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Tonight, the boys and I watched "A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving" in honor of the coming holiday. When I was a kid, I developed an obsession with Peanuts, the Charles Schulz comic strip. I spent a summer poring over a garage-sale anthology of the strip, almost feeling as if I was a member of the Gang. I even had my own "Psychiatric Help" booth a'la Lucy, courtesy of my grandfather's carpentry skills and willingness to indulge.
I still love all things Peanuts, but the characters have fallen out of favor with modern kids. I have to wonder--why was I drawn to them? Could it be because each character seems to have been plucked from the pages of the DSM-IV?
I have been through more bipolar treatments than I care to recall; probably everything you’ve heard of plus a bunch of bipolar treatments you haven’t. And yes, obviously, I have failed the vast majority of these bipolar treatments. And while not getting better is certainly nasty enough, it always feels like it’s my fault that the treatment didn’t work.
So it's Thanksgiving week in the US. Already!
Time to get out the Sunday best, prep for the presents, parties, company cocktails, chaotic travel arrangements and family gatherings.
Some of us are lucky enough to be totally comfortable with all of that - to have supportive, warm friends and family who don't rely entirely on gossip, ironic embroidered knitwear and gin to get them through the Holidays. (If you happen to be that someone can I crash the castle?)
Mostly I just want to look and feel my best, to have enough happy-go-lucky, devil may care attitude to spare: In the hopes that I'll make it through to January without too much general and social anxiety, minus the always pleasant addition of 'where did my year go and why do I suddenly feel the need to make impossible resolutions' panic.
During church that Sunday, their pastor played a clip of Susan Boyle's audition on Britain's Got Talent. Although it wasn't the point of the sermon, I realized that this clip is an excellent metaphor for life with borderline personality disorder (BPD).
Lately I've a greater need for Dissociative Identity Disorder support and community. But like most people with DID, I have serious trust issues. I'm far more comfortable on the fringes of any given group where I have a clearer view of the dynamics and can maintain a safe distance. Still, I'm a human being wrestling with tough stuff. I need understanding and fellowship - something many with DID find sporadically, if at all. It's important, therefore, to get the most out of whatever support we're given.
On this week's HealthyPlace Mental Health Radio Show, Richard Jarzynka shares his personal struggle with bipolar disorder and discusses the surprising bright side of bipolar.
It was Thanksgiving 2008 and I had recently completed two weeks of inpatient hospitalization for anorexia nervosa. Even though I had eaten what felt like thousands of calories daily and had been connected for ten days to a TPN (a line that goes through your vein and is placed directly over your heart pumping nutrients and fats into the body), I had gained very little weight during the hospitalization and was still terrified of eating most foods.
Then, along comes Thanksgiving and the annual family food spread. I took one look at the table and froze, unable to think about how I could possibly eat even one bit of that food. All I saw was FAT; it was my anorexic brain's worst nightmare come to life. However, I have since learned how to survive and even enjoy the holidays by working through my fears and anxiety.
Ah, the holiday season. Families coming together in joy and harmony, stuffing turkeys (and ourselves) full of all manner of deliciousness. Children singing and reveling in the magic and mystery and--
Who am I kidding? The last two months of the year can be trying for any parent, but for parents of children with mental illness, they can be far removed from the Rockwellian scenes we once envisioned.
Over the years I’ve been treated for bipolar, I’ve come to the conclusion that when you sleep and when you wake (your circadian rhythm) is key in stability and wellness. If you do not wake up at the same time every morning and go to bed at the same time every night you are in for a world of hurt.
This is mostly my opinion though. There is some research on the matter, but nothing as conclusive as I feel about it. Or at least nothing that I knew about until I heard of the Chicago Psychiatry Associates’ Program in Psychiatric Chronotherapy. (Sounds complicated, but it isn’t. Stay with me.)
And by intimacy I don't necessarily mean sex but sure, there is that.
Have you heard my heart? It's beating, healing, wanting, aching, anticipating. It's telling you I hear you, see you, feel you. You aren't lost.
And it's telling me the same.
It's somewhere in the maze of all these words scrolling down yet another page. Not even a page you can hold between your fingers. Maybe just keys to prop you up as you listen, fighting the panic, and feeling like you're slowly coming unstuck, again.
Listen. You can cope with anxiety.
I also have DID. And I know that it is not safe for people or animals to live with me. This is just the facts and it’s devastating. I know that to be ethical and non-harming I have to live alone. To see me, I look kind and sweet. And parts of me are. But not all the parts. I’ve been officially diagnosed and in therapy over two years, and even if we all heal, I don’t think it’s worth the risk that I could hurt or kill somebody. Some risks can be taken, but I don’t think I could say, ‘hey- let’s move in together. By the way I had violent tendencies but I think I have it taken care of. You ok with that?’