Dear Insomnia, I Hate You.

Dear Insomnia,

This is the 5th (6th?) night in a row we’ve hung out.

You dropped by completely unannounced expecting me to party these nights away with you…

Maybe you were really looking for Snooki and got lost on a detour that ended at my crib, I don’t know.

What I do know is that I like to swathe myself in my cozy comforter, a cumulus nimbus cloud of pillows and snore my way through dreams that star Will Ferrel and the cast of The Big Bang Theory.

And be jarred awake as my cheek starts to swim in the cold drool that’s formed the Great Lakes on my pillow.

I like to sleep. Soundly. Undisturbed.

In fact the only people allowed to disturb my slumber are my children…and that’s only because well…they’re my children. Someone has to feed them and change pee soaked diapers at o dark thirty in the morning…if I’m not awake to do that, they might wind up eating bath salts and start eating people while they throw feces all over my walls. We just cant have that.

I need to sleep so I can have energy when they come barreling full force into my room, so full of combustible energy they’re practically nuclear.

That’s why I need my sleep, Insomnia. Because I have nuclear missiles to raise. You can’t do that ish half-asleep-someone could get an eye poked out or start Armageddon….

And while I love Jesus, I gotta be honest and say I’m not ready to meet Him yet, not at 29. 79? Maybe. 109? Definitely.

But I digress….

Sleep. I need it because without it, I go skyrocketing off to another galaxy…one full of euphoric gas, rainbows, talking unicorns, million dollar gift cards to Target, and other glorious things one feels as they begin to tango with hypomania.

Without sleep, this over wired brain begins to short circuit….synapses, axons, dendrites, and other things I should’ve paid more attention to when my processor lectured on them in my Human Development class start to….misfire…yea I think that’s the term she used.

Anyway the point is without sleep my brain’s homeostasis is thrown outta wack and my bipolar comes out to play. Which is what you wanted in the first place and absolutely love because you two like to party together. Problem is after a few days of getting high, the twins Anxiety and Agitation show up to crash the party, bringing Depression and her dark, brooding thoughts with her.

As fun as the initial moments of hypomania are, I really prefer to be on the level side of things, so I’d really like you to leave. You’re dangerous…like playing with firecrackers dangerous, and I’d like to keep my body parts intact and spare my family a spin on the bipolar merry go round.

I’m sorry but staring off into the darkness while everyone else is knee deep in REM cycles isn’t my idea of fun. And again, neither is the crash that comes after the high.

You’re just too much of a trigger. I can’t have you around. You’ve gotta go.

So please free the Sandman from wherever you’re holding him hostage and hit the road. Bother someone who can actually make you work for them and not against ‘em.

Consider this a warning. If you fail to heed this warning, expect Ambien & Trazadone to pay you a visit. They’re like the Chuck Norris’ of sleep meds.

I’m not afraid to use them.

Signed,

Me

Self-Love Saturday: A Dose of Euphoria to Mask the Pain

It’s self love Saturday. It was a good day.

I started off feeling rather good about myself.

I laughed and played with the boys.

I danced. A lot. To my favorite songs.

I spent the day helping my ex run errands (you’ll find out why during Tuesday’s post).

We shopped for necessities.

It’s self love Saturday. It was a rather great day.

It’s funny how just shopping for what you need can lead you to toeing the line that borders euphoria….

Well….

I didn’t just toe it today…I stepped right over and into it with glee in my heart.

I wish the glee were authentic…

It wasn’t until an hour ago that I realized it was just my soul’s way of protecting me from the pain that’s eating at me like cancer. It shielded me long enough so I could have a pretty awesome day.

And even though I’ve cycled into a low, I’ll take the euphoria that shields me any day….

Because this pain…

Having to deal with the hell that is sexual abuse…..the flashbacks, the hurt, the shame, the ripping off of bandages that close unhealed wounds….

Is too much to bear at the moment. My therapist…she told me this might happen…that opening the box would illicit Pandora and all of her buried emotions…

It’s self love Saturday. I had a really good day….until a few hours ago when I realized how unprotected and alone I felt….when I realized that the only way to be made whole and to allow love, real love into my heart and life is to endure the pain of the past so I don’t reject my future.

It’s self love Saturday…it was a rather splendid day….

Until I got that phone call…

(please remind me to be kind to myself)

Chigger (Trigger) Bites & Battle Wounds

Ok, how many of you are country bumpkins like me? If you are, then I’m sure you know all about Chiggers….and if you know about Chiggers, I’m fairly sure it’s because you’ve been bitten by a good amount of them, like I have. Pesky little things, aren’t they? Barely visible, they can cause a serious bout of irritation and make you uncomfortable. As a matter of fact you rarely you know you’ve been bitten by one until you’ve started to itch and you see little red dots staining your skin.

For myself, since developing PPD/PPA after Alex’s birth, and now living with BP & anxiety, being triggered is like being bitten by a chigger: I rarely notice it’s happened until after the irritating itch has already set in, and I’m scrambling for ways to relieve it. Like the small, tiny, invisible little things that crawl up and under your skin til the find the perfect place to take a bite, triggers can make your life freaking miserable. At least they do mine..the itching becomes unbearable. I’ve battled depression & anxiety since I was a teenager, but for whatever reason, since Alex’s birth, I’ve become far more susceptible to certain things that make me “itch”….like noise…

… Loud noises in fact. I can’t tolerate them. Haven’t since April 8, 2010 at 6:37am. It’s the crying, that grates on my nerves and sanity. It literally feels like I’m being raked over with metal spikes. When it happens, everything in me goes into Deafcon 4 and the heart races. The thoughts scatter like roaches in the light, scurrying for some dark corner to hide and fester in….only coming out after the onslaught of anxiety is over, when I’m most susceptible to depressive moods. The tiny noise chiggers, they move rapidly across my body, setting off my sweat glands…the sweat literally pours from me like rain that refuses to let up. Fatigue creeps in and reaches for the shut off button-it usually finds it and I collapse, even if it’s just mentally until I can do so physically.

It seems like the minute he came into the world, my ability to withstand kid-induced noise exited-stage left. It’s like some kind of secret inside trade went down between my body and the universe, and I don’t really think that’s fair….I mean didn’t Martha Steward go to jail for doing something similar? It’s just not cool. Shouldn’t even be legal, if you ask me. But for whatever reason, no matter how much preventative maintenance we do, we just don’t get much of a say as to what the trade-off for having children will be.

It sucks. I wish I could say that I’ve mastered it. I have coping strategies, breathing exercises, medication, and Jesus. But there are moments….there are days….when the meltdowns, the screams, the always-being-peppered-with-questions, the “Mom, mommie, MAMA, MOM, MOOOOOM, mommie…” the whining, the neediness, the tantrums have me running for the only place I find refuge:

THE BATHROOM

Yes. The bathroom…it shields me from the demands of motherhood, and provides a nice, comforting cold floor to rest my sweaty body on. It’s like a spa I have an unlimited membership to, that’s open and offering respite whenever I need it, no matter the time of day. I sit in there, cool off and distract myself with tweets & FB statuses. Everyone always wonders why I have so many FB status updates and go on tweeting sprees…well, it’s not because I think I have something beneficial to say, it’s simply because they offer a solid distraction while my body attempts to restore me to homeostasis…and some semblance of sanity.

I found myself hightailing it to El Bano yesterday after an ER visit resulted in an exorcism-esque meltdown courtesy of Alex. Screams, flailing arms, wrestling, body contorting, AND an always questioning and Power Ranger yelling 4 year old set off every alarm bell in my being. It was all I could do to keep from cowering in a corner somewhere. I spent the rest of the day trying to breathe through the edginess and irritation…tried with everything in me not to scratch, scratch, scratch the itches that just wouldn’t stop coming.

Just writing about it is making me sweat and my heart to feel panicky…so let me stop here.

My point? Trigger bites suck the big wad. Period. I hate that no matter how much self-care I do, the itch from this particular trigger bite won’t go away. It sucks feeling like I’m at it’s mercy…I wish there was some kind of OFF-like spray that could shield me from being bitten so easily.

I may have survived my battle with PPD & PPA…but this is one battle wound that’s still scabbing over, still itching every time a scream or cry erupts.

What about you? What “bites” or triggers you? Any PPD battle wounds that are still healing or have left an ugly scar?

Chigger (Trigger) Bites & Battle Wounds

Ok, how many of you are country bumpkins like me? If you are, then I’m sure you know all about Chiggers….and if you know about Chiggers, I’m fairly sure it’s because you’ve been bitten by a good amount of them, like I have.  Pesky little things, aren’t they? Barely visible, they can cause a serious bout of irritation and make you uncomfortable. As a matter of fact you rarely you know you’ve been bitten by one until you’ve started to itch and you see little red dots staining your skin.

For myself, since developing PPD/PPA after Alex’s birth, and now living with BP & anxiety, being triggered is like being bitten by a chigger: I rarely notice it’s happened until after the irritating itch has already set in, and I’m scrambling for ways to relieve it. Like the small, tiny, invisible little things that crawl up and under your skin til the find the perfect place to take a bite, triggers can make your life  freaking miserable. At least they do mine..the itching becomes unbearable. I’ve battled depression & anxiety since I was a teenager, but for whatever reason, since Alex’s birth, I’ve become far more susceptible to certain things that make me “itch”….like noise…

… Loud noises in fact. I can’t tolerate them. Haven’t since April 8, 2010 at 6:37am. It’s the crying, that grates on my nerves and sanity. It literally feels like I’m being raked over with metal spikes. When it happens, everything in me goes into Deafcon 4 and the heart races. The thoughts scatter like roaches in the light, scurrying for some dark corner to hide and fester in….only coming out after the onslaught of anxiety is over, when I’m most susceptible to depressive moods. The tiny noise chiggers, they move rapidly across my body, setting off my sweat glands…the sweat literally pours from me like rain that refuses to let up. Fatigue creeps in and reaches for the shut off button-it usually finds it and I collapse, even if it’s just mentally until I can do so physically.

It seems like the minute he came into the world, my ability to withstand kid-induced noise exited-stage left.  It’s like some kind of secret inside trade went down between my body and the universe, and I don’t really think that’s fair….I mean didn’t Martha Steward go to jail for doing something similar?  It’s just not cool. Shouldn’t even be legal, if you ask me.  But for whatever reason, no matter how much preventative maintenance we do, we just don’t get much of a say as to what the trade-off for having children will be.

It sucks. I wish I could say that I’ve mastered it. I have coping strategies, breathing exercises, medication, and Jesus. But there are moments….there are days….when the meltdowns, the screams, the always-being-peppered-with-questions, the “Mom, mommie, MAMA, MOM, MOOOOOM, mommie…” the whining, the neediness, the tantrums have me running for the only place I find refuge:

THE BATHROOM

Yes. The bathroom…it shields me from the demands of motherhood, and provides a nice, comforting cold floor to rest my sweaty body on. It’s like a spa I have an unlimited membership to, that’s open and offering respite whenever I need it, no matter the time of day. I sit in there, cool off and distract myself with tweets & FB statuses. Everyone always wonders why I have so many FB status updates and go on tweeting sprees…well, it’s not because I think I have something beneficial to say, it’s simply because they offer a solid distraction while my body attempts to restore me to homeostasis…and some semblance of sanity.

I found myself hightailing it to El Bano yesterday after an ER visit resulted in an exorcism-esque meltdown courtesy of Alex. Screams, flailing arms, wrestling, body contorting, AND an always questioning and Power Ranger yelling 4 year old set off every alarm bell in my being. It was all I could do to keep from cowering in a corner somewhere. I spent the rest of the day trying to breathe through the edginess and irritation…tried with everything in me not to scratch, scratch, scratch the itches that just wouldn’t stop coming.

Just writing about it is making me sweat and my heart to feel panicky…so let me stop here.

My point? Trigger bites suck the big wad. Period. I hate that no matter how much self-care I do, the itch from this particular trigger bite won’t go away. It sucks feeling like I’m at it’s mercy…I wish there was some kind of OFF-like spray that could shield me from being bitten so easily.

I may have survived my battle with PPD & PPA…but this is one battle wound that’s still scabbing over, still itching every time a scream or cry erupts.

What about you? What “bites” or triggers you?  Any PPD battle wounds that are still healing or have left an ugly scar?

 

A Tumbling Out of Thoughts

It’s been a rough couple of days…..it seems like for every forward step I take, I have a day or two where I take three or four steps back…sometimes it’s a series of events that trigger the relapse or regression….more recently it seems as though I’m hyper sensitive; the slightest touch triggers me & sets the pendulum in motion, even if it’s just for a few hours….or a day.

Being triggered and having an anxiety attack or falling into a “mood state’ reminds me of three things: how fragile my own strength really is, how important it is that I stick to my wellness plan & keep finding coping strategies to add to it, & my need for God….for His love…. It reminds me that He’s really the only one who can really bear the full brunt me when I’m like this, and it reminds me that even when I’m at my lowest, He’s still there, walking with me, “fixing me” along the way…..

(you should definitely go to youtube to watch this…trust me it’s worth the click)

Taking care of myself & believing in someone outside of myself are the only ways I know I’ll make this “manageable” & be able to put it in it’s proper place. Under control. So I can live. So I can mother. So I can be the better parts of me more often.

I’ll get there. Until then, I’m going to do my best to just…..breathe & keep moving.

Thank you #PPDChat mamas (every single one of you-those I talk to consistently in The Twitter & those of you I’ve never met who sent me hugs & love last night), The Band, & Katherine Stone for being there and reaching out these past two days. Thank you for being that safe place I can go to when I need to just say exactly how I’m feeling without worry or fear of someone thinking the worst of me. You all are seriously the best therapy :) And also to my Pastor….thank you for reaching out, for your prayers, and for your words of encouragement this week. They are always timely & invaluable.