust myself to do the same if I'm going to be a healthy, happy person who makes a contribution in this world. Each of us is so much more than we can possibly imagine.

Dopamine Privilege

If you've studied the social sciences, you probably became familiar with the concepts of male privilege and white privilege. In brief, the majority culture has no reason to understand or value the minority, so they don't. Ever talk to someone in Asia, Africa, South America, or even Canada? They know US history, culture, politics, and geography - often times better than we. But quick, without checking the Internet, what is the capital of Zambia? Can you find it on a map?

So it is with those of you who happened to be born with an abundance of dopamine. It makes you productive and focused, things you apparently value. Which is great. Those are wonderful values! But so are mine!! I value compassion, cooperation, patience, and intimacy. And my ADD brain just happens to provide me with those traits.

An abundance of dopamine puts you in the majority. That doesn't make you right; it makes you popular ... common. It also means that society values you and rewards you. Me, I get a "diagnosis," a label, drugs, judgments, lists for how to "improve," and a small paycheck.

If you're in the majority, don't make assumptions about me. If you must, when I make a mess in your world, offer to help me clean it up. Better yet, join me in my world on occasion. You might learn something.

Away but not gone.

I have been away ... from posting. No vacation. The easy joke is that someone with ADD is empassioned easily and then, just as easily, is distracted from a commitment just made. Which, in my case, can be true. But this blog is no whim for me. I enjoy communication - reading, writing, talking, delivering speeches, dreaming, meditating, and laughing - as a means to process thoughts and feelings. Words are my art.
The break came about for two reasons. First I have been considering what direction to take this blog. Since adult ADD is not the only challenge in my life, I was wondering whether I wanted to  broaden the scope of my story. But adult ADD impacts my vision, which is why I write this blog. So I choose to deliver my story through an adult ADD lens.
Second, people I care for have died, the most recently just weeks ago. Despite living in a culture that prefers to deny death and loss, I engross myself in processing my feelings and, hopefully, healing from loss. As most experts suggest, journaling is a wonderful means for working through thoughts and feelings. I'm also aware that private journals and public blogs serve different purposes. So I took time from the blog until I could write with some clarity.
My life partner "Diane" died from Acute Leukemia at age 50. This week, the third anniversary of her death, I reflect on our 16-year relationship. Among other challenges, we both faced the anxiety and then not-yet-identified ADD that I brought with me. Although we did the best we could, I find I carry residual anger and resentments at the places where we tried but failed. And the places where we gave up.
Four months after Diane's death, our son in-law "Greg" died by suicide in his early 30s. I had shared in the joy of his marriage to Diane's older daughter "Anna" and the birth of their amazing son. Anna moved into the house that Diane and I shared in a small, isolated town where I no longer live. Just last week, Anna and I ended up in court to sever this malfunctioning business relationship. My anxiety over managing the house and the relationship brought me to begin treatment for ADD four months ago at age 45. Naturally, Anna feels abandoned by Greg, as do I because she was happier and our relationship more satisfactory with him in our lives.
Less than two months ago, I received a phone call from the teen son of my good friend "Nancy" that they were at the hospital because Nancy had suffered a heart attack (not her first). The doctors were "trying to keep her alive." Later in the morning he called again to report, "She did not make it." Until they moved to her childhood home, Nancy and her two adopted children were frequent visitors at the home that Diane and I shared. Nancy took a flight to visit us near the end of Diane's life. My dog and I drove 12 hours each way to visit Nancy and her extended family for the week of New Years following Diane's death and just prior to Greg's. Days before her death, I learned that Nancy too faced the challenge of ADD. When she died, I lost a confidant.
I am grateful to learn that adult ADD explains some of the challenges my life because now I'm learning ways to face these challenges head on. At the same time, I am disappointed that this knowledge didn't come until mid-life because 45 years has strained relationships with myself and others, some with whom I can now only relate in the spirit world.