A New Meaning for "Rock Bottom"

 This summer has brought a whole new meaning to the term “rock bottom”. So when people say they have “hit rock bottom and there’s no where to go except up”, I feel a certain way about the phrase.

This summer started off with a bang. And by bang I don’t mean the beach or a pool.  No, this summer started with me... under my covers in bed... sleeping all day long (literally all day)...completely and undoubtedly depressed. My summer started at the emergency department with a psychiatric evaluation.


Basically the medication cocktail that I was on for 8 years decided it did not want to work anymore. And I literally could. not. function. My doctors decided it was best for me to go on FMLA which, as you know, secures your job but not your finances. My company did not automatically enroll it’s employees into short term nor long term disability. No, instead you had to go through a medical screening process to be eligible to receive disability. Therefore, we were on a single income (my husbands only) and I was on FMLA fighting to keep my job for when I was well enough to work again.


So, that’s where it all started. I saw my psychiatrist every other week with phones calls twice a week and I saw my therapist two to three times a week. And we started the journey of medication trial and error.


The first new medication we tried make me dizzy and gave me constant vertigo. So, not an option. The second one greeted me with a huge rash under my both my arms. So, not an option. And the third one made me nauseous and vomit regularly (which I will tell you more about later).


My second trip to the emergency department was from all the nausea and vomiting. I was not keeping anything down at all. At this visit they did a CT scan of my mid section and found a golf ball size cyst in my pancreas.


So I discussed this with my psychiatrist and, rightfully so, he sent me to a gastroenterologist to see what was going on. I had an endoscopy done with biopsies of my stomach and small intestine. And two weeks later we found no irregularities in the biopsies and they found nothing other than a swollen stomach during the endoscopy itself.


And then I saw the surgeon. He recommended removing the cyst which meant major robotic surgery. He wanted to take half the pancreas and the whole spleen in order to get all the cyst out of my body. So we scheduled the surgery for September 22nd.


In the meantime both the gastroenterologist as well as the surgeon agreed that even if they remove the cyst the nausea and vomiting may not subside. So, back to the drawing board again.


In the meantime I was prescribed three different stomach medications; one was for stomach cramping, one was for stomach burning and one was to stop vomiting and nausea.


However, apparently the bipolar medications did not play well in the sandbox together with the stomach medications. Therefore after taking the stomach meds three times daily for four days, I found out the hard way that I would have an adverse reaction to the medications. Four days later I woke up with uncontrollable movement in my head, neck, cheeks, mouth, tongue, arms and hands. My speech was slow and slurred and I had no control over the constant, rapid movements. I was put on a large dose of Benadryl for two days, three times daily to end the involuntary movements.


So that put an abrupt end to my stomach relief medication program. However, my psychiatrist was determined to help me and figure out what was wrong. So we dropped medication number # 3 and within a day the nausea and vomiting (for the most part) subsided.


Surgery is still lingering over my head and I have half a mind to cancel it. Oh and if I do not get the surgery done I will have to go back to work on September 20th if I want to keep my job.



I woke up yesterday morning with, what felt like strep throat. And tonight I not only have a sore throat but I also have a headache, post nasal drip and every single joint and muscle in my body is aching. So you know what that means? It means that tomorrow I am getting a second Covid test (the first Covid test I did a month earlier since I was not progressing quickly enough with my medications that the doctors thought it best that I got tested... that one came back negative).


Oh and I do not think I mentioned the fact that since I was constantly nauseous and vomiting for 4 weeks, I lost over 30 pounds.. in 4 weeks.


In the meantime, my daughter inadvertently matured way beyond her years this summer because we decided to not hide my illnesses from her. And my husband has been so stressed out he doesn’t know whether he is coming or going... while still working full time to bring income to our family.


Speaking of income we haven’t seen a paycheck from my job since June and our savings is now completely depleted just to pay the bills and put food on our tables. If I don’t get back to work soon, we will be up a  creek without a paddle, as the saying goes. So what’s next? Our house? The few precious possessions that we have? Are we to sell them just to get by?


So, this is my “rock bottom”. And quite frankly I am still in the midst of it all. My counselor says to me all the time, “you are a rock star, I am so proud of you”. And my mom says that my constant battling through all this gives her strength (even though I do complain a lot about being sick, she still seems to think I am a strong woman). And it is possible that both women are correct in their own ways. And it is also possible that they see something special in me even during the darkest moments of my life.


Is there light at the end of the tunnel for me? I truly pray that there is. And honestly it’s through the strength of other people that I am feeling my way through such a messy time in my life.


So sometimes when we can’t see the light, we have to rely on others to share their candle with us... to collaborate with us in order for us to be able to see to navigate through the darkness. So, soon enough I will put my high heels back on again and it will feel oh so good to be back on my feet.

Love Note:  With all my heart, I genuinely request that due to the content written, please seek the guidance of professional help should you feel you need it.

“Above All, Never Let Them See You Cry”

Every time I cry, I get a really bad headache.  This is true no matter how much or how little I cry.  And recently, I had a nice hour-long cry… in my office at work… by myself.  While I was crying, I texted one my best friends and she stated, “above all, never let them see you cry” and “them” in this story were her boss and mine. 

All was going well with my life and my job and then the Coronavirus slowly, gradually and eventually very strongly hit my state.  Because I work in healthcare and my data supports a hospital, it was very important for me to be on the COVID-19 planning team. 

So one day I was doing my normal day to day job and the next day I was on the COVID-19 hospital planning team.  The team consisted of my boss, my co-worker from another team, and myself.  And guess who received the lead position on the project via my boss…my co-worker!  

The stress of the project was really getting to me and apparently the pressure was getting to my boss.  We started butting heads on everything and the more we did not see eye to eye, the more upset I got.  I rapidly got on a (as my friend would call it), “struggle bus of emotions”.  I was angry and depressed, and I was not hiding it very well. 

One day I completely mentally broke and left work early and went home for the rest of the day.  I told my boss I could no longer be at work and drove home to my partner calculating our finances to see if we could afford for me to quit my job. 

The next day I went back to work and my boss would not look at me let alone talk to me.  He called me into his office around lunch time to “have a friendly chat about what has been going on”.  So I told him I was struggling at work and I was really stressed out.  He listened but I do not think he was hearing me.  He was glazed over and wanted his turn to talk.  And when he finally talked, he ripped me apart. 

My boss told me that everyone was stressed out right now so my stress levels were minimal in comparison.  He told me that my attitude was lousy and that it was bringing down the whole team. And he talked about my work saying that my analytical skills were not up to par at all and that there was no road map for our job and I cannot, in his opinion, do my work well without it being completely mapped out. 

And this is when I went into my office, closed my door and cried for an hour.  I cried for the depression I was feeling and the anger that was haunting me.  I cried for myself and how far I had come at this job only to be told that I was not performing well enough.  And I cried for my family that I had moved forty-five minutes further south from the people we loved for this job opportunity. 

The next day was like a hangover from the day before.  It was Friday and I had a 1:1 with my boss.  So I flat out asked him if he wanted me to stay on his team or not.  And he said I was not a great fit and he would support me if I looked elsewhere in the company for another job. 

That weekend, I worked on my resume.  I was furious at this point and ready to move on to the next job.  I was determined to show my boss I did not need him and that I did not need this company that he worked for in order to be successful. 

To be honest, it took until Thursday of the following week for me to come to terms with all that happened to me and for me to see the situation differently.  Due to the Coronavirus, I had made friends with people in the front line.  I had befriended people on the nursing staff in the hospital. 

And on Thursday morning, I received a phone call from one of my nursing friends.  She was terribly sad because she had lost an Intensive Care Unit patient to the Coronavirus.  She had been with this patient for weeks trying to save his life and in the end the virus took his life.  And it was in this sad moment that I felt a sense of peace, awakening and new hope from within my soul.  After I hung up the phone with her, I looked down and I had my high heels on.  And I knew what I had to do. 

You see, I had gotten into healthcare in the first place because my father died of cancer many years ago.  I wanted to help the same people who helped me and my family when we were in need of assistance.  So, at 4pm I walked into my bosses office and I asked him to listen to me.  I requested him to have an open mind and to hear me out. 

At 4pm on a Thursday in late April, I told my boss I had bipolar disorder.  I told him I was medicated and that I was going to counseling.  I told him that I had ups and downs, that I had highs and lows, and that some days are better than others.  And I also told him that I wanted to keep my job and work for him.  I told him about all my strengths and I talked through some of my weaknesses.  And when I was done talking, I asked him to be mindful of his words and how he was going to handle all the new information that he now had. 

My boss thanked me for telling him and he made a few suggestions about how to handle my workload.  He and I agreed that I needed to work on my weaknesses and that we could continue to support my strengths in the projects that I was working on and the ones I would work on in the future.  An hour later, I walked away from the conversion with my job back on track again.  I walked out of his office and down the hall in my high heels back to my office with a smile on my face and peace in my heart.

No day has been perfect since then, but the morale of the team has been lifted.  My boss seems happier and I am much more content with myself, my life and my job.  This is no Cinderella story although she is my favorite Disney character.  But it is a story of hope and strength.  And speaking of strength, I want to end this post with a poem:   

You Are Strong

Maybe you don’t see it.

Maybe you don’t feel it.

Maybe you don’t hear it.

But you are strong.

When you look at your day and it seems

daunting, overwhelming, and

impossible, and yet you get up and fight

you are igniting the strength, the raw

amazing strength, within you.

Strength isn’t found in perfection.

It is found in the moments, the

minutes, and the seconds where you

give and believe and try and laugh and cry

and be the person you are meant to be. 

Love Note:  With all my heart, I genuinely request that due to the content written, please seek the guidance of professional help should you feel you need it.

You Are Not Broken

We were on our way to my aunts house listening to the radio. On one of the stations there was a live recording of an Imagine Dragons concert. I never paid much mind to the band until that car ride when I listened to the lead singer share his story.


He was apparently diagnosed with depression in middle school. And he went through a ton of obstacles to get to where he is now. While a lot of what he said struck me as thoughts I could relate to there was one moment where he spoke that I was totally taken aback by his words.


He stated “you may have a mental illness yourself but remember this: you are not broken”. And that statement has stuck with me since I heard him say it almost a year ago.


At first I found the statement to be so poetic and oh how true! But over the course of this year it keeps coming back to me in waves. Am I broken? Do I let my illness define me? What about the days when I just can’t get out of bed? Has the illness won on those days?


I suffer from migraines and two days ago I just could not get out of bed. I was depressed, overwhelmed and sick. I literally slept until 3pm. Does the illness define me if I take off work because of it?


Every single day of my life for the past 9 years I have been on Bipolar medications. I take a hearty cocktail of 4 medications in the morning and 3 pills at night. While this has seemingly worked for me and yes I am very closely monitored by doctors, does the illness define me because of all the pills I take just to keep it at bay?


Every other Saturday I leave my family for upwards of 3 hours to make the drive up north to talk to my precious (and I don’t mean that lightly- she is amazing to me in so many ways) therapist. We knew when we moved that we would live further but that I would continue to see her. Does this sacrifice of my weekends define me and the decisions I have made to be as healthy as I can be?


As I lay in bed tonight and I worry about my little angel in the other room who has been coughing for 3 weeks now, I am just so moved by this thought of “brokenness”. What exactly does it mean to define yourself as being broken and does an illness break you?


I personally, and you of course can take it with a grain of salt, suggest that quite frankly I believe that I am not broken and I have chosen to not let my illness define who I am and the woman I will become. Yes, I do suffer from an illness. And yes I do battle the hell out of it on a regular basis. But does it define me? No. It does not.


And therefore I would suggest that I, “Moody Mom” am not broken. And to take it a step further I have chosen to fight and therefore I will not let my illness break me.


And when we all put on our high heels, I hope we are reminded of that simple fact. Are we ill? Maybe. Are we struggling? Maybe. But are we broken? Absolutely not.


We put on our heels because we know that while each day may be a battle, it is in fact a battle we have chosen to fight. No we did not choose the illness but darn it if we can’t choose to put on our heels and walk through each day taking each step in stride.


You are not broken my friends. And you are oh so loved. So put on your high heels with me. Let’s do this together.

Love Note:  With all my heart, I genuinely request that due to the content written, please seek the guidance of professional help should you feel you need it.

A Cup Of Tea for the Soul

It was recently brought to my attention that I blog about the various “large” events that are happening in my life but I fail to discuss my daily activities.  The day to day grind of life is where it all happens, right?  The ins and outs of each moment and how to live with Bipolar Disorder on a regular basis. 

My days all start with getting ready for work, making my breakfast and lunch for the day and then the most important part of my day is…of course picking out which high heels I am going to wear!  I drive the half hour commute to work and then I have myself a nice yummy cup of coffee (just don’t tell my GI doctor or my husband please).  And to wrap up my morning, I have two lovely cups of tea. 

A long time ago, my therapist told me that I should have a cup of tea every evening with my husband.  She said that it would help us to communicate and enjoy a glass of something yummy together.  Since we never implemented this into our evening routine, I decided to start to do this at work.  As I ramp up my work day, I enjoy a nice cup of tea to calm my stomach and help me get ready for the day ahead. 

I work 8:30am to 5:00pm.  Sometimes I get there earlier (not often) and sometimes I stay later (not too often either).  I pick up my daughter on my way home from work and we meet my husband at home.  We relax and unwind and by unwind, I mean we make dinner and my daughter gets a bath or a shower.  By 8:30pm lights are out for my (almost) 5-year-old and she is snuggled into bed. 

Then, it is me time.  I get dressed into my workout clothes and I go into the finished part of my basement where I stretch and then walk or run for 30 minutes to an hour.  As I work out I look at the new sign my husband added to the basement “seek discomfort”. 

About a month ago, my therapist said, “Find something for you to do for yourself or I will call your psychiatrist and we will have to increase your medicine”.  No joke, that was a wake-up call.  So I got back on the treadmill and have been at it ever since.  Then I shower and do my hair and I get ready for bed. 

So my beloved friends, that is a day in my life.  It is simple and to the point.  Simplistic but it can be very stressful (pending work of course).  And I love it.  Every moment of it.  But each moment is not easy and some days are terrible.  But the good ones, wow are they good.  And I am grateful for each day I have.    

Love Note:  With all my heart, I genuinely request that due to the content written, please seek the guidance of professional help should you feel you need it.

The Support Squad

Last Monday at 11:55pm, I laid in bed with bad thoughts racing through my mind.  I told myself I would wait until midnight to wake up my husband before taking myself to the Emergency Department for help and safety.  I could not wait any longer so at 11:57pm, I woke him up.  I said, “I need you to wake up because I am 3 minutes away from taking myself to get professional help at the hospital”.  So with that, he rolled over and turned the light on.

We talked until 3am at which point, we turned the lights off and both tried to get a little bit of sleep.  The next day we both dragged ourselves to work knowing full well that it was going to be a very long day.  But we both did it because we would rather be at work than at a hospital. 

I would be lying to you if I told you this was the first time this happened.  But I can tell you that I am still here to write about it today because of the people in my life who have gotten me through the worst times.  So who is my Support Squad you may ask?  It is the different people that the universe puts into my life to help me get through each episode.    

So for me, it is first and foremost my husband.  When I tell you we have been to hell and back, I mean it.

It is also my mom who drove 85 mph in a 25mph zone just to make sure she could get home in time so I didn’t take the pills I had in my hand. 

It is my friend who walked with me for miles around my development just to better understand what it meant for me to have Bipolar Disorder. 

It is my brother who lived with me for a month when I could not get myself out of bed every day. 

It is my therapist who sees me every other week… for 9 years now. 

It is my psychiatrist who listens to my stories and prescribes me the right cocktail of medicine to help me battle this horrible illness. 

It is the doctors and nurses at the hospitals I have been to for weekly stays (much to my dismay) who have given me hope to go back home and try all over again to live with this illness. 

It is my girlfriend who said, “Stacy, here is the blog platform…now write.  Share your story.” 

My list of people in my Support Squad goes on and on.  Does yours?  

At about 11:50am on the evening I mentioned above, my brain was deep in a dark hole and suddenly, one may say out of nowhere, I caught a glimpse of my daughter’s high school graduation.  I saw her walking across that stage to get her diploma and looking at me in the audience and smiling.  And this is why I did not wait until midnight to wake up my husband.  I knew if I waited, I may not see that special moment in my daughter’s life, say 12 years from now. 

 

Having the right people in your corner is vital to getting through the worst of life’s battles.  And for me, it is everything.  Who are you blessed with in your world?  I pray today that the universe gives you people along your path of life who are your very own Support Squad. 

 

 Love Note:  With all my heart, I genuinely request that due to the content written, please seek the guidance of professional help should you feel you need it.

A Horrible Week

 

We could beat around the bush and say that it has been a decent week or an okay week.  We could brush it off and chalk it up to the weather being 55 degrees in the middle of the winter.  Or we can call it what it was and call it "horrible". 

I have had a migraine all week.  I have been totally stressed out at work.  I am completely exhausted and not sleeping and when I do sleep I am not sleeping well at all.  And my daughter loves her father more than she loves me.  How do I know this you may ask?  Because this week, she told me she did. 

When I tell you that every single day this week I laid in bed thinking of different ways to end my life, I am not lying to you.  That is how seriously scary this week has been for me.  But I am not telling you that for you to throw me into the hospital.  I am tell you that to show you my strength.  Because I am still here to talk about it and I got through the…hopefully…worst of it.  It is Friday, is it not? 

I went to counseling this week and he said, “celebrate the little things in life”.  Which at the time seemed annoying to me and I wanted to punch my counselor in the face.  How could you tell me to celebrate when I feel so lousy? 

But honestly how can you not celebrate your life when we are at rock bottom but you chose to get up every day.  You chose to take your medications and take them on time.  You chose to snuggle with the cat instead of making that alcoholic beverage.  And you chose to put your high heels on when all you want to do is turn off your alarm and throw the blankets over your head.  

So, my friends, another week is over and I am still here to talk about it.  Some of my major projects are coming to a close and that helps the stress.  My migraine medications have finally arrived at the pharmacy (it only took 4 days) so I can get some relief tonight.  And even though my daughter loves her daddy more than she loves me, I will take it with a grain of salt because I know she plays favorites. 

Every time I see that little twinkle in my daughters eye, I am reminded of how blessed I am.  Blessings mean nothing unless you can see them and feel them and understand them and know them in your heart.  And when things get dark, you do not see the light on the path.  But being that I am living proof of it, I will tell you, that if you put your high heels on every day, one day at a time, maybe just maybe the light will start trickling in again. 

 

 Love Note:  With all my heart, I genuinely request that due to the content written, please seek the guidance of professional help should you feel you need it.