May I Just Say (An Eloquent Editorial)


I go to a support group for people living with bipolar and depression (often co-occuring with other mental health challenges) and have been noticing a trend lately. I’ve been noticing this trend in my personal life as well, and thought I’d just address it because it’s ridiculous.

Please do not tell people with mental disorders how to treat said disorder.

Honestly…just mind your own damn business. Unless you’re my doctor, you have absolutely no right or authority to tell me how to take care of myself.  I’m specifically addressing people who think it’s their right to tell others to stay off medication.

I have Bipolar II. I take medications to stabilize my severe mood swings, which at times have led me into the darkest places imaginable. I really, truly don’t think I would be alive right now if not for my medication. I see a therapist, and she’s also life-saving. My support group is absolutely essential to maintaining stability. These three things, combined with a good diet and not living a sedentary lifestyle, are the reason I’m happy to say I’m very stable at this current moment.

What people don’t understand about me, what they don’t see when I’m alone and at my worst, is that I work my fucking ass off to stay sane. It’s offensive that people think they are allowed to tell me how to handle my life. It’s offensive that one of my support group peers was told by a naturopathic doctor to discontinue his lithium and antipsychotics. I understand having differing points of view, and I understand that when someone finds something that works for them they want to share it. I also understand if you’re suffering with the same mental illness and sharing about your own experience. But if you know nothing about the mental illness you’re trying to treat without the proper education, you just don’t get to casually suggest that people go off of their life-saving medication.

I don’t want to hear it. My life has been hell for the entirety of 2017. I’ve also struggled through some extremely dark periods throughout my adult life before my diagnosis. I’ve had hypomanic and depressive episodes while unmedicated, and I remember them and shiver. Being inside my mind during those episodes is absolutely fucking terrifying. I honestly find it disgusting and negligent that anyone would try to tell me to medicate with herbs or non-FDA-approved supplements or berries or kale or marijuana or skydiving or dolphin therapy or space exploration.

I’m skeptical of medication. Truly, I am. I’ve told doctors I will not take certain drugs because of their potential side effects and lack of research on them. But the side effects of being inside my brain are sometimes much more dangerous than the ones inside of a pill. I’ve researched. I’ve weighed the costs and benefits. I’m an adult who has made an adult decision to save my own life.

So stay the fuck out of it, ya know?

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Who, What, Where (A Brief Autobiography)


Contrary to popular belief, I am indeed still alive and well. It’s been a rocky road (unfortunately not the ice cream, though I desperately wish it was), and I have absolutely not fulfilled my resolution to continue blogging more often, as it’s been about 4 months since my last post. I’ve said this before (so many times) but this started out as a humor blog exclusively, but as I’ve gotten older and faced adult challenges, I’ve found it increasingly difficult to be constantly hilarious. I’m still hilarious, but am faced with the fact that I am a multi-dimentional, emotional human being. Of course, that’s okay. Less entertaining at times, but okay.

So what have I been up to? Dealing with multiple mental health crises, honestly. I stay pretty private about it for the most part, mentioning it only in passing unless talking to specific people about it, but you’re all part of the internet so I feel a little more anonymous and lately am less concerned about talking about it anyway. I don’t feel any shame about it anymore, but I also believe it is my story to tell when I want to tell it, and only when I want to tell it.

I was diagnosed with Bipolar II at the very end of 2016 and began various methods of treatment at the start of 2017. It’s been difficult, to say the least. Everyone has their misconceptions about what bipolar even is and I’ve received a lot of unnecessary and unsolicited advice from both strangers and those close to me. Be warned: the comments section here is not a forum for advice, but is perfectly allowed to be a place of kindness and support if you really feel the need to speak to me on this subject. This is not a dialogue. It is absolutely a monologue, and I feel perfectly fine drawing that boundary.

I will give very brief and basic introduction to what Bipolar II looks like for me. I know a lot of people don’t understand the disorder (or didn’t even know it existed in the first place):

I live my life in one of three states at any given time: hypomanic, stable, or depressed. I also occasionally experience mixed episodes, which cause me to swing from depressed to hypomanic within short periods of time. Hypomania is sometimes defined as “mania lite,” but I find that definition both overly simplistic and invalidating, as it implies that it isn’t distressing or difficult to live with. During hypomanic episodes, my symptoms range, but can include extreme irritability (what I call “road rage whilst walking”), insomnia, restlessness, compulsive speech, persistent risk-taking compulsions, increased focus on projects (I’m talking picking up an activity and not stopping for days — I’ve acquired several lovely hobbies over a short period of time) and lack of appetite. These episodes last for at least 4 days, but typically last longer for me. I also rapid cycle and at one point had 5 or 6 episodes within a two month period, which was super fun except when it totally wasn’t.

Essentially, I don’t sleep, I don’t eat, and I can’t shut up or stop moving. Sometimes this all feels really fun and freeing, because suddenly I’m the life of the party. Often, though, I feel scared and get the sense that I don’t know who I am or what I’ll do. In general, emotional swings that severe are really distressing.

It ain’t easy, folks. It’s taken a lot of dedication and effort to work toward stability and feel like myself, but I’m getting closer every day. I think. My goal is to keep the hypomanic and depressive episodes fewer and farther between so I can remain stable longer. Sometimes this happens, sometimes it doesn’t. I barely slept for the past three weeks, and started absolutely losing my mind until I finally found the perfect combination of relaxation, essential oils, tart cherry juice, and ocean sounds to get 9 hours of sleep for the past four nights…this is probably the only reason I’ve found the energy to write this post in the first place. That combination may not work forever, though, as I’ve learned in the past, and I’ll have to switch things and work even harder. Extra medication is sometimes involved, sometimes not. It’s hard to know what will help at any given time.

I’m finding plants have helped me heal a lot lately. Doesn’t matter how hypomanic or depressed I am, potting a plant will make me feel sane, if even for just a few hours. Plus, I gain little green friends and purify the air in my house all at once. An unexpected but absolutely appreciated medicine, for sure. Celebrating life and maintaining my creativity has been essential — there’s a lot of art, bass playing, and journaling that goes into my stability. I remain vague about other parts of my treatment because it ain’t nobody’s business but those are also difficult and frustrating at times. Support groups help the most.

I’ve had a lot of revelations over the past 8 months…about life, my will to live, what and who I love, what I deserve in this life and the next, what I want to focus on and what I want to leave behind. I’d 100% prefer to not live with bipolar, but if I have to, at least I’ve done a lot of soul searching and self exploration to learn how to manage it.

Hopefully I’ll write again before another four months have passed, but you never know. Either way, know that I’m here, I’m alive, and I’m more than just this disorder.

xo

If you’re interested in learning more about mood disorders, NAMI is a really great resource. If you happen to be a person living with bipolar, DBSA meetings have benefitted me more than I can ever explain. 

My Life is Nothing Without Strawberries


Eat ALL the fruit!

Eat ALL the fruit!

I love strawberries. So. Much. I also like anything strawberry flavored, so keep that in mind around holidays and my birthday. 

So lately, as you know, I’ve been super into getting healthy, so I’ve been eating way more fruits and veggies. For breakfast, I’ve been eating toast with sunflower seed butter (it is from the gods, I swear – lighter than peanut butter, so much better) and sliced strawberries on top. Weird sounding, I know, but absolutely delicious and full of protein and awesome. Don’t go too crazy with the sunflower butter, cuz it’s pretty fatty, but it’s the same as peanut butter so I figure I might as well go for it.

Also, Morning Star Black Bean Chipotle burgers. AHHHHHHHH. They’re totally veggie, but I’m not vegetarian and even I like them better than a real burger. They’re a bit spicy and really surprisingly juicy.

Anyway, eat these things. Your life will improve, I swear.

Separate but Equal: A Gym Doctrine


First of all, I am super stoked that I hit 1,000 subscribers today, my little muffins! So thanks for reading and loving me (or hate-reading my blog, though I don’t know if that’s a thing…) and making my life that little bit better. Moving on…

I  gained a million few pounds in the last two years. It’s not a huge deal, except that I can’t fit into any of my pants. Or shirts. Or coats. Basically, I can’t fit into my clothes anymore, and it’s a really depressing feeling. I have shed many a tear over favorite dresses that can no longer squeeze themselves over my now-large lady bits. When I say lady bits, I mean my boobs, y’all, not my nether regions. Calm down.

Anyway, since I got home from school two weeks ago, I have started eating really well (so much salad, so little time) and going to the gym 6 days a week. Remember, weeks are 7 days long, so that’s pretty impressive for a person who barely likes doing a sit up at home, let alone in a crowded gym. I am seriously committed to losing what Sarah Millican so rightly called the “cake shelf” because it’s “where I store my cakes.”

I have lost 7 lbs already, y’all. That is what the British would call “half a stone.” So I’m doin’ it, ladies and gentlemen. Doin’ it good. But. I hate the gym. So. Much.

How is my lumpy self supposed to work out when Wonder Woman is running at 100 mph next to me on the tread mill? As I hoof along, she’s practically flying on wings of glory, making me look like a sad sack of sweaty potatoes, and it’s a bit difficult to concentrate when you 1) can’t breathe and 2) now hate yourself and everyone else in the gym. Also, what’s with people wearing so much makeup to the gym? I look like a 15 year old boy, and my hair is all nasty, because that’s what you should look like at the gym. I’m not gonna put on makeup at 9 in the morning just so I can sweat it into my eyes. Besides, I’ll have to shower afterward anyway, because really, nobody wants to smell this after 45 minutes of elliptical/weights/abs madness. Plus, everyone at the gym judges you when you don’t look perfect, but…am I supposed to work out before my workout so I can be fit as a fiddle and look perfect at the gym? I thought that would be defeating the purpose…

With all this in mind, I’d like to propose separate gyms for different body types. Short, tiny, skinny people who used to be gymnasts can go to one gym, where all the equipment is miniature. Bros who want to work on their pecs and have their nipples pierced (it’s a thing, guys, I saw it with my own eyes and now I can never go back) can go to another gym, where the walls are covered with mirrors so they can look at themselves while they “get swoll.” And those of us who are going to the gym because we need to can have our own gym. There would be no Food Network shows playing, because I don’t need to see some lady with too-white teeth bake a cake I’ll never be able to eat while I sweat out of my eyes on a stationary bike. There would also only be one mirror, and that mirror would be in the weight room so you can make sure your form is right. Otherwise, no mirrors. I cannot be motivated when I look into the mirror and instantly want to cry.

Also, and this might be the most important part, all the guys working behind the front desk would be specifically attracted to women of a curvier persuasion. And they’d all be gorgeous, and I wouldn’t feel weird walking in and talking to them because I would know they wanted to take my hand and by my husband.

Take notes, gym CEOs everywhere. This is the next big thing.