Living With Bipolar Disorder

Up and Down, Down and further Down and when I'm lucky Up
..Up, Up, Up. Well, maybe not so lucky. "UP" comes with a whole slew of its's own issues. Up brings with it a lack of sleep, reckless behavior and anxiety are the big ones for me. When I'm hypomanic, I never feel comfortable. My clothes don't feel good on my skin, my body hurts to sit or lay and being still is not an option, that makes me feel trapped.

How am I dealing with this? Well, I am relying on my husband. I am relying on him to tell me it's bedtime and time to eat. He also keeps me from making those all too reckless moves.  I am fortunate that my hypomanic period is happening while my husband & I are on vacation celebrating our 20th wedding anniversary so I am rarely alone to make reckless decisions.

I am sure there are people that cannot understand being an adult and needing to rely on someone else to keep you in check but it happens to me and I am thankful I have a great support system that will call me out on my behavior and step in to keep me in check. Without them who knows where I'd end up...jail, mental hospital,  oh wait, I did that. But honestly, had I listened to my family, I probably would not have landed myself in either of those places.

Relying on other people isn't easy, especially for this Jersey Girl! I want to do it all alone and I ALWAYS know best. Haha. Honestly,  it's not easy and I am not always willing to listen but I try because I know I've chosen a great support team that wants me to be well, to be the best me I can be and i love them for it. I know they get frustrated and angry when then have to step in and take care of me but they do it. I am so thankful. I am so fortunate.

If you are living with bipolar disorder, find a support system, it will be the most important part of your maintenance. With them you will use your medicine better, you will go to therapy more, you will eat and sleep better, you will live better. Not everyone can or will stand by and be part of your team but those that do, love you more than you can imagine and want you to be well, even when it doesn't feel that way.

Six Years Later...

Today doesn't hurt any less than April 17, 2013 did. To date, this is my least favorite day of the year, April 17. It's the day that I dread for 364 days every single year. Now it's here and what? I spend the next 23.5 hours crying or trying not to cry while I wonder, usually resentfully, how my mother and siblings push through. I hate today, April 17th. 

The sadness, hurt and anger I feel on this day doesn't leave from year to year. The pain I felt on April 17, 2013 has derailed my life. Grief  has consumed me, it has made it impossible for me to make good decisions, and makes me unable to see when I make bad ones. I've lost time with my family because I cannot see past my grief. I still just find myself so sad most days, which is a huge improvement over EVERYDAY but still isn't where I need or want to be. I know I need to find a way to move past my grief. I need to work on being mentally healthy. My father would really not have been happy with this pity- party I've been throwing for 6 years now! While flattered at first, by 2 or 3 months he would have said move on. When years 3 and 4 came around, and my life was really hitting rock-bottom,  he would have been angry.  He would tell me now that I need to stop. I need to pull my life together and stop wasting time grieving over him. Especially since he did not think himself worthy of this kind of wallowing and grieving :)

Today I am going to do my best to move past the tears and see the life ahead of me. And when I wake up on April 18, 2019, I am going to work to live for more than another year passing since my father died. I am going to live for me! I am going to live for my husband & children. I am going to think of a happy moment everytime a sad one creeps in. This year I'm going to do it.

I love you dad and I will never stop but no more tears! Forward I go.

It's A Struggle For Sure

I've always tried to be as honest and open about my struggles because I know there are so many people out there suffering but not able to share so I share for you. I share in hope of helping just one person know they are not allow. I also share for me. For me it's a way to take all the words in my mind and give them another place to be! A place far outside my brain!

The question "who are you?" has become akin to nails on a chalkboard for me. In my mind the answer is depressingly easy, "I am a felon".
That's correct, I have spent 44 years on this earth, 11mos of it in jail, and the first answer that pops into my head, every time is, "I'm a felon".  I went to my child's Eagle Scout ceremony and as I introduced myself to people, I nearly said "Hi I'm Emily, the felon" not mother of the child, not wife, not mother of 3, nope just felon.

So last night my husband, being particularly attentive and understanding, listened to me introduce myself as Emily, the felon. Then he looked at me and said name 8 things that have happened in the past 8 years that have greatly and you'd say negatively have happened. I looked at him unamused and ask why, he responded, humor me. So I did.
My List:
My father died
I destroyed my husband's trust in me
I ruined my family's finances
I tried to kill myself
I trusted and did for the wrong people
I caused my family to feel unsafe in their home
I lost a year of time with my husband and monsters
I hurt my family

Those are the top 8 things I've lived through the past 8 years. With that list my husband asked me where being a felon was. I said not in my top 8, it's just who I am. He said, "on that list where is going to jail, being poisoned & tortured?" I answer, Not in my top 8. Then he looked at me, as I sobbed, and asked "then why do you see yourself first and only as a felon?" So I cried, ugly, sobbing cries as he went over my list of 8 again and said, "Emily is a daughter, a mother, a wife, a protector, a lover, a loyal friend". Of course I decided he didn't have to sleep on the couch last night as I continued to sob ;-)

The point that I need to share and need to get out is that for weeks, months I've been slipping further and further into a depression and the further I fall the brighter my scarlet "F" gets until it's donned some lights and started flashing!  Can I make my "F" go away? No. But what I can do and am working to do is take the lights down or at least dim them.

It's a bump in my road. If it wasn't the felony it would have been something else, that's the bigger point. When you live with Bipolar disorder and depression,  there is always going to be a letter on your chest and the majority of the time it's put there by you! That IS the disorder! How can your brain play tricks on you. And it's so easy to slip into depression. It's so easy to believe all the negative.

The other thing I'd like to share is that sharing isn't just hard because of the people that don't understand or "believe" mental illness, it's hard because mental illness is so individualized and the topic is so sensitive that sometimes when I share people, trying to be supportive don't really understand me and my illness. The best way to help someone with a mental illness is to make sure that they know how to find help when/if they want it.  For me that looks like a very, very small support system of family, a friend, okay two and doctors. They are people I see, talk to and trust everyday.  Don't read too much into my social media posts if they haven't. Sometimes I just have words I need to get out!

I'm going to end by saying, I'm struggling right now. I am working through it. I have awesome support.

So Much Hate!

It's been awhile since I last wrote, nothing to say, tired of wallowing in self-pity, LAZY, so many reasons. Now, I feel I NEED to write. I cannot stay quiet any longer. I can no longer live in a country, in a world with so much anger and hatred.

Anger and hatred, it's just everywhere! I have 3 teenagers and trying to build a positive, happy and service-centered life feels impossible. There is hate all over the news, on social media, the kids school at WalMart! It's everywhere. The reason this has really come to a head for me is that this hate, this ugliness, this lack of acceptance starts with our President! It starts at the very top! When you have the kind of Hate in your heart that the President of the United States has and shares with the world, it's no wonder it trickles down.

This hate and lack of acceptance has spread like wildfire. People seem to have no ability to have civil conversations with a person with differing views. No, we have hate rallies and protests. What are folks protesting? Race, religion, sexuality. Sure there is plenty more people are hating but race, religion and sexuality seem to make the list at least weekly.

It's 2019, how are we still hating and fighting about race? You are aware that the color of one's skin is a) not something a person chooses b) is simply an external difference, everything inside is the same no matter the color of your skin c) makes the world a beautiful place.

Next, let me tell you how over religious hate I am. As a Christian, my first goal is to live "Christ-like". What does that mean to me? It means to love and serve others. Nowhere does Christ preach to hate people that are a different race or for who they love or for any reason! CHRISTIANS!!! JESUS DOES NOT PREACH HATE! No matter how or what you read or are taught in your church, I promise you he is not for hate! I challenge you to find a teaching that says otherwise. Love thy neighbor, serve your neighbor *unless they are a different race?* *Unless the believe in a different God?* *Because they are attracted to someone of the same sex?*  Show me these verses in your Bibles because they aren't in mine.

Lastly, I cannot understand the hate for the LBGTQ community. Understand and stop lying about it because these folks aren't out recruiting your children or any children. In fact, they spend the majority of their time hiding who they are and from people so they aren't physically harmed or mentally, emotionally tortured. They often hide themselves into depression and even suicide. And you know what, each one of those suicides is on the hands of all of you that hate and Bully and shame the LBGT community. That hate kills people.

The lack of acceptance, the hate, the anger, it leads to too many deaths. Too many lives gone too soon and for nothing more than fear and ignorance of people just wanting to live their lives like you! My kids deserve more, your kids deserve more, we owe it to ourselves to stand up to hate. To break the streak of anger. Smile, say hello, stand up when you see bullying, when you see racism. Different DOESN'T mean bad, wrong; it simply means not the same. Think about it. Be positive! End Hate.

The First Twenty-Four Hours

I sat there still and somber as the judge read out my sentence, 6 counts… 1st count, Five years, four years with 10 months suspended. Second count, Five years with 10 months suspended. The third, fourth, fifth and six counts were all the same, five years with four years and ten months suspended. Quickly the words raced through my mind, what did it mean? What was happening? Jail? I was going to jail? What the hell did that mean? I didn’t understand, This couldn’t be real! And without a goodbye or even a glance at my husband and family I was taken away, off to a holding cell. WHAT!!!

Shock. Fear. Heartache. Confusion. And a million other feelings raced through my mind and body. But at the moment it was Anger that was taking charge. What the hell happened? My family, my lawyer, the case president, nobody thought I would be serving time, nobody prepared me for this. Finally, after what seemed like hours, my lawyer came to see me and explain my sentence and what I could expect going forward. Then he walked away. Free. As I sat in a holding cell at the courthouse just wondering and waiting for what was going to happen next.

Time passed, and eventually I was rehandcuffed, just hands, and lead off to collect other prisoners who had come from jail to court and were shackled, hands and feet, and then off to a waiting van destined for jail.

As the van was loaded, the guard reminded everyone that male and female prisoners were to have no verbal exchange. This warning fell on deaf ears and everyone talked to everyone else regardless of gender, everyone except me. I just sat there, sat trying not to cry, trying to seem less scared than I was.

The ride from the Courthouse to the jail was less than a mile and took maybe 3 minutes, with the majority of that time spent waiting for the garage to open. Once inside the garage I got my first real taste for how inefficient and slow everything ran at Rappahannock Regional Jail. The van was parked but we didn't move. We just sat. Everyone else in the van seemed content with this delay but not me, I was anxious to move the process along. After 15 or 20 minutes it was finally time to unload. Through the automatic doors we went, quickly hurried against the cinderblock wall to be patted down (My first, of what would be many pat-downs). With that done all the prisoners I had riden with were herded off like sheep through a metal door, I was escorted to in-take.

On first glance, in-take didn't seem like it was going to be too bad. It was quiet and fairly empty. I was led through the in-take lobby to a holding cell with only one other woman inside. Once inside I again broke down in tears. The tears must have seemed neverending because they prompted the other woman in there to attempt to console me. “Is this your first time in jail?” She, asked. “Yeah”, I responded. “Well, could you stop crying so loud, it's annoying?”, she asked. With that I sat facing the wall, crying in silence as best I could, waiting just waiting to be called for processing.

Processing, that wait was forever! Thankfully the charming lady in with me was taken long before me, as were the 5 other women that came in and out as I waited. As a guard came to bring in another woman to be processed I finally asked how much longer. “Your name?” she enthusiastically demanded. “Emily Fallon”, I responded. Seconds later the metal door slams and the guard yells “Someone forgot that Fallon, she's still in holding”. “Oh man, she should have been processed last shift. I'll get her next.” another guard said.

For whatever reason, I'm not sure what that set my tears streaming again. Take a look at my mugshot sometime, hours of nonstop tears, fear, anger, it's a keeper.

Pictures taken and it's on to questions. The basics, name, age, race, gang affiliation, etc. Onto health, meds, conditions, etc. Housekeeping, clothing size, bunk restrictions, etc. This is going alright. I mean I've been crying the entire time but it's fluctuated  between sobbing and quiet sniffling. To finish in-take the is a mental health questionnaire. This my friends was the kiss of death!

“Do you feel like you want to hurt yourself?” the guard asks. I answer, “Ummm...Really?!?! YES! Yes, I want to hurt myself, I want nothing more than to be dead right now!” “How would you do it?”, she asks. I answer, “I am going to bang my head against the cinderblock wall or cement floor.” “I'll be right back”, she says.

Back she came but not alone. She brought two extra guards with her. They explained to me that I would be taken to crisis and put on suicide watch until I could see someone from the psychiatric staff. This seemed reasonable, infact I was thrilled to hear there was a psych staff here so I could continue the treatment I was currently getting.

Crisis was a hidden closet in medical with 4 cells. Each cell was the same, cement floor, cinderblock walls, glass door and a hole with a grate over it for a toilet. As you went in you were made to strip, completely naked and you were given a green vest with velcro (that was worn out and didn't stick) and a blanket to put on the cement to sleep on. Essentially, you're left naked trying to hold a wrap around yourself in a cement room that smells like a NYC subway platform.

*as a side note here I want to add that I had my period and wasn't given a tampon or pads...again, I had no underwear. Add to this that I have no toilet paper and only a hole in the ground to relieve myself in.*

So, for the next several hours I paced and cried, I bled all over myself while I waited to see what was next.

Around 8 am, 3 guards came to get me and take me to see the therapist. This wasn't an easy task. My vest wouldn't stay on, not even a little and I was to walk through the clinic and by this point I was numb I didn't care at all. I could have walked out naked and not cared. I made it over to the therapist who took one look at me and yelled at the guards to get me a blanket to cover up. He told them it was disrespectful to parade me around that way and that I was to have a full uniform as soon as we were done talking. And that was the last helpful thing he did or said to me.

He spent maybe 15 mins with me, told me I should see my time in jail as a vacation from my life and enjoy it. A year really wasn't that long and time away from my husband and especially children was healthy. I didn't respond to this ridiculousness. I simply looked at him long enough to convince him I would not hurt myself in hopes of moving to a cell with a toilet and toilet paper!

It worked! Five hours later I was moved! I was never so happy to see a toilet in my life. What I've not seen since then is my dignity.

Dehumanized. Humiliating. Traumatic. That is what the first 24 hours in jail were like for me. More days than not I relive that day. It has shaped who I've become or better who I've failed to become.

Real Life Depression

As I sit here in church I find I'm unable to concentrate, worse I am feeling I don't care. I don't care what is being said, I don't care who is around me, I don't care about God. I just don't care. I don't want to ‘share’ my burdens nor do I want to bare others. I want to go. I want to be free. I want to run away. I don't know where I'd go or what I'd do but i know I don't want to be here; church, Stafford, Virginia, none of it! I don't want to be a wife, a mother or a friend! I want to be gone, away, alone.

This I know is depression. These thoughts and feelings I'm having and living are depression. I know this because it is not the first time I've felt this way, it's not even the second or third time. When it comes, it rushes in like a wave, a tsunami, it crushes and destroys everything it can reach and it leaves incredible damage as it slowly recedes. The damage, like that from the tsunami, is greater in some spots than other. Some messes can be sopped up with a towel or mop while others are completely devastated, unable to be fixed, so are episodes of depression (for me). And the longer the episode lasts, the more damage is done and the harder it is to clean up.

I suffer from depression, I am currently experiencing a pretty serious episode. Like most of them, this episode started slow, some sleep issues, illness, winter, teenagers, none of which would have been much singularly but piled one on top of another it's too much for me. Yes, I am aware that these are things that many people deal with all the time and do it well and don't get sad or depressed but I did and that is where I am. Depressed! I said it, I AM DEPRESSED!

Get over it. Yep, I hear it all the time. Do people honestly believe that I want to feel sad and lonely all the time? That I want to run away from my life, my family and friends? That is just not the case. My monsters and husband are my heart. All I do is for them. The thought of being with them is all that keeps me going and I don't understand why being with them is not making me happy. Why I still have to force myself out of bed EVERYDAY! I have a very small circle of friends who try everyday to cheer me up and make my burdens a bit lighter; it doesn't help. I have a therapist that listens and offers ideas, but I'm sad. NOT SUICIDAL!!! Just sad, depressed.

I am sharing all this with you so you know what depression looks like, it looks like me. Most people I see daily wouldn't know it. Most people would think I look, act like every other SHM. I'm depressed and working to not be anymore.

Thank you for letting me share my words and disorganized story with you. Smile randomly at someone today or say hello, you never know who needs it.