13 Ways to Help

When I first started this blog, it was with the intention of recording the life of a person with bipolar disorder (me) so that other can see not all people with bipolar disorder go off doing horrible, awful things that lead to death or dismemberment.  I wanted to help erase the stigma of mental illness.  However, I have another chronic, life-long ailment.  I have rheumatoid arthritis (RA).  As the symptoms progress and regress, I find myself wanting to advocate for RA patients too.  Funny how that happens.  ;)

Well, I stumbled across a blog article today for RA and 13 ways you can help people living with RA.  They are GREAT suggestions for how to help an RA patient out, but they can serve a duel purpose.  Most of these tips are great for how to help a bipolar patient also so I am including a list for Beepers (as a few of us fondly call ourselves) as well!  So here we go!

13 Ways You Can Help People Living with RA

1. Ask, "How are you doing?"  Really listen to the answer. 
2. Bring a meal.  Breakfast... lunch... dinner...
3. Open doors, cans, jars, soda pop, plastic storage containers... without being asked. 
4. Don't hand them something heavy.  Most things are too heavy. 
5. If you notice an RA'er is having trouble walking, offer to walk the dog or get the mail...
6. Notice whether or not an RA'er is having trouble walking. 
7. Send a "Thinking of You" card.
8. Run an errand.
9. Do a household chore or give a gift certificate for a maid service. 
10. Read a blog about RA, so you can learn about what your loved one is dealing with. 
11. Go to doctor's appointments as moral support, witness, driver, or physical assistant.
12. Exchange jokes.  Be funny.  Pain is a big downer.
13. Ask an RA'er to tell you her/his story.

13 Ways You Can Help People Living with Bipolar Disorder
(Note:  Bipolar associated mania manifests in every person differently and is often mistaken by outsiders as either "That person is really happy today" or "That person is really pissed off today."  Others attribute it to a fun, outgoing personality.  The problem is it can be really hard to tell if a Beeper is manic or just a "normal" happy/mad.  THEREFORE, this list focuses more on the depressive side of Bipolar.)

1. Ask, "How are you doing?" or "How many spoons today?"  Really listen to the answer. 
2. Bring a meal.  Breakfast... lunch... dinner...
3. Open windows and blinds... without being asked.  Any natural sunlight helps fight depression.
4. Don't assume a Beeper will remember a list.  Write it down.
5. If you notice a Beeper is feeling down, offer to walk the dog, sit and chat, or get the mail...
6. Notice whether or not a Beeper is feeling down. 
7. Send a "Thinking of You" card.
8. Run an errand.
9. Do a household chore or give a gift certificate for a maid service. 
10. Read a blog about Bipolar Disorder, so you can learn about what your loved one is dealing with. 
11. Go to doctor's appointments as moral support, witness, warden, driver, or physical assistant.
12. Exchange jokes.  Be funny.  Laughter is a huge weapon against depression.
13. Ask a Beeper to tell you her/his story.

Source:  Rheumatoid Arthritis Warrior "13 Ways to Help People Living with Rheumatoid Arthritis"

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Grand Re-Opening!

I know I have been gone for a while.  Things got a little crazy in the last year or so.  Hopefully, I am back and I can start sharing my journeys and experiences with you all again!  To begin, let me give you a little recap of the last 14 months.  Yes, yes.  I know you know the general events, but rather than you refreshing your memory by looking at past posts, I will just do it here.

At this time last year, I was wrapping up my student teaching in Arizona.  Student teaching was one of the most challenging and rewarding things I have ever done.  It truly tested my limits and forced me to think outside the box.  I had bad days where I seriously doubted I would make it through, and I had great days where I was in awe at what my students could do.  With my classmates and my mentor teacher, I laughed, I cried, I pulled my hair out, and I loved.  Despite my fears and inexperience, my students thrived and I finally graduated.

With graduation, I finally got to be back with my husband again.  18 months of living in two separate places takes a toll on a relationship.  The transition back to living together and being a team was rough.  I had gotten used to depending on only myself.  I had gotten used to cooking for one, worrying about only what I needed to do and accomplish.  Suddenly, there was another person in the equation again and I had to relearn how to be a partner instead of the boss.  It was a long process that I was not able to solve myself, but it took me time to accept the help from my partner.

While this was all going on, my body was adjusting to the new climate.  I went from hot and dry to cool and humid and my body did not agree at all!  I spend months achy and depressed as I worked with my docs to adjust my meds accordingly.  Eventually, the Rheumatoid got used to the weather and I was able to function better and summer came along, improving my mood.

Now, I have settled into my life here in So Cal and I am working toward new goals.  My husband and I are trying to raise money to adopt, I am studying for my secondary certifications for teaching in California, I am substituting and tutoring privately, and I am looking into opening my own private school.  That doesn't even count all the plans I have for this house and yard!

So as you can see, I never seem to let myself slow down, but I feel that not only do I need to start blogging again for my own sanity, I also need to put my thoughts, feelings, and solutions out there for others again.  I  may be dreaming, but I believe my words can help others work through tough times in their own lives.  As I get back to blogging, I will continue to put coping strategies out there, share my own experiences, delve into more detail on some of the past events, and express new dreams.  Please feel free to give your input and suggestions.  I want this to be a community where we all help and share with each other.

Just Give a Little Boost

Rant Warning:  I know, I know.  My first post in what feels like forever and it is a rant.  If you don't want to read this, guess what.  You don't have to!

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There once was a time when my dad and I were at odds over how to handle my Bipolar Disorder.  He was of the belief that all you have to do is think positive and you will be positive.  Although this is an excellent starting point for most people, it is not always the end all, especially for someone with an invisible illness.  It doesn't matter if the illness is something like bipolar or depression, or if it is physical like Lupus or Rheumatoid Arthritis.  Plain and simple, mind over matter does not cure everything, and quite frankly, it is one of the quickest ways to piss someone off when they have an invisible illness.

Think about it.  Have you ever had something happen to you physically or mentally that nobody else could see, but it was still there, hurting?  Maybe it was when a close friend or family member died.  Maybe you were sick and someone said you were faking it and no one could figure out what was wrong for a while.  Maybe it was a migraine. How about those with nerve pain, muscle weakness, or even cancer?  How did you feel when someone told you to just snap out of it or think positive and it will get better?  I am betting it felt pretty crappy.  And if you have never felt this degrading feeling, just take my word for it and shut your trap.  You don't know every person's journey.  You don't know the baggage they carry.  Stop being so damn cynical and believe someone for once when they tell you they don't feel well.

Now I bet you are wondering why I am ranting about this.  Well, I made a comment about how I will always be at doctor's offices until they find a cure for my illnesses.  The response asked why do I bother if it can't be cured anyway?  Well because I have to be able to function every day.  Then this person blew me off and said that I can function just fine.  What people don't see is how I let myself wince when they can't see me; how I hobble across the room in the morning because my body is so stiff until I shower; how tears fill my eyes when I once again can't open my own damn jar; how I cry myself to sleep sometimes because I feel lonely even when I am surrounded by my friends; how I take a handful of pills every morning and night just so I can put on that brave face when it hurts so bad to move but I make myself walk normal; how when I stop taking those pills, I literally cannot get out of bed, even if the damn house was on fire; how I recite positive mantras to myself every morning and night to help maintain my mental abilities.  Yes, I function damn well on most occasions, but it is because of a million little things I make sure to do each day to make sure I can at least fake it every day.

So before you reply to me after I mention some ailment I have, consider this.  Either 1) this load is just too much to handle on my own right now and I have to let some of it out or I will completely lose it, or 2) I consider you a very close friend that I can trust to handle me with care when I let my guard down and let you see the real me. So don't feed me crappy lines like "Think positive and you will BE positive!"  I've tried that shit and sometimes it just doesn't work.  Instead, stop listening with your ears and start listening with your heart, like my dad did.  After a particularly rough night when my dog ran away, my dad and I had a very intense and passionate conversation.  He finally listened to the message behind the words and not just the words.  He realized that I am not motivated the same way as my mom and brother.  He has to take a softer approach with me.  Instead of going drill sergeant, offer a helping hand and encouragement.  Chances are all I need is a small boost.

Day 1 - Accountability

Today, I did something I haven't done in a long time - I put myself through a full workout.  Now, I know I have several friends who do a heck of a lot more than what I did today, but I pushed my muscles to their give in point and that works for me...for now.

Why is this such a big deal?  Before I moved to Arizona, I had been working with a freakin fantastic trainer for about a year (shameless plug for Lance Pimentel at TNT Top Notch Training in Stockton, CA).  I was in the gym nearly every day and I felt phenomenal.  Lance kicked my butt once or twice a week and I kicked my own butt the rest of the week.  I was slimming down, toning up, and had a ton more energy.  I continued the training and the gym in Tucson, but not as enthusiastically.  

Then I lost feeling in my right arm.  It would swing back and forth from numbness to pins and needles.  My hand would swell to the size of a grapefruit and the whole arm and hand were useless.  After weeks of tests, an MRI, and who knows what else (you know my memory sucks), the diagnosis was a severely pinched nerve. What did the doctor do?  He prescribed me a nerve blocking pill.  Um, how exactly does that unpinch the nerve???  Exactly. 

This was when I decided to try chiropractic treatment.  After watching how much it helped my mom, I figured the least I could do was try it.  After just one treatment, I had general feeling back in my arm and hand.  Turns out it was a rib out of place that was pinching that nerve.  After a few weeks, I could grip things again and stopped taking the nerve pills.  After a month or two, I was able to get back in the gym, but I no longer had the motivation and endurance because of the weeks I was banned for doing anything strenuous with that arm.  I was frustrated, and rather than push through like I should have, I quit.  

I have learned a lot since then.  I have learned that taking the easy way out is rarely the best way.  I have learned that physical activity is something my body craves.  I have learned that an overweight person who exercises regularly is still healthier than a person at the "proper" weight who doesn't exercise.  I have learned that physical activity is absolutely VITAL for maintaining functionality with Rheumatoid Arthritis. I stop moving, so do my joints.  So I am starting again. 

Today I took that first step.  Last night as I lay in bed, I planned out my workout.  I caught myself thinking "I will try to workout tomorrow" and realized I was thinking the same way I had been for the last two years.  I then changed that phrase in my head to "No.  I will not try.  I will perform.  I WILL workout tomorrow."  That change in thinking made all the difference.  Now, I know how easy it is to quit.  It is harder to get started than to quit.  And now we are to the point of this post.  

I would love if someone out there would be willing to be my accountability coach.  Because I don't want to spam this blog with my workout regime and I don't want to spam my Facebook wall with my workouts, I am going to start a new blog to track my progress and help me stay accountable.  I want to be able to track my increased endurance and strength.  What better way than a blog!  So, if you are willing to be my accountability coach, or if you want to be my workout partner, come check out my NEW blog at Butt Busting Diva!  I look forward to seeing you there!

Blessings

Every now and then, something happens that reminds you exactly how blessed you are.  The last week has been such a moment for me.  See, I live in Arizona.  Wonderful, warm, dry Arizona where my joints don't ache as often and my depressions are fewer in between.  However, the last week, we have experienced record low temperatures and freaking freezing winds...literally.  The lows for the last two nights were 18 degrees and 15 degrees (depending on what part of Tucson you live in).  Windchill hovered close to 0 degrees.  Well, Tucson just isn't used to this so it seems like every building has a busted water pipe or two.  Businesses have been closed due to lack of water and tens of thousands of people no longer have heat because of a natural gas shortage.

And yet I still consider myself blessed.  Why?  First, because I have a home that I can hide from the cold in.  Second, I am not one of the tens of thousands without heat.  Third, I am not one of the many with busted water pipes.  Fourth, my bed is oh so warm.  Fifth, my rheumatoid is only just now starting to scream at me (I expected it days ago).  And last but certainly not least, I won't be digging out of snow and ice for the next two weeks like the rest of the nation.  Bwahahahaha!  :P

Please know that even though I count my blessings, I pray for all those who don't have food, shelter, heat, etc., and I pray that all those who have to deal with the snow and ice stay safe and warm.


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Better Living Through Chemistry

< Disclaimer:  This turned into a huge post.  And it probably rambles because I didn't proof it.  Feel free to skip it if you want. >

It never fails to amaze me how much pain and sickness the human body, my body, can take. It never fails to amaze me how much you get used to the pain so you don't realize how bad it is - that is, until it is gone.

People keep asking me how my Christmas was. I usually tell them it was great! I got to see my family, had lots of laughs, played games, and got to eat tons of delicious food. All of that is true and I am so glad and thankful for the experience. I usually leave out that 6 out of the 7 days I was in California, I spent most of my time staying still, and when I did move, I walked around like a stiff old lady because my rheumatic joints hurt so bad.

I leave out the physical pain because either they prefer hearing the happy stuff or I prefer thinking of the happy stuff. And then at some point, the pain becomes part of you. You know you hurt. It has hurt for a while. But you can still function when you need to. You may not be able to function easily, but the fact remains you can. You just have to adapt. Don't be weak and give in to nature being a bitch. Just get your stuff done and if it gets worse, call the doctor.

The process is so gradual, you don't even see yourself slipping. What started as a little mole hill has turned into a big mountain, but you don't feel like there has been any change. Next thing you know, you are rolling down that ginormous mountain at 1,000 MPH wondering how you let it get this bad.

That was me last week. I didn't see the mountain until I was sitting at home at the end of my Christmas vacation in tears because, once again, I couldn't turn a door handle or button my own pants. In tears because I know there is no cure for rheumatoid arthritis. In tears because I know it is a degenerative disease. In tears because I couldn't even form a cohesive thought through my pain and misery. My brain was a fog. But even worse, there were tears from a depression that I still couldn't see behind the mountain. It took the doctor telling me I was depressed for me to see that part of this equation, and that almost never happens with me anymore. Usually I am so in tune with my bipolar that I know I am slipping into a depression long before I show outward symptoms of it.

So I finally called my Rheumatologist. Out til next month. Boo. So I called the PCP. Saw him Monday. We talked about all my physical problems. The final conclusion was major RA flareup (well DUH) and severe depression. The question, which came first? I told him it didn't matter because they feed off each other anyway and he agreed. The treatment? Double the antidepressant (which put me at a whole 50 mg of Zoloft - something most people laugh at) and call in Guido (Prednisone - a steroid) for the RA.

Now, I have taken Prednisone before. I have an "as needed" prescription for these flare ups. I start hurting, I take 5 mg for a few days and then I am right as rain...usually. This time around, I had taken that dose for 10 days with no effect, so I was skeptical of this second round of Prednisone. Then he told me how much. 60 freaking mg. SIXTY! 60 for 3 days, 40 for 3 days, 20 for 3 days, 10 for 3 days. Holy hell. That is more than just calling in Guido. That is calling in the whole freakin mafia.

The good news was I didn't care. I just wanted relief. I figured getting rid of the pain would help my depression a little and I would be able to function at work. What I knew was Prednisone is fast acting. It would start working within 24 to 36 hours and my pain would start subsiding. Zoloft takes longer. It would be about 2 weeks before I had significant depression relief, but the lack of pain would help the depression a little bit in the meantime. I figured it was something like 80% real depression and 20% pain-induced depression. Oh baby was I WRONG!!! 24 hours after my first dose of Prednisone I discovered my pain was my depression. 24 hours after starting that damn steroid, I felt emotionally normal and my pain level was well on its way to leaving the building.

I have always known that I have a much higher pain tolerance than the average person. What most people would consider a 6 or 7 on the pain scale, I frequently call a 3, maybe a 4. Why? Because I am used to it and know how to adapt to it. For me to say my pain is 7 or higher, I have to be damn near crippled. I don't always remember that though. Then the pain goes away and I am left asking myself, how the hell did I function through that? How could I not realize it was that bad?

The only answer I can come up with:

Cause I'm stubborn  in denial  an idiot one tough cookie. 


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What are you thankful for?

What was your first thought getting out of bed this morning?  Was it something like "Ugh, time to get the kids ready for school." or was it something like "Awesome!  I woke up to another day!  Let's see what fun it brings?"

After a conversation with my mom last night, I got to wondering how many of us wallow in the mundane or bad things in our life.  I know I used to only see the bad.  When you have as many medical issues as I do, with more coming up every day, sometimes it can be hard to see past the pain, discomfort, and disability.  Every day I would wake up thinking how much it sucked that I had to go to work that day, or how horrible my body ached from my RA.  Before my husband, I might think how much I wanted and deserved to have a good guy laying in bed next to me every morning.  Waking up alone sucked.  And when the bipolar gripped me in a major depression, I would curse that fact that I even woke up at all.

But then a few wonderful things happened to me.  I met my husband.  He lit up my world.  The problems didn't go away, in fact some of them got worse, but he always made me laugh no matter how bad I hurt (mentally and physically).  The negative mornings became fewer, but even then I still had days where I would wake up looking at only the bad things, though it happened less often. 

Then another person came into my life.  Or rather, became a part of my life since I had already been working with her for several years.  We became close friends when her husband ended up in ICU and was in the hospital for months.  She changed my perspective as I watched her always have hope while her husband teetered on the edge of life and death.  No matter how scared or frightened she was, she always had hope.  And then there was the joy and love when he finally got to go home.  Going through that experience with her, being there for her and with her, changed me.  It taught me to value life more.  It taught me to value every day, every moment I have on this earth because it could all come to an end unexpectedly. 

Now when I wake up in the morning, it is rarely with disappointment or a negative thought.  I am by no means perfect and do still have my cranky mornings, but they are now few and far between and usually only when severe physical pain is involved. 

This morning my first thought as I felt my arm throbbing in pain was "I am so lucky that I have a husband and roommate that are supporting me through this painful time."  They help me accomplish the daily tasks and chores that need to be done and they make me laugh.  This morning, I was truly grateful to be alive.

So tell me, what are you thankful for today?


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Learning to Accept Help

In November, I was just starting to get into the blog-o-shere.  I stepped into the shallow end of the pool by reading just one blog, who still remains my favorite, The Bloggess.  I know I talk about her all the time, but I immediately fell in love because she shared my sarcastic, witty, and sometimes demented sense of humor.  It wasn't long before she had me reading all her blogs, including her advice column and satirical sex blog.  Every now and then, my beloved Jenny posts something serious though, and that is how I was introduced to a beautiful family who had gone through so much misfortune, the Mayhews. 

She may not know it, but Anissa and her husband, Peter, have somewhat become idols for me.  For me, it started on their Hope For Peyton blog that turned into a quasi "Hope for Anissa" blog when she had two massive strokes in November.  Jenny had posted the event on her blog and I have been following the Mayhews ever since.  Their strength and love as a family gripped me, and though I never comment much, I love hearing their story because it gives me hope when I am in the pits of mine.  It is because of Peter that I decided to start my own blog.  He needed somewhere he could put his thoughts down and reach out to people as he waited for news on Anissa.  I needed a place to put my thoughts down as I wait for bouts of depression, anxiety, and rheumatoid arthritis to pass.  His words inspired me in the beginning, and now his wife inspires me today. 

As I sit here, unable to use my right arm due to extreme pain from RA and feeling useless and handicapped, I pull up Anissa's Blog and I think, if this amazing woman can come back from two major strokes that should have killed her (according to doctors), and still get up every day for the last 4 months to take care of her three beautiful kids and keep pushing every day to get better, then who the hell am I to sit here and feel sorry for myself because I have been down and non-functional for a whole 3 freaking days. 

But this is the worst flareup I have ever had and I thought I knew some of Anissa's frustration from my past health issues.  Not exactly, but I thought I could understand some of it.  Boy was I wrong.  The pain of the last 3 days have brought on a whole new meaning for me of handicapped and useless.  As I have had to ask my husband to open the milk for me, refill my water bottle, wash my hair, or turn a doorknob because I couldn't grasp it, a new meaning formed.  As I lost use of my right arm because any movement at all, even typing, cause too much pain, a new meaning formed.  As I spend hours typing with one hand, and then lay completely still in bed watching reruns because it's the only thing I can do where I am semi-comfortable, a new meaning formed.  As I burst into tears because I was stupid enough to try reaching behind me to unclasp my own bra, a new meaning formed.  And with this new, deeper meaning of what it is feel handicapped and useless, I bet I still don't even scratch the surface of what so many others go through.

So I will stop feeling sorry for myself, but I will accept my limitations right now.  I can never heal if I don't give my body the break it wants/needs.  I will ask for help unclasping my bra, turning on the shower, washing my hair, and making breakfast.  I will ask for help picking up the laptop so I can write my next blog one-handed or surf Facebook.  But what I most recently learned from Anissa, I will ask for comfort when the reality of the situation overwhelms me and I feel like my world is crashing down.  I will reach out to my friends and family and ask for that gentle hug and "poor baby" to get me through the next minute, hour, or day.  Because sometimes, comfort is the most important help you need.



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Too tired to come up with a witty blog title.

I'm tired.  I know it has been a while since I posted, so here I am.  The problem is that I am so tired that my poor little brain cannot come up with the sarcastic and witty remarks I would normally include in a post.  I have several things saved in emails and pictures that I want to blog about, but at this juncture, I know my words could not possibly do them justice.  And so they sit...and wait...for me to recover from whatever has drained all my energy.

And herein lies the question: Why on earth am I so exhausted??  I don't think it is depression because it feels different than normal.  I still want to do things, I just literally don't have the energy.  I feel like I could sleep all day and still not be rested.  Could it be pain induced?  I have had this same damn headache for 3 days straight now and my rheumatic hands aren't exactly thrilled with me (I blame that on the latest rain storm that came through).  Could it be stress?

Despite not working (I quit my part-time, 12-hour a week, minimum wage job LOL), there are still things in my life that have my mind racing.  I have a decision to make, and I just can't do it.  Maybe you can help me.  Help someone out by moving into a place with a roommate (I despise the thought of moving all our crap), or go with my level of comfort and figure out a way to tell a nice person, sorry, but no, we won't help you out?  Take a gamble on being miserable with a roommate, or make myself feel miserable for not helping someone in need?  See?  Sucks either way.  This causes me stress. 

So my solution for now?  Sit on the couch and nap while watching movies all day long.  It works similar to an ostrich poking its head into the ground.  If I ignore it, it's not there and will eventually go away on its own.

Well, back to the movie, and hopefully in a couple days I will be able to tell you an amazing story about The Trustworthiness of Beards or some other equally amusing thing I find.

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The Small Stuff

It has been a few days since I posted, which I guess is nothing too unusual in the blogging world, but I feel disconnected now.  Things have just been a bit busy until today, yet last night and today serve as reminders to me that yes, sometimes the "small stuff" really does matter.

First, I was reminded last night to cherish the small stuff.  I have been feeling a bit stir-crazy the last couple days despite being "busy" running errands and attending various doctor and gym appointments.  The funny thing about those things is that I just don't feel fulfilled when those are completed.  Maybe it is because I don't have anything solid that I can hold in my hands afterwards except for a recommendation to have my nose broken to correct a deviated septum.  Maybe it is because it doesn't feel like any of it really affects the world as a whole like working did.  Either way, I was left feeling unaccomplished. 

My solution, informing my husband last minute that it was going to be date night.  hehe.  As you can imagine, his reaction was a tentative "um....ok?"  The impromptu date turned out fabulous and here we get back to how I was reminded to cherish the small stuff.  Dinner was great of course (greek food...so yummy), but it was the after dinner party that was so great.  We spent the next 3 hours playing ping pong and board/card games.  Cheap, yes, but so much more fulfilling then paying $20+ for a movie or something equally uninvolved.  I have not experienced anything in the last few weeks that was more fulfilling then running around a small room, running into walls, and collapsing on the floor in laughter with a paddle and ping pong ball, all in an attempt to look like I actually know what I am doing to my husband who has his own freaking custom ping pong paddle.  It was a blast.  It was a small thing in the scope of life, but it was so big to rejuvenating my spirit.

Second, I was reminded today how sweating the small stuff ahead of time leads to less stress later.  How, you ask?  Quite simple.  It was a bad arthritis day.  Stiff, painful joints + extreme fatigue = a day of sitting on the couch attempting not to move.  The never-ending question is always was triggered it this time?  I am used to cause and affect and still grasping the fact that sometimes, RA will flare with no cause at all.  Annoying.  Yet I had accomplished my "small stuff" earlier in the week so I didn't feel like the house was going to shambles because I spent a day on the couch.  There is a reason I sweat the small stuff when I am up and able-bodied -- so that I can relax when my body needs me to without worries. 

So while in some people's lives "Don't sweat the small stuff" is an excellent motto, sometimes, just the opposite is most effective.