Bipolar, a new perspective

So we are a family living with bipolar. And yes, it impacts the entire family. Many of you may have gasped. Your eyes may have widened. Your hearts and prayers went out. As if we're dying over here? The truth is, we could be. Sometimes it is minute by minute and sometimes it is day by day, or even month by month. I am only going to speak from my experience from the outside looking in, and yet also being on the inside looking out. If that makes sense? I am the caregiver for someone learning to live with bipolar. 

It's scary. No, I don't mean in the way you think. So many people jump to, "he's gonna be the next school shooter or the unibomber!" Shut the fuck up with that nonsense! What's scary is I may lose my beloved some day to this illness. What's scary is the chemical imbalances that sometimes seem to come out of nowhere. What's scary is the self destructive patterns that are so difficult to overcome. What's scary is the flood of chemicals knocking us both flat on our asses. So forgive me if I have little sympathy for your hyper-media influenced fear of people with bipolar. I will dig down a little in this, and a future post, into compassion coffers and try to give you some perspective to assuage your knee-jerk reactions and illicit a smidge of care, concern and compassion towards those who may be living with bipolar. 

Mmmk, here we go. 

We're in what I call the valley right now. That's a hypo or depressed state. No, we don't go there back and forth every few minutes like most are portrayed in movies and on tv. Sure, some do, but that's not how it is for my beloved. My beloved's "cycles" (as most are familiar w/ that term) are roughly 90 day cycles. Anyway, more on that later. So when you're in the valley we can wallow and wither, or we can climb like hell to survive. We now know better ways to climb. It is precisely on the timeframe the psychiatrist told me to be aware of, but I was so hopeful maybe we had beat it. But there is no ultimate beating it, except to live another 24 hours. Sometimes, the mere survival to another day IS BEATING IT!!! And so to that end, we have. We have beat it. But I digress...

My beloved is scared. And I am scared. We don't know how low this valley is. Don't know when the bottom will be reached. What that bottom looks like. What the journey down nor back out will look like. We have survived them in the past, but honestly, neither of us know if we'll survive them all in the future. So when I say it's scary, try that perspective on...we. don't. know. But we are gonna climb and fight like hell, because that's what we do. Twenty four hours a day, seven days a week. Fight. Non stop. Literally it is a 24/7 presence. Think about that perspective for a moment. Every moment we're awake and even half the ones where we're asleep. 

It's daily calls from school over sometimes serious and sometimes silly. Because they're afraid. And ill equipped. And also resistant to actual resources and information. No, seriously, I ASKED and OFFERED resources and they were declined. Like. "no thank you. We just need to make sure all our students are safe." Uhm...ok, cool. This is our life. 

And so I had an experience. I was in a moment of wallowing in my own self pity of having to deal with this shit on my own with little to no support from anyone who actually gets it (not that I don't have friends. but if you ain't living it, you ain't living it) and then guilt came in for the pity and then...what the fuck, I need to go for a run! So I decided to combine my two outdoor loves--running and a local forest: I did a trail run. And here is my experience: 

It was dark outside, and some folks were found dead on this very trail not too many years ago. So I sent a text to my friend Nicole and said, "hey, I'm going to run at XYZ forest. Just wanted you to know. I'll be on such and such trail by the blahdiblah lake." Her response: "Great. What time do you anticipate being done?" Me: "815." Her: "Post on FB or send me a text when you're in your car and safe." Me: "ok. Next time I will bring my dog for protection." Then I pulled into the parking lot, which was dark and contained only one car, which was running and right by the trail head. I had to decide to face this fear, step out of the comfort of my car and walk past that unknown vehicle into the dark trail...or I could go home and end up napping. I chose the trail. My heart raced! But this was a trail I'd walked/hiked probably two dozen times this year alone so I *know* this trail. And I have been a runner for 15 years so I can do this! It's only a two mile stretch and I'll be done in no time. I kept one earbud out of my ear. Just in case. 

I quickly learned this was a new trail. And I had never run before. My mind was confused because I knew this trail. I knew the turns and twists and roots and rocks. I knew how to run. But yet, I didn't. The trail was super muddy so I had to stay focused on not slipping and falling off the semi steep cliff. I realized quickly I could not keep either earbud in as I had to focus on the sounds around me. I lasted a quarter mile before I had to stop. My quads and hams screaming at me. And my brain screaming at me for failing. WHAT THE FUCK DUDE, YOU HAVE DONE THIS BEFORE!!!??? But yet I hadn't. This was like my first time running and my first time on this trail. 

I actually got so disoriented I had a moment of panic that I had lost the trail. For the record--it's basically not possible to lose this trail at this section of it. When I reached the summit, the sunrise was GLORIOUS. And I stopped. Took a breath (and a selfie). And realized, ugh, I'm only halfway! And so, I began the second half. Faster than the first, a little more foot-sure, and comforted when I saw the road along the trail, knowing I was close to the safety of my car. Once I reached this comfort, I sent a text to my friend to confirm I was safe. She responded, "that's great!" Even though the run was 25 minutes and only 2 miles and this was treacherously slow for both of us as seasoned runners. But she did not judge my journey...she celebrated it with me. 

And the parallels came to me in the last quarter mile. My beloved needs a safety plan. A little more monitoring at times. To traverse rugged terrain that is both familiar and unfamiliar simultaneously. A journey he has to travel by himself, yet with people cheering him on from near and far. A hyper focus on not slipping. Skills and strategies to emerge from disorientation. And to check in regularly with people who love him. 

Please do not twist this--I KNOW this is an overly simplistic alignment. But it gave me more perspective and compassion, and honey if someone who lives it 24/7 can find that then so can you! Neither of us will be served by sympathy, but our survival rate will be higher with support. I don't know what that looks like and neither does he. So good luck figuring that out. I'll post some resources in a follow-up post, for this one, I just wanted to give you a real life example of the struggle I see my beloved learning to navigate and live daily. Daily. You might only see it when things are super awesome or super horrible, but  he lives it with each and every breath he takes.