Bi-Polar Opposites: The Crazy Wife 🥴

Sorry for the late post and thank you for understanding. I’m still getting use to the blog schedule. I also picked up sewing a couple days ago and have been hyperfocused on that ever since. And to be honest I’ve just felt off the last few days so I’m interested to see where that leads if anywhere. But now for the sequel you’ve all been waiting for… the story of me! The crazy wife…

I finally had a good doctor. One who took me seriously and I’m sure most of you know how rare a prize that is. I went into that first appointment as unbiased as possible. I didn’t want to sway his opinion in any direction. And as sure as I was that I had bipolar disorder that definitely did not mean that I wanted it.

It took the length of a simple screening and family history for him to look me in the face and say “it’s not a matter of if it’s bipolar so much as a matter of when.” He said with both my parents being bipolar as well as the traumas I had experienced, it was unlikely to be anything else considering my symptoms.

We tried a few medications. Some did nothing and others made it much worse. I remember one time while at work I had my first panic attack. It was induced by the new medicine I had started that day.

I was working all alone in a small building where the interior walls were that dark wood paneling. There was only one window in the room I was in and because of the limited plugins and the way I had to set up my computer, the window was behind me and off to the side a bit. I felt trapped on a good day but this day was worse…

!TW: Graphic description of panic attack & suicidal thoughts. SKIP NEXT PARAGRAPH!

I started losing focus and the walls seemed as if they’d close in at any moment, if not collapse all together. I told myself it was ok and not real but that only made it worse because if it’s not real then I must be crazy! And that’s when my skin started to crawl. Like an electric shock running over me or tiny bugs crawling under my skin. I’m shivering now just thinking about it. And the more I tried to rationalize and calm down, the worse it got. Then the hyperventilating started. I was alone, no one to help me. My body was reacting and my mind was trying to rationalize it by telling me conflicting theories about the world ending or not. To the point where I knew logically that it wasn’t ending but where I wished it was ending. So that this moment, my pain, my despair would finally be over. I was tired of fighting.

You see it may have only been a few months of trying to find medicine that might work but no one tells you it’s a process. Everyone says get help. Our world is getting better at accepting mental health as health but we haven’t reached a point where we’re completely transparent about it yet. So after years of dealing with depression and irritability and mood swings that I’d never experienced before, having my hope of help ripped away, because it’s actually a long trial and error process, was devastating.

I knew it could take a few medicines to find the “right” one but had no idea each medication needed 4-8+ weeks to kick in. During that first panic attack I called my husband. I was lucky enough to still be able to drive and so I went to his work and sat with him for almost 2 hours. Long story short I stoped that medicine immediately.

Eventually my doctor referred me to a psychiatrist as my symptoms and medication needs were out of his field of comfort. The psychiatrist seemed to agree with my bipolar diagnosis but unfortunately mental health meds are still a process… even for the experts.

I’m fortunate to have a good psychiatrist who at least explained the process and science (or lack thereof) behind mental health drugs. The problem with them is they react differently with each person’s individual brain chemistry. So what works for you might wreak havoc on me and do nothing for someone else. So the frustrating trial and error process continued.

Eventually we found a combination of medications that worked better than anything else we had tried. And my psychiatrist explained to me that the issue with bipolar is that even though the depression is generally more often the mania is more dangerous. Because of this it’s difficult to treat bipolar depression while also preventing devastating hypo/manic episodes.

What a blow, right!? Basically we’re going to care more about preventing mania and by default you’ll be depressed more often. Thanks doc. I know he was just being honest and I truly appreciate that but depression sucks!

About 2.5 years into my mental health journey I really started showing my true colors to Travis. It wasn’t intentional or even usually directed at him. I was just hurting so deeply and what came out was in turn hurtful.

I don’t remember ever throwing anything but I’m sure I did and I know I yelled and said hurtful things. I caused the person I loved the most so much heartache. And that made it worse for both of us. I started having outbursts multiple times a week and sometimes multiple a day. Even my dog Marbles would get scared at my raised voice and go to a different room. Which just made me feel awful.

I don’t know why but I feel like I should end here. There’s technically so much more to this story, my story, and we’ll get there eventually. But I want to take the rest of the blog to talk to those of you who might be in a similar situation.

To tell you you’re not a bad person. Your not a bad parent or spouse. You’re not a bad friend or child. You’re just human. One with brokenness and pain and heartache.

And there is light at the end of the tunnel. I know that bit of hope seems tiny in comparison to the deep despair your in right now but hold on to it anyway! Hold on to the hope because you’re worth it! You have value and you are loved!

Learn to give yourself grace for your shortcomings and to learn from them rather than beat yourself up over them. And learn to celebrate your victories no matter how small. You are so important to so many people, myself included. So keep fighting for your hope and your future!

I didn’t start this blog because I wanted to tell people what I’ve gone through. I started it because you matter to me. Because I didn’t want you to feel alone like I did that day of my first panic attack. I want to offer hope that the fight is worth the effort even when it doesn’t feel like it… especially when it doesn’t feel like it! So get up, do something you love, and if you need to have a nap and a snack.

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