The morning I walked into the out patient program I had no idea what to expect. I was still in such a mind fog of exhaustion from what I'd been through the last few days. I was still thinking about my students and how my class was going to be taken care of. I still hadn't figured out that I was somewhere that I needed to be in order to take care of myself. In fact it took me at least 3 weeks to figure that part out. One thing that people who have never had suicidal thoughts or have never been so broken that they turn to suicide is that they think that suicide is selfish, that it is for those who are weak. As someone who has attempted suicide it is about the least selfish thing that we are doing, at least in our minds. For me I felt that if I were gone the lives of my loved ones would be that much better. I felt that I would no longer be a burden to my husband, my parents, and friends. I would no longer be in pain. I would finally be in control of one thing. All of that is untrue. I know logically that I would have caused insurmountable pain for my loved ones. I would have been causing a great big hole in the lives of those that are closest to me.

What does the mind of someone who is in a mental facility look like?  Probably not as different as you might think. Then again, maybe it is. let me tell you what is on the inside of my mind then perhaps you'll understand me and others like me living with depression, bipolar, PTSD, PTSS, ADD, ADHD. I guess I should explain all of the acronyms for anyone who doesn't know what they mean:

1) PTSD = Post Traumatic Stress Disorder
2) PTSS= Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome
3) ADD = Attention Deficit Disorder
4) ADHD = Attention Deficit/ Hyperactivity Disorder

If you're not familiar with what each of these is then I encourage you to look them up.

I do't tend to think that I look like a "crazy" person. I'm in my 40s, at the time holding a professional job, come from a family who by all means is middle class with no major family issues. I'm married to a wonderful caring and understanding man. I have a dog, friends, play games, love travel (even lived over seas), and love to cook. Just like most people I have hopes and dreams, at least most of the time when I'm not in a depressed state. I take my dog out for walks, cook dinner (most of the time), and go to the movies.

So, what is my problem? Why am I so different? The truth is, I'm not. Ok, so maybe just a little! I have this thing called depression, more accurate bipolar disorder 2. I know, I know, you're thinking "but everyone gets a little depressed from time to time" or "what have you got to be depressed about, you just described a fairly typical life?" Trust me, I've had those thoughts and had people say those very things to me so it isn't anything new.

Depression for me is a place that is hopeless. Imagine a desert at night on a new moon, in other words pitch black nothingness. Combine my depression with ADD. Now I'm in a pitch black desert with 8 million browser tabs stuck switching back and forth in my brain, never stopping to focus on any one single thought or process or image. This happens for me almost 24/7. Add to this feeling the chronic pain that I have in my feet and back, that makes for being extremely exhausting. This has become so tiring in fact that at times I contemplate suicide.

Now, the reaction you might have to this is probably something like a) suicide is a bit extreme; b) that is a cowards way out; c) how can you do that to your (husband/family/friends/etc); or d) there are more options. YES! All of these go through my mind on a regular basis. Isn't that scary? Why haven't I killed myself yet? I've tried. I've tried on more than one occasion. If I haven't succeeded then I must not mean it, right? I'm just doing this for attention then, right? Wrong! I have a chemical imbalance in my brain, so many of us do. There is help for us! If you know someone who has any of these thoughts please listen to them. Please help them or seek help yourself. Please call the National Suicide Prevention helpline Call 1-800-273-8255. You are worth saving!

The process of being admitted into a mental health facility is daunting. I was asked so many questions. I didn't realize that there were so many ways to ask a person if they intended to harm them self or others. I lost track after 5. I was taken into a room with an admitting coordinator and my school's social worker. At this point I'd been doing nothing but crying for a few hours. I was utterly exhausted mentally, physically, just done. I knew that I needed help when I spoke to Ms. R, I just didn't know that THIS is what I was going to be going into.

Luckily enough for me it was decided that I could go into the out patient program. I was terrified that I would have to go into in patient. I did NOT want to be kept away from my dog, the only safety I had in my life because my husband was on the road. I convinced them that I truly did not want to harm myself in that moment and that I had to take care of my dog. I was instructed to be back the following morning at 9 am. I had NO idea what was going to happen. I was clueless when it came to knowing just how long I would be in the program, at first I thought it was just going to be for a week.... Yeah, that was a nice thought.

Ms. R checked up on me through the night and made sure to call me first thing in the morning. I kind of felt like I was being babysat. I understand now of course why people were checking up on me so much. I find it interesting that people who don't know what I've been through will ask me why I wasn't at work for so long and when I tell them that I tried to kill myself they are taken aback and offer to help. Not that I blame them for being shocked, it's just that, why can't people just offer to help on a day to day basis? What happened to just being supportive and not needing a reason like someone is extremely depressed? I try to keep this in mind as I am healing and trying to become more aware of those around me. It is so important to remember that EVERYONE is living their own story and we really have no idea what that story is. I hope that I can help to spread this message and the get us all thinking more not just about ourselves but thinking of others and being more kind. We all need more kindness in our lives.

As I mentioned in my first post, my breaking point came in February 2018. This had been a very difficult year at school with the students. I had a student threaten to bring a gun to school, which was enough for me to call it quits right there. My classes had been particularly challenging as well. All of the stress had gotten to me and I just broke. I remember having told my husband about a week or so prior to this happening that I felt like I was going to break. I didn't know when, how, or what it would look like, I just knew that it was coming. My health had taken a hit too. I was in chronic pain, my back had begun to hurt and I'd had no luck in figuring out what was causing it. I had been dealing with plantar fasciitis  for nearly 10 months.

This disagreement with my husband sent me into a spiral. I began to panic and my mind was out of control with the feeling of helplessness. I couldn't see a way out of the pain, out of the stress, out of the situation that I was in. Hopelessness consumed me on the drive from the venue where we had been watching the comedian to our apartment. By the time that we reached home, I felt like I was having a complete outer body experience. I was no longer in control of my own actions. The only thing that I wanted was a release from the pain. A release from everything that was slowly killing me. I wanted to die. I wanted to take control of my life and kill myself. I knew that since my husband was home that my dog would be taken care of so now would be the best time to take my own life. How crazy is that? I knew that she would be taken care of and I no longer had to worry about her. My dog's well being was what I was most concerned about.

As we arrived home, my husband took the dog out for a walk. This was when I found a knife in the kitchen and began to slowly drag it across my wrists. Through tears and agony, all I could think of is how much relief I would finally have. My husband walked in and found me with a knife against my wrist. I can't remember all of the details of what happened that night though he obviously got the knife away from me. Being so dissociated I can't recall what was real and what was happening in my head. I do remember being so determined to take my life that I went to the bathroom and grabbed a bottle of pills dumped them in my hand and almost took them. Again, my husband walked in to find me doing this and knocked them out of my hands.  To this day I am more than grateful for the fact that my husband was home and stopped me.

The following day was difficult. After having gone through such a highly emotional night, trying to figure out what had actually happened and trying to convince my husband that it wasn't a fluke incident had all taken a toll on me. I realized that I needed to get help. You see, this was not the first time that suicide had crossed my mind. Remember how I mentioned that my story didn't just begin on that February evening, but had been a lifelong making? There was a time while in high school that I was also considering suicide and a few other times in my life that I'll talk about later. I went to work the following Monday and sought out the help of our schools social worker. It was about noon, my students were at lunch, and she came to visit me. It was at this point that she had identified that I was at risk (my husband being a truck driver and on the road, not having a support system, still feeling suicidal) and that I needed to go into a mental health program.

Ms. R, my school principal and vice principal all escorted me right in the middle of the day to a mental health facility. I was freaking out just a bit to say the least. What about my students? Who is going to take care of them? What will they think? I can't just leave! Or can I?  This is where the next chapter of my story begins, I entered Desert Parkway on an out patient basis. I was so thankful that I did not have to be an in patient!

Loving My Bipolar Life     

     Hello out there and welcome to Loving My Bipolar Life! What an interesting name for a blog, LOVING My Bipolar Life. Those are words I had no idea I would ever say. I've had this blog as "The Crazy One" for quite some time. If only I had actually known over 10 years ago just how literal the name is. You see for me, I found out at the age of 43, nearly 44, that I am not only Bipolar 2, I have ADD and PTSD. Lucky me! Am I the first person to be diagnosed with these? No. Am I the last? No. What makes me so special then you must be asking. To be honest, nothing makes me special. I really just have hopes of sharing my experience with others so that they know that they are not alone. You see, our society has come to a place of caring so little about human life, mindfulness is few and far between. I want to create a place where people are talking about mental health, suicide, depression. I want people to not feel like they have to hide their mental illness, it is nothing to be shameful of. So I present to you my story. How I became diagnosed, what my road to self discovery is like, what my past was like and how I could and should have diagnosed much earlier in life.

     My story doesn't just begin a few months ago when I was checked into a mental health facility. My story includes my entire life as far back as I can remember. The road to self acceptance, discovery, and recovery begins in February 2018. You see, on a night that should have been full of fun and laughs, it was anything but. My husband and I had gotten free tickets to go see Arsenio Hall. While I thought the act was funny, my husband disagreed. This led me into a spiral of questioning my entire life, my relationship with my husband, my place in the world, and ultimately an attempted suicide on my part. I am sure you're thinking, all of that because you and your husband did not agree on a comedian? No, that isn't it, that was just the catalyst, the ultimate straw that broke the camel's back so to speak. I've been under such intense pressure of being a second year teacher, being a full time student, having increased health problems that caused me to live with chronic pain, having little to no support system as we had recently moved to another city & state, and having a husband who is on the road 2-4 weeks at a time because he is a truck driver (leaving me with little support).\

     I know I am not the only one going through these things and I won't be the last. I am not about the "poor me" attitude or trying to be a victim. Again, this is just my story to tell. My experience, my way of trying to open up the conversation around mental health.