Ridiculous thoughts

I just recorded a video of myself on my computer talking about how I feel when I am well because I am well now. This is for me to play when I am cycling. This is primarily because when I am cycling, I have obsessive, depressing thoughts that:

  • I am a terrible person
  • My husband doesn’t love or want me anymore
  • My husband is not being honest with me
  • I am ugly both inside and out
  • I am a bad stepmother
  • I am a bad wife

I recorded a video called “When I am well.” I recorded it today, when I am feeling well. I told myself that I am a wonderful person, that when I am well I know that my thoughts when I am cycling are ridiculous, that my husband does love me, that he is faithful and honest with me, that everything is OK, that I am a great stepmom and wife and basically that I am a good, lovable person.

I haven’t tried watching this yet when I am cycling but it might be a good thing to try. I am headed into spring and even though everyone tells me “don’t worry about it,” I do worry about it.

Bipolar and PMDD

I’ve been reading a lot about PMDD a lot lately. It stands for Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder (sorry to all the guys reading this). Every month, when I get PMS, my bipolar gets out of hand. I begin to worry, to cycle, to feel terribly insecure, to get this fluttery feeling of anxiety in stomach, but most of all, I become suspicious and even a little paranoid. I know it’s the bipolar making me feel that way, but I still can’t help it. I hate the feelings of suspicion most of all. I begin to think that my husband is tricking me. I begin to think that my colleagues hate me. I worry about everything– money, love, my marriage, my work. I often also have trouble sleeping through the night, or I have nightmares, or I wake up in the middle of a cycle.

I have trouble going to work. I hate being alone. I am constantly scared.

But then I seem to have three weeks of euthymia (at least lately). My husband, my therapist, my mom, my doctor, they all remind me that it’s temporary and will go away after a few days. But I hate it.

But, spring is coming and I need to be prepared. I start a new job next week and I really want to make a great impression. I am hoping it is less stressful and that my much-shortened commute will decrease my stress, although I am taking a major pay  cut.

Fear and Avoidance

Of course. Anxiety is about fear. Fear that has no real cause. Fear of imaginary things– the what-ifs, the future possibilities, the bear that doesn’t exist but somehow stimulates that place in your brain that tells you to run or fight. I run and I fight. I’m not sure which is better, but sometimes I think I can’t live without doing both– all the time.

This blog is framed on complete and utter honesty. My skin will be transparent. You can see my heart pumping (too fast, the doctors say), my blood pressure in my veins (too high, they also say), my stomach full of the much-cliched butterflies, my feet cold and prickly. You can see it all.

My greatest fear is not death. It is not bankruptcy or becoming homeless. It is not even commitment to a psychiatric hospital. It is that I will lose my husband to bipolar. I love him more than anything, and because of this, I fear. My ex-husband told me he was leaving because of the bipolar (although that turned out not to be entirely true– he was a 40-year old man sleeping with a 19-year old girl). But those words wounded me, to the core.

I lost my first big love to bipolar when I was 25. His name was Dan. He dropped me off at a hospital when I was delusional and moved all my stuff out of his house.

I lost my first husband to something. I don’t know what it was. I still don’t.

Thus, my fear.

My husband loves me completely. He comforts me when I am cycling through a mixed episode or a panic attack. He takes care of me. He makes me cuddle with him when I can’t sit still, my hands gripping my head, tears leaking out. He settles the racing thoughts.

But the fear returns when I am away from him. When I see him again, I read his every move to see if he can’t take it any more. He sometimes realizes this. He sometimes doesn’t.

He wants to have a baby with me. We have gone through the withdrawal of several psychiatric medications, so that I can become healthier and closer to having a baby. I no longer take Latuda, or lithium. I still take the others, but we will work on that. Right now, I just need to be stable.

He thinks I’m wonderful. He thinks I’m beautiful and smart. He thinks I will publish my book. He thinks I am a great stepmom. I wish that I could really know those things about me, but the bipolar and anxiety tears them down.