I’ve been without a manic or depressive episode for nearly 2 months now. It’s the first time in many years that I have survived the holiday period without questioning if I would even see the new year. It is because of my history at this time of the year I’m not the biggest fan of Christmas and New Years, I associate them with episodes of depression. In years past the main trigger was not having a purpose or routine. I didn’t have university, a job that made me happy or a hobby to focus on so the dark cloud would come back into my life: most people would call this seasonal depression. A time of the year when everyone is happy and you’re not. But when living with bipolar disorder it’s just another episode; one to end the year and start another one on. For me it would be that little reminder of the tight grip my illness had around my neck whispering into my ear that for another year you’re not free.

This holiday season was different. I had started taking new medications in order to try to go off my old ones. I promised myself I wasn’t going to have a bad December for once. I tried to make a plan of how to make sure that in the 5 months I had off from university I would try to be the best I could be. Do the things that keep me at a good level, do things I enjoy and try to be ok. My doctor, psychiatrist and I made a plan of how to keep me ok. I went on holiday, made sure I was training every day and enrolled into becoming a personal trainer; a course that would start and finish before I had to go back to university. I really believe that ever since I took powerlifting competitively last year, it became my anchor. It keeps me at zero and even at my worst I will force myself to train and after a couple hours that grip around my throat is a bit loosened. The two and a half months that have gone by, I have had a few ultraradian cycles here and there but stuff I can manage. I really believe that since finding my anchor, 2016 saw me manage a lot better in understanding my bipolar and getting through the holiday period. Everyone has their thing and we need to find our anchors, cherish them and have them close by when things start to play up.

Christmas and New Years came, went and I made it. As I sat awake watching the countdown surrounded by my closest friends, rather than thinking great another year I said to myself wow, from someone who never imagined living to graduate high school I have made it another year. A big screw you to mental illness. I know not everyone can just start powerlifting but a lot of us use exercise as a stress reliever. It can give us a clear head, or just get some frustration out. I suppose the purpose of this entry was to just reflect on what for me has always been a very troublesome period but things can change and surprise us. Last Christmas was just that for me.

Bp Magazine columnist, Melody Moezzi, discusses the distinction between clinical mania and typical happiness.

February is the month of love which got me thinking about how important relationships are to me, especially a successful marriage.

I’ve lived with bipolar disorder type 1 for 20 years. How could I find a man strong enough to share my life’s journey? My search was filled with both pain and joy.

In the ’90s I entered public high school. Having transferred from an all-girls school, I was in heaven with all the boys around.

I dated so many guys that my father joked that the guys I dated ended up on the “wall of flames.” Just for the record I did have a moral code.

After high school, I met my first love – Russell. He was short with dark brown hair and puppy dog eyes. After we had been together awhile, I had my first manic episode while on a cruise ship. Russell was a godsend. He helped care for me while I took Lithium for the first time.  Bipolar disorder didn’t scare him.

Then my father got a job in Iowa. I hated leaving Russell with every fiber of my body, but I had no choice. Our hearts broke like a glass hitting the floor. We tried staying together long distance. It worked for a little while but then I wanted someone where I lived. So Russell and I broke up. I dated others (including a bull rider!) but never found the right one.

At my first four-year college, I met a geeky guy from the football team – Brian. He was handsome and tall with hazel blue eyes. We were together for more than two years.

Over time I became very sick from the stresses of college. I flip flopped from deep depressions with never ending tears to euphoric manias. Brian tried to support me. He was faithful and loving. We hid my illness from his parents and when I finally told them, neither said anything. I felt awful, like I had the plague.

Brian helped me graduate college, coaching me with all my papers. Senior year we even talked about buying a ring. I graduated with a BA in Sociology.

Then I realized I was bored with my relationship.

With the help of my psychologist, I broke off with Brian. I regret that I did so in a very immature way. Brian deserved better. He went on to grad school and things did work out for the best.

After college, it seemed that everyone was getting married. I tried online dating, but got nowhere. I needed a fresh start and moved to Virginia where I met Will.

We were inseparable. Things moved very fast. At that time I was a mess. I was not taking the right meds or seeing a good doctor. I lived in the hell of mixed manias for months. I lost jobs. Will and I fought. He never told me he was in debt, something I could not get over.

My parents begged me to move home to Las Vegas. When I finally hit rock bottom, I did. With their help, I worked hard on recovery, still holding on to my dream of being married. My mom sang me “You Can’t Hurry Love” by Phil Collins.

Cupid struck Feb.14, 2005 when I went on my first date with my beloved Gary. I knew from the start this was the man God had sent just for me.

 

Gary swept me off my feet. I felt like we were living a sappy Nicholas Sparks movie.

Gary and I will celebrate ten years of marriage in June. I work hard on taking responsibility for my mental illness and taking care of myself. I became stable in my life, so I finally attracted a stable person. We are part of a team, evenly matched. It takes effort from both of us to have success in our marriage. I know that no matter what the future holds, Gary is my rock.

Can you really be lucky in love? It takes hard work, but I believe love can truly go the distance. I am living proof you can be lucky in love.

Having lived with Bipolar I for over a decade, I have been through my share of depressions. However, there was one from the winter of 2011 until the fall of 2012 that I wasn’t sure I would make it out of. This was my Great Depression. A depression so severe I could not get out of bed. When I did I collapsed on the couch. At first, I felt so much pain I couldn’t stop crying. Then the pain became so deep I grew numb. I couldn’t cry. I couldn’t experience any emotions except despair. The time I spent awake I was either crippled with anxiety or desperately planning a suicide that wouldn’t fail.  Eventually, I was put on antidepressants. At that point, I had not yet been diagnosed with bipolar disorder. A manic episode followed and lasted about five months, landing me in the hospital with a bipolar diagnosis.

After my hospital stay, I experienced yet another depression that lasted nearly two and a half years.

These two depressions were my absolute worst, and I have noticed a mental fallout ever since. The lingering effects of these depressions  have left me with a poor memory, difficulty concentrating, slower cognitive functioning, and a social anxiety that has never quite dissipated.

When I was depressed, I believed that I was worthless, that I was a loser, and that people thought the worst of me. This led to a deep rift between myself and the rest of society. I suddenly felt as if I could no longer connect with people. And the worst part is that this feeling still lingers. Most of the time when I try to interact with people, the voice of the old depression says, “You’re not good enough, don’t even try to make a joke because you’re not funny anymore, you’re a pathetic loser.”

Even though I am stable and have been for quite awhile, I feel like my brain has permanently changed. I’d much rather stay at home than do anything else. I’m content to be practically alone. And when I do have to go out into the world, I’m always afraid my cognitive deficits will be noticed, whether it’s my poor memory or my difficulty focusing.

Not willing to accept defeat, I have been looking for studies on brain changes after depression. I wanted to make sure I’m not the only one who has experienced these lingering effects. Scientists have found that depression can in fact damage the brain, and that the hippocampus in particular can actually decrease in size by ten percent after a depressive episode. The hippocampus is responsible for memory and stress functions. It is also part of the limbic system which contains the amygdala. Together, it is our emotional center. And a loss of memory isn’t just about being forgetful. One scientist explains, “Your whole sense of self depends on continuously understanding who you are in the world – your state of memory is not about just knowing how to do Sudoku or remembering your password – it’s the whole concept we hold of ourselves.”

So how can you overcome the mental fallout after depression and improve everything from your memory to your emotional, mental, and physical health?

The answer is exercise.

There are some promising studies being done on how exercise affects our brains. Researchers at UC Davis Health System in Sacramento, CA, found that intense exercise lasting between eight and twenty minutes increased certain neurotransmitters in the brain. Particularly they found that levels of glutamate and gamma-aminobutyric acid, or GABA, were positively affected by exercise. These two neurotransmitters are often depleted in people with major depression. Levels of glutamate and GABA were found to improve not only immediately after exercise, but into the following week as well. This means that certain cognitive functions, emotions, and visual processing were all positively influenced with lasting effects.

Admittedly, I still struggle to find the time or desire to exercise. Even knowing how it immediately improves my mood (having experienced it firsthand), I tend to lack the motivation. And my excuses find even more traction in winter. It’s too cold! I’m too tired! It’s too dark!

So to combat this I bought a mini trampoline to use in my apartment. It’s about 33″ and all I do is jump up and down on it, but even five to ten minutes while listening to music is a great mood booster. And besides the physical benefits, it also has a way of dislodging my stuck thoughts and interrupting the circuitry of obsessive thinking. Furthermore, bouncing on a trampoline provides just the right amount of exercise for me. Too much exercise can trigger a manic episode in some people. On the other hand, that isn’t an excuse to be entirely sedentary. If you’ve been struggling to find the right type of exercise, I encourage you to try the trampoline.

If you don’t want to bounce, that’s ok too. But find an exercise and stick with it. The emotional, physical, and mental benefits are too good to pass up.

Before we get started with the three ways to manage bipolar disorder you probably haven’t thought of, it’s important to note that different suggestions will be more or less helpful, depending on where you are on the bipolar spectrum. Managing bipolar takes a lot of practice, patience, and good medical care. These are great suggestions and I recommend them, but this list is in no way comprehensive.

1) Manage Bipolar Depression by Cooking

When I’m in the throes of bipolar depression, I don’t cook, but I do eat. I know first-hand that it’s difficult to motivate ourselves to get up and do anything when depression is weighing us down, but there really is a lot of benefit to cooking for ourselves when depressed.

First, cooking has therapeutic value. Feeding ourselves is essential to staying alive. Completing the task of cooking even a semi-healthy meal sends a subtle message to our brain that we still care. There is a pride factor in preparing a meal and when the food is done, there is the reward of enjoying it.

Second, eating foods that are better for us will make us feel better faster. Eating junk like potato chips, fast food, and other processed foods only serves to make us feel sicker, not better, and prolong our suffering.

So this suggestion really is two rolled into one. During bipolar depression, remember to nourish your body with healthy foods that don’t keep you feeling bad.

2) Manage Bipolar by Keeping up With Household Chores

Dedicating a little time every day to managing our household goes a long way toward managing bipolar disorder. When I was a teenager, I would never have thought that something as boring as doing laundry would have so much impact on my day-to-day life.

Being overwhelmed is something that those of us who live with bipolar need to work hard to avoid. It turns out that life is filled with incredibly boring tasks that, if managed poorly, can cause innumerable headaches. And there is no better deterrent than keeping our living spaces organized and clean.

The level of organization and cleanliness will vary from person to person. Generally speaking, there is no right or wrong. For example, my BFF makes her bed every morning and I never make mine. It’s personal preference. It is when we allow our homes to get messier than our comfort zones allow that we get ourselves into trouble.

3) Manage Bipolar Disorder by Volunteering

Giving back is something that I believe everyone should do, not just people living with bipolar disorder. I could write several columns on the general mental health benefits of volunteerism, the rewards of influencing our communities, and so forth. However, for the purposes of this article, I want to keep it specific to managing bipolar.

When I was somewhere in between “very sick” and “in recovery,” I didn’t have a lot going on in my life. I wasn’t working, so I spent a lot of time at home watching TV. I wasn’t depressed, but I didn’t have the confidence to get a job, either. I wanted to “dip my toe” back into the real world, but with some sort of safety net.

I started by volunteering my time with a local children’s charity. They gave me a schedule, assignments, and expectations. They depended on me and I wanted to prove to myself that I could handle the responsibility. The confidence that I built during that time went a long way toward helping me get my first job after diagnosis.

I built up my stamina, gained valuable experience, and was able to work my way back into full-time employment. Without that step, I may have taken on too much too quickly and, at that time, I wasn’t in a place where I would have handled failure very well.  Volunteering was an important stepping-stone toward rebuilding my life.

Crowd Participation: Using the comments section below, share some bipolar management techniques that you have used that others may not have thought of?

Gabe Howard is a popular speaker, writer, and advocate who lives with bipolar and anxiety disorders. He is an award-winning writer and the creator of the official bipolar shirt. (Get yours now!) Gabe can be reached on Facebook, via email, or via his website, www.GabeHoward.com.  

I have been under medical care for my bipolar disorder for twenty years. Please note, I have had some good providers. I have also had some bad providers. I am writing today about the bad medical care providers in hopes that you will see that this happens to all of us and so we can learn to become our own advocate.

It takes years for someone with bipolar disorder to be correctly diagnosed. This is part of the reason why.

The first psychiatrist I went to when I realized I was ill was a really nice guy. His office was close and he had an opening. Yay!

I was hopeful. I had really not talked to a professional before. I needed help. I wanted help. And I thought he was the guy to help me.

The first appointment was a big day. It took me a long time that morning to get ready. I was depressed and it was difficult to face leaving the house and seeing anyone. I was nervous about opening up to a stranger. Getting ready and getting to the appointment was a big accomplishment that day.

I got there early and sat quietly in the outer office. There was silence. I did not know if he was behind the door or not. I heard nothing. So I waited. The appointment time came and I still waited. Finally five minutes late he opens the door and invites me into his office.

He asked me how I was doing. I took a deep breath and began to tell him.” I am depressed”, I said. “Everything is hard. And I am always anxious. “

“I understand”, he said.” I have a brother with anxiety too.” And then he proceeds into a 15 minute self-disclosure about his brother’s anxiety which is nothing like mine. And I sit there wondering what the heck he is talking about.

I am frustrated. After 10 minutes I am stressed, extra anxious and angry. At the end of the 15 minutes I am anxious, stressed and mute.

He asked another question. I don’t remember what. I spoke a few sentences and then he started talking about himself again.

After 40 minutes I was done. This appointment that I was so hopeful about had turned into me talking for three minutes and him talking for 37. I was drained of all my energy. I was numb. This appointment that was so hard for me to make and then so hard for me to get to, ended up being therapy for the therapist and misery for me.

When I got home, I went directly to bed where I could lay down and start to recover. It took me months before I could make an appointment with someone else. The appointment that I hoped would be a beginning towards healing ended up setting me back for months.

In later years I became angrier and angrier that someone in a caring profession was so incompetent. He should not have a license to practice. He did more damage than good. I was more than just me. I was in bad shape and it hurt me. He also hurt other

Another psychiatrist I had was like talking into a cloud. I would talk and my words would just drift away into the mist. She would take notes but didn’t empathize. As a matter of fact, she didn’t talk at all except to say hello and time’s up.

The sad part is that I and other’s like me are vulnerable. We give up control during our appointments thinking the professional knows best. We don’t know what a good provider looks like until we finally have one.

I ended up diagnosing myself. I read books and studied on the internet. I researched medications. I became my own advocate.

Finally I found a psychiatrist that I could be my own advocate with. She listened and together we found the right meds that help me be productive and stable.

This took unnecessary years. I tell this because my story is not unique. Many, many people with a bipolar diagnosis face the same challenges. It takes years for us to be diagnosed correctly and to find the proper medications. We somehow take responsibility for this. I say, “Stop it!” This is not our fault.

We could save many years of being undiagnosed or having the wrong diagnosis if the helping profession would truly help.

For more on information on building your positive relationship with your psychologist, psychiatrist or therapist, click here.