bipolar mom shares her insights on everyday life

Posts tagged ‘crying’

Three to Six Weeks


my doctor told me it would take three to six weeks to recover from this hysterectomy, I truly thought I would take the full six weeks.  I’m not in the best shape (gasp!), I went into surgery after feeling like crap for ten days, and I don’t endure pain very well.

But, after the surgery, I started feeling really good, really fast.  Even when I got my staples removed, the doctor and nurses commented on how well I was doing.  As I climbed the stairs without a lot of pain last week, Tom praised me and said, “Hey only 5 more weeks to go!”  I laughed and told him I doubted it would take that long.

Then, yesterday happened, which bled into today.  I was feeling really good yesterday and tried sitting different places throughout the house and avoided the recliner.  I straightened up the kitchen a bit, cleaned off my stamping desk, and actually started making some cards.  When i would get tired, I’d just get up, and lie on the couch.

However, at 5 o’clock, I was wiped out, so I laid down for a nap.  I woke up just before 7, and was completely confused.  Was it 7 am or 7 pm?  I turned over and saw Tom was not in bed, so I knew it must be 7 pm, because that man does not get up before 9 unless he has to!  Then, it hit me.  We were supposed to go to my mom’s for dinner at 6:30 in honor of our birthdays!

I start yelling, “Hey!  Hey!” as I am kicking my shoes across the room.  (I couldn’t put them on because of the incision.  I bend in the wrong place.)  Karen jumps on the phone to call my folks to tell them that I was napping, and we lost track of time.  My mom told her that they had already eaten, but to come on anyway. 

The dam broke.  I started bawling.  We all four discuss whether or not we should go anyway, and Tom, the amazing man he is, said, “Yes, we are going.  We could call and say, ‘We aren’t going to come since you’ve already eaten.’  And then they’ll say, ‘Yes, come on.’  Honey, they know you’ve been tired, are on pain medication, and had surgery.  They understand.”

So we piled into the car, and it was a silent ride there.  Everyone felt badly for forgetting.  We came in and my folks were all smiles.  We sat right down to eat, and my dad asked me to pass him the roast.  I said, “Oh, are you going to eat again?”  He looked at me funny and said, “I haven’t eaten.”  I looked at my mom and she said, “Honey, that was a joke!”  Open the flood gates.  I excused myself and went into the other room to cry.

Last night was not an easy night’s sleep.  I woke up at 2:30 and had to take two Percocet because I was in such pain.

When I woke up this morning, I felt like Charlie Brown.  A dark cloud followed me.  And several little crying jags hit while the rest of the family went out shopping.  I called my mom and she came over to keep me company.

I obviously over did it yesterday.  Which seems a little unfair since you don’t know when to quit doing something because the effect comes later.

This really is a roller coaster ride of recovery.  I’m not sure if I’m so emotional because I’m bipolar or because I just over did myself and that’s how everyone feels.  This next week will be hard because I am going to have to sit here to heal faster or get up an move around because I feel like it, and pay for it the next day.  There must be some happy medium.  Right?

It Was Good While It Lasted

Well, I truly haven’t had a bad day in a long time.  A long, long time.  But, today was a doozy.  I felt it coming on all weekend.  I’m guessing this is not uncommon for other bipolars.  You can see it coming, but you don’t know what to do to stop it. 

All weekend I was easily irritated.  Just felt “blah” most of the weekend.  But, yesterday, at church was a really good day.  (In general.  I did have to take a few deep breaths to calm myself down before teaching.  Oh, and I cried during the sermon.  Partially because I was so moved and partially because I was kind of sad in general, and I always feel better when Pastor Doug talks.  I really feel God’s presence, so I was able to release some of that tension that was building.)  But, the band played better than we have in a long time.  I think that was due to the large crowd we had at our service.  A lot of people brought friends.  I also won the pie baking contest!  So, really, I had every reason to be happy.  And I was.  I had a great time.

Once we got home, it went back to “blah.”  We had a crowd of boys in our basement working on a robot project, so I went up to my room to be away from the noise.

Tom and I watched the movie “The Mist” based on a Stephen King novella.  That made me a little freaked.  Which is funny, because I read the story years ago and remembered a lot of it.  Tom didn’t, so he was nice and surprised.  The movie ended differently than the book, though, so I wasn’t ahead on that front.

Then, Tom and I got into a heated discussion about the kids and the dishwasher.  It was just about the lamest thing you could argue about, but we made it a good one, I promise you!

The other thing on my mind was that this month’s Bible verse for our Bible Study group has to do with reconciling with others.  I tried over and over to do that.  It didn’t work out so well, honestly.  I would try to discuss things rationally and apologize for what I’d done, but I received a lot of blank looks.  Like, “Okay.  Whatever.  It really wasn’t a big deal or anything.”  So that didn’t really feel all that productive.

So, today is supposed to be my day off, but as soon as Tom and the kids left, I was more agitated than I had been in a very long time.  I was so wound up, I’m guessing I could generate enough power to light up Times Square, if someone was able to “unwind me” quickly.

This resulted in major crying spells.  Sobbing.  Hyperventilating-type crying.  On my knees crying.  I truly thought that maybe that was going to push all the bad, icky feelings out of my body, and I would be refreshed.  Nope.  I was instant messaging my mom at the time who was trying to help.  She suggested taking a Xanax.  Once I got calm enough to be able to take a drink, I took my meds and waited for them to take effect.  I sat and watched my candles flicker and tried to focus on them, taking deep breaths.  A little more crying, but not quite so hard.

I got in the car and headed to my folks’ house.  I felt a little guilty about going, but I promised I would if I sat crying for a long time.  Any of you who live close to your parents may have this issue as well, but I was thinking, “You know, these two raised me for 18+ years, and now that they are retired and able to enjoy life, here comes this whack-job who needs their support.  Not exactly what they were planning to do on such a beautiful day.” I know they love me, are concerned about me, and want to help, but still.  I would like to be able to handle this junk without having to mess their day/life up.

But, of course I went anyway.  Instant love.  Loving touch.  Was it really that easy?  You know, it really was.  I still did a lot of deep sighing, and didn’t exactly start doing backflips or cartwheels, but I did feel a lot better.  A LOT.  I had lunch with them, and we talked about things other than my bad day.  Probably because I was so much calmer.  If you’ve got a good thing going, don’t mess with it, right?

So, now it is 4:20.  I feel 85% better than I did this morning.  Almost 100%, but I am so tired, plus I can’t decide if I should go to church tomorrow to teach the preschoolers some songs.  What if I wake up again and feel like crap?  What if I worry about this all night?  I really should just call someone and tell them, “You know, I had a tough day today, and I have no idea what tomorrow will bring, so I think I should probably tell you that I won’t be there.”  The world will not come to an end.  I was told they would be thrilled to have me once a quarter, so my telling them I would come once a month was a bonus in their eyes.

In closing, let me say that in As Good As It Gets when Jack Nicholson says to the other patients in the psychiatrists office, “Do you ever think, ‘What if this is as good as it gets?'” I used to wonder that same thing.  I now know it does get better, but now I am like a manufacturing plant that has one of those tote boards that say, “27 accident-free days!” except mine will say, “27 breakdown-free days!” and now I’m starting back at 1 tomorrow.

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