Bipolar Parent

As I've mentioned before, I have three young children.  My oldest is in second grade, my middle child is in Kindergarten, and my youngest will be 4 this month.  They are all so special in different ways, as you would expect any proud mother to say.  I will say all the typical things, they are very beautiful, extremely smart, and more amazing than any other children on the planet.  What separates my children from the others is that I am totally unbiased and these statements are 100% true.  What can I say, they emerged from a tremendous gene pool.

Seriously though, I do have smart and beautiful children.  For the most part, they are well mannered, well behaved and kind.  They do normal kid things, whine, talk back sometimes, cry, stomp around when they don't get their way, but not as much as some children I have seen.  What impresses me most, is how good they are to each other.  Don't get me wrong, they do fight with each other, with the occasional slug thrown in here and there for good measure (usually between my middle child and my youngest).  More often than not, however, they treat each other quite well.  They are usually all together when they are home, no one is left out.  They like being together.

From the very beginning, my husband and I made it a special point to emphasize that we are a team.  We do tell them that family is very important, but fostering the team concept has made an even bigger difference in how they view our family, I believe.  I can't explain how satisfying that is to me, since my relationships with my mom and sister are fractured, as is my husband's relationship with his mom.  Both of our fathers are dead, so there really isn't an extended family in the picture here.  I have one aunt who is very involved and is their honorary grandmother.  That's it.  I don't want that for their future.  I want them to have an extended family once they begin their own families. 

My youngest child is my clown.  He says and does the funniest things.  You never know what is going to come out of his mouth.  My favorite thing he said recently happened at the dinner table.  We were all talking and he was trying to say something but was having difficulty gaining attention.  He piped up loudly and said "Hello!!  Will somebody pay attention to the little dude down here???"  He is also inclined to say things about his "pee-pee" in very public places, which has been mortifying several times.  It's in places like waiting rooms at the doctor's office where it's very quiet...

My daughter is something of a princess in her own mind.  She has certain expectations of the way things should be, and she is happy to let us all know when they are not up to her standards.  Which is fairly often.  She's not quite six and already loves fashion and loves to shop.  (Oy!) She is my devious one, the one who convinces her brothers to do things like ride the top of a storage tub down the stairs like a sled, but keeps her own hands clean.  She will maintain her innocence even when she is caught red-handed.  She has even proclaimed innocence AFTER she has admitted her guilt to me.  She'll tell me she never said it, right after she has confessed to the crime.  It's kinda scary really.  She is also the one who is most attached to me.  She is the most loving and angelic child when she is not up to mischief.  I love to cuddle with her and talk about her day, the future, all things girly.  She is as much of a dream as she is an imp.  She is my little doll and I wouldn't have her any other way.  Even if she will make me completely gray by the time she turns 15.

My oldest son is like no other child I have ever met.  He's 7, but at times seems so much older than that.  He is a great big brother.  He and my daughter are unbelievably close, they always have been.  From the time she was born, it was like magic.  They have such a strong bond.  He is also the wise older brother to my other son.  He is good at looking out for him, showing him how to do things.  He always let his little brother climb and crawl all over him; it never bothered him at all.  He is very kind-hearted, always thinking of others.  He shows very good character already.  I think he expects a little too much from himself sometimes, so I'm trying to figure out a way to help him with that.  He knows that Mom is Bipolar, and probably understands more about what that means than most kids his age would, assuming they had someone who is Bipolar in their life.  He accepts it for what it is, and has no confusion about it.  He asks questions as the occur to him, but he's too young to be aware of any stigma associated with mental illness.

I'm obviously proud of them.  I know that who and how they are as has something to do with nature as well as with nurture.  I wonder what that ratio is?  Ha ha ha.  If only there were a way to accurately measure how well you are doing.  I know they have to have been affected by my illness.  I have had periods where I was very sick.  They have seen me leave in the ambulance more than once.  They saw the police come into the house and talk to their Dad.  They've heard me scream and yell like a crazy person.  I've been withdrawn and completely disengaged for long periods of time.  There is no way they were not affected.  From all outward appearances, they seem oddly well-adjusted though.  I look for behaviors, I look for signs, but I find none.

Being a parent is hard enough.  Being Bipolar is hard enough.  Being a Bipolar Parent...well...that's hard as #$%@!!  You have a distorted perception to begin with.  A brain that betrays you at times.  So here you are, trying to keep it together, yourself and your own well being such a big part of your own life, yet you are trying to raise three wonderful little human beings at the same time.  The natural inclination is to put their well being before your own.  However, in order to preserve their well being, I have to keep myself well first.  It's a very delicate balance, and against my own natural instinct.  I'm glad I don't have to do this alone.  In fact, for a few months earlier this year, I sort of was.  I happened to be very sick at the time and it was just a disastrous moment in my parenthood history.  I am hoping it was brief enough to not have caused any lasting ill-effects. 

Suffice it to say, this has been a tumultuous year as a Bipolar Parent.  Bipolar has affected my parenting skills in a big way and has overshadowed my children at times.  It angers me--they didn't ask for this.  They didn't get to make the choice to live with this illness.  No, I didn't either, but I did choose to have children.  I know I didn't know I was Bipolar at the time, but ignorance is no defense.  This is why, if I have to live with "not sad" being the best level of recovery I can achieve, I will live with it.  This is why, despite my frustration and struggles with taking my medication right now, I will not stop taking it.  They deserve more from me.  They need my stability.  I don't HAVE to be happy for any other reason than they are happy.  I can be satisfied with that.

On A Scale of 1-10...

Every time I see my psychiatrist, she asks me to rate how I've been feeling on a scale of one to ten, with ten being the best I can possibly feel (without being manic, I assume).  I've been giving myself a seven normally, since I've been doing better and not crying all the time or not interacting with my children like before.  Like I mentioned in my last post, I don't feel sad.  When I told her I felt "not sad" all the time, she told me that wasn't a seven.  When I told my husband about the conversation, he was surprised that I'd been saying seven, too.  He said that I've always been a four or five; never over a six.

Anything under a six sounds so low to me, as if one should be crying much of the time.  Six still sounds kinda low to me.  I don't feel tremendous pain anymore.  I'd like to feel happy, but if I did I'd be a ten then.  So, is that really all that far from seven?  My husband educated me.  If I feel not happy, not sad, then that's middle of the road and pretty much a five.  I never thought about it like that.

See, I'm not the histrionic type.  I have a high pain threshold, which I guess includes emotional pain as well as physical pain.  I've never been able to answer the pain chart question for physical pain, either.  It confuses me.  After I had my kids, each time my doctor would come in surprised that I wasn't asking for pain meds.  Sure, I didn't feel like I could run a marathon or anything, but the pain wasn't so bad that I needed even a Tylenol.  She forced a prescription for Darvocet on me all three times I went home with a new bundle.  I never filled the first prescription.  I did the other two, because after a bout with meningitis, I found out how handy a bottle of Darvocet can be.  At any rate, I never took pain meds for post-natal pain (and I had good size kids).  I don't whine about being in pain.  I will say something about it, but I don't moan or writhe about, etc. etc.

I guess it's the same with my current state.  I'm just glad that I'm not as low as I was before and that translates to a pretty good score to me.  I guess I need clarification on that scale thingy so I can give more reliable information.  Who knows, I might be able to feel better than I imagine I can.

I am still having issues taking all these meds though.  The other night it was very frustrating to me.  The side effects have been tempting me to just stop taking them.  I'm tired of having no coordination in my left hand, being uber-sleepy every afternoon after 4pm, having a diminished libido, having dry mouth, grinding my teeth, and not being able to sleep without an Ambien.  I'm also just tired of gobbling a handful of pills every morning, trying not to take the wrong amount of certain pills (which I have done a couple times).  They make me feel blunted, it seems, and I'm quite tired of that too.  I want to feel like me again.  I said to my husband that maybe that me isn't so great of a person, but at least I know who she is and what she feels like. 

Obviously there are greater concerns about me going off my meds than me just being unstable and subject to being manic or depressed again.  There's the whole possibility of another psychotic break now.  As I've said before, I won't stop taking my meds ever.  I have a firm commitment to my family that I will not break.  It just gets tough sometimes, and I get tempted.  Besides, I wouldn't have the first idea as to how to wean myself off all this crap safely, and it would probably take too long for my taste if I even tried.  Yes, I've thought about it, but that's just part of the frustrated feeling.  I haven't given up on feeling better than this yet.  Talk to me in about six months though.  This could get harder if nothing changes.  I will have to find some deeper inner strength to get through that, because there are certain medications that I flat-out refuse to take.  (Any of the medications that cause weight gain).  That is the only way I will become a difficult or non-compliant patient.  For now, I'll just keep the faith I have.  Everything has worked so far.  If I ultimately have to settle for not sad, then I may have to do just that.

How Long Until My Brain Explodes?

I saw Dr. Tween yesterday for my monthly follow-up.  I had experienced no appreciable difference with the addition of the Wellbutrin last month, so we are doubling the dose this month.  I'm wondering with all these medications and the levels (I'm pretty much at the maximum doses of all of them) at what point will my brain actually explode?  Seriously, this just can't be good for me, physically speaking.

Don't get me wrong, I realize the implications of a life without my medication.  I am also really tired of taking all these damned pills.  Yes, I've achieved a level of stability.  I had commented to both my husband and my doctor that I never feel happy.  I don't feel sad or depressed, I just feel...not sad.  Is this the best I can hope for?  I'm not looking for the elation of mania, I just want to feel the contented sort of happy.  I don't feel that.  I can't even conjure up the feeling from a happy memory. 

So I get tempted to stop taking my meds.  It's not a strong temptation, but it's there.  It's normal.  I hate gobbling a large handful in the morning and a small handful at night.  I hate having to eat something again if I forget to take my nighttime pills right after dinner.  I hate that I can't sleep without a sleeping pill now.  (Although the quality of my sleep is awesome with it!)  I miss having strong emotions.  I don't really miss having the negative ones of course, but I miss just feeling things.  I'm happy to be calmer and definitely more patient.  I definitely don't miss how my behavior affects everyone else, I just miss the experience of feeling the strength of emotion.

I would eventually tire of those feelings, too.  It's a hell living in a bipolar mind.  Maddening, exhausting, confusing, painful.  From a purely selfish standpoint, the calm and the peace I now have are what make the trade off worth it.  From a broader perspective, and the reason I will never go off my meds is my commitment to my family.  There's also my fear of another psychotic episode and being hospitalized, etc. etc., but I have a responsibility and love for my family that supercedes any desire or issue I might have.  Their best interests outweigh any of my interests, period.  If I have to go the rest of my life feeling just not sad, then that's what I will do.  I really hope I don't have to, though.  I also hope my brain doesn't explode before my time, too.