I hope you all had a wonderful holiday! Whether large or small, simple or extravagant hopefully Christmas this year was just the way you needed it. We had a very nice day, I actually didn't have to work until that evening so I got to hang around the house with my GF and gifts all day! It's not often that I get Christmas off so I'm extra happy for that.
Lately I know I've been pretty sporadic with the blogging and I'm hoping to get a bit more routine. I'm currently doing another writing project and it has taken up a lot more time than I thought it would. My bipolar craziness is wanting to stop now and start something different but I am trying to remain on some type of schedule! It's hard when your brain fights you sometimes. Especially since I tend to argue with it...out loud! People start looking at me a little strange!
Have you ever gone through really difficult times and once you were through them you thought all the emotions from them would just go away? For example, one of the things I have been experiencing lately is some of the emotions from my old deployments. I have found that I can mentally place myself back in that portion of my life and all those issues just jump back out. I have done quite of bit of therapy for different things, anger management, alcohol, bipolar, BPD, depression, blah, blah, blah, but yet when I reminiscence about certain time periods all those same reactions pop up!
So is it the therapy is defective? Did I cheat my way through them? Because I really didn't think I was cheating, I mean I worked really hard! And how am I supposed to gain perspective if I can't even think about those times with out reliving them? Maybe I just have to shrug my shoulders and go through all the emotional crap again to try and work it. Yech, I hate that thought but I have a feeling that it's the truth.
See I figured that if I had put enough distance time-wise between it and me then I would be able to casually observe the situations. That definitely doesn't work! So I have found that for me the best thing is to type it out. It puts me right back in the scenario but I also have to describe it in writing and that way my brain can't obsess over every feeling. I also try to make sure I'm in an area where I might occasionally be brought right back to reality, for me it's work. It's difficult and sometimes even when I finish writing my brain takes a while to shut down but eventually it does even if only through sheer exhaustion. It's hard, painful and sometimes messy but it seems to be working.
Just a thought but if you are struggling with some old memories maybe try to write it out. I'm not saying write and post on FaceBook, but maybe in a small journal or notebook. If it isn't the thing for you than at least you tried it. Who knows? It might be exactly what you need; notice I did not say what you like but what you need. And if you have never had a painful experience or regret when congratulations to you; you might not even be human! I'm kidding, but seriously if you can't think of any experience you may have been incredibly sheltered and live in a hole in the ground. Smile people, 2016 is finally almost over!
Wednesday, December 28, 2016
Friday, December 23, 2016
Work
There are days when I really can't stand my job. Don't roll your eyes at me, I know you go through the same feeling. I wanted to point that out briefly because when I do start feeling that way I remember the times when I didn't have a job or money. The desperate and scary times; like while I make rent, or can I afford food? Those times teach you how to never take work for granted, even when it sometimes frustrates or stresses you.
I was pretty lucky work wise initially; less than two weeks after my high school graduation is was in the Air Force. They housed, clothed, fed, and paid me! When I lived in the dorms I didn't ever pay for rent, or utilities, just food. When I was in base housing I paid rent but it was taken from my housing allowance so I never saw it come out of my paycheck because it didn't. Sure I couldn't call in sick to work or take a day off whenever I wanted but hell, I got paid for 30 days of vacation a year and at one point in time was working 4 days on, 4 days off! Plus the Air Force even gave me trips to help me save extra money! Two deployments, meant no place to spend my money and it just sat in my account waiting until I got home! Oh, did I mention those were tax free zones too? And do you think I saved any of it? Not really, a bit here and there but nothing like what I could and should have done.
Fast forward to when I got out, after I initially got down here I had a job with a temp agency that a military buddy set me up with. Eventually just as the name suggests, the temp job ended. Now I had no job; I wasn't very well versed in how to do resumes or even look for career type jobs. At one point I was turned down from McDonalds because I had too much experience, and turned away from Jack in the Box because I didn't have enough experience! Talk about mixed signals! I began to get panicky, my pitiful savings was pretty much dead and I didn't have any options. Finally I got a call from Home Depot about a cashiering job. I was so excited, never mind that it was only part time and a job that usually high school students not 25 year olds do. In my head it was a job, I didn't care if it was "lower" than what I was used to; it was simply an opportunity to not go homeless or hungry!
Later when I was working at my current job, I hit a beautiful manic phase. In a bad twist in timing I began receiving credit card offers right as the mania unfolded. I was suddenly able to magically buy whatever I wanted without paying for it! $600 engraved watch? Whole new wardrobe? Different car!? I could buy them all! Nothing stopped me until I racked up a crapload of credit debt, and creditors can be quite demanding; they actually wanted me to pay for the things I bought with their money! What jerks! Well because of the ensuing money chaos and the normal craziness that happens when the brain snaps from too much mania, I ended up slightly homeless. Once I was released from the hospital, I was really splitting my time between two different friend's houses. One that was close to where I worked and the other that was farther away but it was quieter and more rural so my brain could recollect itself.
Each time was a scary reminder that a job, any job is a hell of lot better than what many people have. They were brutal wake up calls that what you have financially should be wisely dealt with and smartly spent. But I think the most beautiful thing I learned is that those who are considered "needy" or destitute could be me or you at anytime. Beautiful might not be the right word to you, but it is to me because that simple realization can show us that we are all the same. No one is better or higher up, we are all at different points in our journey and we need each other to complete it. Some of us may be doing better financially but be destitute in relationships, family, or happiness. So this holiday season, maybe remember even if things are difficult, you are just as beautifully needed on this earth as every other person!
I was pretty lucky work wise initially; less than two weeks after my high school graduation is was in the Air Force. They housed, clothed, fed, and paid me! When I lived in the dorms I didn't ever pay for rent, or utilities, just food. When I was in base housing I paid rent but it was taken from my housing allowance so I never saw it come out of my paycheck because it didn't. Sure I couldn't call in sick to work or take a day off whenever I wanted but hell, I got paid for 30 days of vacation a year and at one point in time was working 4 days on, 4 days off! Plus the Air Force even gave me trips to help me save extra money! Two deployments, meant no place to spend my money and it just sat in my account waiting until I got home! Oh, did I mention those were tax free zones too? And do you think I saved any of it? Not really, a bit here and there but nothing like what I could and should have done.
Fast forward to when I got out, after I initially got down here I had a job with a temp agency that a military buddy set me up with. Eventually just as the name suggests, the temp job ended. Now I had no job; I wasn't very well versed in how to do resumes or even look for career type jobs. At one point I was turned down from McDonalds because I had too much experience, and turned away from Jack in the Box because I didn't have enough experience! Talk about mixed signals! I began to get panicky, my pitiful savings was pretty much dead and I didn't have any options. Finally I got a call from Home Depot about a cashiering job. I was so excited, never mind that it was only part time and a job that usually high school students not 25 year olds do. In my head it was a job, I didn't care if it was "lower" than what I was used to; it was simply an opportunity to not go homeless or hungry!
Later when I was working at my current job, I hit a beautiful manic phase. In a bad twist in timing I began receiving credit card offers right as the mania unfolded. I was suddenly able to magically buy whatever I wanted without paying for it! $600 engraved watch? Whole new wardrobe? Different car!? I could buy them all! Nothing stopped me until I racked up a crapload of credit debt, and creditors can be quite demanding; they actually wanted me to pay for the things I bought with their money! What jerks! Well because of the ensuing money chaos and the normal craziness that happens when the brain snaps from too much mania, I ended up slightly homeless. Once I was released from the hospital, I was really splitting my time between two different friend's houses. One that was close to where I worked and the other that was farther away but it was quieter and more rural so my brain could recollect itself.
Each time was a scary reminder that a job, any job is a hell of lot better than what many people have. They were brutal wake up calls that what you have financially should be wisely dealt with and smartly spent. But I think the most beautiful thing I learned is that those who are considered "needy" or destitute could be me or you at anytime. Beautiful might not be the right word to you, but it is to me because that simple realization can show us that we are all the same. No one is better or higher up, we are all at different points in our journey and we need each other to complete it. Some of us may be doing better financially but be destitute in relationships, family, or happiness. So this holiday season, maybe remember even if things are difficult, you are just as beautifully needed on this earth as every other person!
Tuesday, December 20, 2016
Flashes
It just happened, suddenly without warning. My coworker was watching the video of the assassination of the Russian ambassador yesterday (I would not recommend this, it's graphic and no matter who a person is, they deserve dignity in death. It isn't something for new channels to use as a means of higher ratings) and the assassin started screaming "Allah Ackbar" over and over. Bam! I was back in Bucca! I mean, I know I wasn't actually there but my body and mind reacted as if I was. I turned, reaching for a weapon I didn't have, my brain was suddenly alive with adrenaline, and I already knew which person to take out first. Of course, that person was a tiny man on a computer, but still.
It's funny, the chants are always what get me. Booms, gun shots, crowds are not normally too much of an issue. I mean I have my days, but normally they don't throw me. But the chanting, it's always the chanting. It might be because in the prison it was the signal for a riot or some unrest. Maybe it's because I heard it wherever I went, in Pakistan it was from the giant city towers for the whole of Ramadan. In Bucca it was everywhere, in almost every compound some group was "praying." Here it's on TV, in movies, and I can't stand it.
It makes the hair on my neck stand up. Every receptor in my brain screams to look out for danger or attack. I can't help it, it's the natural reaction for me. After something like this, I normally get excessively chatty because my brain is trying to find a way to settle back down. I have often wondered why this of all things is my trigger.
Many of my friends find it irritating but not like I do. Most of them have more problems with the loud noises, etc. I think for me it's because my first reaction isn't fear, it's hatred. I hated hearing that chant during every riot, getting hit with every known bodily fluid. Watching them set fire to huts, guard towers, vehicles, anything they could get their hands on they destroyed. So that chant is engrained in my brain as the beginning of chaos and violence.
I think the reason I hate it so is because it simply means, God is Great (est). They would scream at me about God's Greatness while destroying everything around them. That went against everything I was taught growing up, regardless of the religion you treated it and it's followers with respect. By chanting about God (Allah) while trying to kill people or when they did actually do it, went against everything I could fathom.
Now I realize that terrorists are not regular Muslims but it's too bad that when I hear that chant, regardless of who says it my reaction will still be towards the terrorists. It's suddenly dawning on me, that this is probably the same way some people feel about the mainstream church. I'm not going to get too religious hear as I'm not a really religious person, but maybe as the hurt person (people) we might need to try again. I don't know if I can get past my anger and disdain of hearing that chant, but I can say that I know not all Muslims are terrorists, just like not all Christians are homophobes. And that might be a simple starting place.
It's funny, the chants are always what get me. Booms, gun shots, crowds are not normally too much of an issue. I mean I have my days, but normally they don't throw me. But the chanting, it's always the chanting. It might be because in the prison it was the signal for a riot or some unrest. Maybe it's because I heard it wherever I went, in Pakistan it was from the giant city towers for the whole of Ramadan. In Bucca it was everywhere, in almost every compound some group was "praying." Here it's on TV, in movies, and I can't stand it.
It makes the hair on my neck stand up. Every receptor in my brain screams to look out for danger or attack. I can't help it, it's the natural reaction for me. After something like this, I normally get excessively chatty because my brain is trying to find a way to settle back down. I have often wondered why this of all things is my trigger.
Many of my friends find it irritating but not like I do. Most of them have more problems with the loud noises, etc. I think for me it's because my first reaction isn't fear, it's hatred. I hated hearing that chant during every riot, getting hit with every known bodily fluid. Watching them set fire to huts, guard towers, vehicles, anything they could get their hands on they destroyed. So that chant is engrained in my brain as the beginning of chaos and violence.
I think the reason I hate it so is because it simply means, God is Great (est). They would scream at me about God's Greatness while destroying everything around them. That went against everything I was taught growing up, regardless of the religion you treated it and it's followers with respect. By chanting about God (Allah) while trying to kill people or when they did actually do it, went against everything I could fathom.
Now I realize that terrorists are not regular Muslims but it's too bad that when I hear that chant, regardless of who says it my reaction will still be towards the terrorists. It's suddenly dawning on me, that this is probably the same way some people feel about the mainstream church. I'm not going to get too religious hear as I'm not a really religious person, but maybe as the hurt person (people) we might need to try again. I don't know if I can get past my anger and disdain of hearing that chant, but I can say that I know not all Muslims are terrorists, just like not all Christians are homophobes. And that might be a simple starting place.
Sunday, December 18, 2016
Baby steps
The last week has been a wild roller coaster ride! I've been trying to actually to work on my other project, and it's no where near finished; plus work has been quite busy with really weird situations that we don't normally deal with. Of course there was also last minute Christmas shopping which I actually enjoy doing just not in a rush. On Thursday, we took our dog to the vet for her annual checkup and because she had been acting a little sick. Well turns out she is very sick; she has Valley Fever, which for anyone not living in the Phoenix area, is a sickness similar to malaria, in that it takes months to get over and can always start up again. Our poor girl is fighting like a champ though, and with medication, she is expected to have a very good and long life. Now we, her and I, can take our meds together!
So trying to shake off the bad news, my GF and I decided to go drive around and look at Christmas lights last night. We found some awesome areas with lights set to music on the radio! It was a lot of fun and I felt like a little kid at, well, Christmas time. In the most amazing onset of sickness I have ever seen, my GF went from well, to sneezing, to sick in the space of maybe 40 minutes. Even though it's a crappy thing to happen, I'm frankly impressed at the speed of it. Now not to say all this because I'm complaining, I'm really not; all this is normal stuff in life and I get that flu's and sickness are a part of living. But driving in to work tonight, I suddenly just felt wasted, exhausted, and spent.
A part of my head just began to whisper, "Don't you just wish it was all over with? In the end everyone and everything dies." Whoa! Now, don't worry, I'm not getting weird. But I was a little surprised at how quickly and suddenly my mind could get completely morbid. I mean I worked in therapy for over a year to make sure I could catch the signals before they surprised me and yet they still managed to do it again! It surprised me enough that I completely stopped the rest of my thoughts and focused solely on that one.
I was pleasantly surprised that my first reaction was one of shock and irritation. It didn't always used to be that way. At one point I would have thought the whole idea through and at another I might have actually acted on it. So in one way I'm actually kind of happy that my immediate reaction wasn't a positive one. To be irritated by self-effacing thoughts is a big step for me. Another surprise is that my first thought wasn't being worried about hospitalization. When I first left the hospital, I was scared that every little thing could send me back to the psych word. Not that it was so bad up there but it feels as if your whole life is placed on hold until you're well enough to be released. Once you're out, suddenly it feels like you have to play catch up with the rest of the world.
Once I allowed these sick thoughts to rent space in my head, they began to take over it. Even though I work very hard to take my brain back, times like today remind me of just how easy it can be to slip right back into that sick place. It's taken a thousand baby steps to get where I'm at now and I must remind myself that it will take a thousand baby slips to fall back there again; unless I jump backwards or turn and run back up the trail. So today, I won't run forward, but I won't run backwards either and that will be enough for me.
So trying to shake off the bad news, my GF and I decided to go drive around and look at Christmas lights last night. We found some awesome areas with lights set to music on the radio! It was a lot of fun and I felt like a little kid at, well, Christmas time. In the most amazing onset of sickness I have ever seen, my GF went from well, to sneezing, to sick in the space of maybe 40 minutes. Even though it's a crappy thing to happen, I'm frankly impressed at the speed of it. Now not to say all this because I'm complaining, I'm really not; all this is normal stuff in life and I get that flu's and sickness are a part of living. But driving in to work tonight, I suddenly just felt wasted, exhausted, and spent.
A part of my head just began to whisper, "Don't you just wish it was all over with? In the end everyone and everything dies." Whoa! Now, don't worry, I'm not getting weird. But I was a little surprised at how quickly and suddenly my mind could get completely morbid. I mean I worked in therapy for over a year to make sure I could catch the signals before they surprised me and yet they still managed to do it again! It surprised me enough that I completely stopped the rest of my thoughts and focused solely on that one.
I was pleasantly surprised that my first reaction was one of shock and irritation. It didn't always used to be that way. At one point I would have thought the whole idea through and at another I might have actually acted on it. So in one way I'm actually kind of happy that my immediate reaction wasn't a positive one. To be irritated by self-effacing thoughts is a big step for me. Another surprise is that my first thought wasn't being worried about hospitalization. When I first left the hospital, I was scared that every little thing could send me back to the psych word. Not that it was so bad up there but it feels as if your whole life is placed on hold until you're well enough to be released. Once you're out, suddenly it feels like you have to play catch up with the rest of the world.
Once I allowed these sick thoughts to rent space in my head, they began to take over it. Even though I work very hard to take my brain back, times like today remind me of just how easy it can be to slip right back into that sick place. It's taken a thousand baby steps to get where I'm at now and I must remind myself that it will take a thousand baby slips to fall back there again; unless I jump backwards or turn and run back up the trail. So today, I won't run forward, but I won't run backwards either and that will be enough for me.
Monday, December 12, 2016
Traveling!
Have you ever wanted to just start over? Just begin life all over again and try maybe a different route? I get this feeling from time to time. This sudden urge to drop everything and disappear; go somewhere else and start over. When I get stressed it becomes very appealing. A few years ago I even attempted to do it. But I didn't get too far since I was exhausted from only sleeping a few minutes a day. Also I had absolutely no money so that made driving too far damn near impossible.
But I had a plan though! I was going to wait until my next payday and then head out. The rest of my awesome plan included, making money online via surveys and blogging; all from my IPhone since I didn't have a laptop with me. And I was going to drive, well, somewhere and sleep in the car until I got to somewhere. I know it's an insane idea now, but at the time it seemed perfectly natural. Even when I decided not to do it, it wasn't because I thought it was bad but that I felt bad for leaving everyone. The idea to drive off was still very much a doable thing in my head.
Obviously, now I know that it's a sign of severely deteriorating mental health but I think what confuses me is that even now it seems to be appealing at times. On one level I know it isn't what a sound person thinks or does, but on another level it sounds so mysterious and fun! The first time I thought of it, I was in a terrible relationship and stumbling around with an undiagnosed mental health condition so it's understandable. So what's wrong with me now? I'm more stable, in a good, healthy relationship, building good familial relationships and yet still I sometimes long for the excitement of the open road and the unfamiliar.
For a long time I thought that it was a part of my bipolar and for certain some part is. The idea of dropping everything and leaving, no job, no notice, no telling people, that is most certainly my crazy side talking. But the excitement of the unknown? Traveling to new places with no knowledge of the area? Those have been ingrained in me from childhood.
I thought back earlier tonight on how my childhood was different than a lot of people I know now. When I was young, my family seemed like the only one who stayed anywhere more than two years with the Army. Now many of my friends live here in Phoenix and either all their family is right here or they moved from "far away" places like L.A. One woman I worked with a couple years ago told me about how she was so sad and cried because she had to work on Christmas Day. I asked where her parents were at....The other side of town. I shit you not! She still got to go see them just as soon as her shift was over. I felt bad but I couldn't help myself and I started laughing at her. It was at that point that I realized not many other families were like mine and my military friends growing up.
That's where I got the other part of longing for travel! We moved from New York state to Missouri when I was six. After my dad got out of the active duty Army, we lived in Wisconsin for 10 months and then back to Missouri. By the time I had graduated high school, I had been to Canada, Mexico (3 times), Colorado Springs, Detroit, and Florida. Not to mention trips back to New York for family visits! It didn't end there, 10 days after I graduated I was on a plane to San Antonio for basic training. From there it was 2 years in Okinawa; where I visited the Philippines, Guam, and Pakistan. Then from lush tropics to freezing cold Minot, ND winter. Moving from there to Little Rock, AR and a stint in Iraq. In 2009 after getting out of the Air Force, I moved down here to Phoenix, AZ where I knew one person. And here I still am, almost 8 years later.
It's shocking, I just realized this is the longest I've lived anywhere except my childhood home. And don't get me wrong, I don't want to leave here and start up somewhere new. I do love it here. But the idea of what else is out there sometimes intrigues me. I love the idea that adventure is just around the next bend in the road. Maybe sometime I'll follow it just to see, but only when I'm ready not when my crazy is kicking into high gear. Remember not everything you have an excitement about is necessarily bad, it might be your long lost true passion coming back out!
But I had a plan though! I was going to wait until my next payday and then head out. The rest of my awesome plan included, making money online via surveys and blogging; all from my IPhone since I didn't have a laptop with me. And I was going to drive, well, somewhere and sleep in the car until I got to somewhere. I know it's an insane idea now, but at the time it seemed perfectly natural. Even when I decided not to do it, it wasn't because I thought it was bad but that I felt bad for leaving everyone. The idea to drive off was still very much a doable thing in my head.
Obviously, now I know that it's a sign of severely deteriorating mental health but I think what confuses me is that even now it seems to be appealing at times. On one level I know it isn't what a sound person thinks or does, but on another level it sounds so mysterious and fun! The first time I thought of it, I was in a terrible relationship and stumbling around with an undiagnosed mental health condition so it's understandable. So what's wrong with me now? I'm more stable, in a good, healthy relationship, building good familial relationships and yet still I sometimes long for the excitement of the open road and the unfamiliar.
For a long time I thought that it was a part of my bipolar and for certain some part is. The idea of dropping everything and leaving, no job, no notice, no telling people, that is most certainly my crazy side talking. But the excitement of the unknown? Traveling to new places with no knowledge of the area? Those have been ingrained in me from childhood.
I thought back earlier tonight on how my childhood was different than a lot of people I know now. When I was young, my family seemed like the only one who stayed anywhere more than two years with the Army. Now many of my friends live here in Phoenix and either all their family is right here or they moved from "far away" places like L.A. One woman I worked with a couple years ago told me about how she was so sad and cried because she had to work on Christmas Day. I asked where her parents were at....The other side of town. I shit you not! She still got to go see them just as soon as her shift was over. I felt bad but I couldn't help myself and I started laughing at her. It was at that point that I realized not many other families were like mine and my military friends growing up.
That's where I got the other part of longing for travel! We moved from New York state to Missouri when I was six. After my dad got out of the active duty Army, we lived in Wisconsin for 10 months and then back to Missouri. By the time I had graduated high school, I had been to Canada, Mexico (3 times), Colorado Springs, Detroit, and Florida. Not to mention trips back to New York for family visits! It didn't end there, 10 days after I graduated I was on a plane to San Antonio for basic training. From there it was 2 years in Okinawa; where I visited the Philippines, Guam, and Pakistan. Then from lush tropics to freezing cold Minot, ND winter. Moving from there to Little Rock, AR and a stint in Iraq. In 2009 after getting out of the Air Force, I moved down here to Phoenix, AZ where I knew one person. And here I still am, almost 8 years later.
It's shocking, I just realized this is the longest I've lived anywhere except my childhood home. And don't get me wrong, I don't want to leave here and start up somewhere new. I do love it here. But the idea of what else is out there sometimes intrigues me. I love the idea that adventure is just around the next bend in the road. Maybe sometime I'll follow it just to see, but only when I'm ready not when my crazy is kicking into high gear. Remember not everything you have an excitement about is necessarily bad, it might be your long lost true passion coming back out!
Thursday, December 8, 2016
Holiday Songs 2!
I know I was supposed to post more songs, but I got really busy at work last. Like I actually had to do my job! So sorry, but I couldn't post. But without further delay here is the next installment!
Tonight's first selection is "Breath of Heaven" by Amy Grant. There are actually two versions of this song and this one is more from Mary's point of view. I remember learning that Mary was most likely a younger teenager and thinking with a shock, "She was my age!" What terror and anticipation she must have had! I've always loved this song because it isn't necessarily Christmas-y, it can be listened to at any time of the year. Plus I love Amy Grant's voice, her range is where my imaginary range is so I could easily do hairbrush microphone singing!
The next song is also about Mary. "Mary Did You Know" has been sung by many. But most people don't realize the person who wrote it was Christian comic, Mark Lowry. This was probably when I started to realize that just because you're funny doesn't mean you can't be serious and have an impact. It's a wonderful song and Mark Lowry's vocal range is definitely heard. Plus as a fellow person with incessant questions, he asks some of the same questions I had.
Okay! Off to some lighter songs! "Winter Wonderland" by Avalon is so fun! It's got this jazzy harmony that I love. I would play it when I was babysitting my young brothers and we would dance to it. So every time I hear this I remember them as little kids and our dancing. Plus it was my secret, please God, let it snow so we don't have to go to school!
"Little Drummer Boy" is actually one of my dad's favorites, especially the Audio Adrenaline version. Every time I hear it, I can see my dad doing his little slight head banging imaginary guitar riff! He nails it by the way. It was one of the versions we played when we did our tree decorating.
Finally for the big win! "Away in a Manger"! Yeah, I know not really that original but it's the first Christmas song that I remember knowing all the words to. I can't remember why but I memorized the song as a little kid and it's always been a favorite for that reason. Plus I like not just any version of it, I like the Veggie Tales version! Just an added note, both the voices in the song are the same person.
Sorry I couldn't get more of the songs to download but hey, you must have YouTube so check them out if you want. I could keep going, but I bet you might get bored hearing all about what I like. What about your favorites? Get them out of storage, or just pull them up on YouTube. Listen to them, let good memories fill you. And most importantly, go out and make some more!
Tonight's first selection is "Breath of Heaven" by Amy Grant. There are actually two versions of this song and this one is more from Mary's point of view. I remember learning that Mary was most likely a younger teenager and thinking with a shock, "She was my age!" What terror and anticipation she must have had! I've always loved this song because it isn't necessarily Christmas-y, it can be listened to at any time of the year. Plus I love Amy Grant's voice, her range is where my imaginary range is so I could easily do hairbrush microphone singing!
The next song is also about Mary. "Mary Did You Know" has been sung by many. But most people don't realize the person who wrote it was Christian comic, Mark Lowry. This was probably when I started to realize that just because you're funny doesn't mean you can't be serious and have an impact. It's a wonderful song and Mark Lowry's vocal range is definitely heard. Plus as a fellow person with incessant questions, he asks some of the same questions I had.
Okay! Off to some lighter songs! "Winter Wonderland" by Avalon is so fun! It's got this jazzy harmony that I love. I would play it when I was babysitting my young brothers and we would dance to it. So every time I hear this I remember them as little kids and our dancing. Plus it was my secret, please God, let it snow so we don't have to go to school!
"Little Drummer Boy" is actually one of my dad's favorites, especially the Audio Adrenaline version. Every time I hear it, I can see my dad doing his little slight head banging imaginary guitar riff! He nails it by the way. It was one of the versions we played when we did our tree decorating.
Finally for the big win! "Away in a Manger"! Yeah, I know not really that original but it's the first Christmas song that I remember knowing all the words to. I can't remember why but I memorized the song as a little kid and it's always been a favorite for that reason. Plus I like not just any version of it, I like the Veggie Tales version! Just an added note, both the voices in the song are the same person.
Sorry I couldn't get more of the songs to download but hey, you must have YouTube so check them out if you want. I could keep going, but I bet you might get bored hearing all about what I like. What about your favorites? Get them out of storage, or just pull them up on YouTube. Listen to them, let good memories fill you. And most importantly, go out and make some more!
Tuesday, December 6, 2016
Holiday Songs! Volume 1
First off , sorry I haven't blogged in a few days. I am actually doing another writing project and I'm trying to do something completely un-bipolar and actually finish it! My brain has been kind of wrapped around the other thing and I'm having a hard time with some of the issues it brings up.
I just had a neat thought. Since it's the holiday season I thought I would find some songs that I like and explain why I love them so. It's more important to me in helping me not get too wrapped up in some of my darker mindsets. I was thinking maybe one or two a night, to help me stay holiday-ish but not overly so! I know not everyone is in a holiday mood but when I say holiday I don't necessarily mean gifts and all that stuff. Can you remember back when the whole season was just exciting and filled with wonder? Remember when you played outside, maybe in snow, all day and then had nice cups of hot cocoa with maybe your mom or dad at night? Just the joy of the holiday? Imagine that stuff, not the material.
My first song is "O Holy Night," particularly the one done by Point of Grace. The harmonies in the song are amazing!! Every time I hear it played the first memories are of me and my mom singing this. We sang it in the car during our rides most of the time to Wal-Mart. Almost every Saturday, when I was a teenager, my mom and I went to Wal-Mart in the evening after dinner, it was our little routine. And during the holidays this song played on the radio a lot and I think I had a CD of it as well. Anyways, I loved singing this with my mom, who has an amazing voice, if you have never heard her sing you're truly missing out! She would try to get me to harmonize and I tried but I am not as naturally gifted as she is. But we would have a great time, grimacing and laughing when one of our voices didn't quite hit the pitch and cracked. Also it was one of the times where we were just having a blast hanging out, not arguing just bonding. It was a very special time for me.
The second memory I have are oddly of a friend of mine who actually sang in a much lower octave. He had a beautiful voice and hearing him sing was breathtaking. In our church, we had Christmas Eve service's and even though he was a congregant at another church, many times he would sing this song, or Silent Night for the service. Hearing almost any version of either song reminds me of him. He passed away a few years ago but I can still hear his voice when I hear this song.
I have included a link at the end of the post. If you want to, take a listen! Enjoy the music and harmony. Remember the holiday season isn't just about gifts and parties, it's about enjoying the family and friends around us and remembering the good times we had with those who are no longer with us too. Tomorrow I hope to do a couple more songs, I just ran out of time tonight! Happy Holidays to all!
I just had a neat thought. Since it's the holiday season I thought I would find some songs that I like and explain why I love them so. It's more important to me in helping me not get too wrapped up in some of my darker mindsets. I was thinking maybe one or two a night, to help me stay holiday-ish but not overly so! I know not everyone is in a holiday mood but when I say holiday I don't necessarily mean gifts and all that stuff. Can you remember back when the whole season was just exciting and filled with wonder? Remember when you played outside, maybe in snow, all day and then had nice cups of hot cocoa with maybe your mom or dad at night? Just the joy of the holiday? Imagine that stuff, not the material.
My first song is "O Holy Night," particularly the one done by Point of Grace. The harmonies in the song are amazing!! Every time I hear it played the first memories are of me and my mom singing this. We sang it in the car during our rides most of the time to Wal-Mart. Almost every Saturday, when I was a teenager, my mom and I went to Wal-Mart in the evening after dinner, it was our little routine. And during the holidays this song played on the radio a lot and I think I had a CD of it as well. Anyways, I loved singing this with my mom, who has an amazing voice, if you have never heard her sing you're truly missing out! She would try to get me to harmonize and I tried but I am not as naturally gifted as she is. But we would have a great time, grimacing and laughing when one of our voices didn't quite hit the pitch and cracked. Also it was one of the times where we were just having a blast hanging out, not arguing just bonding. It was a very special time for me.
The second memory I have are oddly of a friend of mine who actually sang in a much lower octave. He had a beautiful voice and hearing him sing was breathtaking. In our church, we had Christmas Eve service's and even though he was a congregant at another church, many times he would sing this song, or Silent Night for the service. Hearing almost any version of either song reminds me of him. He passed away a few years ago but I can still hear his voice when I hear this song.
I have included a link at the end of the post. If you want to, take a listen! Enjoy the music and harmony. Remember the holiday season isn't just about gifts and parties, it's about enjoying the family and friends around us and remembering the good times we had with those who are no longer with us too. Tomorrow I hope to do a couple more songs, I just ran out of time tonight! Happy Holidays to all!
Thursday, December 1, 2016
Fun Questions!
Still alive! My mood is still kinda low but I'm doing alright. Today I feel the need to just write some fun little observations in an effort to get you and I chuckling. So how about questions that psych doctors ask! If you have ever had the opportunity to be evaluated you will know what I mean when I say sometimes I worry the doctor is crazier than me! Almost every evaluation begins with the same 40 to 50 questions or if you're incredibly lucky you get the 600 to 700 computer based questionnaire! I've been that lucky more than three times, technically once it was for my job application but still it's a long test! So without any further ado here are some of my favorites questions from the list!
First up! "Have you ever felt like your soul left your body?" Wow, umm I don't think so. Although if it did, would I know? I mean if my soul was gone how would I know? The soul is the essence of us as people so if it left and went on a vacation somewhere chances are we wouldn't even know. To this day I have no idea what disorder this is attempting to identify, I'll go with it's one of the ones designed to test your honesty.
"Do you compulsively lie?" No, I mean, yes! No! Oh hell! How do you know? I get the theory behind the question but really if I compulsively lie won't I say no anyways? And there are few cases, very few, of people who lie so much, they don't even know how to tell the truth. I have seen a few people like this. Like I just heard you on the phone with the ticket seller at Cardinal Stadium and they said you will have front row seats next season not this year and after you hang up you say to me, "I have front row seats for today's game!" I literally just heard them say next season! And you can't even tell that you're lying, it's rare but it happens. If I'm this far confused about what's the truth and what isn't, then chances are I really think I don't compulsively lie.
"Do you see things that aren't real?" Again, I get where you're going Doc, but if I'm seeing it, then it's probably real to me. If I can see the little green guy in the corner of the room, I'm going to think you're the nutty one if you tell me it isn't real! Of course with treatment and meds, he'll disappear but right now he seems pretty damn real. And maybe he is real...Maybe the doctor is the delusional one. Cue the beginning of paranoid psychosis!
My personal favorite-"Do you have any grandiose delusions about yourself?" This one is many times specifically designed for schizophrenics and manic psychotic bipolars. If I'm in the middle of a delusion, obviously I think that it's reality! Plus as the Queen of the Universe, I don't feel like talking with you, Doctor! Once the psychosis is over I can definitely say, "Yes, I have had this issue" but until it's over I'm going to have to rely on the doctors to decide whether it's a grandiose delusion or maybe I really am the Queen Mother's long lost daughter.
I will say though that almost all of my psych doctors have been very good. I butted heads with them from time to time and still do but they truly cared about my mental health. Even when I didn't. I just hated taking those questionnaires though! Now whenever I need to go to a new doctor, I simply tell them I don't need the questionnaire, look at my chart, I'm Bipolar, now let's move on from here!
First up! "Have you ever felt like your soul left your body?" Wow, umm I don't think so. Although if it did, would I know? I mean if my soul was gone how would I know? The soul is the essence of us as people so if it left and went on a vacation somewhere chances are we wouldn't even know. To this day I have no idea what disorder this is attempting to identify, I'll go with it's one of the ones designed to test your honesty.
"Do you compulsively lie?" No, I mean, yes! No! Oh hell! How do you know? I get the theory behind the question but really if I compulsively lie won't I say no anyways? And there are few cases, very few, of people who lie so much, they don't even know how to tell the truth. I have seen a few people like this. Like I just heard you on the phone with the ticket seller at Cardinal Stadium and they said you will have front row seats next season not this year and after you hang up you say to me, "I have front row seats for today's game!" I literally just heard them say next season! And you can't even tell that you're lying, it's rare but it happens. If I'm this far confused about what's the truth and what isn't, then chances are I really think I don't compulsively lie.
"Do you see things that aren't real?" Again, I get where you're going Doc, but if I'm seeing it, then it's probably real to me. If I can see the little green guy in the corner of the room, I'm going to think you're the nutty one if you tell me it isn't real! Of course with treatment and meds, he'll disappear but right now he seems pretty damn real. And maybe he is real...Maybe the doctor is the delusional one. Cue the beginning of paranoid psychosis!
My personal favorite-"Do you have any grandiose delusions about yourself?" This one is many times specifically designed for schizophrenics and manic psychotic bipolars. If I'm in the middle of a delusion, obviously I think that it's reality! Plus as the Queen of the Universe, I don't feel like talking with you, Doctor! Once the psychosis is over I can definitely say, "Yes, I have had this issue" but until it's over I'm going to have to rely on the doctors to decide whether it's a grandiose delusion or maybe I really am the Queen Mother's long lost daughter.
I will say though that almost all of my psych doctors have been very good. I butted heads with them from time to time and still do but they truly cared about my mental health. Even when I didn't. I just hated taking those questionnaires though! Now whenever I need to go to a new doctor, I simply tell them I don't need the questionnaire, look at my chart, I'm Bipolar, now let's move on from here!
Monday, November 28, 2016
The Living Death
I started feeling it again Saturday evening. I woke up and something was off. My post sleep medication haze seemed to pull harder than usual. I felt permanently off-kilter and mentally slow. After a few hours of waiting for it to go away and nothing changing, I knew it was the beginning of another bout of the living death. Depression, lows, or the living death as I call it can range from just tired to unable to leave bed, maybe even speak. The real exciting part for me is I don't know how long it will last. A few days, up to even weeks, are the normal range for me.
Trust me, I don't want this portion of bipolar, I hate it. While the excitement and joy of mania is fun before it fully blooms; this is what becomes of me after the mania leaves. I'm not really into crying and generally the living death holds very few tears-it becomes to hard to cry. Right now, as I'm typing, I am struggling to finish the sentence and hopefully it makes sense. My mood isn't really sad even, it's just bleh. Sadness requires feelings and again I don't have the energy for it. As for now I am still able to function well enough, I can get to work and home again. Those might be the only things I can do but since I want to keep my job that'll be enough for now.
Maybe this time won't be too bad. Maybe I'll just feel exhausted and emotionally drained for a few days and then bounce back up. Since my medications have been pretty stable lately maybe this will be a quick episode. Although at the moment the thought of taking my meds is replaced by a picture of me progressively getting older, always taking those damn things and nothing ever getting better. It's enough to almost make me feel anguished.
But I know it will get better, I have had these before and they have always ended. But I still worry that someday I won't remember that this ends. It could be later today or 2 decades from now, but I might not remember. Because when the living death pays a visit, my mind gets sometimes very cloudy. I sometimes forget simple things and all I can seem to remember is every bad thing I've ever done. Right before I sleep, I'll see all the bad things, when I wake up they are there too, even when I sleep. I may even become too weak to talk or walk but I will hold on the hope that it will get better again.
I hate the living death, it's not pretty. It's not what depression is depicted in a movie or TV show. Depression doesn't necessarily make a person sad, it makes them unable to feel even. It's not always crying episodes. Sometimes it's not showering for days, because you just don't have the strength. It's not connecting with people because the mental work of being there is overwhelming. Sometimes beating it as simple as breathing from one day to the next until you can finally work up the strength to smile again. Because like I said before, it will end and I will smile again.
Trust me, I don't want this portion of bipolar, I hate it. While the excitement and joy of mania is fun before it fully blooms; this is what becomes of me after the mania leaves. I'm not really into crying and generally the living death holds very few tears-it becomes to hard to cry. Right now, as I'm typing, I am struggling to finish the sentence and hopefully it makes sense. My mood isn't really sad even, it's just bleh. Sadness requires feelings and again I don't have the energy for it. As for now I am still able to function well enough, I can get to work and home again. Those might be the only things I can do but since I want to keep my job that'll be enough for now.
Maybe this time won't be too bad. Maybe I'll just feel exhausted and emotionally drained for a few days and then bounce back up. Since my medications have been pretty stable lately maybe this will be a quick episode. Although at the moment the thought of taking my meds is replaced by a picture of me progressively getting older, always taking those damn things and nothing ever getting better. It's enough to almost make me feel anguished.
But I know it will get better, I have had these before and they have always ended. But I still worry that someday I won't remember that this ends. It could be later today or 2 decades from now, but I might not remember. Because when the living death pays a visit, my mind gets sometimes very cloudy. I sometimes forget simple things and all I can seem to remember is every bad thing I've ever done. Right before I sleep, I'll see all the bad things, when I wake up they are there too, even when I sleep. I may even become too weak to talk or walk but I will hold on the hope that it will get better again.
I hate the living death, it's not pretty. It's not what depression is depicted in a movie or TV show. Depression doesn't necessarily make a person sad, it makes them unable to feel even. It's not always crying episodes. Sometimes it's not showering for days, because you just don't have the strength. It's not connecting with people because the mental work of being there is overwhelming. Sometimes beating it as simple as breathing from one day to the next until you can finally work up the strength to smile again. Because like I said before, it will end and I will smile again.
Thursday, November 24, 2016
Thanksgiving!
I just want to do a short message today. Happy Thanksgiving!!! Whether your gathering with family, friends, or even alone, have a wonderful day! If this is a great time of year for you, count your blessings and enjoy your day. If this is a difficult time of year for you, I pray you feel the love and peace of friends and family to get you through your difficult time. I just want to say a quick shout out to a few people in particular:
My parents- I love you and am proud to be called your daughter. You are the first people I am grateful for. You taught me how to be a woman with strong convictions. Dad- you taught me how to stand up for what's right. Mom- you showed me that caring for others is not weak but a sign of true strength. I am honored to call you my parents.
My brothers! Where would I be without you?! Thanks for throwing my only child world for a loop! Seriously, thanks for changing that, I'm so blessed to have you in my life! Thanks for forgiving all the mean stuff I did as a teenager and not bringing it up. But especially thanks for being you! Levi, you're such a nice guy and you're so awesome to have deep discussions with! Luke, we both have a similar sense of humor and you allow me to share some of my more "interesting" ideas! Even though you're both younger than me, I learned and still learn so much from you!
My girlfriend- Thank you for putting up with all my craziness. You came into my life at a very difficult time and never shied away from all the issues I have. You are tower of strength in my ever shifting world. I love you.
My tribe! What is there to say?! You're my fun tribe and you put up with my work wackiness! Thanks for hanging, texting, and many dinners! You girls make going to work a delight (well most days). Plus you care, the texts to check up when things aren't going ok are more appreciated than you know. Love you girls!
Like I said, I don't want to do a long blog today, just wanted to wish everyone a Happy Thanksgiving. I could go on and on with a huge list of people but I would drive you guys insane! Have a wonderful holiday season and may you all not just enjoy the blessing of the holiday season, but be a blessing to someone as well!
My parents- I love you and am proud to be called your daughter. You are the first people I am grateful for. You taught me how to be a woman with strong convictions. Dad- you taught me how to stand up for what's right. Mom- you showed me that caring for others is not weak but a sign of true strength. I am honored to call you my parents.
My brothers! Where would I be without you?! Thanks for throwing my only child world for a loop! Seriously, thanks for changing that, I'm so blessed to have you in my life! Thanks for forgiving all the mean stuff I did as a teenager and not bringing it up. But especially thanks for being you! Levi, you're such a nice guy and you're so awesome to have deep discussions with! Luke, we both have a similar sense of humor and you allow me to share some of my more "interesting" ideas! Even though you're both younger than me, I learned and still learn so much from you!
My girlfriend- Thank you for putting up with all my craziness. You came into my life at a very difficult time and never shied away from all the issues I have. You are tower of strength in my ever shifting world. I love you.
My tribe! What is there to say?! You're my fun tribe and you put up with my work wackiness! Thanks for hanging, texting, and many dinners! You girls make going to work a delight (well most days). Plus you care, the texts to check up when things aren't going ok are more appreciated than you know. Love you girls!
Like I said, I don't want to do a long blog today, just wanted to wish everyone a Happy Thanksgiving. I could go on and on with a huge list of people but I would drive you guys insane! Have a wonderful holiday season and may you all not just enjoy the blessing of the holiday season, but be a blessing to someone as well!
Wednesday, November 23, 2016
Recovering!
I had a conversation with a co-worker earlier, nothing big just chatting about the holidays and he asked me if I was going to a Christmas party that a mutual friend is hosting. I said yes and he started joking about how people were going to be getting a little tipsy and how funny it was to watch some people get drunk. I laughed and said yeah it's always a fun way to see people who are normally pretty professional and strict at work. He laughed and asked me if I planned on getting a little drunk myself, I simply said no I don't drink. At all? He didn't seem to believe me. I replied, "No I'm a recovering alcoholic so I don't drink even a little. Cue the awkward silence! Poor guy, he kind of stuttered and said, "Well I'm sorry." I just laughed and said "I'm not."
That conversation revealed something to me that I hadn't realized. I'm not ashamed of considering myself a recovering alcoholic. Because the key word is the first word, recovering. I'm aware that there is something in my body and brain that is sick. And if I don't monitor it that sickness will control me. In fact it did control me for many years.
I had my first drink when I was 16. I can actually remember what I drank, Amaretto and Coke. Funny, I can't remember what I had for dinner two days ago, but I can remember what I drank 16 years ago! It's amazing what an addicted brain can recall. I had a few of those and then some Aftershock (God awful cinnamon flavored syrup!). Obviously at 16 I couldn't drink too often but when I did I never just had a couple drinks, I always ended up pretty sloshed. I say that just to point out that I never gradually increased my drinking to drunkenness, I started there and increased to other levels later.
I knew some people in my family had had drinking issues, I knew that it is genetic, but I was young! Only older people had drinking problems! You know like homeless people, people who drank before work, or when they got the shakes, not people like me who started a career and never showed up to work drunk.
In the Air Force, especially at my first base, everyone drank! I mean come on, we lived in dorms and were barely adults! It was here that I started to notice something weird though, not everyone drank to get drunk. My brain couldn't wrap itself around that concept, I mean why else would you drink?! Also other people didn't blackout or get alcohol poisoning, I did both on more than one occasion. These were the signs that I didn't drink like normal people. Instead of questioning myself, I simply hung out with people who drank like me. It wasn't until I was stationed in Minot that someone said something to me. She was a good friend who noticed that once we were off work, I could rarely hang out because I would be too intoxicated to drive. Also after being out in the field for 4 days, I could tell when it was time to be relieved to go home because now I got the shakes after 31/2 days of sobriety. Another sign, one I refused to acknowledge.
Skip forward 3 to 4 years and I had successfully become an alcoholic. The shakes were a routine occurrence and I needed at least 4 to 5 shots in order to sleep. But I still lied to myself; my brain still said, "Well you don't drink before work or go to work still drunk from the night before, so you're fine." It wasn't until I overdosed and almost choked on my own vomit, that I realized, "Wow, I might have a problem!" Hey, I'm not saying I'm the smartest cookie, some times things take me a while to get! But I did realize it and I reached out and got help. I was sober for about 5 years, a few drinks here and there but never anything too bad.
After about 5 years, I figured I must be better. So I began to "try" a few drinks here and there, not a lot just a couple. And it was fine! Ha, I beat it! Don't laugh too hard! A couple became 5 and 6 and suddenly I was hiding the drinks from people so they wouldn't know. Loud buzzer sound right there, if I was better why would I need to hide it? Well the progression went pretty rapidly this time from a few drinks to the ER in a little over 5 months. So I reached out for help and started over again, day one, two, and so on.
That was over 2 years ago. This isn't a congrats to me post and don't worry I definitely didn't make my poor co-worker listen to this whole thing! I just realized that I'm not ashamed to be recovering. I don't feel like a defective human being that has a broken part. Recovering alcoholic isn't all of who I am, it's merely a piece of me and it won't become my whole identity. I'm a veteran, daughter, sister, girlfriend, co-worker, and oh yeah, recovering alcoholic. I am still aware that for me there is no friendly drinking but I am proud that I am recovered enough to be around some people who might have a drink without it feeling overwhelming. I'm also proud that I'm aware enough to know that sometimes it will be too overwhelming and it's ok for me to step away. Someday I might remove the word recovering and add former, but for now recovering is the right word and I'm proud I am recovering.
What are the things in your life that you might be recovering from? It might not be a beverage or substance, it could be a person, relationship, bad job, debt, etc. The point is we all have something either now or past that we have/are recovered from. You are not the substance, person, situation that is hurting right now; it is merely a piece of who you are as an individual. Don't hold your head down in shame over the situation; hold it up with pride that you made it through the situation! You are recovering!
That conversation revealed something to me that I hadn't realized. I'm not ashamed of considering myself a recovering alcoholic. Because the key word is the first word, recovering. I'm aware that there is something in my body and brain that is sick. And if I don't monitor it that sickness will control me. In fact it did control me for many years.
I had my first drink when I was 16. I can actually remember what I drank, Amaretto and Coke. Funny, I can't remember what I had for dinner two days ago, but I can remember what I drank 16 years ago! It's amazing what an addicted brain can recall. I had a few of those and then some Aftershock (God awful cinnamon flavored syrup!). Obviously at 16 I couldn't drink too often but when I did I never just had a couple drinks, I always ended up pretty sloshed. I say that just to point out that I never gradually increased my drinking to drunkenness, I started there and increased to other levels later.
I knew some people in my family had had drinking issues, I knew that it is genetic, but I was young! Only older people had drinking problems! You know like homeless people, people who drank before work, or when they got the shakes, not people like me who started a career and never showed up to work drunk.
In the Air Force, especially at my first base, everyone drank! I mean come on, we lived in dorms and were barely adults! It was here that I started to notice something weird though, not everyone drank to get drunk. My brain couldn't wrap itself around that concept, I mean why else would you drink?! Also other people didn't blackout or get alcohol poisoning, I did both on more than one occasion. These were the signs that I didn't drink like normal people. Instead of questioning myself, I simply hung out with people who drank like me. It wasn't until I was stationed in Minot that someone said something to me. She was a good friend who noticed that once we were off work, I could rarely hang out because I would be too intoxicated to drive. Also after being out in the field for 4 days, I could tell when it was time to be relieved to go home because now I got the shakes after 31/2 days of sobriety. Another sign, one I refused to acknowledge.
Skip forward 3 to 4 years and I had successfully become an alcoholic. The shakes were a routine occurrence and I needed at least 4 to 5 shots in order to sleep. But I still lied to myself; my brain still said, "Well you don't drink before work or go to work still drunk from the night before, so you're fine." It wasn't until I overdosed and almost choked on my own vomit, that I realized, "Wow, I might have a problem!" Hey, I'm not saying I'm the smartest cookie, some times things take me a while to get! But I did realize it and I reached out and got help. I was sober for about 5 years, a few drinks here and there but never anything too bad.
After about 5 years, I figured I must be better. So I began to "try" a few drinks here and there, not a lot just a couple. And it was fine! Ha, I beat it! Don't laugh too hard! A couple became 5 and 6 and suddenly I was hiding the drinks from people so they wouldn't know. Loud buzzer sound right there, if I was better why would I need to hide it? Well the progression went pretty rapidly this time from a few drinks to the ER in a little over 5 months. So I reached out for help and started over again, day one, two, and so on.
That was over 2 years ago. This isn't a congrats to me post and don't worry I definitely didn't make my poor co-worker listen to this whole thing! I just realized that I'm not ashamed to be recovering. I don't feel like a defective human being that has a broken part. Recovering alcoholic isn't all of who I am, it's merely a piece of me and it won't become my whole identity. I'm a veteran, daughter, sister, girlfriend, co-worker, and oh yeah, recovering alcoholic. I am still aware that for me there is no friendly drinking but I am proud that I am recovered enough to be around some people who might have a drink without it feeling overwhelming. I'm also proud that I'm aware enough to know that sometimes it will be too overwhelming and it's ok for me to step away. Someday I might remove the word recovering and add former, but for now recovering is the right word and I'm proud I am recovering.
What are the things in your life that you might be recovering from? It might not be a beverage or substance, it could be a person, relationship, bad job, debt, etc. The point is we all have something either now or past that we have/are recovered from. You are not the substance, person, situation that is hurting right now; it is merely a piece of who you are as an individual. Don't hold your head down in shame over the situation; hold it up with pride that you made it through the situation! You are recovering!
Tuesday, November 22, 2016
Writing thru scars
If you read yesterday morning's post, don't be too alarmed. I know it may look a little nuts but really it's not that bad. I was able to get some sleep, it was very un-restful but it was sleep. My head always goes a little cuckoo when I write or think about Bucca for too long. And coincidentally right after writing about Bucca, I ended up watching a History Channel special on the creation of ISIS, in which Bucca is discussed. Not to go to deeply into it but it kind of cut open some old scars.
All said though, this time I did pretty well. It's actually been really the first time that I could write about some of the things that happened. I have always only been able to talk with other people who had been there. It's an odd thing, I can feel such a kinship with other veterans who have deployed. Not to say anything against other vets, or family, or friends, but it's just something about connecting with someone who has been in a similar situation. Most people coming back from deployments have a hard time explaining what happened on their deployments. Oh they can tell you about the funny things that happened or the friends they made but really talking about their whole experience is extremely difficult.
I've heard some people call this a type of post-deployment "snobbery." And some people do have this "better than thou" attitude, but for most people I think it falls deeper than that. How do you explain that you are not the same person anymore? That you have seen things unbearably cruel or a side of yourself that you never thought existed? What words do you use to tell your family that while you were gone, a fundamental shift occurred in your psyche? It's not that veterans are necessarily snobbish about their experience but that they don't know how to talk about it with people that don't understand the experience.
One difficult thing that many civilians don't understand is that there are no safe zones when deployed. In the last 3 wars, Vietnam is in here too, any base could come under attack at any given moment. In order to be an effective member, a person has to learn how to operate under a state of constant alertness. Whether at work or in the living area, mortars don't care where you are. Most times they are way off base or not close to you, but you never know, at any given time you might just be in the wrong spot. It's exhausting and terrifying if you constantly think about it so you don't. What you worry about when hearing incoming is if it's going to get the chow hall or hit the computer center. You can't always think about it hitting near you because it would eventually render you combat ineffective. How do you explain that to your family once you get home? How do you tell them that you were more worried about missing dinner or using the computer than getting hit by a rocket or mortar. How do you talk about the bets you placed about the distance from you based on the shock wave and sound of the blast? You can't.
How can a parent, spouse, or regular civilian understand the utter brain exhaustion from trying to decide whether or not the Iraqi/Afghan is safe or not? In my deployment, I had guys that worked with us, Iraqi Correction Officers (ICO's), and interpreters, that were genuinely good people. They wanted a better country for their families to live in. I had some that were spies for the local militia and would pass messages from compound to compound. The good guys-they slowly left the camp either because their families were getting murdered or they were whenever they left the camp. We had a way of figuring which people were good or bad by how many times they were able to leave base without being killed. Some of the guys we knew were bad guys, but we had to hang out, laugh, joke with them until they messed up and we could catch them doing something illegal. But how do you bring that up in discussion when you get home? Saying, "Hey Mom, Dad, did I tell you about the terrorist we had chilling in our living area," is not a good conversation starter.
This is how, by writing if speaking is too difficult. By not shying away from the discussion when it comes up. Many Americans feel that there is a great divide between military and civilians, and I can agree it's true to some extent. A lot of Americans want to know what it's like in the military; just look at all the military-themed reality shows! Some veterans have a very difficult time talking about their experiences and that's understandable, but I think we need to open up some scars from time to time and allow civilians to experience our stories. Not because we are better than them but because this is how we heal the division between military and civilians. And we can all agree that our country doesn't need any more division, we need healing.
All said though, this time I did pretty well. It's actually been really the first time that I could write about some of the things that happened. I have always only been able to talk with other people who had been there. It's an odd thing, I can feel such a kinship with other veterans who have deployed. Not to say anything against other vets, or family, or friends, but it's just something about connecting with someone who has been in a similar situation. Most people coming back from deployments have a hard time explaining what happened on their deployments. Oh they can tell you about the funny things that happened or the friends they made but really talking about their whole experience is extremely difficult.
I've heard some people call this a type of post-deployment "snobbery." And some people do have this "better than thou" attitude, but for most people I think it falls deeper than that. How do you explain that you are not the same person anymore? That you have seen things unbearably cruel or a side of yourself that you never thought existed? What words do you use to tell your family that while you were gone, a fundamental shift occurred in your psyche? It's not that veterans are necessarily snobbish about their experience but that they don't know how to talk about it with people that don't understand the experience.
One difficult thing that many civilians don't understand is that there are no safe zones when deployed. In the last 3 wars, Vietnam is in here too, any base could come under attack at any given moment. In order to be an effective member, a person has to learn how to operate under a state of constant alertness. Whether at work or in the living area, mortars don't care where you are. Most times they are way off base or not close to you, but you never know, at any given time you might just be in the wrong spot. It's exhausting and terrifying if you constantly think about it so you don't. What you worry about when hearing incoming is if it's going to get the chow hall or hit the computer center. You can't always think about it hitting near you because it would eventually render you combat ineffective. How do you explain that to your family once you get home? How do you tell them that you were more worried about missing dinner or using the computer than getting hit by a rocket or mortar. How do you talk about the bets you placed about the distance from you based on the shock wave and sound of the blast? You can't.
How can a parent, spouse, or regular civilian understand the utter brain exhaustion from trying to decide whether or not the Iraqi/Afghan is safe or not? In my deployment, I had guys that worked with us, Iraqi Correction Officers (ICO's), and interpreters, that were genuinely good people. They wanted a better country for their families to live in. I had some that were spies for the local militia and would pass messages from compound to compound. The good guys-they slowly left the camp either because their families were getting murdered or they were whenever they left the camp. We had a way of figuring which people were good or bad by how many times they were able to leave base without being killed. Some of the guys we knew were bad guys, but we had to hang out, laugh, joke with them until they messed up and we could catch them doing something illegal. But how do you bring that up in discussion when you get home? Saying, "Hey Mom, Dad, did I tell you about the terrorist we had chilling in our living area," is not a good conversation starter.
This is how, by writing if speaking is too difficult. By not shying away from the discussion when it comes up. Many Americans feel that there is a great divide between military and civilians, and I can agree it's true to some extent. A lot of Americans want to know what it's like in the military; just look at all the military-themed reality shows! Some veterans have a very difficult time talking about their experiences and that's understandable, but I think we need to open up some scars from time to time and allow civilians to experience our stories. Not because we are better than them but because this is how we heal the division between military and civilians. And we can all agree that our country doesn't need any more division, we need healing.
Monday, November 21, 2016
Alive!
I can feel it. All night I was trying to figure out what to write and suddenly it hit me out of nowhere! I am beginning to feel the start of a little bit of mania. Now I have been taking my meds so this shouldn't last too long or (hopefully) get too bad. But since I have the crazy slipping up on me, I figured this would be the best time to try and describe what's going on. And maybe help settle my brain down in the process.
Have you ever felt suddenly so alive? Like an entire endorphin rush through your body and every part of you feels electric? I can literally feel the blood pumping into my fingertips. When I inhale it's like I'm breathing the most freeing and beautiful air. Have you ever took a breath of crisp fall air or inhaled right before it began to rain? It's that type of air where you feel utterly alive and in touch with everything! I feel like I can't hold in all the life inside. I want to laugh, shout, or talk about everything. My poor work partner just got an earful of the last dreams I had, when I may go home to visit again, how I've been sleeping. All in one long joyful sentence! I accidently shouted some of it and only realized it when I saw him jump back a little.
I started pacing up and down but stopped because I think I made him a little nervous, so then I decided to start doing the trash and getting ready for shift change which is still an hour and a half away. I went outside to calm myself with some "fresh" air and caught myself singing about three different songs at once. I would tell you what they where but I already can't remember them. Right now I'm reciting what I need to get at the grocery store over and over in my head. It's just the rest of my Thanksgiving meal list, potatoes, pumpkin pie, and something else. Don't worry I got it written down in my phone! Plus I can peruse the coffee and creamers, but I don't think they have anything new yet.
Hopefully, I can get to sleep today when I get home. Usually when I start feeling like this I have a difficult time sleeping, even when I take my medications. What I really hope is that this feeling doesn't morph into a more difficult mood swing. If I could keep myself right here, right in this feeling I would love it! But here is where things get difficult, because my brain won't stay here, but every time I trick myself into believing it will. I might stay in this euphoric brain space for a day, or maybe a couple weeks, but it always ends. Right now I'm clear-minded enough to realize it. And maybe this time I'll stay that way. Maybe this time my brain will let me down easy and I will fall right back into a normal rhythm. Maybe I won't devolve into paranoia or slip into depression, but the reality is I probably will.
The holidays are always an up, up, and away time for me. The excitement, the happy mood, enjoying time with family and friends, it's great and almost always makes me a little manic. Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining. It's one of the few times where I feel like my craziness is just on par with everyone's happiness. I just dislike the ugly downfall that almost always comes with it, but maybe this time it will be different.
Have you ever felt suddenly so alive? Like an entire endorphin rush through your body and every part of you feels electric? I can literally feel the blood pumping into my fingertips. When I inhale it's like I'm breathing the most freeing and beautiful air. Have you ever took a breath of crisp fall air or inhaled right before it began to rain? It's that type of air where you feel utterly alive and in touch with everything! I feel like I can't hold in all the life inside. I want to laugh, shout, or talk about everything. My poor work partner just got an earful of the last dreams I had, when I may go home to visit again, how I've been sleeping. All in one long joyful sentence! I accidently shouted some of it and only realized it when I saw him jump back a little.
I started pacing up and down but stopped because I think I made him a little nervous, so then I decided to start doing the trash and getting ready for shift change which is still an hour and a half away. I went outside to calm myself with some "fresh" air and caught myself singing about three different songs at once. I would tell you what they where but I already can't remember them. Right now I'm reciting what I need to get at the grocery store over and over in my head. It's just the rest of my Thanksgiving meal list, potatoes, pumpkin pie, and something else. Don't worry I got it written down in my phone! Plus I can peruse the coffee and creamers, but I don't think they have anything new yet.
Hopefully, I can get to sleep today when I get home. Usually when I start feeling like this I have a difficult time sleeping, even when I take my medications. What I really hope is that this feeling doesn't morph into a more difficult mood swing. If I could keep myself right here, right in this feeling I would love it! But here is where things get difficult, because my brain won't stay here, but every time I trick myself into believing it will. I might stay in this euphoric brain space for a day, or maybe a couple weeks, but it always ends. Right now I'm clear-minded enough to realize it. And maybe this time I'll stay that way. Maybe this time my brain will let me down easy and I will fall right back into a normal rhythm. Maybe I won't devolve into paranoia or slip into depression, but the reality is I probably will.
The holidays are always an up, up, and away time for me. The excitement, the happy mood, enjoying time with family and friends, it's great and almost always makes me a little manic. Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining. It's one of the few times where I feel like my craziness is just on par with everyone's happiness. I just dislike the ugly downfall that almost always comes with it, but maybe this time it will be different.
Friday, November 18, 2016
A Tale of Two Deployments (Iraq)
As promised here is my blog on Camp Bucca. Before we go too far forward I feel the need to set a disclaimer out, this was a point in my life where a lot of dark, difficult stuff happened. I apologize for any graphic language, I will look over the post and hopefully get rid of most of it. You know how people remember life before an altering event and then life afterwards and how they are never the same? That was Bucca for me. So many things happened and I became a person that was totally unrecognizable to the person I was before. To help you get into the mindset let me give you a scenario. Imagine you are in a prison, now take away the walls and replace it with chain link fencing and concertina wire. There are about 25 of you, guarding anywhere from 750-1,000 inmates. This is replicated not once but 18 times, 18 other compounds. Now let's add the language barrier, you don't speak Arabic, and unlike Spanish, you can't even really pick out words to understand. All you know is that these people hate you, they show it by giving everything from glares to death signals. They will kill you or any American they can get their hands on. Now you're ready to enter Bucca.
I left for training at the end of 2006, a little over 450 of us all did 3 1/2 weeks of detainee operation training before getting to Bucca. The course is supposed to be 6 weeks long but we didn't have that much time so it was shortened. Once we arrived in Kuwait we were given our compound assignments, each compound had a different type of inmate or a different religious variation of Islam. One compound held the elderly, sick, and children. That's right, children from the age of 10-16 were grouped together. They couldn't be placed with the adults because of safety issues, but they were far from innocent. Anyways, our squadron posted multiple lists of all the compound assignments and on each one I couldn't find my name. After looking for about 30 minutes, my squad leader told me to go see the Master Sergeant in charge of the rosters. When I spoke to him, he told me I had been assigned to the Quick Response Force (QRF). I was so excited! QRF was responsible for conducting searches, extractions, intakes, releases, and my absolute favorite, riot response. In short they were the badasses of the prison.
On my first day in the Theater Internment Facility (TIF), fancy word for prison, one of the compounds had a riot. Us new guys, just grabbed some gear and jumped on the back of the nearest truck. I remember being nervous and excited. One of the older guys, who was leaving soon, asked me if I was excited. I said, yes, and I'll never forget the look he gave me, just devoid of any emotion and he said, "Don't worry, you'll get over it." During that first riot I got a nice little taste of what was to be my life for the next few months, I got hit with everything the male body can produce (yes, everything!), I got gassed because someone grabbed the wrong grenade and threw a mace one near my position, and I almost got set on fire. My group had gone into one of the small compounds and while trying to round up the last of the rioters, another one set fire to the tent we were in. For the next few months, riots happened almost daily, some huge, others a little smaller. Every so often we would have multiple compounds riot at once, and occasionally the entire prison would riot. The older guy was right, I did get over it after a while, it got to where they no longer excited me or made me nervous.
We had a saying at Bucca, "Don't let the monsters out." It's a simple enough saying, don't let the bad guys get away, right? Wrong. It was a reminder to us. "Don't let the monsters out" meant don't let your demons out, don't become someone you can't recognize. Sadly, I failed. I decided that showing any emotion other than anger was weakness. The inmates will use your weakness to kill you. So I shut down my emotions. At one point, right after our deployment was extended a second time (it was extended 3 times), I just told myself, "Heather, you're never going to leave here. Just accept that the rest of your life will be spent here." It was easier to deal with the constant craziness and cruelty by just not caring. But it set me up for failure when I returned home. I was completely emotionally cut off, I didn't know how to connect with people. I had always drank a lot, but it was after Bucca where I began to drink not for fun but to try and help me feel.
Remember when I said Pakistan had a lot of firsts for me? Well Bucca did too! It was the first place, where I smoked a hookah and made friends with refugees (they worked in stores around the base). I was also the first place where I got to hunt for escaped inmates in our living quarters, watch inmates kill somebody for fun, and shoot someone in the face with a riot gun. The inmates were an interesting group, they hated us; I understood that. But what I couldn't fathom was how much they hated each other at times. I've heard and seen them kill each other for being a different denomination of Islam, or for being too nice to the guards, and my personal favorite, using what the Americans gave them. I saw a guy get his ass whooped because he used toilet paper. Yup, toilet paper! By that point I didn't even care, I figured as long as he was beating the other guy, he wasn't bothering me. No emotions, no empathy to another's pain; at the time it was just easier that way. Inmates beating each other inside the compounds were normal, and we had no good way to stop them; not enough people, gear, or supplies meant we stayed outside the fence and just simply kept them inside; whatever they did in the fence was their business.
May 6, 2007-This day will always be engraved on my heart. It was the first of what I never wanted, the first time a friend was killed in action. He wasn't at my base, he was a childhood friend. I found out via a message from my mom on Facebook, it's not like she could call me. After finding this out, I had to go to work and inprocess about 150 more inmates from Bagdad. I was able to take a few minutes; a good friend of mine stayed with me until I had to go to work. That day during the inprocessing, I was so angry- all I could think of was the person who placed that roadside bomb might be in my inprocessing group. I won't go too into it, let's just say I was relieved for the day.
May 14, 2007- I got my next awful first. I was notified that a Security Forces member from my base had been killed up north. Our leadership was telling us to call our families and let them know we were ok, since the news in Little Rock would be reporting a person's death but no name. Furthermore, we weren't allowed to tell our families who had died just that we were ok. As one of the NCO's from Little Rock, I also was tasked with telling my Airmen who it was that had been killed. It was my first time telling a man that one of his bests friends was dead.
June 9, 2007- It was the first time a mortar almost killed us! The day actually started off kind of funny, I slept through the first few mortars. My roommate woke me up by saying, "Heather, get off your bed and get on the floor." I was so confused I thought I was still asleep, then BLAM! My whole pod shook and suddenly I was on the floor! We responded to the prison, there weren't enough trucks for some reason, so we had to walk. The heat was incredible! 135+ degrees and add a helmet and vest. When we got to the prison we could see why there weren't any extra vehicles. They were being used to cart injured and dead inmates to the hospital. That day was the first time I saw a human brain and part of a skull, they were hanging from some of the fence. Thankfully, no Americans were injured or killed. Although on CNN (I can't stand them!) they were reporting several Americans were dead and dozens injured; my poor grandmother caught the news and freaked out.
I figure here should be a good stopping point. There is plenty more I could write about but I fear that in doing so I might open the monster's cage. I have successfully wrestled many of them back into their cages, but at times they still get restless. After almost a decade I have begun to allow my emotions to show a little. It's amazing to me that a decision made long ago will affect me so much today. I thought as soon as I was home I would just "relax" my emotions and everything would be fine. It's a sick lie. To this day I can't really cry. Oh I can tear up at a funeral or when I hear bad news but it literally almost takes a physical effort for me to shed tears. All because I thought I could kill my emotions 10 years ago.
One positive thing about Bucca and I will always be grateful for- I met some amazing people. I still have friends from there that are very close. I met my girlfriend there, although it wasn't until much later that we got together. But we were friends in Bucca and I was/am honored that she was one of my promoting Technical Sergeants for my promotion to Staff Sergeant. Two of my closest friends I met in Bucca, one of them I see every time I visit my family. She lives kind of close to them so we always have a lunch or dinner and chat. The other one, she helped me when I got out of the Air Force. She flew up to Arkansas, just to turn around and drive with me down to Phoenix. She helped set me up with a job and let me crash at her place until I found my own apartment. I also had the honor of being in her wedding last year. These are the memories that I remember when the monster's begin to get loose in my head. Bucca had a lot of terrible parts but hidden in those areas are gems- the people I met and the stuff we did accomplish. And we did accomplish things! Everyone on our rotation made it back home, some a little more damaged than others, but we made it.
* This is one of the more G-rated videos of Bucca.
I left for training at the end of 2006, a little over 450 of us all did 3 1/2 weeks of detainee operation training before getting to Bucca. The course is supposed to be 6 weeks long but we didn't have that much time so it was shortened. Once we arrived in Kuwait we were given our compound assignments, each compound had a different type of inmate or a different religious variation of Islam. One compound held the elderly, sick, and children. That's right, children from the age of 10-16 were grouped together. They couldn't be placed with the adults because of safety issues, but they were far from innocent. Anyways, our squadron posted multiple lists of all the compound assignments and on each one I couldn't find my name. After looking for about 30 minutes, my squad leader told me to go see the Master Sergeant in charge of the rosters. When I spoke to him, he told me I had been assigned to the Quick Response Force (QRF). I was so excited! QRF was responsible for conducting searches, extractions, intakes, releases, and my absolute favorite, riot response. In short they were the badasses of the prison.
On my first day in the Theater Internment Facility (TIF), fancy word for prison, one of the compounds had a riot. Us new guys, just grabbed some gear and jumped on the back of the nearest truck. I remember being nervous and excited. One of the older guys, who was leaving soon, asked me if I was excited. I said, yes, and I'll never forget the look he gave me, just devoid of any emotion and he said, "Don't worry, you'll get over it." During that first riot I got a nice little taste of what was to be my life for the next few months, I got hit with everything the male body can produce (yes, everything!), I got gassed because someone grabbed the wrong grenade and threw a mace one near my position, and I almost got set on fire. My group had gone into one of the small compounds and while trying to round up the last of the rioters, another one set fire to the tent we were in. For the next few months, riots happened almost daily, some huge, others a little smaller. Every so often we would have multiple compounds riot at once, and occasionally the entire prison would riot. The older guy was right, I did get over it after a while, it got to where they no longer excited me or made me nervous.
We had a saying at Bucca, "Don't let the monsters out." It's a simple enough saying, don't let the bad guys get away, right? Wrong. It was a reminder to us. "Don't let the monsters out" meant don't let your demons out, don't become someone you can't recognize. Sadly, I failed. I decided that showing any emotion other than anger was weakness. The inmates will use your weakness to kill you. So I shut down my emotions. At one point, right after our deployment was extended a second time (it was extended 3 times), I just told myself, "Heather, you're never going to leave here. Just accept that the rest of your life will be spent here." It was easier to deal with the constant craziness and cruelty by just not caring. But it set me up for failure when I returned home. I was completely emotionally cut off, I didn't know how to connect with people. I had always drank a lot, but it was after Bucca where I began to drink not for fun but to try and help me feel.
Remember when I said Pakistan had a lot of firsts for me? Well Bucca did too! It was the first place, where I smoked a hookah and made friends with refugees (they worked in stores around the base). I was also the first place where I got to hunt for escaped inmates in our living quarters, watch inmates kill somebody for fun, and shoot someone in the face with a riot gun. The inmates were an interesting group, they hated us; I understood that. But what I couldn't fathom was how much they hated each other at times. I've heard and seen them kill each other for being a different denomination of Islam, or for being too nice to the guards, and my personal favorite, using what the Americans gave them. I saw a guy get his ass whooped because he used toilet paper. Yup, toilet paper! By that point I didn't even care, I figured as long as he was beating the other guy, he wasn't bothering me. No emotions, no empathy to another's pain; at the time it was just easier that way. Inmates beating each other inside the compounds were normal, and we had no good way to stop them; not enough people, gear, or supplies meant we stayed outside the fence and just simply kept them inside; whatever they did in the fence was their business.
May 6, 2007-This day will always be engraved on my heart. It was the first of what I never wanted, the first time a friend was killed in action. He wasn't at my base, he was a childhood friend. I found out via a message from my mom on Facebook, it's not like she could call me. After finding this out, I had to go to work and inprocess about 150 more inmates from Bagdad. I was able to take a few minutes; a good friend of mine stayed with me until I had to go to work. That day during the inprocessing, I was so angry- all I could think of was the person who placed that roadside bomb might be in my inprocessing group. I won't go too into it, let's just say I was relieved for the day.
May 14, 2007- I got my next awful first. I was notified that a Security Forces member from my base had been killed up north. Our leadership was telling us to call our families and let them know we were ok, since the news in Little Rock would be reporting a person's death but no name. Furthermore, we weren't allowed to tell our families who had died just that we were ok. As one of the NCO's from Little Rock, I also was tasked with telling my Airmen who it was that had been killed. It was my first time telling a man that one of his bests friends was dead.
June 9, 2007- It was the first time a mortar almost killed us! The day actually started off kind of funny, I slept through the first few mortars. My roommate woke me up by saying, "Heather, get off your bed and get on the floor." I was so confused I thought I was still asleep, then BLAM! My whole pod shook and suddenly I was on the floor! We responded to the prison, there weren't enough trucks for some reason, so we had to walk. The heat was incredible! 135+ degrees and add a helmet and vest. When we got to the prison we could see why there weren't any extra vehicles. They were being used to cart injured and dead inmates to the hospital. That day was the first time I saw a human brain and part of a skull, they were hanging from some of the fence. Thankfully, no Americans were injured or killed. Although on CNN (I can't stand them!) they were reporting several Americans were dead and dozens injured; my poor grandmother caught the news and freaked out.
I figure here should be a good stopping point. There is plenty more I could write about but I fear that in doing so I might open the monster's cage. I have successfully wrestled many of them back into their cages, but at times they still get restless. After almost a decade I have begun to allow my emotions to show a little. It's amazing to me that a decision made long ago will affect me so much today. I thought as soon as I was home I would just "relax" my emotions and everything would be fine. It's a sick lie. To this day I can't really cry. Oh I can tear up at a funeral or when I hear bad news but it literally almost takes a physical effort for me to shed tears. All because I thought I could kill my emotions 10 years ago.
Thursday, November 17, 2016
A Tale of Two Deployments (Pakistan)
This time of year is always a special one for me. I love the holidays. Not the craziness of it, but the simplicity of just being around family and friends. But during this season I get an overwhelming nostalgia for my deployments. I began training for Camp Bucca in December and my deployment to Shabaz Air Base where I spent both Thanksgiving and Christmas really helped me develop my love for the simplicity of the holidays. So without further ado, I give you stories from the sandbox! Tonight I'll write mostly about Pakistan and (hopefully) tomorrow, I'll write about Bucca. I thought about doing one post about them but I figured I should do one each to make sure the posts aren't too long.
We weren't originally supposed to go to Pakistan, our first set of orders was for Tikrit, Iraq. I was finally going to be able to go to Iraq- watch out, terrorists, Heather has arrived! A week or so before we left, our orders changed and simply said Operation Enduring Freedom. It wasn't until we were almost leaving that we found out it was Pakistan. What the hell were we going to be doing there?! Of course we found out later Osama Bin Laden was there, well at least when he was caught. I find that hilarious because we used to joke that he was hiding in some of the mountains around our base! Now I wonder if maybe he was! So we finished up the last of our jungle (yes that's right, jungle!) deployment training and headed to a weird definitely non-jungle desert. Our base (which is gone now) had maybe 300+ people on it at any given time. Some SOF (Special Operations guys) would fly in and out randomly nobody asked them where they went to, the base was commanded by a Colonel in the National Guard. Our base was less than two miles long and wide, it was tiny!
I was still a teenager, 19, I actually turned 20 on the deployment. My tent mates were cool and bought my a near-beer (a nonalcoholic beer) because technically in Okinawa where we were from I could legally drink at 20. It wasn't refrigerated and tasted like hot carbonated cat piss but it was the thought that counted. I remember we would take turns sneaking into the chapel and stealing (I know stealing from a church!) this chocolate and peanut butter ice cream from the chaplain. We would sneak it back to our tent and take turns eating it! That's right I said tent, we lived in tents the whole time we were there. Nothing was built living wise because the base was only supposed to be a temporary one. At night we would have to walk carefully because we had jackals, wild and mostly rabid dogs, all over the base. I remember laying in bed and hearing a few of them sniff and scratch at the side of the tent. Later on a few good old boys took care of the issue, with some shotguns and a couple rounds of night hunting. Speaking of which, once our Pakistani counterparts took to hunting the suckers with a .50 cal (big gun!) mounted on the back of a rusty Nissan truck. They literally drove around base blasting away at the damn creatures, and it scared the snot out of us! They just Bam! Bam! Bam! around whatever, tents, the chow hall, airplanes, whatever and wherever! We had no advance notice of this and almost shot them!
Pakistan is where I learned to love the night and country music! I had the good fortune to work from 1800-0600 shifts, with some days off occasionally. Don't be surprised, 12 hour shifts were normal rotations deployed and at home base for years. Prior to this deployment, I couldn't stand country music, it was just warbly crooning, too redneck for me! But there is something magical about sitting huddled in a cold, wet shack on post in the middle of a violent storm and listening to The Thunder Rolls, or hearing Traveling Soldier while watching a night sky alive with a full moon, and the absolute best, hearing those damn jackals yelping to The Devil Went Down To Georgia!
The guys I worked with were awesome. We would have these fun and sometimes serious conversations while working for so long each shift. We had this particular post that inside the shack had a portable gas heater, well me and my buddy had no idea how to use it! But it would get down to freezing at night and so we just decided to "figure" out how to work it. Turns out that letting the gas stay on high for two minutes and then lighting a matchstick will light it; however it will also shoot flames up to the roof of the shack, catch it on fire, almost set your hair ablaze and singe your eyebrows! Oh plus the smoke with burn the shit out of your throat and for days you will sound like you ate lit Lucky Strikes. Plus your whole shift will laugh at you and tell you to do it again cause your eyebrows are still too thick!
It was deployment of many firsts. It was the first time I was ever mortared. The first time, I was "accidentally" shot at. The big city near us had many tribes who would attack each other at night, some nights our observation posts would fall in between the two warring factions, so technically they weren't attacking us and as such we weren't allowed to shoot back. Usually we could hear it getting closer so we just would hunker down in an area until it was done. We used to name one side Red team and the other Blue team and guess who was going to win. We thought it was funny until one night we heard what sounded like a man scream and die. After that Red/Blue team was done for a bit. It was also the first and last time I took malaria medication. That crap was so bad, I think I would almost rather risk malaria. We were not allowed to take it before work, it had to be taken right before bed every Monday. Side effects included hallucinations, intense dreams, and suicidal/homicidal ideation; of course, this must be ideal to give to young adults with weapons and ammunition! I had a friend who thought he saw a black panther near our Humvee. I once talked to a Staff Sergeant who was coming up to our post, until my partner told me that nobody was there. But the absolute worst one, I had a dream that I watched my brothers get burned alive in lava, it was so real I could smell the burning flesh. One of my bunk-mates woke me up as I was sobbing in my sleep, I didn't even try to sleep for two days.
One last nice story before I end it for the night. On my way back home for leave after our deployment ended, I saw this guy waiting for his flight and he looked really familiar. I couldn't seem to place him but I didn't want to be weird so I tried not to stare at him. I noticed he kept looking at my backpack though, which was a simple thing just black with our base name and a scorpion. Finally after about 20 minutes of awkward looks on both sides, he walks over and asks me where I had been deployed to. I told him, and as I did I realized how I knew him, he was one of my Vice Commanders in Pakistan! Right around that same second, he recognized me too. So we started talking a bit about different changes at the base (he had a 4 month rotation, ours was about double that), and where we were both traveling to. Turns out he was going to St. Louis that day as well. We shook hands and went on our way, after we landed in St. Louis, he made it a point to find me at the luggage claim, tell me good luck, and even meet my parents briefly. I can't remember his name now, but that incident has always impressed me. Hope wherever he is, he and his family are doing well.
Well! This was a little longer than I intended but it felt good to get the memories out and on paper. I will always think of my Pakistan deployment as fun with a little bit of growing up added in there. I couldn't have asked for a better team, supervisor, and flight chief to deploy with. As the lowest ranking member on the squad, they allowed me to make some mistakes, fall a little, and get up on my own two feet. I was allowed to mess up and shown how to fix it when I did. Alright you guys, I could go on but I won't! Til tomorrow!
We weren't originally supposed to go to Pakistan, our first set of orders was for Tikrit, Iraq. I was finally going to be able to go to Iraq- watch out, terrorists, Heather has arrived! A week or so before we left, our orders changed and simply said Operation Enduring Freedom. It wasn't until we were almost leaving that we found out it was Pakistan. What the hell were we going to be doing there?! Of course we found out later Osama Bin Laden was there, well at least when he was caught. I find that hilarious because we used to joke that he was hiding in some of the mountains around our base! Now I wonder if maybe he was! So we finished up the last of our jungle (yes that's right, jungle!) deployment training and headed to a weird definitely non-jungle desert. Our base (which is gone now) had maybe 300+ people on it at any given time. Some SOF (Special Operations guys) would fly in and out randomly nobody asked them where they went to, the base was commanded by a Colonel in the National Guard. Our base was less than two miles long and wide, it was tiny!
I was still a teenager, 19, I actually turned 20 on the deployment. My tent mates were cool and bought my a near-beer (a nonalcoholic beer) because technically in Okinawa where we were from I could legally drink at 20. It wasn't refrigerated and tasted like hot carbonated cat piss but it was the thought that counted. I remember we would take turns sneaking into the chapel and stealing (I know stealing from a church!) this chocolate and peanut butter ice cream from the chaplain. We would sneak it back to our tent and take turns eating it! That's right I said tent, we lived in tents the whole time we were there. Nothing was built living wise because the base was only supposed to be a temporary one. At night we would have to walk carefully because we had jackals, wild and mostly rabid dogs, all over the base. I remember laying in bed and hearing a few of them sniff and scratch at the side of the tent. Later on a few good old boys took care of the issue, with some shotguns and a couple rounds of night hunting. Speaking of which, once our Pakistani counterparts took to hunting the suckers with a .50 cal (big gun!) mounted on the back of a rusty Nissan truck. They literally drove around base blasting away at the damn creatures, and it scared the snot out of us! They just Bam! Bam! Bam! around whatever, tents, the chow hall, airplanes, whatever and wherever! We had no advance notice of this and almost shot them!
Pakistan is where I learned to love the night and country music! I had the good fortune to work from 1800-0600 shifts, with some days off occasionally. Don't be surprised, 12 hour shifts were normal rotations deployed and at home base for years. Prior to this deployment, I couldn't stand country music, it was just warbly crooning, too redneck for me! But there is something magical about sitting huddled in a cold, wet shack on post in the middle of a violent storm and listening to The Thunder Rolls, or hearing Traveling Soldier while watching a night sky alive with a full moon, and the absolute best, hearing those damn jackals yelping to The Devil Went Down To Georgia!
The guys I worked with were awesome. We would have these fun and sometimes serious conversations while working for so long each shift. We had this particular post that inside the shack had a portable gas heater, well me and my buddy had no idea how to use it! But it would get down to freezing at night and so we just decided to "figure" out how to work it. Turns out that letting the gas stay on high for two minutes and then lighting a matchstick will light it; however it will also shoot flames up to the roof of the shack, catch it on fire, almost set your hair ablaze and singe your eyebrows! Oh plus the smoke with burn the shit out of your throat and for days you will sound like you ate lit Lucky Strikes. Plus your whole shift will laugh at you and tell you to do it again cause your eyebrows are still too thick!
It was deployment of many firsts. It was the first time I was ever mortared. The first time, I was "accidentally" shot at. The big city near us had many tribes who would attack each other at night, some nights our observation posts would fall in between the two warring factions, so technically they weren't attacking us and as such we weren't allowed to shoot back. Usually we could hear it getting closer so we just would hunker down in an area until it was done. We used to name one side Red team and the other Blue team and guess who was going to win. We thought it was funny until one night we heard what sounded like a man scream and die. After that Red/Blue team was done for a bit. It was also the first and last time I took malaria medication. That crap was so bad, I think I would almost rather risk malaria. We were not allowed to take it before work, it had to be taken right before bed every Monday. Side effects included hallucinations, intense dreams, and suicidal/homicidal ideation; of course, this must be ideal to give to young adults with weapons and ammunition! I had a friend who thought he saw a black panther near our Humvee. I once talked to a Staff Sergeant who was coming up to our post, until my partner told me that nobody was there. But the absolute worst one, I had a dream that I watched my brothers get burned alive in lava, it was so real I could smell the burning flesh. One of my bunk-mates woke me up as I was sobbing in my sleep, I didn't even try to sleep for two days.
One last nice story before I end it for the night. On my way back home for leave after our deployment ended, I saw this guy waiting for his flight and he looked really familiar. I couldn't seem to place him but I didn't want to be weird so I tried not to stare at him. I noticed he kept looking at my backpack though, which was a simple thing just black with our base name and a scorpion. Finally after about 20 minutes of awkward looks on both sides, he walks over and asks me where I had been deployed to. I told him, and as I did I realized how I knew him, he was one of my Vice Commanders in Pakistan! Right around that same second, he recognized me too. So we started talking a bit about different changes at the base (he had a 4 month rotation, ours was about double that), and where we were both traveling to. Turns out he was going to St. Louis that day as well. We shook hands and went on our way, after we landed in St. Louis, he made it a point to find me at the luggage claim, tell me good luck, and even meet my parents briefly. I can't remember his name now, but that incident has always impressed me. Hope wherever he is, he and his family are doing well.
Well! This was a little longer than I intended but it felt good to get the memories out and on paper. I will always think of my Pakistan deployment as fun with a little bit of growing up added in there. I couldn't have asked for a better team, supervisor, and flight chief to deploy with. As the lowest ranking member on the squad, they allowed me to make some mistakes, fall a little, and get up on my own two feet. I was allowed to mess up and shown how to fix it when I did. Alright you guys, I could go on but I won't! Til tomorrow!
Wednesday, November 16, 2016
Brain twists!
Today I'm going to expound a little more on what begins to occur with me when I start to have an episode. Now again, this is what I feel and do, not necessarily how others are, everyone is different especially when it comes to mental health. But I thought I might explain a little more since yesterday I wrote about medication compliance. Today I thought maybe I would write about brain twists and how (so far) my head reacts to new issues.
My first issue is almost always weird compulsions. When my mood goes off I start feeling the need to spend money. Suddenly I need a whole new wardrobe or oddly a bunch of coffee. Now the coffee is totally explainable, I love it. I have had a beautiful love affair with coffee since I was around 8 years old. I almost always have 4 to 5 different coffees and creamers available at my house. When I start getting manic, I'll buy more, a lot more, like 10+ different flavors. It's a bit much, but also a good indicator to my girlfriend that I'm not doing alright anymore. I will begin to feel panicky about food. I have never run out of food in my life, never been starving, but when the crazy begins, I suddenly need as much food in the house as I can get. Now this wouldn't be a bad thing, but even after buying it I will want to eat out, that way as my brain tells me, we can save the food at home for later. Wacky I know.
Other people will begin to feel so slow to me! Driving, talking, walking, whatever they do it's too slow! My poor girlfriend, friends, and co-workers bear the brunt of this, I get really snappish because I don't understand why they can't keep up. I don't understand why people can't talk about 4 to 5 topics at once! Why can't everyone understand I've changed conversation topics? Keep up! I'm also a little too blunt when I do talk, whatever is in my head just pops out, it even surprises me at times. I get very critical and a "well that's real life, suck it up" attitude. Sad story, I told a young girl that the Easter Bunny and Santa didn't exist. Like I went out of my way to explain how rabbits don't lay eggs and how it's physically impossible for Santa to make it everywhere in one night. Yeah. It was real jackass move and later I felt so bad, but at the time I told my friends, "Well she was going to find out sometime, better now than later." Total bitch right there. Again, I don't understand why everyone doesn't think the same way too. Driving, I may sometimes start screaming at other drivers or worse, I've run red lights. In other words, the longer my crazy goes, the more of a bitch I become. Part of the explanation is that I'm irritated by my own head and how fast it's spinning.
The worst part starts right before stuff really gets out of hand, I begin to get the urge to start drinking. Not so much of an issue except almost all of my medications interact with alcohol, and, whoops, I'm a recovering alcoholic. Now I don't know how many of you readers have an addiction problem, but when those urges hit it can become almost physically painful. I will dream about it, smell it, and worst, I can taste it. I will find myself desperately doing the stuff my AA program told me to do, don't go into aisles with alcohol, avoid places that sell it, and for God sakes no bars! If by this point I still can't tell the crazy is about to come out, this is it, this is when I know for certain. It's normally at this point I know it's time to call the doctor. Sometimes this will actually sneak up on me with no other warnings. Once I went to a gas station to grab a few things. At the register, the cashier asked me if I wanted a certain 6 pack that was on sale. I automatically bought it! It wasn't a certain brand I liked or even knew, but I paid for it before my brain even caught up to what I did! I still have no rational explanation for what happened, I just got rid of it at home. Weird.
These are just a few of the problems that are good indicators for me to check when evaluating my mood. Sometimes it's easy and I can totally see it. Other times, I rely on trusted friends to help me out (and they do, so much more than they know). I may not notice my attitude getting crappy or maybe I will just blame it on work (that happens to everyone), but they can tell when it's a bad day or maybe time to tweak the meds. And that happens, every so often I need a tune up, or a good checkup with my therapist. I've been told that sometimes I may need a short hospital stay although so far with the exception of once a couple years ago, that hasn't happened again. But it could, it's always a possibility. But I choose not worry about it, I have enough to think about every day as it is!
I'm not whining or crying about this stuff, I realize everyone has some type of demon to face. If you don't, then apparently you haven't been living! This is just to promote a little more awareness into Heather's weird brain, not to excuse any asshole actions or words I may have done or said. I'm truly sorry for those and I hope that I can make up for it. Maybe you might find some similarities as well, and you might realize crazy heads and "normal" heads aren't so different after all!
My first issue is almost always weird compulsions. When my mood goes off I start feeling the need to spend money. Suddenly I need a whole new wardrobe or oddly a bunch of coffee. Now the coffee is totally explainable, I love it. I have had a beautiful love affair with coffee since I was around 8 years old. I almost always have 4 to 5 different coffees and creamers available at my house. When I start getting manic, I'll buy more, a lot more, like 10+ different flavors. It's a bit much, but also a good indicator to my girlfriend that I'm not doing alright anymore. I will begin to feel panicky about food. I have never run out of food in my life, never been starving, but when the crazy begins, I suddenly need as much food in the house as I can get. Now this wouldn't be a bad thing, but even after buying it I will want to eat out, that way as my brain tells me, we can save the food at home for later. Wacky I know.
Other people will begin to feel so slow to me! Driving, talking, walking, whatever they do it's too slow! My poor girlfriend, friends, and co-workers bear the brunt of this, I get really snappish because I don't understand why they can't keep up. I don't understand why people can't talk about 4 to 5 topics at once! Why can't everyone understand I've changed conversation topics? Keep up! I'm also a little too blunt when I do talk, whatever is in my head just pops out, it even surprises me at times. I get very critical and a "well that's real life, suck it up" attitude. Sad story, I told a young girl that the Easter Bunny and Santa didn't exist. Like I went out of my way to explain how rabbits don't lay eggs and how it's physically impossible for Santa to make it everywhere in one night. Yeah. It was real jackass move and later I felt so bad, but at the time I told my friends, "Well she was going to find out sometime, better now than later." Total bitch right there. Again, I don't understand why everyone doesn't think the same way too. Driving, I may sometimes start screaming at other drivers or worse, I've run red lights. In other words, the longer my crazy goes, the more of a bitch I become. Part of the explanation is that I'm irritated by my own head and how fast it's spinning.
The worst part starts right before stuff really gets out of hand, I begin to get the urge to start drinking. Not so much of an issue except almost all of my medications interact with alcohol, and, whoops, I'm a recovering alcoholic. Now I don't know how many of you readers have an addiction problem, but when those urges hit it can become almost physically painful. I will dream about it, smell it, and worst, I can taste it. I will find myself desperately doing the stuff my AA program told me to do, don't go into aisles with alcohol, avoid places that sell it, and for God sakes no bars! If by this point I still can't tell the crazy is about to come out, this is it, this is when I know for certain. It's normally at this point I know it's time to call the doctor. Sometimes this will actually sneak up on me with no other warnings. Once I went to a gas station to grab a few things. At the register, the cashier asked me if I wanted a certain 6 pack that was on sale. I automatically bought it! It wasn't a certain brand I liked or even knew, but I paid for it before my brain even caught up to what I did! I still have no rational explanation for what happened, I just got rid of it at home. Weird.
These are just a few of the problems that are good indicators for me to check when evaluating my mood. Sometimes it's easy and I can totally see it. Other times, I rely on trusted friends to help me out (and they do, so much more than they know). I may not notice my attitude getting crappy or maybe I will just blame it on work (that happens to everyone), but they can tell when it's a bad day or maybe time to tweak the meds. And that happens, every so often I need a tune up, or a good checkup with my therapist. I've been told that sometimes I may need a short hospital stay although so far with the exception of once a couple years ago, that hasn't happened again. But it could, it's always a possibility. But I choose not worry about it, I have enough to think about every day as it is!
I'm not whining or crying about this stuff, I realize everyone has some type of demon to face. If you don't, then apparently you haven't been living! This is just to promote a little more awareness into Heather's weird brain, not to excuse any asshole actions or words I may have done or said. I'm truly sorry for those and I hope that I can make up for it. Maybe you might find some similarities as well, and you might realize crazy heads and "normal" heads aren't so different after all!
Tuesday, November 15, 2016
Compliance
Woo, I finally got some good sleep! After about 2 weeks of weird, interrupted sleep, I finally crashed after work yesterday and slept a good 8 hours. Now why is this such a good thing? I'm sure all of us have had crappy sleep nights. But for the bipolar brain, bad sleep equals usually the beginning of mania or depression. It's important to understand and know these signs because if I don't then I can easily cause havoc in my daily life.
The first thing that normally goes once the brain is off kilter is medication compliance. Now I know that this seems like a no brainer, take your meds, stay on schedule. Duh. But here is an idea for you. When you have a headache or pain somewhere you take an aspirin, Tylenol, Motrin, whatever to help alleviate the pain. But once the pain goes away do you still take it? Of course not! Why would a person take a medication if they aren't feeling any symptoms? Well if you have a mental illness you're expected to still take medication even when you feel better. I find it difficult to take my medications once I'm feeling better because, well, I feel better! My head starts whispering, "hey, it's all good now, you don't need any pills. You aren't sick anymore." Now as an adult, I know that I need my medications consistently but it's easy to listen and think that that's the truth. Add lack of sleep to the mix and it's just that much easier to forget them.
So all that to say I forgot my meds for about two days, I think, to be honest I'm not really sure of the days. Well the first day or so, it felt great! I woke up and didn't feel all hazy and out of it, everything was clear. I didn't have the shakes and my balance was good. I was able to talk normal and carry on (what I thought was) a regular conversation. I was able to get housework and chores done with minimal tired spells. It was awesome! Suddenly I realized I didn't really "need" as much sleep to feel refreshed. My brain wasn't spinning or tired, it just hummed along quite nicely. *Now a quick disclaimer, some people with bipolar can spend days, weeks, even months feeling this way before they or others notice something is wrong. I am not one of those people, once my meds wear off, it's a quick fast track to mania or depression.*
Day two, I woke up extra early (for absolutely no reason) and I still felt good. Who needs a lot of sleep anyways?! By early afternoon, I knew something was weird. I was jittery, yet couldn't make up my mind on anything. I was tired but couldn't sleep. Weird stuff began to irritate me, like how papers were stacked on the desktop or the feeling of the furniture texture. I started feeling so anxious but I didn't know why. This odd buzzing noise started in my head, like the hum of a conversation but I couldn't quite hear the words. We were trying to decide on what to eat for dinner and I had to tell my girlfriend to decide because I couldn't handle making a decision. I was really worried about what was going on because I honestly couldn't think of anything I was doing different to set off an episode. I still hadn't realized I missed a day or two of medication. A few times my girlfriend would shush me because apparently I was almost shouting when we were talking. Finally while at work last night, I realized, whoops I forgot my meds! Maybe that's why I was so odd lately!
Luckily, I realized what I had messed up before it got too bad. This time, there was no crazy money spending, no weird obsessive compulsions (I get oddly completely obsessed by different coffee and creamer flavors all the time, but as I get manic it gets really out of hand), minimal paranoia, and only a slight overwhelming anxiety. I made it through another sneak attack of the brain. Sometimes it occurs when I miss a medication; other times the brain just switches gears and leaves me defenseless to a new attack. But this time I made it through with minimal damage; I caught it before I really messed up. So instead of being angry at myself, I'm actually kind of proud. I screwed up, but I didn't go all in this time. Next time, who knows? I know there will be a next time but I'll worry about it when it happens not before it does. Today I'm just happy to have caught it and I'll be moving forward not backward from here.
The first thing that normally goes once the brain is off kilter is medication compliance. Now I know that this seems like a no brainer, take your meds, stay on schedule. Duh. But here is an idea for you. When you have a headache or pain somewhere you take an aspirin, Tylenol, Motrin, whatever to help alleviate the pain. But once the pain goes away do you still take it? Of course not! Why would a person take a medication if they aren't feeling any symptoms? Well if you have a mental illness you're expected to still take medication even when you feel better. I find it difficult to take my medications once I'm feeling better because, well, I feel better! My head starts whispering, "hey, it's all good now, you don't need any pills. You aren't sick anymore." Now as an adult, I know that I need my medications consistently but it's easy to listen and think that that's the truth. Add lack of sleep to the mix and it's just that much easier to forget them.
So all that to say I forgot my meds for about two days, I think, to be honest I'm not really sure of the days. Well the first day or so, it felt great! I woke up and didn't feel all hazy and out of it, everything was clear. I didn't have the shakes and my balance was good. I was able to talk normal and carry on (what I thought was) a regular conversation. I was able to get housework and chores done with minimal tired spells. It was awesome! Suddenly I realized I didn't really "need" as much sleep to feel refreshed. My brain wasn't spinning or tired, it just hummed along quite nicely. *Now a quick disclaimer, some people with bipolar can spend days, weeks, even months feeling this way before they or others notice something is wrong. I am not one of those people, once my meds wear off, it's a quick fast track to mania or depression.*
Day two, I woke up extra early (for absolutely no reason) and I still felt good. Who needs a lot of sleep anyways?! By early afternoon, I knew something was weird. I was jittery, yet couldn't make up my mind on anything. I was tired but couldn't sleep. Weird stuff began to irritate me, like how papers were stacked on the desktop or the feeling of the furniture texture. I started feeling so anxious but I didn't know why. This odd buzzing noise started in my head, like the hum of a conversation but I couldn't quite hear the words. We were trying to decide on what to eat for dinner and I had to tell my girlfriend to decide because I couldn't handle making a decision. I was really worried about what was going on because I honestly couldn't think of anything I was doing different to set off an episode. I still hadn't realized I missed a day or two of medication. A few times my girlfriend would shush me because apparently I was almost shouting when we were talking. Finally while at work last night, I realized, whoops I forgot my meds! Maybe that's why I was so odd lately!
Luckily, I realized what I had messed up before it got too bad. This time, there was no crazy money spending, no weird obsessive compulsions (I get oddly completely obsessed by different coffee and creamer flavors all the time, but as I get manic it gets really out of hand), minimal paranoia, and only a slight overwhelming anxiety. I made it through another sneak attack of the brain. Sometimes it occurs when I miss a medication; other times the brain just switches gears and leaves me defenseless to a new attack. But this time I made it through with minimal damage; I caught it before I really messed up. So instead of being angry at myself, I'm actually kind of proud. I screwed up, but I didn't go all in this time. Next time, who knows? I know there will be a next time but I'll worry about it when it happens not before it does. Today I'm just happy to have caught it and I'll be moving forward not backward from here.
Friday, November 11, 2016
Storytime!
So since today is officially Veteran's Day, I wanted to share some stories from my time in the service. Just a little info for you, I was in the Air Force from 2002 to 2009 (wow, that seems like a long time ago!). My AFSC or job specialty was Security Forces, fancy way for saying police officer. The job encompassed more than just police work though, from checking ID's at the gate to standing in front of planes. My first duty station was Kadena Air Force Base located in Okinawa, Japan. That's right, I lived in a tropical island very similar to Hawaii. While I was stationed there, I was deployed to Shabaz Air Base, in Jacobabad, Pakistan for 8 months. After my tour in Japan was done, I was assigned to Minot Air Force Base, North Dakota. Yep, from lush tropics to frozen prairie lands! After a little less than two years, I ended up in Little Rock Air Base in Arkansas. While I was there I again deployed, this time to lovely (horrid) Camp Bucca, Iraq for almost 10 months. After my deployment I went back to Arkansas and that is where I ended up separating. So all that information get confusing yet? I hope not, I just wanted to give you some info so these little tidbits of military life make some sense.
When I arrived at Kadena I was 18 and had never really been far from home. Suddenly I was about 14,000 miles away and dropped into a culture I knew absolutely nothing about. I arrived in October, so all the holidays were just coming up. On Thanksgiving, I worked and as a "special" treat I was stationed at the gate leading into family housing. Well that gate is never busy, so I had plenty of time to get homesick and think about past holidays. Right as I was really feeling bad, people started showing up from houses around the gate, they brought turkey, stuffing, potatoes, whole pies, cookies, enchiladas, tamales, cake etc.! Apparently they did this every year and so as an unspoken rule, our flight leadership would make sure the newest troops were put out there. It was so nice, even though it wasn't home, it was amazing to not be forgotten.
My deployment to J-bad (short for Jacobabad), was probably the most fun I had in the AF. From sleeping in tents to accidently leaving the base and driving through downtown Pakistan, the craziness never ended. This is the only place where we threw water and Tinactin (foot powder) on an NCO, TP'd another NCO's room (I got caught), and fake wrestled so realistically that my buddy and I scared our tent MSgt! I was chased around a guard shack once for about 10 minutes by a rabid jackal, it finally left me alone when a Humvee patrol responded to my yells over the radio, poor guys, they thought my post was under attack! Man, did they laugh at me when I breathlessly explained what had happened! I lived through my first mortar attacks there, even getting stuck in a port-a-potty during one incident.
When I was deployed to Camp Bucca, I got incredibly sick there. Whenever people arrive at a deployed location they almost always get what's known as the Newcomers Crud. It's a combination of exposure to dust, other people, and the burn pits. Well, my Newcomers Crud was coupled with bronchitis that I already had. So Heather was a sick puppy. One night I was walking with a buddy and I suddenly just keeled over unconscious. The only hospital that was open was the one in the prison...Imagine regaining consciousness and looking at inmates all around you! Not fun, but funny now. Right before we left, I mean like we are literally standing in line and waiting for the helicopter to land, my same friend, turns around and starts screaming "Freedom!" like in Braveheart...Within seconds, the helicopter turns around, flies off, and we are told they can't take anybody else for the time being. We ended up staying for almost 10 more days. I was so angry at my buddy!! I don't think I talked to her for the rest of the night and most of the next day. But it's ok, we're good friends now, in fact she is the one who helped me drive down to Phoenix when I moved here.
Well like I said I just wanted to give a few nice and some humorous stories about my time in the military. Hope you liked them. Just wanted to remind the public that not everything in the military is serious and grim. Enjoy your holiday weekend!
When I arrived at Kadena I was 18 and had never really been far from home. Suddenly I was about 14,000 miles away and dropped into a culture I knew absolutely nothing about. I arrived in October, so all the holidays were just coming up. On Thanksgiving, I worked and as a "special" treat I was stationed at the gate leading into family housing. Well that gate is never busy, so I had plenty of time to get homesick and think about past holidays. Right as I was really feeling bad, people started showing up from houses around the gate, they brought turkey, stuffing, potatoes, whole pies, cookies, enchiladas, tamales, cake etc.! Apparently they did this every year and so as an unspoken rule, our flight leadership would make sure the newest troops were put out there. It was so nice, even though it wasn't home, it was amazing to not be forgotten.
My deployment to J-bad (short for Jacobabad), was probably the most fun I had in the AF. From sleeping in tents to accidently leaving the base and driving through downtown Pakistan, the craziness never ended. This is the only place where we threw water and Tinactin (foot powder) on an NCO, TP'd another NCO's room (I got caught), and fake wrestled so realistically that my buddy and I scared our tent MSgt! I was chased around a guard shack once for about 10 minutes by a rabid jackal, it finally left me alone when a Humvee patrol responded to my yells over the radio, poor guys, they thought my post was under attack! Man, did they laugh at me when I breathlessly explained what had happened! I lived through my first mortar attacks there, even getting stuck in a port-a-potty during one incident.
When I was deployed to Camp Bucca, I got incredibly sick there. Whenever people arrive at a deployed location they almost always get what's known as the Newcomers Crud. It's a combination of exposure to dust, other people, and the burn pits. Well, my Newcomers Crud was coupled with bronchitis that I already had. So Heather was a sick puppy. One night I was walking with a buddy and I suddenly just keeled over unconscious. The only hospital that was open was the one in the prison...Imagine regaining consciousness and looking at inmates all around you! Not fun, but funny now. Right before we left, I mean like we are literally standing in line and waiting for the helicopter to land, my same friend, turns around and starts screaming "Freedom!" like in Braveheart...Within seconds, the helicopter turns around, flies off, and we are told they can't take anybody else for the time being. We ended up staying for almost 10 more days. I was so angry at my buddy!! I don't think I talked to her for the rest of the night and most of the next day. But it's ok, we're good friends now, in fact she is the one who helped me drive down to Phoenix when I moved here.
Well like I said I just wanted to give a few nice and some humorous stories about my time in the military. Hope you liked them. Just wanted to remind the public that not everything in the military is serious and grim. Enjoy your holiday weekend!
Thursday, November 10, 2016
Veteran's Day
Sorry I haven't posted anything in a few days; I kind of got a little caught up in some things happening in the country. That's it...That's all I'm going to say about politics. Anyways today's blog might be a little difficult to read because I'm feeling a little ramble-ish. You've been warned!
First off, it is officially November 10 so happy birthday devil-dogs!! If you have no idea what I'm talking about, then that greeting wasn't for you! Now on to my thoughts of the day...I was surprised when a lady at the VA asked me where I was going to eat at on Friday. Granted I had just rolled out of bed and barely made my appointment on time, but I couldn't for the life of me understand why a clerk would need to know where I was eating two days from now! Hell, I didn't even know what/where I was going to eat that day! I must have looked pretty clueless or she thought my meds were in overdrive because she leaned in and repeated the question again, more loudly and much slower. I could only answer, "Umm, I have no idea?" while wondering who the crazy person actually was. She sighed pointed to a flier right on the counter top and said, "For Veteran's Day. Any particular restaurant you want to eat at?" Aha! Now I understood! Veteran's Day, somehow, recently it has come to symbolize free food for veterans.
Don't get me wrong, I think it's very nice that restaurant's and business are willing give free goods and services on Veteran's Day. But is that really what the holiday is about? Veteran's Day and Memorial Day (don't get me started on the commercialism of that holiday! I will post about that later!) are two holidays that I normally cringe when they get close. One reason is people seem to mix the two up, and I keep getting "Thanks for your service" on Memorial Day. Now for clarification, Veteran's Day is the day set aside to remember veteran's of the military, living ones. Memorial Day is the day set aside to remember and honor those who have died in service to our country. I'm not trying to sound like an ass, a lot of people really don't know there is a difference. I cringe around Veteran's Day because it has somehow become this all-consuming idea of getting free drinks, coffees, food, tire changes, etc. I can't understand that, I love that people are trying to show gratitude but can't it be done another way?
While on the subject of gratitude, I never know what to say when someone says, "Thank you for your service." Saying "you're welcome," sounds dickish but saying nothing is even more weird. So I usually end up mumbling some awkward gibberish. I what I really should say is, "Thank you for allowing me to be your ambassador to other countries, and for trusting and believing in me and thousands of others to keep this country free. You are the reason we fight." But again that would make things awkward!
Well I'll finish with this, have a good rest of the week, enjoy your Veteran's Day- if you see a vet, thank them even if they get awkward and mumble gibberish back. Who knows, it could be the meds! More importantly, it was and always will be an honor to have served in the defense of this amazing nation! This Veteran's Day, I want to thank you, the American people, you made a vow to never forget your military veteran's, and you're keeping that vow every day. Your thanks is seen everyday, not just once a year.
First off, it is officially November 10 so happy birthday devil-dogs!! If you have no idea what I'm talking about, then that greeting wasn't for you! Now on to my thoughts of the day...I was surprised when a lady at the VA asked me where I was going to eat at on Friday. Granted I had just rolled out of bed and barely made my appointment on time, but I couldn't for the life of me understand why a clerk would need to know where I was eating two days from now! Hell, I didn't even know what/where I was going to eat that day! I must have looked pretty clueless or she thought my meds were in overdrive because she leaned in and repeated the question again, more loudly and much slower. I could only answer, "Umm, I have no idea?" while wondering who the crazy person actually was. She sighed pointed to a flier right on the counter top and said, "For Veteran's Day. Any particular restaurant you want to eat at?" Aha! Now I understood! Veteran's Day, somehow, recently it has come to symbolize free food for veterans.
Don't get me wrong, I think it's very nice that restaurant's and business are willing give free goods and services on Veteran's Day. But is that really what the holiday is about? Veteran's Day and Memorial Day (don't get me started on the commercialism of that holiday! I will post about that later!) are two holidays that I normally cringe when they get close. One reason is people seem to mix the two up, and I keep getting "Thanks for your service" on Memorial Day. Now for clarification, Veteran's Day is the day set aside to remember veteran's of the military, living ones. Memorial Day is the day set aside to remember and honor those who have died in service to our country. I'm not trying to sound like an ass, a lot of people really don't know there is a difference. I cringe around Veteran's Day because it has somehow become this all-consuming idea of getting free drinks, coffees, food, tire changes, etc. I can't understand that, I love that people are trying to show gratitude but can't it be done another way?
While on the subject of gratitude, I never know what to say when someone says, "Thank you for your service." Saying "you're welcome," sounds dickish but saying nothing is even more weird. So I usually end up mumbling some awkward gibberish. I what I really should say is, "Thank you for allowing me to be your ambassador to other countries, and for trusting and believing in me and thousands of others to keep this country free. You are the reason we fight." But again that would make things awkward!
Well I'll finish with this, have a good rest of the week, enjoy your Veteran's Day- if you see a vet, thank them even if they get awkward and mumble gibberish back. Who knows, it could be the meds! More importantly, it was and always will be an honor to have served in the defense of this amazing nation! This Veteran's Day, I want to thank you, the American people, you made a vow to never forget your military veteran's, and you're keeping that vow every day. Your thanks is seen everyday, not just once a year.
Sunday, November 6, 2016
Loss
The last couple of days have been difficult ones. I found that a good family friend had passed on. While my heart breaks, I also know that she is no longer in the pain she was in. For that I am grateful. I had a dream years ago that helped change my idea of when people pass. I am going to share it, however there are a couple disclaimers. I will not be stating the name of the person I shared it with or the person who it was about. It is not my place to give the details of another person's life and death, I just found the dream to be so vivid that it completely gave me a new outlook. Also I might clean up the email a little, I was younger and my typing wasn't as good nor was my spelling. That's really all I'll change. Here goes:
I would like to share dream I had last night with you. It was so vivid and real, that when I woke up the first thing I did was call my mom, and tell her about it. In my dream, I actually watched myself fall asleep on my own couch and then begin to dream. In my dreams' dream (If you will) I was sitting at a huge banquet table with people I know from all over, church, New York, the military, my deployments. We were all sitting down to a huge feast, like Thanksgiving or something and dressed in the really old fashioned clothes that you would see on royalty at the turn of the twentieth century. Everyone was sitting and eating and talking, having a great time...I remember thinking it was extremely odd, because not everyone knew each other...I distinctly recall you and your husband sitting near the head of the table, cause it curved like U-shape, and you were right on the center of the curve. Also my parents and brothers were there at the exact ages they are now... I remember turning to a friend of mine (whom I met on this last deployment) and saying I wonder how everyone seems to know each other? She just laughed. After a while I noticed this court entertainer who was going around various parts of the table, and whispering into people's ears causing them to laugh and making them more at ease with everyone. No one seemed to see him, but it was like they could hear him whispering to them. Now this entertainer's face was hidden, but I knew there was something very familiar about him. As he was going around the table, it reminded of the court jester's in the old days who would entertain guests and make them comfortable while dining with royalty. As he was rounding one of the corners of the table, I heard him laugh and all of the sudden I knew who is was, I would remember that laugh anywhere! It was Mr. X! (now remember that this is a dream's dream, and I knew it was a dream, I knew that he had passed away) I was so excited and couldn't realize why no one else seemed to notice him. I looked at you, and was saying "Do you see him! I can't believe it!" I was soo excited and a little irritated that no one else seemed as excited. I looked up to where you and your husband were sitting and you smiled and said, "Heather, he isn't really here, it's our memories of him that have continued to live on." I was quite sad and started to cry, when I suddenly woke up (in the dream) and called my mother and told her about what I had dreamt. Suddenly then I really woke up and was still actually crying. As I was getting ready to call my mom, I was still wondering why there were so many people there who didn't even know him. It hit suddenly that they know him through us...Because we remember him, they get to know him. Not that we have to tell everyone about him, just our remembering his character, his sense of humor and passing it on to others. I don't know if this makes any sense to you. But I can say it seem to change my perspective of death...
That dream helped me realize that even though people pass, they can live on through us. We who are blessed to carry their memory can pass on their story. So in a way the dead are never really dead, they are merely resting in our hearts. I don't know if this is helpful to any of you, but it does help me. Yes the pain is still there, but I am also able to sift through some of it and remember the good memories and it helps me. To all who are entering this holiday season with grief, I hope you find peace and strength, and maybe just a bit of joy. Love to you all, Heather
I would like to share dream I had last night with you. It was so vivid and real, that when I woke up the first thing I did was call my mom, and tell her about it. In my dream, I actually watched myself fall asleep on my own couch and then begin to dream. In my dreams' dream (If you will) I was sitting at a huge banquet table with people I know from all over, church, New York, the military, my deployments. We were all sitting down to a huge feast, like Thanksgiving or something and dressed in the really old fashioned clothes that you would see on royalty at the turn of the twentieth century. Everyone was sitting and eating and talking, having a great time...I remember thinking it was extremely odd, because not everyone knew each other...I distinctly recall you and your husband sitting near the head of the table, cause it curved like U-shape, and you were right on the center of the curve. Also my parents and brothers were there at the exact ages they are now... I remember turning to a friend of mine (whom I met on this last deployment) and saying I wonder how everyone seems to know each other? She just laughed. After a while I noticed this court entertainer who was going around various parts of the table, and whispering into people's ears causing them to laugh and making them more at ease with everyone. No one seemed to see him, but it was like they could hear him whispering to them. Now this entertainer's face was hidden, but I knew there was something very familiar about him. As he was going around the table, it reminded of the court jester's in the old days who would entertain guests and make them comfortable while dining with royalty. As he was rounding one of the corners of the table, I heard him laugh and all of the sudden I knew who is was, I would remember that laugh anywhere! It was Mr. X! (now remember that this is a dream's dream, and I knew it was a dream, I knew that he had passed away) I was so excited and couldn't realize why no one else seemed to notice him. I looked at you, and was saying "Do you see him! I can't believe it!" I was soo excited and a little irritated that no one else seemed as excited. I looked up to where you and your husband were sitting and you smiled and said, "Heather, he isn't really here, it's our memories of him that have continued to live on." I was quite sad and started to cry, when I suddenly woke up (in the dream) and called my mother and told her about what I had dreamt. Suddenly then I really woke up and was still actually crying. As I was getting ready to call my mom, I was still wondering why there were so many people there who didn't even know him. It hit suddenly that they know him through us...Because we remember him, they get to know him. Not that we have to tell everyone about him, just our remembering his character, his sense of humor and passing it on to others. I don't know if this makes any sense to you. But I can say it seem to change my perspective of death...
That dream helped me realize that even though people pass, they can live on through us. We who are blessed to carry their memory can pass on their story. So in a way the dead are never really dead, they are merely resting in our hearts. I don't know if this is helpful to any of you, but it does help me. Yes the pain is still there, but I am also able to sift through some of it and remember the good memories and it helps me. To all who are entering this holiday season with grief, I hope you find peace and strength, and maybe just a bit of joy. Love to you all, Heather
Thursday, November 3, 2016
"A Past"
When I was younger I wanted to grow up and be the person "a past." You know what I'm talking about, the haunted stranger no one really knows, or the jaded person who nobody truly understands. Well fast forward some number of years and now I officially have "a past." It's not as cool as I thought though, reading about the cool guy/gal with haunting nightmares is much more attractive than being that person. Slipping in and out of reality isn't nearly as romantic as it's shown in movies or TV.
I grew up in a pretty religious household, we went to church routinely and I remember how excited I would get when we had a visiting evangelist, or minister with "a past" come and testify at the church. They would talk about all the terrible things they did or saw. They would regal us with these stories of their sinful lives and how God had changed them in order so they could testify for him. I always thought, "Wow, I can't wait to grow up and make my 'story'." And so I did, I grew up and created my own "past."
What these cool people, TV/movie characters fail to mention is how painful, emotionally traumatic, and scarring it is to carry the burden of past regrets. They don't explain that it can take years and maybe even the rest of one's life to deal with those regrets. Movies like to show us how quickly our haunted hero steps out of his past and pops right into the present, but life isn't like that. Your "past" can and will pop up anywhere, a day, month, years from now. Learning to let go of the pain won't necessarily make it go away, it will try to find a way to re-attach itself over and over again.
What I wish these preachers, evangelists, speakers would have focused on is how much better would it be to say "I cared too much about myself to go out and focus on making 'a past', instead I focused on creating a future." Instead of glorifying all their mistakes, would it not be more beneficial to explain how they fixed the mistake? Everyone has a past, some are better, some are worse. We all have things we deeply regret, it doesn't matter the badness of it! But the question remains, can you deal with your past in order to enjoy your present?
I grew up in a pretty religious household, we went to church routinely and I remember how excited I would get when we had a visiting evangelist, or minister with "a past" come and testify at the church. They would talk about all the terrible things they did or saw. They would regal us with these stories of their sinful lives and how God had changed them in order so they could testify for him. I always thought, "Wow, I can't wait to grow up and make my 'story'." And so I did, I grew up and created my own "past."
What these cool people, TV/movie characters fail to mention is how painful, emotionally traumatic, and scarring it is to carry the burden of past regrets. They don't explain that it can take years and maybe even the rest of one's life to deal with those regrets. Movies like to show us how quickly our haunted hero steps out of his past and pops right into the present, but life isn't like that. Your "past" can and will pop up anywhere, a day, month, years from now. Learning to let go of the pain won't necessarily make it go away, it will try to find a way to re-attach itself over and over again.
What I wish these preachers, evangelists, speakers would have focused on is how much better would it be to say "I cared too much about myself to go out and focus on making 'a past', instead I focused on creating a future." Instead of glorifying all their mistakes, would it not be more beneficial to explain how they fixed the mistake? Everyone has a past, some are better, some are worse. We all have things we deeply regret, it doesn't matter the badness of it! But the question remains, can you deal with your past in order to enjoy your present?
Wednesday, November 2, 2016
A Positive Note
Lately, I've posted about the difficulties of having bipolar (notice I said having, not being). It is true that it is difficult at times, especially when I'm trying my hardest to control my emotions and it just doesn't quite seem to be good enough. But there are other times where I'm actually ok with it, maybe even (gasp!) thankful for it. This being the month of Thanksgiving, let me list a few things that bipolar has been good for.
I'm extremely sensitive. No, not like the weepy crying type! My instincts can usually pick up weird vibes or tensions in my immediate surroundings. This is a godsend, working where I do. Being able to notice the subtle changes in atmosphere before a person gets potentially violent really gives just enough time to prepare for it. Now I don't mean I have some odd superpower, it's just I can rely on my gut-feeling to be right a majority of the time.
My vivid imagination allows me to really emphasize with others. And what my imagination cannot cover, my sense of understanding what it's like to feel different generally covers the rest. For example, I may not truly know how it feels to lose a family member, nor would I try to act like I do. But I do know what it feels like to explain yourself to others and have them simply stare back at you with no words of comfort, just at a loss. While I understand grief comes in waves sometimes big and sometimes small, so too does mental illness. There are plenty of days where I can just go about my business, easy as pie, and bam! Suddenly I can't barely speak, or all I can see is hopelessness or nothing at all. Grief is similar, one minute you're fine, the next you're not. Now I'm not saying it's the same, nor that I'm the only person who can understand, please don't think that, I'm merely stating that sometimes it's nice to know that other people have similar feelings.
And most importantly, being able to see things with a slightly different perspective has helped me keep a good sense of humor. I can normally find humor in almost any situation (now some of that comes from my mom's side of the family!) from shopping at the grocery store to being mortared, my humor almost always makes an appearance! Being able to make others laugh can help most difficult situations.
Just because I suffer from an illness doesn't mean it's the end of the world. Plenty of well-known people have mental illnesses and they may have had rough patches but they made a mark on the world. Vivien Leigh was known for sometimes hearing voices and suffering major depressive episodes, yet she still played in a little movie called Gone With the Wind, as Scarlett O'Hara. How about Buzz Aldrin (Depression and alcoholism)? He was that guy who flew in Apollo 11 with another dude called, Neal Armstrong, you know they were the ones who landed and walked on the moon. Or what about Robin Williams? Yes, we all know how it turned out in the end, but almost any person can name at least one movie, TV show, or stand up of his. In fact I believe that due to his illness, he was able to play better characters than most others. The same man who did hilarious hits like Aladdin, Jumanji, and Mork and Mindy, also played deep characters in Good Will Hunting, Patch Adams (actually a blend of both light and dark character), and my two personal favorites, The Dead Poets Society (Oh Captain, my Captain!) and Awakenings. There is absolutely no doubt these people and many more left their mark! If they can live life with a mental illness the maybe I can too.
I'm extremely sensitive. No, not like the weepy crying type! My instincts can usually pick up weird vibes or tensions in my immediate surroundings. This is a godsend, working where I do. Being able to notice the subtle changes in atmosphere before a person gets potentially violent really gives just enough time to prepare for it. Now I don't mean I have some odd superpower, it's just I can rely on my gut-feeling to be right a majority of the time.
My vivid imagination allows me to really emphasize with others. And what my imagination cannot cover, my sense of understanding what it's like to feel different generally covers the rest. For example, I may not truly know how it feels to lose a family member, nor would I try to act like I do. But I do know what it feels like to explain yourself to others and have them simply stare back at you with no words of comfort, just at a loss. While I understand grief comes in waves sometimes big and sometimes small, so too does mental illness. There are plenty of days where I can just go about my business, easy as pie, and bam! Suddenly I can't barely speak, or all I can see is hopelessness or nothing at all. Grief is similar, one minute you're fine, the next you're not. Now I'm not saying it's the same, nor that I'm the only person who can understand, please don't think that, I'm merely stating that sometimes it's nice to know that other people have similar feelings.
And most importantly, being able to see things with a slightly different perspective has helped me keep a good sense of humor. I can normally find humor in almost any situation (now some of that comes from my mom's side of the family!) from shopping at the grocery store to being mortared, my humor almost always makes an appearance! Being able to make others laugh can help most difficult situations.
Just because I suffer from an illness doesn't mean it's the end of the world. Plenty of well-known people have mental illnesses and they may have had rough patches but they made a mark on the world. Vivien Leigh was known for sometimes hearing voices and suffering major depressive episodes, yet she still played in a little movie called Gone With the Wind, as Scarlett O'Hara. How about Buzz Aldrin (Depression and alcoholism)? He was that guy who flew in Apollo 11 with another dude called, Neal Armstrong, you know they were the ones who landed and walked on the moon. Or what about Robin Williams? Yes, we all know how it turned out in the end, but almost any person can name at least one movie, TV show, or stand up of his. In fact I believe that due to his illness, he was able to play better characters than most others. The same man who did hilarious hits like Aladdin, Jumanji, and Mork and Mindy, also played deep characters in Good Will Hunting, Patch Adams (actually a blend of both light and dark character), and my two personal favorites, The Dead Poets Society (Oh Captain, my Captain!) and Awakenings. There is absolutely no doubt these people and many more left their mark! If they can live life with a mental illness the maybe I can too.
Monday, October 31, 2016
Mixed up!
I'm tired. In the past approximately 36 hours, I have slept maybe 6 hours. No, I haven't been extremely busy, no crazy parties (well one, but that's neither here nor there.), no insane work schedule. My brain has just decided sleep isn't a necessity. Now I know I explained the ups and downs of bipolar before; tonight you get to enjoy the ultimate joy of bipolar disorder: the mixed episode.
Mixed episodes are pretty much exactly what they sound like; a blend of the beginning stages of mania (also known as hypomania) coupled with depressive episodes. People's experiences vary in length and severity, but most have similar issues during a mixed episode. Problems such as odd thoughts that randomly zoom thru the brain. Ideas, like a big spending spree, or racing cars, or yelling out loud for no reason, may seem absurd but in the moment it feels perfectly natural and you might even feel forced to do it. Interspersed between all this sudden joy are depressive thoughts. Remembering past regrets, old mistakes, or even things that weren't your fault intrude on the overly happy slightly crazy ideas. The result is a brain that will not stop, it will just keep shooting from thought to thought. One minute you want to start running again, the next moment movement isn't an option.
Basically, the brain hits this permanent spin cycle, up, up, and down, down (or maybe up, down, up, down). The brain is tired but won't stop. A person experiencing this can run through a whole cycle of emotions, happy, sad, angry, frustrated, joyful, in a short time. When asked what is happening, some may not be able to explain the way their head feels. When my brain hits that special type of over-drive, it sounds like a nest of angry bees getting louder and louder, I find myself either starting to talk over it (over course it is in my head so I end up yelling for no reason) or just getting so frustrated that I can't get the right words out.
This is difficult not only for the person experiencing the episode but for the people who live, work, hang out with them. My poor girlfriend has had the joy of trying to make sense of some of my crazier ideas, like living in an RV with no income, to trying to get me out of bed after two days of not moving or speaking. I'm incredibly grateful to be with someone who I can have bad days and not have it held against me.
Mixed episodes can be brought on by a change in medication, or not taking your medication, and sometimes they just show up. Many people with bipolar are more affected by significant weather changes, such as fall to winter, spring to summer. Almost every year I find myself starting to soar up, up, and away, from about Halloween to February. After around the beginning of February, my brain and body decide to start another mixed episode turning into a more depressed spiral. It's frustrating to know what my brain is doing and yet be slightly powerless to stop it. Continually taking my medications certainly helps, it usually stops the hypomania from turning into full-blown mania or the depressive thoughts from turning into living death. Sometimes the fight to just take my medication is the only fight I can handle. So if you run into me in the next few days, hell maybe couple of weeks, and I seem a little more weird than normal, just realize I'll be back to my only kinda crazy self in a short while.
Mixed episodes are pretty much exactly what they sound like; a blend of the beginning stages of mania (also known as hypomania) coupled with depressive episodes. People's experiences vary in length and severity, but most have similar issues during a mixed episode. Problems such as odd thoughts that randomly zoom thru the brain. Ideas, like a big spending spree, or racing cars, or yelling out loud for no reason, may seem absurd but in the moment it feels perfectly natural and you might even feel forced to do it. Interspersed between all this sudden joy are depressive thoughts. Remembering past regrets, old mistakes, or even things that weren't your fault intrude on the overly happy slightly crazy ideas. The result is a brain that will not stop, it will just keep shooting from thought to thought. One minute you want to start running again, the next moment movement isn't an option.
Basically, the brain hits this permanent spin cycle, up, up, and down, down (or maybe up, down, up, down). The brain is tired but won't stop. A person experiencing this can run through a whole cycle of emotions, happy, sad, angry, frustrated, joyful, in a short time. When asked what is happening, some may not be able to explain the way their head feels. When my brain hits that special type of over-drive, it sounds like a nest of angry bees getting louder and louder, I find myself either starting to talk over it (over course it is in my head so I end up yelling for no reason) or just getting so frustrated that I can't get the right words out.
This is difficult not only for the person experiencing the episode but for the people who live, work, hang out with them. My poor girlfriend has had the joy of trying to make sense of some of my crazier ideas, like living in an RV with no income, to trying to get me out of bed after two days of not moving or speaking. I'm incredibly grateful to be with someone who I can have bad days and not have it held against me.
Mixed episodes can be brought on by a change in medication, or not taking your medication, and sometimes they just show up. Many people with bipolar are more affected by significant weather changes, such as fall to winter, spring to summer. Almost every year I find myself starting to soar up, up, and away, from about Halloween to February. After around the beginning of February, my brain and body decide to start another mixed episode turning into a more depressed spiral. It's frustrating to know what my brain is doing and yet be slightly powerless to stop it. Continually taking my medications certainly helps, it usually stops the hypomania from turning into full-blown mania or the depressive thoughts from turning into living death. Sometimes the fight to just take my medication is the only fight I can handle. So if you run into me in the next few days, hell maybe couple of weeks, and I seem a little more weird than normal, just realize I'll be back to my only kinda crazy self in a short while.
Wednesday, October 26, 2016
Why you?
Recently, I got my medication dosage increased. This higher dosage has left me with a wonderful new side effect that I get to add to my repertoire, constipation! Don't worry I'm not about to delve into any vivid description! But I was thinking today as I chewed on some bran and prunes, why me?
Why am I one of the few people picked to have a mental illness? Why do I get to have the joy of feeling invincible coupled with the depth of depression? Who decided, "Hey Heather, sometimes you're going to have so much energy that you annoy yourself, you're going to have weird ideas and thoughts that you can't help but blurt out. Oh and by the way, sometimes you will be so low that you can't even think a single thought let alone speak, you'll be stuck in you bed until your mood shoots back up again. Good luck and enjoy!" I'm not whining (well maybe a bit), but I'm actually wondering, why? Why does there have to be such an illness at all?
How about you? I'm sure you've had the same ideas too. Why do you have to have a terrible divorce, a sick child, a history of abuse, rape, or another illness? What deity (I'm not getting religious, I promise) decided that YOU were the person to have this issue? Was it some cosmic joke or something deeper than that?
What if it was because at some point, a higher power (or fate, if you prefer) knew you would need more strength than you currently have and by going through the trials of life, you would gain the strength you need? Maybe it's fates' way of sanding down some rough spots? I used to think that a lot of mental illnesses were just a persons way of trying to get attention. ADHD? Nah, you just need to spank the kid, they'll get it. Bipolar, depressed? Nope, again spank them when they act up, and force them to move around, they're just being lazy! It wasn't until my own brain cracked from stress that I realized how hard some people are trying to be "normal." They can't or don't know how to explain what's going on in their head, so they just do what it tells them to, regardless of how embarrassing it is. And yes, many of them realize they are embarrassing themselves, they just don't know how to stop their head. Maybe fate is giving you strength through hardship, so when you are confronted with life's storms, you can look back and say "I made it through that storm, I'll make it through this one too."
What if you will be blessed with the opportunity to be a mentor? Maybe someday, someone will look up to you during their life storm. When they think no one will understand, or their pain/shame is too great; there you'll be, someone who will show them life is tough, but you can make it through, I did so can you. You can teach them to lift their head, push back against the storm, and help them fight on.
So for now, I'll continue to take my medication and live with the side effects of shaking hands, odd forgetfulness, and the god awful constipation. Why? Because I want to learn to live with my weird brain, and I want to take from life all it has to give. Maybe someday I'll be able to help someone else is asking, "Why me?"
Why am I one of the few people picked to have a mental illness? Why do I get to have the joy of feeling invincible coupled with the depth of depression? Who decided, "Hey Heather, sometimes you're going to have so much energy that you annoy yourself, you're going to have weird ideas and thoughts that you can't help but blurt out. Oh and by the way, sometimes you will be so low that you can't even think a single thought let alone speak, you'll be stuck in you bed until your mood shoots back up again. Good luck and enjoy!" I'm not whining (well maybe a bit), but I'm actually wondering, why? Why does there have to be such an illness at all?
How about you? I'm sure you've had the same ideas too. Why do you have to have a terrible divorce, a sick child, a history of abuse, rape, or another illness? What deity (I'm not getting religious, I promise) decided that YOU were the person to have this issue? Was it some cosmic joke or something deeper than that?
What if it was because at some point, a higher power (or fate, if you prefer) knew you would need more strength than you currently have and by going through the trials of life, you would gain the strength you need? Maybe it's fates' way of sanding down some rough spots? I used to think that a lot of mental illnesses were just a persons way of trying to get attention. ADHD? Nah, you just need to spank the kid, they'll get it. Bipolar, depressed? Nope, again spank them when they act up, and force them to move around, they're just being lazy! It wasn't until my own brain cracked from stress that I realized how hard some people are trying to be "normal." They can't or don't know how to explain what's going on in their head, so they just do what it tells them to, regardless of how embarrassing it is. And yes, many of them realize they are embarrassing themselves, they just don't know how to stop their head. Maybe fate is giving you strength through hardship, so when you are confronted with life's storms, you can look back and say "I made it through that storm, I'll make it through this one too."
What if you will be blessed with the opportunity to be a mentor? Maybe someday, someone will look up to you during their life storm. When they think no one will understand, or their pain/shame is too great; there you'll be, someone who will show them life is tough, but you can make it through, I did so can you. You can teach them to lift their head, push back against the storm, and help them fight on.
So for now, I'll continue to take my medication and live with the side effects of shaking hands, odd forgetfulness, and the god awful constipation. Why? Because I want to learn to live with my weird brain, and I want to take from life all it has to give. Maybe someday I'll be able to help someone else is asking, "Why me?"
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)