Generalized Anxiety Disorder Questionairre

I went to the doctor to discuss my anxiety.  "Everyone has anxiety" he reassured me.  He handed me a checklist and told me he would be back.

I fill out this brief, maybe 5 question checklist that rates me on a scale of 1-5, 5 being the most severe.  I read through the questions and marked every single solitary answer a 5.

I stared at it.  I scanned the top again that read "Generalized Anxiety Disorder Questionairre" and then I skimmed my answers again and started thinking one really does not need to be a doctor to diagnose me if they are looking at this checklist I am looking at.

Wow.

When he came back in he asked me how long I have felt like this.  I told him honestly, "My entire life." He immediately started writing the referral for behavioral health.  I find it so bizarre even still that I could have an anxiety disorder.  My entire family is like me.  If I have it, then all of them have one too.  He said it tends to run in families, so I clarified, "Okay, but then how much is taught and how much is genetic?"

Seemed like a good question. Without looking up from his paper he replied matter-of-factly it was genetic.  Case closed in his mind.

Wow.

So, here I am.  No official dx, but I think I know the direction this is headed.  Only time will tell.

Depression takes another victim: Goodbye to Chris Cornell

The sudden and unexpected suicide of Chris Cornell had everyone reeling.  Suicide is a taboo subject and when it happens to someone like Chris Cornell, who just a couple days ago tweeted “Happy Mother’s Day” to his wife in a sweet post and put on amazing show last night, everyone looks to why.

Listening to the radio I hear speculation of marital problems, drugs, etc etc and no one calls it what it is.

Depression.

Mental illness.

This is a man who was incredibly open about his mental illness.  Listen to any of his songs even!  Yet when it kills him, everyone wonders what was happening in his life.  A while ago I wrote a post about my friend who died by suicide too (and please take note I said died by suicide because committed suicide is offensive honestly).   Regardless of what was going on in her life, mental illness was the cause. Everything else she did stemmed from that basic fact and this country doesn’t like to acknowledge that fact. We like to blame it on something else…ANYTHING else than a mental illness. I wish as a nation we would wake up and treat mental illness like any other illness (diabetes, heart disease), it doesn’t just go away. Just because Chris’s life seemed everything was going right doesn’t mean his mental illness (depression) disappeared. If we said “but he was happily married and at the peak of his career, how could he have diabetes?”  we would sound ridiculous.  Yet that’s what we do with depression or any other mental illness.

So next time someone dies by suicide and everyone wants to know why, can we please call it out for what it is? 

Depression

or :

Mental Illness

Maybe then the stigma can change and people can get the help they really need without all the judgement before it’s too late.  

Goodbye Chris Cornell.  There’s a black hole in the bright sun today.  May you finally be free from pain.

I admire you for staying with him: The stigma of mental illness

My husband (and I) just made it through his third manic/psychotic episode. We've been together for 15 years and his last two episodes were only 9 months apart. When he had his first one 12 years ago, the best thing I ever did was find a support group. That group recommended I go to counseling and they recommended books for me to read. They taught me how to set boundaries. I was a very lost 25 year old. I learned sooo much about bipolar. I even moved out at one point to enforce a boundary. I knew if I didn't have boundaries, I would only resent him, and I knew resentment is something that is even harder to overcome.

I learned in the book "Loving Someone with Bipolar Disorder" how to separate my husband from bipolar. It wasn't easy, but the longer I am married to him, the easier it is.

This time my husband somehow went willingly. The last two he racked up criminal charges. Each time I always worry I will never get my husband back. Psychosis is very scary for all involved. He is out of inpatient and in outpatient now and he is back (with some short term memory loss that is common after an episode).

I think one of the saddest things people have said to me, is how they admired me for staying with him. I want to tell these well meaning people that I love him. I married my best friend 12 years ago. He is an AWESOME husband. He is an AWESOME dad, he's a brilliant engineer, and he quite honestly is the funnest person I have ever been around. He makes me feel safe, he protects me, he makes me laugh, he takes us camping, he's simply the best....and sometimes, he is sick. Very sick. I think it's sad I get a pass to bail because his sickness is in the head. It just proves what a stigma mental illness still has, because if it were anything else (cancer for example) no one would give me a pass and sympathetic nod to leave.

I know there are circumstances of abuse, or infidelity, and this post is by NO means to say you should stay. My husband tries to be med compliant. He tries to manage it the best he can, and I know he is trying his best. Some don't, and then I get it if you have to leave.

I guess I just want to say, I am grateful for all the support, past and present that I have received. I'm grateful for those willing to share their story and help me learn. I'm grateful for those who simply offer a prayer with me when I needed it the most. I'm grateful we live in a time medicine can help this disorder so my kids still have a dad they love who takes them for bike rides, and plays legos with them, and helps them do their hw. I'm grateful that after three scary episodes, I get my husband and best friend back each time somehow because of modern medicine. 

My husband has bipolar 1 disorder, but it doesn't have him.  It tries, by God it tries; but he comes back swinging every time, and I'm so, so proud of him.

The Visit

Countdown to the hour I get to

See you

Feel you

Touch you

15 years familiar and I still

Get nervous

Feel anxious

Feel insecure

Once inside you tell me you

Cursed me

Love me

Watched me

Watched me from the window above, so when I left, instead of looking down, I looked up and I saw

Your shape

Your shirt

Your sadness

Back out I rolled down my window and 

Waved

You waved

We looked away

It will always be you

Oh boy Ydoc.  Here we go again.  I knew that fateful night you told me you were going off meds this day would come.  I knew because I respected you too much to fight you on something I knew I would do myself.

You've been stable for the last 10 years.  An entire decade really.  After your first manic/psychotic episode you vowed to never stop taking medication again.

Until that night.  I rung my hands and peeled paper off of my beer bottle.

"Why are you nervous?" you asked with genuine concern.

"I"m scared.  We need you."  I replied.

You were so understanding.  This was important to you.  You knew you had it figured out.  You needed sleep.  That was the secret formula.  You were compassionate and understanding of my worry.  What could you do to make me feel better?

We agreed on a "safe word."  A word I could say that would make you go in and get treatment.

Oklahoma

That was the word.

I vowed to never use that word unless I meant it.  You challenged me many times.  When you were mad and raging you dared me to use it.  You demanded I use it.  Rage and anger weren't why I needed the safe word.  I never uttered it between my lips.

This summer, the summer of 2016 was the best yet.  Will you write an album someday?  The summer of 2016?  It would be killer.  It starts with fun, fun, and more fun.  Camping, jetskiing, camping, sand, water, jetskiing, blue sky, warm breeze, tan skin, cold drinks, happy kids, fun friends, new bike....best...summer...ever.

Until

A switch.  Not of the seasons.  Not of a light.  Not of anything I can put into words.  Without warning in 48 hours, I went from having my hot, fun yet responsible and loving husband and father.....to having a manic, psychotic felon, sitting in jail.

How did we get here?

What the fuck happened?

Oh yeah.  You're still bipolar.
Oh yeah.  You still have one of the most severe types of bipolar.
Oh yeah.  Your brain still fights you.

Oh.....yeah.

Sigh

You went off of meds right before school ended in May.  I told a co-worker I was scared and to my surprise I started crying.  I told her though, that if something happened to you, actually, if THIS happened to you and I for some reason, never got you back, I would still consider myself lucky because for 10 years I had THE love of my life.  I had THE time of my life.

Ydoc, you have and always have been my soul mate.  From the moment I saw you it was like a lightening bolt between us.  I tried to deny it at first where you took it and ran, but in the end, how lucky were we?

You are my Cash and I'm your June.

You have bipolar but bipolar is NOT you.

I miss you. I know you think you are broken, and I know you wonder how I can feel safe with you, but that's because I know bipolar is NOT you.

I saw you begin to come undone again.  The second time in 9 months.  I know you tried your very best to hang on.  I know you fought it off as long as you could.  I know my anxiety made you worse. I know I have anxiety, but I also love you so much, and you're so important to this family that I cannot imagine it without you as the head and so I can't help but work myself up into a frenzy.  I'm sorry.

Don't shake your head.  Don't tell me you're not the strong one.  Don't let bipolar define you.  You amaze me everyday.  You're determination through the midst of such a difficult disorder makes you the strongest person I know.  Somehow, even with the weight of depression you get up and go to work each day.  Somehow, even when you're manic and your fuse is short, you manage to take a step back and come back even better.  When you had to go back to work after a hospitalization, you bravely woke up that morning and marched into work.  You never once complained.

That is strength.  That is brave.

You know what else is brave?  You were in the midst of a manic episode, and when almost every doctor and informational text about mania says the individual in the midst of an episode lacks insight, you got in the car and voluntarily went to the hospital.  I saw you fight back tears.  I saw you fight back the demons overtaking your brain.  What's more, is I know you were able to do it, you were able to defy those odds, those text book descriptions, because of your love for me and our children.

I hope you're not mad at me.  If you are though, I have to accept that consequence, because honestly it's better than what the alternative would have been....which was jail for you and my kids not seeing their dad (their AWESOME AWESOME dad) for a year.  Don't be mad at me. Please.  There is no manual and I'm doing the best I can.  All I know is I love you and miss you and didn't want you to go the hospital either, but I'd rather you be there than in jail.  You don't belong in jail.  You're the victim. The victim of a brain that turns against you.

I will always love you.  It will always be you.  I will always miss you when you're gone and feel happy and safe when you are home.

The house is empty without you.  I leave a light on......