Why Can't You Just Act Like You Don't Have It?

Yesterday, I allowed my kids to have McDonalds for lunch.  It's not too very often they get to have it.  When we're out running errands and they've been exceptionally good, I will indulge them.  Problem is, they always want to go in and eat in the restaurant and then play on the playground they have there.  I do not want to go inside and be around other people, I definitely do not want to be around other people's children.  Yesterday, we faced this problem.

My oldest son was griping that we were going through the drive-thru yet again.  I got the "You're mean, Mom." whine.  I said "Your Mom is not mean, she's bipolar."  He knows that I am bipolar, and a little of what it means, but obviously at 7 years old does not entirely grasp the concept.  He asked if being bipolar meant I didn't like public places.  I said that was correct to some extent.  He went on to say how it wasn't fair and that it was getting in the way of his happiness.  I told him that I understood and told him that it got in the way of my happiness, as well.  He kept at it, telling me it was affecting his joy.  Again, I showed empathy and told him it did the same to me.  Normally, he would have stopped there, but he called me killjoy a couple of times, and I got meanie a time or two, I think.  Something to that effect.  He asked me why I didn't want to be around people; if bipolar was contagious.  I explained that it wasn't.  He asked when I would stop being bipolar.  I tried to explain that I would never be cured.  He asked how I got it, etc. When it became apparent that the answers to his questions weren't going to produce anything he would like, he said to me, "Why can't you just act like you don't have it?"

What do you say to that?  It was a knife through my heart.  My son is entitled to feel the way he does.  Bipolar affects his life almost as much as it affects mine.  He is entitled to a happy childhood and I am not able to do things that he should be allowed to do...like play at the stupid little playground or have lunch inside a fast food restaurant sometimes.  Why can't I just pretend I don't have it?

My aunt thought he was being cruel hammering at me with his questions.  I didn't see it that way.  He had legitimate questions and a legitimate beef.  He had a right to express how he felt and I wouldn't want him to hold that inside in favor of sparing my feelings.  The kid swallows his feelings enough already.  He is an incredibly compassionate child and if he could understand more about my illness, he would deny himself anything and everything if it meant helping me.  I don't want that for him.  My aunt feels that at 7 years old, he has achieved the age of accountability and should be taught that he was being cruel.  At the very most it was insensitive, but even with that I can't agree.  He has a legitimate point.  Plus, he is a child and he doesn't know the line between appropriate and excessive yet, and I am a patient enough an adult to teach him.  It doesn't have to be taught in one day.  I felt letting him have his say (and all that came with it) was more important yesterday than teaching him that lesson.  I cried over how my illness affects him, yes.  I didn't cry because of what he was saying to me.  My aunt doesn't understand the difference.  She still sees it as him being cruel.

What sticks with me is the notion of 'acting like I don't have it'.  I wonder if that might help.  I used to do something like that when I had nerves over public speaking.  I would just pretend to be a person who was comfortable with speaking to a crowd.  I'd adopt the persona of a confident person--in short, I'd pretend to be someone else.  Can I do that with bipolar?  Can I fool my illness?  Has my son come up with something that might work?  I would do anything for my kids, so maybe I should give it a try.  The hard part would be if it didn't work I'd be faced with being at the restaurant with them and having to tell them we needed to leave.  Then I'd really be a killjoy.  I'd be committed to staying there until they had enough time to play.  I have to find a way to take the method for a test-drive first.  Otherwise, if it doesn't work I'm in for a painful, perhaps disastrous, experience.

Sometimes Good Things Happen

Things had gotten pretty lean over here because the State has not sent me a disability payment since October.  Not a great thing to happen right before Christmas.  I've had a disability application pending with the Social Security Administration since August.  For anyone who doesn't know, it is a very slow process, that usually involves two denials, two appeals hearings and legal representation before one is approved for benefits.  I filled out all the appropriate initial paperwork and had a brief telephone interview right after I applied.  Later I was sent a questionnaire asking how my ability to work was impaired by my illness.  I had to fill this out, along with another person who knows me and could fully answer the same questions.  After that, I've heard nothing.

Yesterday, a large amount of money was deposited into our checking account by the SSA.  I haven't received a letter of approval, denial or even requesting more information.  No request to see one of their physicians.  I do know they sent letters to both my psychiatrist and my therapist.  My therapist was kind enough to give me a synopsis of his response.  At any rate, it appears I'm approved.  I just would like to have a letter explaining what my rate is, what period the payment covers, etc. etc.  I have to let the State know they don't have to pay me anymore, and I have to alert my LTD plan that I am going to be paid SSDI so they can recalculate the rate that they pay me and what, if any, overpayment has occurred.  (They get to take credit for any overlap between their benefits and SSDI).  But there is nothing in the mail from the SSA. I'm sure I'll get something soon, I just don't want to be in a situation where we come up short on money to be paid back to either the State, LTD, or both.

It certainly was nice to be able to go out and do more Christmas shopping.  We had expected it to be a very spare holiday, and it suddenly seemed like it was going to be a bonanza!  The kids will be happy this year, they aren't getting any clothes for Christmas, it's all toys. 

As for me, my best Christmas present is just being approved for SSDI without having to go through the whole denial and appeals process.  Almost everyone is denied the first time.  It's not uncommon to be denied a second time, too.  How in the world did I get so lucky that it didn't happen to me?  Is it because I was hospitalized before?  Is it because of my three ER visits in 3 days during my psychotic break?  Who knows? 

I'm relieved that I don't have to wait and worry that I'm too close to my benefits running out while they take their time.  We have a set income to count on until our children start reaching the age of 18, since benefits are paid to them as well as to me.  They will stop being paid when they reach the age of majority.  My portion of the benefit will be paid until I die, or until SSA goes bankrupt; whichever comes first.  It's a big weight off my mind.  For now, our take home is almost as much as it was when I worked, so we should be able to live and save quite comfortably. 

Peace of mind.  What a great Christmas gift.  It may not be as good as Peace on Earth, but I'll take it.

Maybe I Should Just Shut Up and Wait Sometimes

After yesterday's installment of my ongoing pity-party regarding my medication, I woke up this morning feeling really good.  I do have a tendency to be impatient, and it hasn't quite been 30 days since my doctor increased my dosage of Wellbutrin.  Now, does this mean I will feel this way from here on out, or even all day long?  Not necessarily.  It does make me feel the need cut myself a nice slice of humble pie, however.  The skeptic in me whispers "It could just be that Christmas is two days away and you're looking forward to it...".  I'm my own worst enemy.

I really do hope this new-found buoyancy is the result of the medication doing it's job.  It sure would be nice to start the New Year on a better note.  2009 was probably the worst year of my life.  Let's hope it is the worst year I ever have.  I don't think I'd want to live through anything worse than that.  It's kind of goofy, but I am feeling that sentimental 'clean slate' feeling people get when they are faced with the beginning of a new year.  It's compounded by the fact we are beginning a new decade.  My oldest son will be 18 and off to college (at least he better be) at the end of this next decade.  For all intents and purposes, he will be a man.  (Not in my eyes, but will he ever be anything but my baby in my eyes???)  My daughter and youngest son will be in high school.   There is so much life to be lived in the next 10 years, so there is a lot riding on me being stable.  I don't want to miss a minute of it, or not be able to enjoy all of it because of my stupid illness.  I don't want to overshadow any of the many milestones they will achieve, or eclipse them in any way at all by getting sick.  Maybe that's unrealistic.  I can hope.  My therapist is Bipolar, and he has been episode free for 25 years.  Why can't I be, too?

I am getting way ahead of myself.  I just woke up feeling really good about 3 hours ago and I've already gone through all these mental gymnastics.  If I wasn't inclined to thinking all the time, I'd worry I was manic.  Fortunately, I haven't raced through these thoughts.  If I were manic, I'd have written this in 10 minutes, and I've been at it for an hour now.  Doesn't hurt that I'm watching CNN at the same time.  Wait a minute...that's more of an argument for mania than not!  Scratch that.  LOL.  Seriously though...

It comes down to this:  I am desperate to have a normal life.  I always have been.  Before I knew anything was wrong with me, when I suffered from depression for no apparent reason on a regular basis, I knew it wasn't normal.  I wanted to be like other people.  I wanted to be happy with what I had, but never was (unless I was manic, of course--but that was happy to me).  My desire to marry and have children was part of that desire for normalcy.  That is not to diminish my love and want for my family now; I am speaking in the abstract.  It was a goal, a target if you will, for me to achieve when I was a single woman.   Until I was 27, unless I was manic I was looking for someone with whom I could have a solid relationship, one with potential to become permanent.  After that, I had pretty much given up.  I digress.  I just want a normal life.  Now that I have what I always wanted, I need to be able to enjoy it for all it's worth.  I don't want to miss a thing and I'll be damned if I let this wretched illness rob me of it.  Moreso, I refuse to let it rob my children of a happy childhood.  I need to make that happen somehow and don't know how to be patient in the meantime.

I am still ahead of myself, but I want to be optimistic that these feelings are the beginning of long term relief from the depression I've been fighting.  A return to stability that has long been lost.  I hope, I hope, I hope.