My2Moms Blog: Sinking into the Abyss

Saturday, December 23, 2006

Sinking into the Abyss

I'm already behind on my blogging! Trying to balance a prego (wife is pregnant and a raging hormonal beast, sorry babe, I KNOW you're doing the best you can! :), m2m, and my worste/most disappointing week of work all year has been tough. She is in a deep low now and it is a major struggle to get the day going. I've spent all day with her the past 2 days and have lots o material to share. However, I'm not sure I'll be able to do it all right now, but do need to get some of her gems, in the form of quotes in, so I can expand on them later. It has been a sea of negativity, constant, consistant negativity. It is now 5:33 AM and a new day, I will endeavor, as I almost always do, to have a positive outlook today!

So here are some quotes and I will not exaggerate on the number of times I've heard them. The thing about them is there is so much tone that needs to be read into them, only family members will be able to appreciate them I think...

"Boy, I hope you're kids don't get it [bipolar]!"
"Does 'wife' worry that your kids will get it?"
"If there was one disease I would give up, this would be it." 3x
"Wife is type A, isn't she?"
"Is wife the boss?"
"Is that so wife doesn't have to cook?"
"You're so laid back, that's great."
"Do I need to worry about my purse while we're in wife's hometown?"
"Why would grandpa send me down with these traveler's checks?" 5x
"You know I would do it if I could." referring to me helping organize her 4 bags.
"I thought you wouldn't be working as much as you are."
"I don't know what to bring to wife's hometown, can you help me?" We're planning a visit to my in-laws with m2m in tow for xmas.
"I'm going to take my blood sugar." daily
"April likes me."2x This is my brothers dog...his dog.
"I think wife likes me."
"I thought you were going to get wife's oil changed?"
"You're going to miss wife's Dr.'s appointment?"
"Oh, NOW I can have some turkey!" - only time I've heard inflection in her voice
"$4.99 for a bag of coffee (which I purchased), that's ridiculous, don't you think that's ridiculous?"
"Maybe some day I will be able to get medication that will help." 3x
"Friends are on xyz drug, and that seems to help them, maybe I can ask my psych nurse about xyz drug."
"I don't think ob's state believes in mental health, how is your state?"

I struggled with something all day yesterday. I woke up and took my daughter in to her day care early due to the fact that she had her first Christmas party that afternoon. One that m2m and I would be able to enjoy with her, at least I was thoroughly looking forward to it! I stopped by a neighbor's house to help him with his kitchen, which he is remodeling. When I called to check on m2m, she sounded upset that I woke her up at 9AM. When I came in 15 minutes later, she didn't acknowledge me, just sat that in a comatose state. 10 minutes later, as I finished up some work, I heard her wailing. I went to console her and she stopped immediately. I asked her what was troubling her and she didn't have any response. She finally came up with the fact that she couldn't figure out what to pack for the trip to my in-laws in two days. SO, I offered to help her get her belongings organized.

She immediatley had more energy and we proceeded to go through EVERY fiber of her 4 bags. I made sure to engage her and not simply do it for her. I asked her alot of questions about where various items should go and tried not to get annoyed that she had, just as ONE example, 4 toothbrushes strewn throughout her luggage. She helped and seemed to be relieved after having a place for everything and everything in its place. ummm, simple. After reflecting on what we accomplished she came back with the quote "You know I would do it, if I could". I asked her exactly what she meant by this and she said, "You know, get organized, my mind does not work like that."

That's what I struggled with all day. If I hadn't spent time with her, prodded her to help me organize her things, she would have sat there in the chair all day and fermented. HOWEVER, she COULD walk around, she COULD use her brain and hold a semi-normal conversation IF I was there helping and encouraging. SO, what I pondered all day was this, just how much of her disease is chemical and how much is environmental. OK, that may be sugar coating it, just how much is her choice? Wow, nobody knows how gut wretching that is to contemplate except ob.

On another level, if it's not chemical and alot of it is choice, is that any better or worse?

I do believe that her highs are uncontrollable, but I have concrete evidence that I can improve her day with how I interact with her. That shows me that at least SOME of her normal/low periods are not strictly chemical. Now the question is, can we, as sons transfer this understanding to m2m? After 30+ years, numerous doctors and psychotherapists, can WE help m2m? Here I/we go again. I wrote previously that I accepted the answer as no. So why do I ask again.

Ummmmmmmmm not sure really. Good therapy session though. I'm ready for another adventure!

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Why My2Moms?

My2Moms.blogspot.com lets fellow netizens peak into the simultaneous insanity and humor of untreatable bipolar disorder. Just as bipolar sufferers cycle through successive swings of mania and depression, their supporters swing through emotions as well. For the sufferer, the cycles maybe yearly, monthly or weekly. For the supporter, the swings may last days, hours, minutes, even seconds in my case. A nice dose of high/low for the sufferer and a healthy sampling of frustration/ amusement for the supporter…that’s what this disease serves at every episodic meal, at least at my restaurant.

I don’t mean to make light of this horrible disease, but frankly, seeing the funny is the only way for me to cope with it on a daily basis. Sometimes shaking my head and laughing about it is the only thing that keeps my head from exploding under the pressure of distress.

I hope that by chronicling my journey, others will know they are not alone. I don’t plan to deliver hope, but you might find it here. I really hope you do. I don’t have answers, but you might find them here as well, and along the way I might too.

As a member of the male gender, I can confirm the indelible truth that we don’t often speak about pain, heartache, weakness and suffering…communicating about mental disorders affecting our families is even less common. It takes a certain humility and vulnerability, that most men find lacking in their given chromosomal arrangement, to open up about such things.

But, I’ve found, with near unanimity, that almost every person encounters mental illness in some way. Whenever I muster the courage to reveal my own situation to a friend, whether male or female, I find a common ground with them through their personal experiences with mental illness. Sometimes the experience afflicts them directly, but most often a relative or close friend. It’s nearly universal.

So this blog is meant to broaden my communication with the hope of helping others, and myself, navigate the waves of bipolar disorder.

About Me

I’m very happily married to a devoted, intelligent, and beautiful wife. I have two healthy, awe-inspiring young children…one boy and one girl…and of course a dog to round out the Rockwell family portrait. I live in a beautiful house, in a nice quiet neighborhood, in the burbs of one of the most livable cities on the planet. I’ve been successful in my career, I’ve traveled the world more than I ever imagined, and want for nothing much beyond that which I’ve been blessed. I live the American dream in almost every way.

On the downside, I can be a bit crass (at least in the circles that I run in), arrogant, condescending, and sarcastic, but, hey, at least I’m not as judgmental as I used to be. I consider myself a respectable work in progress.

My childhood was utopian in all respects except for the toll that My2Mom’s bipolar exacted upon the stability of my family. I had an adequate supply of friends, played all the sports my body could endure, and excelled in school enough to attend and graduate from an Ivy League university. I survived the divorce of my parents, the temporary homelessness of living in a shelter, and the emotional and financial insecurities wrought by the quaking disruptiveness that emanates from My2Moms.

I often wonder if I’ve achieved my bliss in spite of my childhood battles or because of them. As I grow older, I suspect it’s the latter. I was able to escape my childhood through the blessings of providence and the kind acts of loved ones…my father’s unwavering committed to his two sons…my brother’s camaraderie and friendship…my grandparents’ unfaltering support for our better good.

In many ways, when I went away to college, I literally walked out the door of My2Mom’s chaos. It’s not that we were estranged in any way. Quite to the contrary, we’ve always been fairly close. But, when you live a good distance away from a bipolar loved one, you are worlds away. The disease can be someone else’s problem, in this case my grandparents’.

They, even more than my brother and I, have borne the brunt of My2Mom’s disease. They supported us financially, emotionally, and physically (providing shelter) because my mom couldn’t. They literally stepped up to the plate for 30 years delivering a steady hit of balance ever step of the way. But, they are aging now, in their mid 80s, with failing health and a sense that their journeys are nearing their end.

Which brings us to my current situation. It’s time for me to step up.

In February, we moved my mom closer to my family and I in order to give my grandparents the peace of knowing My2Moms will be cared for even when they are gone. In many ways, it’s my thank you to them. Peace in their final years is the best I have to offer and I will deliver it.

So now I reenter the chaos almost half a lifetime after I left. I must deal with it.

About My2Moms

Of course, my two moms are one. Manic Mom and Sad Mom embody the single individual who gave me life, did her best to raise me, and above all loves me whole heartedly. She is a good person with a caring heart, but a tortured soul. You see, 30 some-odd years ago something went horribly wrong…at least that’s when it became obvious.

That’s when Sad Mom started staying in bed a lot, sometimes for weeks, sometimes sleeping for 16-20 hours a day. That’s when suicidal tendencies started to lurk. And it’s when she began to temporarily withdraw from friendships and become a little mute girl in social situations despite being an adult. That’s when she became despondent, downhearted and dejected. But, perhaps most of all, that’s when she became dependent…on her 5 year old son to cook his grilled cheese sandwiches, on her mom to help raise her children, and on her husband to balance the teeter totter world of a bipolar.

That’s also when Manic Mom started having “blackout spending” episodes. And that’s when she started displaying racing, disconnected thoughts, the energy of a bottle rocket, and the focus of a gnat. That’s when she was fun, sociable and a mouthpiece spewing words without a filter. She could conquer anything, except keeping the house clean, the checkbook balanced, the credit card in her wallet, or her head on a pillow for more than 3 hours at night.

My2Mom’s cycles started slowly at first…typically rolling from mania to depression in now ironically graceful cycles of maybe six months to a year. Over the decades, My2Mom’s cycles became more and more rapid, today she typically endures 3-4 weeks high and 3-4 weeks low with a week or two of “normalcy” sandwiched in between. But, the bread overwhelms the nourishment in most cases and makes for a pretty dissatisfying meal. The highs and lows come in a variety of extremes, sometimes mild like wonder bread, other times exceedingly intense and frightening, like moldy garlic toast burnt to a crisp.

For a long time, My2Moms was misdiagnosed with pure depression, insomnia, and other disorders. Little was known about the disease back then. She tried drugs, hypnotherapy, biofeedback and relaxation techniques, more drugs…sometimes cocktail-style. About 5 years ago the concoction was so potent that her hands shook so hard she couldn’t write legibly, brush her teeth, or walk with a plate of food more than a few feet without dancing it off the plate. Nothing seemed to work, and after 30 years of fight, nothing really works even now. She’s maxed out on Seroquil and Lamictal, with no end in sight to the crests and waves of her disorder.

So, we deal with it. This is our story, thanks for the conversation.

My2Moms Blog

Saturday, December 23, 2006

Sinking into the Abyss

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