My Bipolar Life

Yesterday Ella got her tonsils taken out.  The surgery went very smoothly and for that I am grateful.  She has been a rockstar patient because she is by far the strongest 11 year old that I know, emotionally and physically.  She has complained very little and  only really speaks of pain when it is time for a dose of medicine.  Additionally, she is eating anything that she can get her hands on (that is safe for the healing) and the nurses were literally shocked when they called to check on her today. So when I think about the surgery and her strength throughtout, it brings me back to the gifts that bipolar have given us.  As I have often said, bipolar is a blessing and a curse.  In this instance, it is a blessing because my daughter has learned how to power through pain with grace and dignity. (I guess I sometimes lack grace, but I always have dignity.)  I never make the bipolar a point of shame because it itsn't and I ask for the help when I need it, even when it maybe hard to

The bipolar is kicking my ass. Hard!  Everytime I feel like I have this all handled, life throws a curveball and this time I can't throw it back.  I am meekly rolling it away and life is throwing it harder and harder.  I have school. my billions of doctors appointments, my family and work.  I am physically and emotionally exhausted which for me are signs of depression and I am ignoring everyone of my rules to keep myself out of a depressive episode.  These rules include sleeping on a schedule, being a little vain (meaing staying on top of my grooming; I am often told I smell great and I take pride in that), and generally just keep propelling myself forward come hell or highwater.  Well I cannot seem to do that today or lately, for that matter.  I have felt like a lot of conquering my bipolar has been strength as well as a great doctor and medicine. I have been sleeping most of the day.  Sometimes up to twelve hours a day.  This is just crazy. No one needs twelve hours of sleep an

Every cloud must have a silver lining and I think I have found mine.  For that, I am grateful.  When I was in the first hospital stay, in walked a nurse who was my middle school best friend.  My mom recognized her right away.  I had actually been looking for her on Facebook on and off for awhile but couldn't for the life of me remember her married name and I wasn't finding her under her maiden name.  So anyway, I had found her. Why is this significant you may ask?  Well, because most of my significant middle school memories are of her and her family,  They were like a second family to me.  I spent every weekend with them because her family ran a booth at Seven Mile Fair and we would sleepover often to stay with the booth.  Now this not may seem like fun to you but think of your 12 or 13 year old self and you would have to admit that it would be a blast.  On top of all this fun, I got paid to work the booth ($10 a day I think, lol).   After packing up on Sunday night, we

I remember starting this blog at the beginning of the year saying that this this was the year that my life was going to change.  For the better, or so I thought.  It has changed but it just seems that it is getting more and more difficult.  It seems that I get diagnosis after diagnosis after diagnosis.  I got another diagnosis a couple of days ago and I just do not even know what to do with it.  I have a terminal blood disorder.  It isn't to mean that I am dying today or even soon, just that this is most likely how I will go. I sit and wonder, why me?  But why not me?  I see no reason why my life is of more value than any other life.  We are all equally special and for some reason I was given what may seem like a raw deal.  At this point, I have no choice but to look at it, be mad it, cry about it, yell about it and then accept it.  Accept that I have a greater risk of dying than most people, especially those my age. I think I accept it, I think, being the key words. With accep

The past six weeks have been quite eventful for me.  It all began on August 29th when I had my ACL reconstructed.  The next few days were ok and not overly painful but by September 5th my leg began to swell.  On September 6th, we finally went to urgent care because my calf was huge and my breathing was a little odd.  Long story short, I had a bilateral PE and a DVT which are a just nice names for deadly blood clots. I was admitted to the hospital.  September 7th was Billy's 17th birthday and I missed it, his last one at home before college and I missed it.  I spent 16 days total in and out the hospital.  It was hard. It was so hard and continues to be hard.  I worry often about the likelihood that this could be the beginning of my end.  If I am honest with myself, that really just simply pisses me off.  It makes me sad, it makes me cry.  It makes me horrifically jealous of those who have not had 5 life threatening conditions in the last 3 years.  It makes me throw myself a huge p