Resilience

Resiliency is perhaps the single most important trait I want to possess.  I do not want to live in the shadow of past experiences or failed relationships.   We all have lived long enough to have had our hearts broken, to have been lied to or cheated on, to have lost someone we loved, or to have suffered some other major disappointment in our lives.

 Secrets are often worn blatantly and defiantly—if not proudly like battle-scarred armor.  They aren’t difficult to discern if you travel through life with your eyes and ears open—far too many people travel with their eyes scrunched up and with their fingers jammed in their ears—afraid they might see something ugly or hear something unsettling—or even recognize the pain they try so desperately to hide or to deny that they too know firsthand.  They want to believe that monsters only exist in nightmares and that everyone’s childhood memories mimic fairy tales where everyone lived happily-ever-after.  Gawd, the vast majority of people are so full of shit!  Wouldn’t you agree?

I do believe that secrets become armor in a way—we all employ some type of defense mechanism.  I think some people’s defense mechanism is to lash out at others—to become the villain rather than the victim again.  In some ways I do believe the old adage—the truth sets us free . . . some secrets just rot inside of us . . . no good comes out of safeguarding them deep inside.  I suppose if we could tuck them away, throw away the key and forget about them forever--there might be some benefit, but it doesn’t work that way.  Somehow we dredge up the old memories over and over again—and we never really come to terms with what happened—in some ways we just relive all the pain, shame and blame over and over again.  No good comes out of that—no good at all. 

 I often feel alone--not that I really am in a physical sense--there are a few friends and family waiting in the wings most of the time--still I think true loneliness is only quelled by a kindred spirit--someone who sees us from the inside out--someone who appreciates us not for what we do for him or her--not for who we are to him or her--but simply because we are.

I lead a very modest, simple life. I am not a collector of things--in truth I could pack everything that means anything to me in my car and be on my way never looking back or pining for things left behind. I don't define myself by the car I drive, the clothes and jewelry I wear, or anything else that I could possibly own or possess in some way. I believe that what we bring to our relationships spiritually, emotionally and intellectually is far more important than our material trappings. 

I am the Teflon Tygerlily~~I exist in plain sight among people with their eyes scrunched up and their fingers stuffed in their ears~~I am a Beeper Peep. . . invisible and silenced . . . I suppose I am someone’s secret.

Tygerlily

Some people always have their eyes on the horizon—they are always looking outside of themselves for things that can only be found within their own beings.  Our pal, William Shakespeare wrote in Hamlet:  “This above all: To thine own self be true . . .” Polonius was preparing his son Laertes to go abroad—basically he was preparing him to go out into the world.  Polonius knew how easily Laertes could get caught up in or fall prey to the influences or enticements that the world offers.  I have often wondered:  How does one be true to oneself without knowing oneself?  How can we measure the self-worth, the success, or the happiness of strangers?  If we do not know ourselves, we are essentially strangers to ourselves. 

I am always saddened when I hear others say, “I will be worth something or successful or happy when . . . or I will be worth something, successful or happy if . . .”—I think to myself that those people will never know true self-worth or success or happiness—because they believe these things emanate from external forces—whether it is the attainment of some position or material item or dependent upon the actions or views of others.  Self-worth, success and happiness all live on the horizon like mirages--they are ever elusive dreams or goals that are rarely realized and almost never sustained for any significant amount of time.

I can’t imagine nor will I pretend that I could know what it is like to be physically incarcerated.  However, I do know what it is like to lose myself—to get so caught up in doing and being and pursuing those elusive dreams or goals in life that I have no sense of myself—no sense of who I am—no sense of what I want or of what I really need—that in itself is a type of incarceration—it is a soul-stifling imprisonment. 

I believe that the most difficult thing we ever do in our lives is being true to ourselves—it is an almost impossible balancing act.  On the one hand, we are trying with all of our might to protect ourselves from hurt or disappointment, but on the other hand the only way we can grow and thrive is to open up ourselves—to make ourselves vulnerable—to risk being hurt or being disappointed or even failing. 

If that isn’t complicated enough, there is always the third hand—the hand that is ever extended from friends and family—the hand that tugs at our heart and hopes we will follow our heart and ignore our rational mind—the hand that is ever pleading with us to help or to please or to not disappoint.  If you are like I am, you have often quelled that voice deep inside yourself that makes you uneasy or that reminds you of your own longings or desires, and you follow through with whatever is asked of you because you don’t want to hurt or disappoint someone you care for.  After a while it becomes really easy to sacrifice ourselves—to sacrifice our needs and our desires for the sake of others or for the sake of what others think we ought to do or be or want, and in the process we become strangers to ourselves.  It becomes impossible to be true to ourselves. 

The spring of 2004 was perhaps the bleakest, darkest point in my life.  I felt as though my life had become so noisy, so unmanageable, so frustrating that I couldn’t concentrate—I could not function, and I was incredibly stressed out because there were so many people depending on me to do or to be certain things.  I could sit and listen to someone talk to me, and even though I could hear the words I couldn’t comprehend what they were saying to me.  I honestly felt as if my circuits were overloaded—memory is full, but nobody is home.  I didn’t know what to do; I didn’t know how to fix it.  I didn’t know what I wanted to do or what I needed to do to take care of myself.   I felt as though I was a complete failure. The only thing I knew for sure was that I couldn’t keep doing what I was doing.  No one I talked to or went to for advice could understand me.  No one seemed to understand that I just could not physically, mentally or emotionally keep doing what I was doing.  Everyone looked at me as though I had lost my mind.  Everyone asked me what my plans were—what I wanted to do instead, but I didn’t know.  I just knew I couldn’t continue to do what I was doing, so finally against everyone’s advice, I just stopped.

I quit teaching at the end of the school year—gave away all my teaching stuff—I came home and I didn’t do anything for nearly six months.  I literally became a hermit.  I quit answering my telephone, and for the most part I didn’t even return messages.  I didn’t go anywhere or talk to anyone.  I ventured out about once a week to see my parents and to go to the grocery store.  I went to the book store a few times; I always have to have something to read, but I couldn’t really read at that point.  Sometimes late in the evenings when I was sure not to run into anyone I would take my dog out for a walk.

One day I was lying on the couch talking to my Daddy.  I don’t know how we got on the subject.  He told me not to be a shrinking violet, but he said there is no need to be a stink weed either.  He said be a Tiger Lily.  He was particularly fond of Tiger Lilies, and I am too.  They have a rather commanding presence towering over all of the other flowers in the garden, but because they are tall and slim, they don't overshadow all of the other flowers--they don't steal all of the sunlight or the glory.

Tiger Lilies can grow just about anywhere even in the red mud of the Carolinas, and they are resilient--they survive the heat and drought of our summers, the winds and heavy rains that sometimes lay them down flat, and even the rare and unexpected freezes but no matter what they not only come back year after year, but they also multiply effortlessly like weeds.

I love the irony in the name--Tiger Lily.  Most people think of tigers as being strong and ferocious and maybe even unpredictable, but they think of peace and calm and tranquility when they think of lilies.  You would think the two extremes would have little to do with each other, but I have learned over the years that sometimes it takes the strength and ferocity of a tiger to keep the peace. 

What I learned during that six months was that sometimes just knowing what you don’t want to do is sufficient.  You don’t have to have a plan; you don’t have to be able to justify why you don’t want to do something.  Just saying, “I don’t want to do this” is sufficient. The other thing I learned was that I don’t have anything to prove.  I am who I am.  My sense of self-worth comes from inside of me.  My sense of accomplishment or success comes from inside of me.  My happiness comes from inside of me.  No one else can accurately measure or define my self-worth, success or happiness, nor do they have a right to.  Oh, there are those who will try, but how dare they?

The most important thing I learned was that the only way I can remain true to myself is to listen to that voice inside of me.  If the world is too noisy and imposing, then I need to find a quiet place where I can hide out for a while—where I can escape the demands of others—where I can get back in tune with myself.  There is a poem called “The Invitation”--when I first read the poem, I knew it was speaking to me.  I knew it was full of questions I needed to ask myself.  I think in some ways I have always had a longing for people to see me from the inside out, but more than anything I needed to be able to see myself from the inside out.

 

My Daddy reminded me that I am a Tiger Lily.  I am strong, resilient, and beautiful among many other things. We all make mistakes; sometimes we repeat our mistakes; heck, sometimes our mistakes become a way of life~~just being bipolar.  Nevertheless the fact remains that we are resilient—we can come back stronger, wiser, and more beautiful than ever.  Breathe and believe:  I am going to find a way to care for and help myself and others wherever I am on the bipolar continuum because that is my inherent nature:  I am a Tygerlily.

Alone

I know how to be alone. Of this I am sure.

Silence must always be a choice; otherwise, it easily becomes a prison. To be locked away in silence masquerades itself as safety . . . as long as I have the key. Too many times the key hasn’t been enough to release me because I feel paralyzed by fear, and I refuse to even try to look for the lock. What lies on the other side?

Fear has a way of slipping up on me, pulling up a chair and staying a while. Before long I’ve taken it in and started treating it like family . . . until I finally realize that fear has grown into an appendage that I push, pull and drag around with me.   I don’t know how to live my life without fear, and it grows so heavy that it threatens to choke the very life out of me.

I am afraid of people . . . not just because I feel emotionally overwhelmed at times or because I was attacked and raped when I was young . . . though I suppose those two alone are reason enough . . . still I know my relationship with fear is far more complex.

Weightlessness must be its own kind of Shangri-la. Everything about my existence is heavy and dense. If I could will myself to be a different person, I would waste no time in doing so. I am so exhausted of being exhausted. I suppose it is not that I really want to be someone else. I just don’t want to be me anymore. Not wanting to be me anymore frightens me . . . still it is as true a statement as my eyes are blue.

I try not to use my “Bipolar-ness” as an excuse for anything in my life. The truth of the matter is that being Bipolar does have an impact on every part of my life. I have regularly found myself in situations where there is seemingly no reprieve and no redemption and no hope; that is a difficult place to be. I have burned many bridges and unfortunately watched many bridges . . . my only connection to others . . . be lit right before my eyes. The helplessness frightens me.

For as long as I can remember I have been a stranger in a foreign land struggling to live my life as the natives do. As much as I feel I don’t understand how other people live their lives . . . they appear so shallow; yet, they are living while I merely exist in a vacuum I have at least partly created for myself.

"As a rule, I am very careful to be shallow and conventional where depth and originality are wasted." ~Lucy Maude Montgomery I wish I knew how she did it.

I never imagined that I would be sick at heart and mind and spirit . . . yet here I am . . . trying to make sense of my existence, struggling to interact with the world around me despite knowing I am on the outside looking inward.

Please Define Normal

Please define "normal" . . . is it as fleeting and idealistically mediocre as the mythical "stable"? 

“Normal” as we know it~~as it is used in our modern day vocabulary is a word that is relative to time and space.  “Normal” is and always will be in a constant state of change.  Today's “normal” is not defined the same way it was fifty years ago, and “normal” will be defined differently ten years from now. 

Let’s consider the origin of the word “normal”~~I know, I know . . . you can take the girl out of teaching but you can never take the ole English teacher out of the girl~~please humor me . . .

“Normal” is derived from the two Latin words~~ “normalis” and “norma”.  “Normalis” was defined as a Carpenter’s right angle~~90 degrees.  Now if you remember your Geometry you know that it is based on theorems, postulates, and properties~~and everything requires proof.  A right angle measures 90 degrees.  All right angles are congruent which means all right angles have the exact same measure~~all right angles measure 90 degrees~~ Period.  A right angle during the time of Euclid and Pythagoras is 

 a right angle today and it will be a right angle in 2050.

“

Norma” was defined as a pattern.  Patterns are based on repetition and periodicity.  A single cell, an event, an object is combined with duplicates of itself which are exact~~no changes or modifications.  A pattern is a reliable sample of traits, acts, tendencies, or other observable characteristics of a person, group, or institution that is constant~~like a right angle~~it is exact~~Period.

So how do you define “normal”?  Are all “normal” people exact duplicates of each other?  What specific traits, acts, tendencies, or characteristics do ALL “normal” people have that a Beeper doesn’t have?   

Language is transformational~~vocabulary is transformational.  We can change the structure or the meaning by inserting or deleting or changing one element in the pattern and we have created something entirely different.

“Normal” no longer means exact~~it no longer means pattern.  Our modern definition of “normal” is constantly changing~~”normal” is dependent upon how society sees itself.  “Normal” is most accurately defined as whatever is current at any given time and whatever is current is constantly changing . . . fashion, belief systems, laws.

People are continuously striving to define themselves . . . they are constantly on the lookout for the new trend or model in our society that defines how they act, the choices they make, their appearance, what is ethical, what is taboo~~what is considered “normal” in their everyday lives.  The majority of society~~at the very least the general population adheres to these ever-changing rules because there is an innate desire in all of us to be accepted~~to be normal~~whatever “normal” is.

I can’t define “normal” by modern standards~~the best that I can speculate is that “normal” is fleeting, mediocre or even some mythical alternate dimension in our universe . . . after all “stable” is derived from the Latin “stabulum”~~in its noun form meaning a building or shelter for animals~~in its verb form meaning to put or keep in a stable~~in its adjective form meaning firmly established to resist forces causing motion~~now that definition of stable seems far too similar to the definition of stagnant~~not moving, motionless, foul odor. 

I will pass on being normal and on being stable~~I don’t think either one would be healthy for me.

On the other hand, I am interested in learning to run interference with Bipolar disorder so I can consistently rely on my cognitive and emotional acuity to just be me.

My students used to tell me that I wasn’t fair~~I didn’t treat all of them exactly the same, and they were right.  Usually the complaints came from those students who needed and got a lot more of my attention than they wanted.

I regularly reminded my students that I could give all of them exactly the same thing or treat all of them exactly the same, and I wouldn’t be fair~~I wouldn’t be treating them justly.  Fair isn’t about getting what everyone else gets; fair is about getting what you need. 

I don’t want to be anyone else; I don’t want the same measure of cognitive or emotional acuity that anyone else has.  I just want what I need to be me~~to be a fully functioning Tracey.

We don’t do ourselves any favors by desiring to be “normal” or to be “stable”.  There are no definitive characteristics for either word  . . . we spend so much time grieving the loss of what?  We can put the words~~”normal” or “stable”~~in front of any role that we can play, in front of any occupation that we may pursue, in front of any experience we might have . . . but what does it mean?

There is not another living creature who has ever walked the face of this earth or who will ever walk the face of this earth who can be me.  

However, we can define ourselves . . . we all have specific characteristics, specific abilities, specific tendencies~~independent of the challenges we face or the needs in our lives that are common characteristics of Bipolar disorder~~which defines who we are as individuals.      

Being who I am . . . is a goal I can accomplish . . . being what others can’t even define~~”NORMAL”~~is not only pointless~~it is absolutely, unequivocally  IMPOSSIBLE.

25 Random (Sometimes Silly) Things About Me

1.  According to the Myers-Briggs Personality Test, I am an INTJ—an Introverted, Intuitive, Thinking visionary who is constantly seeking closure in daily activities but doesn’t multi-task well and doesn’t really care because there are plenty of worker bees to do it for me. 

2.  INTJs make up less than 1% of the population and are often misunderstood.

3.  I believe that eating from buffets is extraordinarily disgusting and perhaps the most noxious behavior eagerly and willingly engaged in by people with relatively high IQs. 

4.   I love Stewart “Stewie” Griffin on Family Guy—he is my hero.

5.   I believe my dog, Lulu, is smarter and cleaner than 95% of the population. 

6.  Because I am claustrophobic and cannot bear the thought of being interred in a vault in the ground, I plan on being cremated and having my ashes scattered from Wise Man’s View in Linville, NC when I die.

 

7.  All history is revisionist history. 

8.  Being a Southerner and living in the South is NOT overrated, but we really should have insisted on Border Patrol after the Civil War—our Southern culture has become an endangered way of life having fallen prey to the mass exodus of Yankees heading South once again to plunder and destroy what they have been in search of all along but can’t seem to figure out for themselves.    

9.  I agree with people who think their shoes—Jimmy Choos, their Prada clothing, and their Coach handbags define them—absolutely, they are all shallow idiots. 

10.  Teaching English for fourteen years drove me to the edge of insanity and when I left teaching I jumped in with both feet. 

11.  I am afraid of heights. 

12.  I like to eat Salt and Vinegar potato chips along with a Hershey’s chocolate bar.

13.  I refuse to eat ham because I don’t like the way it feels in my mouth.

14.   I am mosquito bait. 

15.  I believe the leaders of our nation should revisit the ideas and philosophies of our forefathers: “America does not go abroad in search of monsters to destroy. She is the well-wisher to freedom and independence of all. She is the champion and vindicator only of her own.”  John Quincy Adams

16.  My closest friends have told me that they were scared of me until they got to know me. 

17.  My allergist calls me an URN aka Upper Respiratory Nightmare.

18.   I coach and yell and throw fits at the TV when I am watching college basketball.  The Refs are lucky that I am in my recliner at home and not in the stands.

19.   I do not go see movies if I have already read the books because the experience will just piss me off. 

20.  I have always used expletives in acronym form:  KMA, BD² 

21. Peter Paul Rubens is one of my favorite artists. 

22.  I wonder if my friends or even people I don’t know really well would write a collaborative novel with me.   It is not difficult—it is just a stream of consciousness kind of composition. 

23.  The first line of the collaborative novel would read: “Yesterday I thought today would be a good day, but it is not. I don't know whether to laugh or to cry. Laughing would lead to crying because I tend to cry when I laugh too hard for too long, but I also tend to wet my pants, too . . .”

24.  The first line of the collaborative novel is autobiographical.

25.  Jesus loves me because I make him laugh all the time.

Migraines

I had a terrible migraine last week~~the first one for 2012.  I was sick for three days straight.  I always feel like I want to die when I have migraines.  Nothing really helps me.  I feel utterly hopeless, and everything is painful.  I shouldn't complain; I know there are others who live with constant unbearable pain.  At least I know the migraine will dissipate eventually.

I always try to drink lots of water when I am having a migraine.  I heard somewhere that it helps, and sometimes it does.  Of course, proper hydration is important for our bodies in general.

I came across an article that discusses how dehydration can impact our moods and energy levels:

Bad Mood, Low Energy? There Might Be a Simple Explanation

http://healthland.time.com/2012/01/19/bad-mood-low-energy-there-might-be-a-simple-explanation/?iid=hl-search-editpicks

I have heard so many different opinions about drinking water.  Some say we should drink 8-8oz glasses a day; others say we don't have to drink that much.  I guess if drinking water can improve my mood and energy level, I am definitely willing to keep track of my consumption.  

Diagnosis

Have you ever seen yourself on paper?  For me it was quite daunting.  I know I have bipolar disorder; I am keenly aware of my symptoms, and the challenges they create in my life.  Still the medicalese was overwhelming.

My most recent appointment with my Pdoc was 1/5/12 with diagnoses of Bipolar I with psychosis versus schizoaffective disorder.  My other psychiatric diagnoses include Cluster B traits with self-harming behaviors and Cluster C traits with social isolation, post-traumatic stress disorder and chronic insomnia.  Whew!

Let's pull all of that in layman's terms.  I have difficulty with concentration and attention due to high anxiety and internal dialogues with voice(s).  I have maladaptive behavior such as cutting~~yes, I am a cutter~~and hitting myself, isolating and secluding myself from others.  I don't much like people~~well, that isn't true~~I just don't like spending time with them.  I also have chronic suicidality, persistent depression, and emotional lability (mood swings).  While I haven't had a loss of orientation, I have had episodes of loss of reality.  I have had periods of auditory hallucinations and vague feelings of dread.

My comorbid medical diagnoses include fatigue and excessive daytime sleepiness, migraines, tremors, asthma, allergic rhinitis, anemia, hypertension, and post status squamous cell carcinoma (yes, skin cancer).

I almost wish I didn't know all of this, but then again I knew, didn't I?  When anyone strips away all of the good or positive things about themselves, they can hardly help but be shocked and depressed.

Bipolar has a way of putting blinders on us, often we can't see or even remember the good things in the midst of an episode~~that is a definite liability.  Still I am thinking that knowing my diagnosis thoroughly gives me the opportunity to set boundaries for bipolar in my life.  As long as there are boundaries, I think I can live with bipolar and have a better perspective on my life.