A perfect holiday

The secret life of bipolar is a life of extremes. It took therapy and a lot of personal development to learn how not to jump on the extreme train with my husband.  Bipolar will always be a part of our life.  It is there whether we want it to be there or not.  It is there, whether we wish it away or not. 

Eight months ago my daughter turned 10 and my husband was in a psych ward at a hospital in a neighboring state.  He was in mental anguish as he battled a mind that had been hijacked.  Eight months ago I found myself a single parent gathering all the birthday supplies, decorating the house, cooking the food, ensuring the traditions, and hosting a party on my own.  In the midst of the obvious absence, I stuffed my own feelings to be strong and joyful for my sweet daughter with special needs who had been waiting for months now to be 10! 

I made it as normal as possible.  There was a balloon run in the hallway, she had a candle in her pancake, she opened the gifts from us first. Before his hospitalization my husband managed to buy her an ipad mini.  To this day it's her most prized gift.  The loss of him not being able to see her open it was enormous.  I took a video that to this day I don't think he's watched.  The pain of what he missed too much to bear.

I was told by hospital staff that the knowledge that he had missed his daughter's 10th birthday set him back days from getting better.  He was completely distraught - yet his brain was still so sick and in out of lucidity.

Today was Father's Day - eight months later.  I hosted and smiled the entire morning.  I cleaned as usual, but he set up the canopy, the patio furniture, cleaned the kitchen and lent a hand wherever he could.  He also cooked all the hamburgers.  He laughed and he told jokes, and everyone commented quietly to me at various points how he seemed so "normal" and back to his old self.

A brief surge of panic welled in me.  Oh no.  He's feeling good and people think he's normal.  That means he's on his way to mania, my brain would worry.  But he's also sleeping through the night and sleeping in and finally taking Lithium, my other brain would say.  It's okay Laura.  It's okay. 

I once had a wife of a bipolar 1 spouse tell me, "Laura enjoy the good.  Enjoy the happy.  This illness robs so much, don't let it rob the good times too."  I think about that often and try and change my thought patterns to that of gratitude and happiness in the present moment. 

So yes.  Today was a perfect day, in a perfect way in our life with bipolar.

I miss you

"Why do you love me and what can I do to keep this?" my husband asked one day when I was feeling enraptured and in love.  Not knowing how to respond, I responded simply, "you're you and I love YOU."

Your face got a serious tone and you commented that you are always you but these days I seemed to be particulary in love and you wanted to know why so you could replicate them.  I really didn't have an answer except to say,

"I love you.  I don't love depression or mania.  I'm not in love with them.  But I have an always will be in love with the real Cody.

"That doesn't make me feel better," was your reply.

I didn't know what else to say.  I wasn't trying to make you feel bad, but at the same time depressed Cody is apathetic and manic Cody is mean......why would  like them?

Mania, book dedication, and true love

About a month and a half after a brief marital spat, my hsuband with bipolar 1 ended up in the hospital.  Ironically, a month and a half ago I did not think he was sick, but my daughter was beside herself with anxiety.  I wrote about explaining to her that he was just mad and not sick, but turns out she was right, and I was wrong.

My daughter has special needs arising from a genetic mutation called BCL11A.  She may struggle with socially accepted forms of learning, but emotional intelligence is her superpower. She knew before all of us.

Around this time, I published a book I wrote.  It was the story of my daughter overcoming her speech disability, a disability in which I happen to now specialize.  My husband encouraged me to write a book, and I did during depressive episodes of his spanning the course of 3 years. In those three years, he also suffered 4 manic/psychotic episodes.  Signs of mania can include anger and irritability.  I know this because I've been to counseling and read books.  My daughter, who has no training knew it before all of us.

"He yelled at you, his brain is sick!" she told me frantically.  I assured her he was just mad at me and not to worry.  People get mad and it's okay.  It doesn't mean he's sick.  She wouldn't have it.  "He yells at you when he's sick mommy!" she would press.  I validated that he does yell at me when he's sick, but that he's not sick and he was just mad.  Turns out she was right and I was wrong.

During this particular episode he set off on a Friday afternoon.  He had been at Denny's since 2 AM that morning and then went to work early.  We were on Fall break, but usually Fridays were his day to get the kids to school since I work early.  He had me drop them off at work and then he took them to my parents house. They reported he was overly talkative and my mom shared he had stared at her but was staring through her.  I know now, he was likely experiencing hallucinations.

From there he left and returned to work but left at lunch to "work from home" and ended up at a Dodge dealership where he was contemplating buying a new truck. The salesman, my friend, reported he was cool and calm and nothing seemed out of the ordinary, except that he was talking about my new book and how proud he was.

That night he was gone.  He had driven up to Wyoming, ditched my parent's loaner car on the side of the road and was walking to only God knows where.  He lost the car keys, his debit card, and anything else on his person.......except my book.

I only found that out when he was about 11 days into an inpatient stay.  "I'm reading your book and I can hear your voice in the words," he said to me. Incredulous I exclaimed, "You have my book???"  How?? You lost everything on your person but you have my book??"

"I'm so proud of you, Laura," was his reply.  I wept because not even my own parents or family members bought or read the book yet.  I texted a friend who knew the situation and her reply was, "Wow, you really did dedicate it to the right person."

When you know better you DO better... A Post about Blue Monday

Have you seen the popular facebook re-post this month? There are variations, but for the most part it reads, “My door is always open, the coffee pot is always on (well, I’ll make some!) and my sofa is always warm and a place of peace and non judgement. Any of my family and friends who need to chat are welcome anytime . It’s no good suffering in silence. I have cold drinks in the fridge…tea & coffee in the cupboard and I will always be here. …You are never not welcome!! Blue Monday is a name given to a day in January (typically the third Monday of the month) reported to be the most depressing day of the year and January the worst month for suicides, it’s always good to talk but even better to listen. This hits closer to home than we think. I’ll always lend an ear and a shoulder…….and my heart. Post if you are an advocate too. This is a re-post, and I mean it!”

I had never heard of “blue Monday” before. You would think I would have been acutely aware of its existence, last year, January 18th, 2016. It was in fact the third Monday in January, and it was also the day my friend of 22 years died by suicide.

I was tempted to re-post the sentiment. Shared undoubtedly with the best of intentions, something in it felt empty to me. See, I’ve learned a lot in this past year. I wrote a piece on my friend’s death that was shared by various news outlets and I read, or did my best to read, every single comment. I learned a lot from the comments. Some of them were very hard to read. In the end though, this is about starting a conversation and erasing the stigma; so if I were to shy away from comments that are difficult to hear, I too just become part of the problem.

The most important piece of advice I took away, was that a person in despair or a person with suicidal thoughts will in fact NOT reach out to you. This was echoed in multiple comments across multiple outlets by those who have been there themselves. Many scoffed at my assertion that had my friend called or texted I would have ran to her side. Some were kinder and tried to gently point out that is not how depression works.

The bottom line though is this: Re-posting a generic facebook status update regarding mental health, depression and suicide is certainly better than nothing, but it’s still not going to save any lives. I’m not saying this to sound callous, cruel or judgmental. I say this as someone that wishes I had known this one year ago. I say this as someone who didn’t even think suicide was an option for my friend until it happened, I say this to maybe be a voice to those who are suffering right now and who took the time to comment and try and educate me on the condition.

The facebook sentiment is a start, but please, please, PLEASE do more if you think someone is struggling. Even if you don’t think suicide is an end result like I did, reach out. Reach out! Reach out in a personal message, a card, a call, really anything more than a generic facebook post.

I can’t bring Sarah back. One suicide is completed there are no second chances. Maya Angelou was a poet Sarah and I loved. She once said, “When you know better, you do better.” I wish knowing better hadn’t been at the expense of Sarah’s life, but since it is, there is only one thing left to do in her honor:

Do better. We have to do better. I love you Sarah.

She's Alive Because He Lived

The other day, my niece posted a status update/question on facebook, tagging those she particularly wanted to respond. Her question regarded our idea of eternity, and how we all keep from getting scared by it.

I smiled when I read it, but my smile was twofold. The first, was that I love how she put herself out there. The second, was that it immediately made me think of Sarah. We had these conversations a lot. I’m not sure who coined the term (it was probably Sarah) that we used all the time, but we would call each other and say we were having an “existential crisis.” We might have liked to be dramatic! haha

I answered my niece’s question, and then went on about my day. I was in my car and couldn’t stop thinking about Sarah. She was my niece’s facebook friend too, and she would have LOVED that question. She would have responded to that question. She would have loved even US having a conversation about that question.

Sigh

I started wondering what she would have said. It had been awhile since we had had any such conversation. What would she say today?

A tear welled in my eye. I thought out loud, “Sarah, my niece is having an existential crisis and I want you to weigh in,” and I laughed a solemn laugh.

Stupid. Not like Sarah can hear me. What is the point in crying and asking a question to the air??

I started thinking though, when Sarah was here on this Earth, it always seemed to happen more than not that when one was thinking of the other, we would quickly discover the other was thinking about the one. Why wouldn’t it still work that way?

I turned on my radio. I thought to myself, “okay, Sarah. Tell me something.”

I scrolled through my pre-sets.

Nothing.

“Come on Sarah! Please?” I said out loud to my steering wheel.

I decided to push scan instead. I listened attentively to the seconds the radio would stay on one station before scrolling to the next.

Nothing.

Until.....

“I was dead in the grave. I was covered.....(scan)

What was that?? I scrolled back.

“Amen, Amen, I’m alive, I’m alive because He lives.”

I listened to the rest of the song. It was on a Christian station. I don’t typically listen to Christian music. I reached my destination and googled the lyrics. I then listened to the entire song.

The song is entitled “Because He Lives” by Matt Maher. I won’t bore you with the entire song, but the rest of that stanza read this:

“ I was dead in the grave I was covered in sin and shame I heard mercy call my name He rolled the stone away Amen, Amen I’m alive, I’m alive Because He lives Amen, Amen Let my song join the one that never ends”

I smiled. Holy shit (excuse my profanity as I discuss these matters). There she is. She answered that question through a song. I knew she couldn’t resist an “existential crisis” talk afterall. ;)

I immediately downloaded the song on iTunes.

A few days later I had another dream. A very, very, very short dream it was kinda disappointing. Sarah was working at a restaurant. I went to see her and we snuck into a hallway by the kitchen and were giggling like teenagers again. I became really serious and showed her a mosquito bite on my hand. She looked at it and took out her cell phone and pointed it at my mosquito bite, and then the phone started vibrating.

The dream ended.

Sarah loved dreams. I couldn’t resist looking this one up. It made me happy and nostalgic and I felt connected somehow.

Mosquito bite - bitten - indicates something “gnawing at you.”

Cell phone - indicates the

desire to communicate

Vibration - suggests the need to pay more attention to your intuition

Ha!

I may sound crazy and I don’t care. The desire to communicate with Sarah has been gnawing at me, and she was urging me to pay more attention to my intuition.

I thought of the song earlier in the week. That was her. I don’t care if I sound crazy.

I have peace. She’s alive because He lived.

Love you Sarah. I pray you have

peace as well.

All my love,

Kay 

From Paris, With Love

Tonight I pulled this shot glass down from the shelf. I was drawn to it for some reason. I smiled as I remembered it was my good friend Sarah who had bought it for me. It’s authentic, all the way across the ocean from the city of Romance, Pari.

Sarah Elizabeth Aldrich Dall met her husband in Arizona, but he was visiting from England. They were immediately enamored and thus ensued a love affair. She proceeded to talk to this man from across the pond daily. They would talk for hours, and she was completely in love.

The times they were able to physically see one another were in the form of vacations. Luckily for them, Sarah was brilliant, and at a young age managed to secure lucrative employment in marketing. This job allowed her to travel to far and away places in her twenties. A gypsy at heart, traveling fed Sarah’s soul.

One year, and I have absolutely no idea of when but it was sometime in our twenties, Sarah achieved a bucket list item of traveling to Pari! The city of Romance! The city of the Louvre! She was there with her love. I have searched now and wish I could find more pictures. This one is perfect though.

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It’s a classic picture of Sarah standing in front of the Eiffel Tower. She is tall, strong, and wearing a smile a mile wide.

I remember being giddy for her when I saw it. I wasn’t jealous at all. I was genuinely happy my good friend found her way to Paris and she was only in her early twenties. I was content to watch images of Paris on the show Sex in the City, but I was so happy my friend was seeing it in real life, achieving her dreams!

She brought this shot glass for me from that same trip.

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My husband and I were acquiring a shot glass collection (before I had kids and now it’s a magnet collection) and she brought this back for me. Honestly, to this day, it remains one of my favorite pieces. Souvenirs are special because of the MEMORY. I have no memory of being in Paris, but I have EVERY memory of seeing Sarah there. Young face, wide smile, in love, embracing life. This is how I remember Sarah. It’s funny, because though she is gone, her memory is as clear as this picture taken more than a decade ago. I can still hear her voice as she told me of her adventures.

I was thankful to have this tangible glass memory, and tonight I raised it and remembered her legacy.

So cheers Sarah! This glass is for you! Your gypsy soul now has an even larger terrain to explore. May our travels cross again once more.

Love you. Thank you for loving me.