The Struggle is Real

Yesterday my husband said, “are you still blogging?” to which I replied, “does anyone care if I do?” and he stated, “yes, I do”.  So this post is for him. 

Recently I have been working on a project at work.  Not just any project but a population analysis, with market share and volume projections for 5 years.  This project is a beast.  And to be quite frank with you, I treated it like one too.  I figured it would eat me, chew me up and then swallow me down into its belly just like any other beast you would find in a scary movie. 

The other night before bed, my daughter and I were reading a fairy tale that had a monster in it.  She looked at me when the book was over and said, “mommy, I have never seen a monster before”.  I replied with confidence, “and you never will my darling”.  If my life were the fairy tale, this project is certainly the monster. 

So what does this have to do with having bipolar?  Well, let me tell you… my mental illness plays games with me.  And mainly what I mean by that is that it takes my confidence away.  I spent an entire day staring at my step by step process to which I needed to follow in order to accomplish this projection.  Then I spent an hour with my boss going over the project guidelines in great detail.  Then I spent the following day floundering around in and out of reports and report writing software. 

When I tell you I felt defeated, I mean it.  On Tuesday I called my husband and cried frantically telling him I was going to quit my job.  On Wednesday, I wore flats…I just didn’t feel like my high heels were appropriate for a failure.  By Wednesday night, I was lying awake in my bed trying desperately to fall asleep when a sense of peace and calm came over me.  In that moment, I reached out to the universe for help. 

My girlfriend at work always prays to “baby Jesus” so I thought I might give it a try.  “Dear Baby Jesus, I need your help with this project.  Please help me.  Amen.”  And I drifted off to sleep.  The next day I put on what my husband calls my “power heels” (a red pair of high high heel shoes) and I set off to work. 

I deleted the file that I had started over the past week with all the documents in it that I had begun to work on.  And I opened a new folder and I started fresh from scratch.  I pulled the data from the different databases and I did it MY WAY.  I did it the Stacy way… one excel tab at a time.  I built the entire document from scratch and 12 tabs later, I ended my progress with an Executive Summary. 

But that of course was not the end of it.  I had to present my data to my boss the following day.  So Friday, I put on another pair of high heels and I set up a meeting with my boss at 11:00am.  We sat in a conference room with a large computer screen where we went through each tab all the way to the Executive Summary. 

45 minutes later, my boss looked at me and I said, “I made this project my own.  And I worked really hard on it and I am pleased.  I know I still have work to do but its mine and I am proud of it”.  He looked at me and said, “THIS is what we DO.  And YOU did it.  Great job.”  Now, if you know my boss you know that you are hard-pressed for a compliment from him.  So when I tell you I was on top of the world, I was glowing. 

So my friends, drop the microphone, project (almost- with a few more tweaks) complete with the bosses stamp of approval.  Yes, the struggle is real but the success after a war with myself is even more real. 

Whether you talk to Baby Jesus, reach out to the Universe or pray to the Lord for guidance, I recommend this for sure.  For me, it gave me a peace and confidence that I had not experienced until that time.  And sometimes you just have to walk away from it and start over.  But just knowing that I had cheerleaders (friends, family, my one co-worker) on my side cheering for me the whole time also gave me the support I needed to get through this project. 

So put on your “power heels” and lets do this.  Lets tackle life, one project at a time. 

 

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. 

Afraid to Cross the Line

One day recently my husband and I were talking.  I was telling him about a situation at work where I was not sure I handled it appropriately.  So he looked at me and said, “Honey, I fell in love (thirteen years ago) with a strong, opinionated, outspoken woman.  But after your mental health hit the fan, there was no more of that person anymore”.  So his answer made me think, even with my high heels on, am I still afraid to cross the line? 

 

I second guess myself a lot.  This happens at home and at work.  So then the question becomes, was I always like this because it is who I am?  Or is it because of the mental illness?  

 

At the young age of seven, my father was diagnosed with cancer and was given six months to live.  So, I matured and grew up quickly always on edge with my father’s health status.  His cancer went in and out of remission and he fought for his life for fifteen long years. 

 

Being the youngest of four kids, at a very young age, I learned how to stand up for myself.  I was always a go-getter and excelled in many things.  For example, I was a second degree black belt in taekwondo martial arts by the time I was ten years old.  I swam year around most of my youth and I played volleyball in high school all while maintaining honors society throughout my school years. 

 

I worked hard in my family’s business, never receiving any monetary hand-outs.  Rather, I swept the floors and cleaned the counters at our family business to earn a little spending money.  I worked summer jobs in high school at banks, took internships in college and as soon as I graduated, I was not only accepted into graduate school but I also had a full-time job lined up for myself. 

In my second semester senior year of college, I worked hard to achieve a 4.0 grade point average (GPA).  I graduated from undergrad with a 3.4 GPA and wore a high honors hood at graduation.  Three years later, I graduated top in my class from graduate school with a 4.0 GPA while excelling at three jobs (at the same time) and living in San Francisco, California. 

Therefore, I grew up a strong-willed independent young lady.  I worked hard, I played hard and I was very successful in all that I did.  And in reflecting on this, it made me a well-rounded person. 

This takes my story to seven years ago, when my mental health took a turn for the worst.  My diagnosis was changed from Major Depression to Bipolar Disorder and I was extremely ill.  As I have spoken about in previous blogs, I was not functioning and I could not take care of myself without help.  It was as if my life stopped, my brain went numb, and I hit re-set on my mental status. 

 

It has taken me these past seven years to re-build myself (including my self-esteem and confidence) back up again.  And, as they say, “the struggle is real”.  Having Bipolar Disorder makes me second guess my decisions, it has an impact on my general instincts as a person and it takes a toll on the confidence I have in my abilities. 

 

With every decision I make, there is a possibility for failure, defeat or making the choice for the wrong reasons.  I am afraid and scared now that I will do something wrong.  I do not think for myself like I used to, I do not trust my instincts and I do not trust myself to make the right choices.  My illness plants seeds of stress, worry and anxiety in my mind that leaves me feeling useless and unworthy. 

 

I make a choice and then I second guess myself.  I re-think decisions once the choice has already been made.  I am pessimistic where I used to think that the glass was always half full. 

 

However, I find it extremely important to put on my high heels every day!  They signify my confidence even when I feel it is lacking.  They show my inner spirit even when the flame isn't burning so brightly.  And they make me feel beautiful even on the darkest of days. 

So I keep trying every day, I put on my heels and I pick my head off my pillow.  And I think one day I will be the confident woman again that my husband fell in love with.  Until then, I hope he stays patient with me and keeps being positive.  He picks me up when I am feeling down and he reminds me that if I keep trying, my confidence will keep building and I will be the Stacy that I once was yet again (and maybe even a better version of her)! 

 

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.

Swim Away the Pain and Tears

Did I mention that I get migraines?  Or that I work in a stressful job?  How about that I have Achilles tendonitis?  Or that I am 33 years old and just lost three of my four grandparents? 

 

About a month ago, my husband said, “You need an outlet for stress.  Do you want to join the YMCA?”  I am not here to promote the Y one way or the other.  However, I am going to tell you that physical exercise is extremely helpful.  It is especially helpful for someone who suffers from a mental illness. 

 

After having Achilles tendonitis three times in my life (Including having it right now), I am beginning to think that I am just not designed to be a runner.  I grew up swimming.  As far back as I can remember I was a little fish in the water.  We always belonged to a swimming pool during the summer and I swam year around during the winter for many years. 

 

Therefore when my husband suggested that I join the YMCA, I did not think twice about swimming.  So, I went on a tour and did a trial of the pool.  And come to find, I did not drowned (for some reason I had this irrational fear that I would not remember how to swim) and while out of breath after a few laps, I kept swimming (I did not stop until 45 minutes went by)!  So tomorrow I will go back again and sign up for their monthly membership so that I can begin to swim again on a regular basis. 

 

My hope is that this will be a positive stress reliever for me.  My other thought is that maybe due to the outlet for stress; my migraines will not be as often and as intense.  It should help stretch my ankles and the pressure on my feet will be eliminated in the water while I swim. 

 

As I reflect on this new journey in my life, I cannot help but hope that it will also help ease some of the pain I am going through right now.  Over the last two years, I have lost three of my four grandparents.  While I know they are now in a sacred place with each other (probably having a party and drinking wine), it has taken a huge toll on me. 

 

I am proud to report that I have still gotten out of bed every morning and put on my high heels.  But I do however keep having long moments of tears at work.  And I keep feeling very sad and depressed. 

 

I was fortunate to grow up with my grandparents and I have countless memories with each one of them.  They lived ten minutes from my house and they picked me up from school sometimes and they came to all my sporting events.  They went to my graduations- under graduate and graduate school- and they were with me every step of my battle with my mental health.  They were the first four people (other than my husband and my mom) to hold my daughter in their precious arms. 

 

My grandparents showed me love that only someone special can share with you in your lifetime.  They loved me unconditionally (my grandma who is living still adores me as I do her).  As my coworker said to me through my tears of sadness, “they planted seeds in your life and it is your job to water them”. 

 

So tomorrow I join the Y to help me physically, mentally and emotionally.  I will swim away the pain in my ankles and push through the tears that keep filling my eyes.  And every time I am done swimming, I will trade my flip flops for high heels. 

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.