My Late Bipolar Reaction

Lee and I have been having some great days between ourselves lately, but I’m telling you, it seems like the whole wide world is against us.  Thank goodness that he is stable right now. 

 We’ve had some major problems with our daughter (not of her doing), a myriad of minor household disasters ranging from a deceased heat pump to a flooded bathroom floor, and my workload has doubled (that's good but also quite stressful).  All of this in less than three weeks.  It has been more than hectic –it’s been downright crazy.  And with all of the stress and strain that is totally non-bipolar related I have noticed something about myself that I truly do not know what to do with or how to handle.  I call it my late bipolar reaction.

This reaction is the one where I get tiffed with my honey-bunny-man for doing absolutely nothing wrong.  Not a little angry; furiously enraged.  Complete paranoia reigns when I get this way.  I recognize depression signs.  It’s a defiant attitude I have when he’s doing everything right.  It’s the obsession that pushes me to take little rides to make sure he’s at work when he says he is. 

Do I have a problem?  Absolutely.  What should I do about it?  Couldn’t tell you.  

Since we’re at an in between time where we’re making it financially, but still can’t afford health insurance for me, therapy for myself is out of the question.  Heck, bipolar disorder is darn expensive.  A few hundred bucks of medication a month, plus another couple hundred in therapy and doctor’s visits makes the budget a little tight at times.  Not to mention how hard it is to find a therapist whose first and last thoughts are not, Leave him, girl.  He's looney."

The only thing I know to do about my late bipolar reaction is pray about it, and then pray some more.  I’m brutally honest with my husband as well, because I completely expect him to be brutally honest with me about everything.  Better the demons I know and all that.  By putting my thoughts and feelings out there, no matter how irrational they are, it takes a little of the steam out of them.  It shows him that I'm practicing what I preach in a big way.

Seeing his reaction goes a long way toward my peace of mind.  I see that he loves me anyway, just like I love him anyway.  I see that I am not alone although in the midst of bipolar struggles it sometimes seems so.  When I say, “You might be mad at me, but I stalked your truck again.” And he responds something along the lines of, “Do you feel better knowing I was where I should be?” without a hint of anger or meanness; it helps.  When there’s just deep understanding and a ‘honey, I know we’re both doing the best we can’ feel to what he says, it goes a long way toward healing the hurts of the past. 

My bipolar reaction is scary and downright painful for me and for my mate.  But when used effectively for the uplifting of our marriage, it is also bringing a new and deeper dimension to our relationship that otherwise would never have been.  Thank the Lord for it all because He holds us in His hands.   

Is There a Wolf in There?

People who know me know that I am a very practical person.  Now, I’m not saying that I’m not flighty or super-duper out there sometimes.  But I am one of those people who believe firmly in things like coupons, 401K’s, health insurance and keeping an eye on the big picture.  I think that my pragmatic nature lends me to be spiritual as well.  In my logical mind, having faith is a wonderful, amazing and extremely practical way to live.  Really, is it rational to think that the whole universe just happened?

Having this realistic view of life also makes it very simple for me to see that God does not want us to go about acting like there aren’t opportunities available to help those of us dealing with manic depression.

I have heard a million reasons why bipolar isn’t really ‘real,’ but that the afflicted just ought to ‘pull themselves out of it.’  I have even been told that my husband has a demon because he has bipolar disorder.  It has been shared with me, by well-meaning folks, that psychiatrists and therapists are of the devil.  I have even been encouraged to let my faith in God keep my husband away from the appropriate medications to treat his extremely severe disorder. 

Now, I don’t mean this disrespectfully at all because these people truly believe these things from the bottoms of their hearts.  They are really trying to be helpful; but my down-to-earth personality has me screaming, “What a bunch of hogwash, people!”

Surely every psychiatrist on the face of the planet is not out for our souls.  Certainly, every person with a mood disorder is not full of evil spirits!  Would God put great medicines in the minds of incredibly astute professionals just so that we could turn them away?  And on top of refusing the help God has so graciously given us, we are also supposed to blame Him for the refusal.  My faith is supposed to be so high and mighty that I can refuse His mercy in His name? 

Well, I don’t think so.  It just doesn’t make sense to my practical, realistic, pragmatic nature.

My poor husband’s episodes have been so bad at times that I truly don’t know if he was really present in this world.  But a kind doctor had the knowledge that allowed them to say that they could help.  And over time my husband, our family doctor, therapists, psychiatrists, family and friends have helped him get back to where he can actually think and be responsible.  He is now a productive member of society again.  This has been done with the help of medication, and no exorcisms were necessary.  The most essential part of his stabilization, however, was the fact that God oversaw it all.

God gave most of us enough common sense to know the difference between what is good and bad; what is right and wrong.  And I think it is pretty much common sense that says if there is a medicine out there to help your cold, by golly-geezers, take it!   And, just because you get a cold doesn’t mean that you have evil incarnate living inside of you! That cold is also not an indication of all of the evil you must have done in the past.  How is this different for people unfortunate enough to be born with or to develop bipolar disorder?

God’s thinking is above our thinking, so I absolutely don’t claim to ‘know it all.’  But, I’m not going to take every word that is fed to me as the gospel either.  God told me in His word to look out for wolves in sheep’s’ clothing, and I intend to do just that. 

I also try to make sure I’m not unknowingly one of those wolves. 

Hope

There is a great truth to be learned by all who ever experience suffering and hardship which threatens to break their souls, hearts and minds.  The bad may get really, really bad.  But when the good comes it is obvious what is before one’s face.  There is no mistaking it, and there is no lack of appreciation or gratitude for the blessing that is given.

With that being said, what a wonderful few weeks we have had!  There were definitely times over the past several years that I wondered if we would ever experience any relief from the bipolar beast.  And now, here we are!  My husband is trying so hard, and so am I.  We are working together as a team to try to be better people in Christ.  Granted, neither of us are perfect…we are quite a way from there, folks!  Yet, we are refusing to sit stagnant in our unhealthy comfort zones.

I know from whence our help has come.  I know completely with every bit of what makes me who I am.  I know, beyond all doubt, that we could not have survived the struggles that come with bipolar disorder without God.  And, it makes me so heartbroken and remorseful for all of those who do not know that this help is there.  It hurts me to the core to know that there are people out there suffering without hope. 

Hope – it is a strange thing.  When I could not hope that my husband would ever become stable because my human nature could not trust him, I trusted that God had me in His hands.  When I could not hope that we would ever get past all of the pain, I had hope in the Heavenly Father because I knew that He would never cast on me more than I could bear.  Hope in God was all I had because I dared not trust to hope in anything or anyone else.  Too much pain, too much betrayal, too much hardship will do that to a person.

So, I lift a prayer for all that are out there without the hope of Christ.  I pray that you will find that hope by finding the One who gives it.  He holds you in his hand, too.  And while I am altogether unique and special to God, you are as well.  He loves me no more than He loves you.  Jesus Christ literally gave the ultimate sacrifice through His death so that you and I could have hope and life everlasting. 

The pain of this Earth is temporal.  It will not last forever, even if we never have another good day again for the rest of our lives here.  This life, however, is only the beginning.  We will all live for eternity and our souls will never dim.  It is merely a question of where that eternity will be spent; in glory with God, or in Hell.  I lift another prayer that we all see that death is only a transition from one form of living to another – and that we all choose whether or not to take the path that can give us hope in this life and the next.