Finding Happiness On A Wild Ride

I am the mother of three successful grown men and the wife of a loyal, supportive man who truly loves me.  He is my best friend and I cannot bear the thought of life without the unity of our love.

Yet, after stating all the above, my life has been plagued often, too often, by dark storms which have more times than not, lead me to a slippery slope where I am finally swallowed up into the deepest pit of despair.  There, I can't bear to be around anyone and what was enjoyable music or conversation becomes an unpleasant cacophony 

Eventually, I come out the other side bright and enthusiastic, delighted to meet the challenges of the day, exhilarated about everything.  Colors are brighter, richer.  I have an abundance of energy, ideas, projects, and visits I want to make or host.  I can absolutely accomplish them all at the same time and sleep barely makes an appearance.  That hypomanic state is one I wish could last forever.  Everything shines and only the moment matters.  Nothing can darken my day.

Unfortunately my elated, hypomanic states are rare and last only one or two days.  All too soon the light and the sparkle, fades.  I still have the energy and drive to get things done but the focus turns to chores.  In addition, everything and everyone feels like sandpaper on my soul - irritating.  I can't seem to keep my temper completely in check.  I'm afraid of losing control and damaging relationships.  In my mind, I swear at those people and situations that get in my way.  I realize that until a year ago, I felt the English language had more than enough acceptable adjectives to describe anger and frustration.  All my life I was determined not lower my standard to not use words that I wouldn’t allow my kids to use.  Now that a few swear words have become part of my mental vocabulary I feel angry and guilty that I could allow such a thing to gain ground in my life.  I try to control my mental verbiage but the more I fight the more the negativity is fueled.  I'm afraid of the day the angry impulses cause me to lash out with foul words and thoughts.  I begin to loathe myself as I desperately try not to slide back into the desolate black pit of depression again.  I fear sliding back into isolation, loneliness, and despair, a world devoid of any hope at all.  During this in-between state of intense irritability, I become my own enemy.  I fear the day that the pent up rage of this mental and emotional state will fuel the desperate need I feel to put an end to these never ending cycles.

What happens when during this stage of rage I am so consumed that I no longer fear the possibility of hurting myself?  Instead, I could become horrified by the thought of living and being lost in the throes of soul wrenching depression.  What if I am so horrified that I desire death before sliding into the agony of depression again?  What if no one is around to recognize the state I’m in and protect me from acting on impulses?  By the time I’ve digested all these questions, I’m already tumbling into a sad dark place.

My husband watches me carefully during the transitioning from one mood state to another.  He knows that these are the most dangerous times because I have the energy, impulsivity and quite often the irritability or anger to do something rash.  I’ve tried to train myself to use up that energy by doing something to distract myself.  Or, my husband will come up with a plan or project and he’ll need my help or presence to accomplish it.  If we can derail the course of this mood early enough, I just might not slide all the way down. He’s good at distracting me but sometimes it backfires on him and I take out my frustration on him.  Oh, so many regrets I have and apologies I’ve had to make because he put himself in the line of fire on my behalf.  It astounds me that he is still so loyal and loves me.  In the back of my mind, all the “what ifs” are picking at the edges of my thinking.  What happens when my husband isn’t around?  I suppose this is what causes my doctor such great concern but he won’t say it.  He won’t add his fears to my own to cause that fire to spin out of control.

Right now, my biggest question is where has “normal” gone?  Now that I’m 58, normal rarely shows up.  I cope as best I can, using every skill I have learned or that I’m still trying to devise.  I “fake it till I make it”.  Once in awhile, I get a breather and I actually do have a few days of normal. 

My doctor has me on meds to take the edge off the cycles so I can learn to cope and manage my own life.  If I fail, the only alternative is to be medicated to flat line on the “normal” line in the graph I keep for him recording daily what point I’m at in my mood swings.  Once, I unwittingly allowed my doctor to prescribe those “flat line” meds to me.  I felt like I was a walking, talking dead woman.  I couldn’t feel anything.  No joy, no happiness, no sadness and, I guess thankfully, no despair.  The only thing I could occasionally feel was anger when I became exasperated that everything felt flat.  My psychiatrist & I had a bit of an argument about my need to be allowed to feel at least a little happy sometimes, even if it meant I would experience some down times too.

I want to be normal.  I wish I didn’t have to work so darned hard to try to get there but I must—daily.  I want to enjoy my husband, sons, daughter-in-law (yes, I love her very much and she loves me) and my 2 grandsons.  I want to enjoy our extended family, friendships and traveling.  We’ve recently moved so I am determined that I will someday soon discover my purpose in this new state we call home.

When I was first diagnosed as having Bipolar Disorder, my moods peaked from exhilaration to the pits of depression and back up again multiple times in a day nearly every day.  That was 1 year and 8 months ago.  Now, I rarely experience hypomania; just a tiny bit of excessive joy.  Occasionally I experience a couple of normal days.  More often than not, I am usually just a little blah, and then dive into 3 to 5 days approaching the pit of depression but before I crash, thankfully I cycle back up to blah again.  This new cycle takes roughly 2 weeks to complete. 

I still get exasperated over the fact that I have to work so hard to stay out of that slide down and that, still with all that work, sometimes something happens to upset my routine and I slide into depression anyway.  But at least I don’t land all the way down in the dregs.  That is an improvement.  My husband keeps reminding me that it is actually a huge improvement over what I had been experiencing every day almost 2 years ago. 

I am thankful for the improvements and thankful that my doctor will work with me even if he doesn’t completely agree with me.  He’s good and he worries about the possibility of me one day being too tired to cope.  But he understands that I want to live my life and experience it as best I can.

I pray that God will one day help me or the doctor to find the right meds, coping mechanisms and whatever else can be discovered to finally allow me to feel and live a normal life EVERY day without having to work so very hard at it EVERY day.  I want to be like the bulk of the population and be able to take little bumps in life’s road in stride without it triggering a slide.  I’d like to just think about and do what normal people do to live well—eat right and exercise and get your yearly checkups with your family doctor.

While I labor to reach that state of stability, I hope I will find my niche where I can help others who struggle with life issues and/or mental illness.  So far, especially in the last 6 months, I’ve weathered the wild ride fairly well and I think I’ve gained enough strength that I can help others.  That’s what life is really about—family, community, building relationships and helping each other grow and achieve goals.  I know this is what God made me for—that’s when I am happiest.