Learn to Give Yourself Credit- Appreciate Yourself

The sun was shining bright and I was still gloomy. I had a nice weekend. We got some new furniture for our new home. It was nice spending most of the weekend trying to assemble it. I and hubby had fun doing it. Also, the change in my medication was affecting my working. I was feeling drowsy and low at times. So for a second opinion I contacted my cousin who is also a psychiatrist and asked his opinion on the medicines.

After a lot of discussion, turns out one of the biggest concerns he has with my health is my weight gain. According to him and my doctor my weight gain is because of the medicines I am taking. I have gained about 20 pounds in the last three months. Yes that is a hell lot of weight gain and an added trigger to my depression.

I have always been somewhat chubby. I was never a skinny woman and never liked being one. I hate it when I gain weight. I always start questioning my image. I never feel good about myself. I hate it that the medicines are causing a lot of hunger and I find myself at the side of fridge or stove after some time. The morning trip to the scale adds to my depression. I cannot seem to be able to control the hunger or the weight.

So first thing I did is that I have stopped eating junk. That should be able to help. Second I have a plan to walk at least three days a week. That is a start. I am also planning to buy a treadmill. I do not see that really in the near future. But let’s see what I do.

So yesterday I decided to take a walk. The sun was so bright, shining bright on my gloomy face. With my little one in my stroller, I was trying to walk through the pain in my legs because of not exercising enough. After a mile of walk, I came back to the play area near my home. I saw all three swings occupied. There was a woman who was pushing all three of them.

Upon getting closer I saw she had one more baby tied to her. It was a 5 weeks old. All four of them were her babies. I was surprised to see that. I cannot deal with just one how come she has 4. And the youngest one only 5 weeks old and she is out here enjoying herself. I was amazed, inside my head I praised her motherhood like a million times already. Not only that I envied here right there and then and thought why couldn’t I be more like her?

After chit chat it turned out she never had post partum depression with any one of hers. Oh lucky she is. After seeing her I immediately started questioning myself. My motherhood. My ability to be a good normal human being. But then when I learned she never has PPD (and in my case PP bipolar) I was kind of happy with myself.

The thing is we should give ourselves credit for what we have achieved. The worst part is that we at times judge ourselves from someone else’s window. She might have her own struggles which I am unaware of. Her struggles are hers and so are mine.

I have come a long way. From the horrific PPD where I started hating everything and everyone around me to taking long walks in the evening, loving my kid, fighting with bipolar, starting my blog, doing an online course, re-decorating the home and being a good wife.

Yes I have hit many bumps on the way.  From the depression to weight gain and what not. But I was never the person who was not doing anything about it. I am the person who refused to sit there and complaint about life. I am the person who got off her butt and fought with her life.

So from now on whether it is my weight, my illness, my work, my home or my family, I am going to appreciate myself. After all I always beat myself up when I do wrong. Why not appreciate me.  We sometimes need to give our self some credit. I am not going to always be critical on me. I am sometimes going to let me go and have fun. Appreciate me and grow.

We need to learn to give ourselves credit for what we have done well. That does not mean we need to not be critical. When both appreciation and criticism when go hand in hand, it always makes a better person.

 

photo credit: http://www.keepcalmandposters.com/posters/36919.png

Slow Dripping Depression

I woke up at 7 am today instead of 8:30. Hubby and baby are still asleep. Something has been bothering me since last night and I can not put my finger on it. Something is sad and I don’t know what it is. May be it is just my depression taking a turn. It is not like I am severely depressed. For me depression is slow dripping. Like coffee slowly drips into the carafe, depression is somehow slowly dripping in my soul. It is not full blown.

My doctor changed my medicine two days back. Now I am taking 2 SNRIs in the morning and afternoon. The side effects include shaking and trembling, which are worse for me. By the time one tablet’s side effect go away, it’s time for the other one. After spending the whole day shaking, I was quite depressed. It was like somehow the intense hope I always had in me, was vanishing.

As I was sitting with my husband on the couch watching TV, I realized that this is my life. I am always going to be on medicine. They might be less, they might be more but I will be needing them to function normally. The struggle is going to be harder and harder. I am not going to leave the treatment but I am ready to spend my days with side effect of medicines.

I know that side effects go away with time. I also know that for some, medicines free time comes as well. But how do I know for sure when will it be my time? Will I ever be able to get off these meds? What if I do get off medicines I one day might go into relapse.

With a wandering mind I went to bed. I couldn’t help but cry. I cried like a small baby. I for the first time realized that I was sick. No matter how much I tried to stay positive, I was a person who need medication just to function. Is that not sick? Ever since my diagnosis I have been telling myself it is a good thing that I got diagnosed. As the medicines increase my feeling of being in a “mental illness” is also increasing.

I have been reading a study these days done at “Oxford University” that mentally ill people have shorter life expectancy (10 to 20 years) than smokers. I know it is a study and I am not sure if it is entirely true. I just wonder even if we have a longer or a normal life span, what sort of life would be? The constant fight! A struggle to be okay. A life in which we need a bunch of medicines just to call it a day. A life where our relationship are depenedent upon the way our brain decides to work and not what our heart wants. All of a sudden climbing high up on the top of a mountain and falling down with a full force.

For the end, I have nothing to write. Nothing to say. What I can hear in my head after writing all of this is a deep long silence.

 

 

It is the “ab normal” that makes us “extra-ordinary”

Today the morning was not as horrible as it has been for the past three days. I woke up dreading to go to my doctor. I was some how able to find the reason to get up. I wanted to try out my new “BareSkin” foundation on my face, which btw is amazing for me. I got ready and was off with my love and our little angel. I really appreciate him going to the doctor’s with me. He never lets me take a cab, I always want to. In my heart I always feel secure if he is there and he know it.

So I discussed with my doctor the awful nightmares I have been having and my binging on food. I am binge eating for quite some time now. It is mainly due to my medicine. This has caused weight gain, which itself is one of the most depressing things. When I look in the mirror I feel like an ugly cow. In fact people do tell me that I have a nice face. Aaah! people. Only if they knew how my twisted mind works.

Turns out I am on two new meds. One for my nightmares and one for controlling the binge eating. My doctor is very concerned about the weight gain, as I have a family history of diabetes. Now he really wants me to struggle. Like I did not have enough of ‘that’ going already. My brain can not understand that it needs to stop eating. I think the medicine just broke off the whole mechanism of telling the brain that it is time to stop eating.

Now I, yet again, have to fight with my brain to stop making me eat all the time. One of the suggestions, is that I buy a treadmill. Hubby says that when I feel this uncontrolled need to eat, I should run, this will make me feel a lot better and will take care of the cravings as well. So basically along with the medicines and this crappy “up and down” brain, I now need to struggle with eating.

I am already not very happy. If you read my last post, you know how it is. I am still really mad and very sad. I can not believe that my parents would be the one promoting the stigma of mental health. When their very own daughter fights with it every day of her life. I am just tired. Why can not I for once have a healthy body and mind? I tried to have a healthy mind, it messed up my body.

Seems like God has put this struggle in my fate. I have to keep struggling to just be something routine and ordinary. For the extra ordinary people, I sometimes think God has already blessed them with normal minds. Which upon analysis is not so true. I believe I would not be where I am if I was not bipolar. I have a different mind. I have “a beautiful mind”. Where I am today is a blessing from God. I can do some little in one of the areas on health.

I can connect with people and try to bring smiles, share sorrows and be a partner in their struggles. I guess all the struggles we have in our lives, lead us to a path of success.Normal was never an option for us because we are not meant to be like everyone else. We would not be here if we have everything normal. It is the “ab normal” that makes us “extra-ordinary” 

 

Photo Credits: http://devpolicy.org/wp-content/uploads/2011/04/hopes_on_the_horizon.jpg

I #Failed to Not be #Depressed !

Memorial Day weekend brings out a good gift for all of us. This amazing weather. The sun shining. The birds chirping. One of the most amazing things that have happened to me in my life is writing this blog. It gives me a chance to not only meet new people, but also a chance to read a lot about how other people struggle on in their life. I am able to pay thanks to God for keeping me alive and seeing how easy it is in my life compared to some.

This week I learnt that the only way to being closer to your baby is playing a lot. I always thought that due to my illness I should stay away from my baby. Because I did not trust myself to be around a little one and not harm him. Due to this I was feeling that my one year old is much closer to hubby than me. So hubby gave me an idea and I started working on it. Every day for some time I play with him. He loves to throw the ball again and again. I did it all this week and found that we were getting closer. He still doesn’t call me “mama”, which I would really like for him to do.

I realized that struggle is needed in every aspect of life. I work a little bit more with my son and he is getting close to me. In my illness I love to struggle. It’s like my mission or something. For quite some time now, I am experiencing a mental block. I don’t know if it is normal (the one society defines). It might be since I don’t feel a lot. I do know that I am a little cry baby now a days. Little things set me off and I cry. I really don’t know what is going on. I am also dwelling in the past, have a lower self esteem and looking to spend money and have junk food.

I think I am depressed, but hate to admit it. Part of it is because I am struggling really not to be. I work all day. I have different plans I work on. I am busy. Accepting that I am depressed for no reason at all seems like a losing point to me. It’s like all my struggle has been in vain and I failed. I don’t know if that is supposed to happens.

I am feeling really low on the inside, but trying to portray a really strong person on the outside. This ironic behavior is pulling me apart somehow. I did not feel like writing at all. I tried to study. I am enrolled in an online course and I am lagging behind. Every time I sign in to study I feel like sleeping. I do not want to fail there.

I don’t know if feeling all this is actually a failure. I have to deal with my illness and struggle. I hate it when it slips out of my hand. I know I need to let go but I hate feeling this way. I am lost yet I am here. Ironic, isn’t it.

Bipolar- A relief

I was diagnosed with Bipolar II, BPD and PTSD on March 17^th, 2014. Oh, like I did not know that. Like I did not know that there was something wrong with me. There were a bunch of things always going wrong with my attitude. Ranging sudden over-reaction to a simple argument to try to run away from my family, my attitude had made me the bad guy.

I tried all in my power to not be that way. I started therapy in 2011. My therapist was one of the amazing people I have ever known. She really helped me through this awful path of life. I was doing so well until Post Partum. Long story short, I was diagnosed with Bipolar type II 11 months PP. Oh what a relief!

Right, it was a relief. It was like someone has taken a big mountain off my chest. I started reading about bipolar a few weeks before I was diagnosed and I was kind of hoping that may be there it was-the answer. Bipolar for me has not been a curse. It has been that kind gentle blessing that answered all the questions I had about me.

I am not suggesting in any way the bipolar is a good thing. I know that for sure it is not. I live with it every day of my life. Ever since I was a little kid I had these moody occasions every now and then. I would make friends and leave them just like that. I would get angry at a little thing. I would have exponential reactions to a simple case of disagreeing with someone.

I was that rude bitch who did not like anyone. I wanted everything my way. It was always like “its my way or no way.” If it was not in accordance with what I really wanted it would be like “you are going to regret this.” This all was pretty easy to achieve since I was daddy’s little princess. Within a day my moods would swing from happy to sad.

My dad always stated that I could do whatever I wanted to only if I “tried harder.” I was trying harder. I was exceptional at whatever I did. Until of course, I hit the rock bottom, which I hit pretty much every now and then. My dad was always of the opinion that I lack the zeal and the enthusiasm to see things to the end. I had no way to explain when and how what went wrong with the awesome plan I had.

I had a high self esteem. I felt confident, so much confident that I did not need anyone’s opinion on anything. And, then the self esteem would hit a real low. From having delusion of grandeur to becoming the ugly duckling, it was all that was in my life. Life was up and down and up and down.

The diagnosis was a relief. I am so happy to be on treatment and taking the medication. It finally answers a million questions about me, my personality and my short comings. I am finally able to “focus.” I can channel my energy and my brain power in a better way.

Except for the hypomania, I do not have these grand ideas about me. I take small, very small steps at a time. Even in hypomania I try my best to take a back seat. I am much aware of all my states and I know exactly what to do and when to do.

At least now the reactions are not that exponential every time. Now I don’t think I am an ugly duckling. I also don’t think I am some queen of Sheba. I think I am a normal human being with a purpose. I am not over confident, I am not under confident. I am just confident.

You are with me, every breath I take. You made it hard for me to live now I will make it harder for you to live. Dear bipolar, you are the worst thing that happened to me and you are the best thing that happened to me. Thanks for being there, now I am going to fight you and win. How can you be all good and bad at the same time? Well you know better, you are Bipolar!

My “Cursed” Cup of Tea

In life there are many thing that you want to do but you never get to do them. For me, it has always been a peaceful cup of tea or coffee. I am one of those, who like to enjoy a cup of tea or coffee with a lot of time on hand. I need at least half an hour to finish a cup of tea that is how much I want to savor it. It never does happen like that. Why? I am not sure. What I am sure about is that my cup of tea is cursed.

Whenever I want to drink a nice warm cup of tea, something comes up. Like, my son who was deep asleep with wake up, out of no where he would decide he needs a diaper change at the exact same moment. If it’s not my son, I will need to take a very important call or something else. It’s like the universe knows that I want to drink that cup of tea.

When it is nothing and every thing is fine, it is just me and hubby enjoying a cup of tea, I seem to take much longer to finish my tea. He is done by the time I am half way through. The same thing happened on my trip back home. All the people seemed to be finished and I was still drinking my tea. That got me thinking, is it the curse or is it me? Is it me who is so slow that time passes by, and when it has passed all I could do is complain or call my short comings a curse? Is it just me or us humans have a tendency to find thing to blame our short comings on? Lets see what humans do…

Taking my own example, I wanted to analyse the situation. It could be three possibilities. It could be that the tea is extremely hot to drink, or that I am a slow drinker. It could also be that the tea time is cursed or it could be nothing. So for any failures recurring in our life there could be multiple possibilities but why do we as human choose the one, that exempts us from all the responsibility?

Calling the cup of tea cursed makes me free. I don’t have to work on the timings, or realize may be I am so slow that other people are done. When in life we are stuck in situations where we lag behind, we would rather have some one or some thing else take the blame for us. This gives us a good excuse. We tell ourselves that we tried all we could and there is something super natural causing all of this failure.

The fact of the matter is that there is nothing super natural. It is all a huge set of rational reasoning. There is always a reason as to why we lag behind in something that we do. We just do not want to admit it because it is hard and painful to admit. If we admit where the fault is, we have to do two painful things. First, we have to admit that there is something needed to be done and we haven’t done it. The other one is the effort needed to do it. Both of these thing are painful. Humans want to avoid both: admitting their faults and doing effort to fix things. Human like it short and easy.

So, today I decided I am going to analyse my life. Instead of calling my cup of tea cursed I am going to try to find out where the problem lies. Where in my life am I wrong. I am tired of making plans and constantly leaving stuff in between.

I do realize I have bipolar and it is responsible for what has been happening like not being able to complete tasks and plans I had. However I DO NOT want bipolar to be my “curse”, I want to find out what else is there to change. Is it my attitude towards life, is it my flawed plans or is it just that I expect too much to happen too fast.

I have no answer but I have made a decision, instead of whining about the things, I am going to do something about it. Life will throw a bunch of crap at you. You can not always blame it or find other things to blame. Just think ! Get up look into the eyes of the world and “struggle”. You are brave !