On Hope, and a bit more of my story ( Part Eight)

"Hope" is the thing with feathers - 

by Emily Dickinson

Hope” is the thing with feathers -
That perches in the soul -

And sings the tune without the words -
And never stops - at all -

And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -
And sore must be the storm -

That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm -

I’ve heard it in the chillest land -
And on the strangest Sea -

Yet - never - in Extremity,
It asked a crumb - of me.


This is a favorite poem of mine;  I can't remember where I first heard it . . .but now and then it pops into my mind and I always find it comforting.

I spent some time this morning reading from last years journal entries at the this time.  They brought me to tears.  I was in a bad place and didn't know it until it was right on top of me;  then I knew.  When the suicidal loops started playing, then I knew.

I suppose some of you are wondering how I could "let myself" get to such a place after having a major episode.

Well, the answer to that is ignorance.  When I was first diagnosed my doctor got me samples of the medicine I needed.  When we moved out of state I didn't know how to afford my meds.  I was rather ignorant about how to find help and not clear on what exactly I needed to be the best me possible . . .so I decided that I'd find a doctor to help me get off my meds and see how that would work out for me.

I asked for help weaning off of my anti-depressant.  I knew I was supposed to stay on my mood stabilizer.  But I was shocked and surprised to find that I had weaned off both at the same time and GUESS WHAT?  I was sane!

I felt so good that I just went med-free.  I tried to eat healthy (got on a good fish oil supplement!) and I joined an online bipolar support group.  I made friends and positive choices.

And you know what?  It worked for about seven years.  And then I crashed again, pretty hard.  

Second time around, last year, I found a clinic that really helped.  For the first time in my life I got a therapist.  Loved her.  She was great.  And she looked in my eyes and told me that 100% of all mentally ill people go off their meds.  That was pretty encouraging, knowing that I wasn't the only person who had "relapsed" because I felt pretty stupid ending up in the same spot again.

But now we're in a new spot again and once again I'm doing the find help again dance.  It's a preventative measure.  I'm really not bad at all right now.  A little grouchy, a little absentminded.  Somewhat sad if I don't keep super busy or engaged.

And I have hope.  I am not as bad as I was last year.  And last year wasn't as bad as my first episode.

It's a matter of understanding;  I got sick last night.  Nauseous.  Hubby looked at me and said "What did you eat today?"

"Emmm . . .a small bowl of pasta about noon . . ."

Well, no wonder I was sick.  I stop eating when I'm depressed.  I just don't think about food.  

I've also been sleeping terribly because my Hubby and Baby are both sick.  I can't sleep unless they are both sleeping well . . .

And guess what?  We've had some stress going on.  Hubby has been in so much pain for the past almost month.  Poor guy!  It's not his fault, but when one of us hurts, the other one hurts/gets stressed, too.

So add that all up:  poor appetite, poor sleep, major stress.

It's no wonder that I'm feeling like things are about to go to pieces.

But I know things will be okay.  We've been through bad stuff before and come out okay.  This will be another rough patch that we sail through . . .roughed up and seasick, but still afloat;  and the sun will come out again, the sea will smooth again and Hope, the little bird with feathers, will sing her sweet song to us again.

~ Be Well,

Jenn