Reality Hide and Seek

When all else fails, bake bread

noreply@blogger.com (Sheri Weinberg) — Sun, 22 Jan 2012 22:40:00 +0000

Today started out bad, but instead of having a pity party, I decided to develop a new bread recipe. It was actually born out of necessity, we were just about out of wheat bread and I didn't feel like making 100% whole wheat. We're out of regular flour, so I decided to see what I could do with semolina flour added to whole wheat with some wheat berries thrown in for yumminess. I've used semolina flour before, but never in large quantities in bread. It's the best for pasta, and a couple tablespoons thrown into a bread recipe enhance the texture nicely.

I baked the bread in a pan that Heidi (Greg's daughter-in-law, a sculptor) made for me in which I usually bake my Italians and sourdoughs. When it finished baking, it was beautiful, and we all had a difficult time waiting the requisite hour before it was ready for the taste test. The general consensus was "this is the best bread yet." As I'm sitting here writing, people are wandering in and out of the kitchen slicing off pieces of bread ("just one more..."). I was going to take another picture, I don't like this one much, but by the time I finished the blog post the bread was half gone!

I use a bread machine for kneading, but you could adapt this to your preferred mode of bread baking.

I Ran Out of Regular Flour Bread (I could use some suggestions for a recipe title)

¾ C wheat berries
3 C water

☞Combine water and wheat berries in a saucepan; bring to a boil. Cover, reduce heat, and simmer at least one hour. Drain wheat berries into a colander over a bowl, reserving the liquid. Let liquid cool to about 100˚F-110˚F.

Start with about 1¼ C of the cooking liquid poured into the bread machine pan, then follow with the remaining ingredients:

1½ tsp salt
2 T honey
2 T oil (I used canola)
2 T buttermilk powder
1 C whole wheat flour
2 C semolina flour
3 T vital wheat gluten
2¼ tsp yeast

If the dough seems too dry, add additional liquid one tablespoon at a time.

It only needs about a 30-40 minute rise, then split the top and pour melted butter into the split, brushing the top with some of the butter.

Since I used a clay baking pan, I put it into a cold oven then baked at 425˚F for 20 minutes. Then I reduced the heat to 375˚F and baked for another 30 minutes.

This makes a huge loaf, so either split it, free-form shape it, or use a very large bread pan.

Success in bread baking equals definite decrease in depression

Think for yourself

noreply@blogger.com (Sheri Weinberg) — Mon, 16 Jan 2012 20:03:00 +0000

Once again I've listened to my body and done what I knew was right, not what the doctor told me to do. (If you're interested, this post is about the first time I did this). I absolutely do not advocate always going against doctor's orders. What I am for is thinking for yourself. Contrary to popular belief, doctors do not know everything, and they sometimes don't stop to think that one size doesn't fit all. My father was a General Practitioner, and I was raised to believe that one should do what the doctor says, always, no questions asked. After all, the doctor is the one with the diploma on the wall (I actually had one of Rachel's psychs point this out to me moments before I told him what he could do with that diploma). Consequently, up until a short while ago I never questioned what I was told, just put out my hand for the magic pill, whatever it was, and took my medicine like a good little girl.

This time it was a mandate to decrease estrogen. I've been on hormone replacement therapy for about 14 years ever since my total hysterectomy/oopherectomy. I recently changed physicians, and this one said it was time for me to cut back. She wanted me to cut my dosage in half with the goal of finding the "lowest tolerable dosage." I tried it her way for a month. At first I thought it was the holidays that were depressing me, then I thought perhaps it was the problems I was having with Rachel that were causing the spontaneous tears and exhaustion. Then I got a cold, I can't even remember the last time I was sick, but that probably has nothing to do with the lack of estrogen, although I did think that it was what was exacerbating my feelings of increasing depression.

I knew I was in serious trouble when none of my tools were working, and by Saturday I was barely functioning. I went to bed at 8:30 (on a Saturday night!), I just couldn't keep my eyes open. Sunday I made it through the Sunday puzzles, actually took a shower, but then went back to bed when everybody else left for the day. I slept until around 7:00 that night, got up took the other half of my estrogen pill and had Greg make a couple hot toddies for me. This morning I took a whole pill and I feel so much better.

One of my friends referred me to an article about estrogen and psychiatry which discusses the basics of estrogen and how it effects the body.

In a recent review on of the brain chemistry of reproductive hormones in women,^Genazzani the following estrogen effects were described:

an increase in brain norepinephrine levels;

a decrease in dopamine release;

multiple effects on serotonin, and even an effect on blood tryptophan levels (the amino acid from which serotonin is made);

protective effects on acetycholine systems (possibly thereby protecting against Alzheimer's disease);

effects on the production of neurotrophic factors, the brain's own cell fertilizers, now known to be very directly involved in the mechanism of depression;

an increase in endorphin levels in the brain as well as the bloodstream;

a possible relationship with melatonin, the sleep-regulating hormone (complex relationship, different in different animal species);

promotion of the production of allopregnanolone, a "neurosteroid" with strong antianxiety effects; and

a complex relationship, but clearly affecting the levels of DHEA, another neurosteroid with mood effects.

I found many articles discussing menopause (in my case it would be surgical menopause) and bipolar disorder, and it seems the general consensus is that it's possible that the lack or decrease of estrogen can exacerbate depressive symptoms. The following is from an article on EverydayHealth.

The connection between estrogen and mood disorder is not completely clear. What researchers do know is:

High levels of estrogen tend to have a “brightening effect” on mood, while low levels promote a dampening of mood.

Estrogen will decrease during menopause and the five- to 10-year period before menopause, known as perimenopause.

A drop in estrogen can have particular consequences for the bipolar patient, doubling susceptibility to depressive episodes.

My searching endeavors also brought me to an awesome blog about a woman's fight with breast cancer. She has an excellent post about Estrogen and Neurotransmitters with a reference to a very informative Medscape article explaining the importance of estrogen in all aspects of the human body's functioning.

There are so many pros and cons to hormone replacement therapy, several benefits as well as risks. But I can tell you without a doubt, I'll take the risks over debilitating depression any day. Estrogen seems relatively benign compared to the combined risks of my psych meds, my past drug use and alcohol consumption, environmental factors, and unhealthy food choices.

We can see more than you think

noreply@blogger.com (Sheri Weinberg) — Sat, 07 Jan 2012 15:00:00 +0000

*Warning, not for everyone (I'm tired of saying *triggering*)

After discussing it with other mental health people, I've come to the conclusion that self-harm can encompass more than self-mutilation. On the other hand, "official" websites disagree. They tend to separate dangerous behaviors including alcoholism and drug addiction into a different category because the end result is caused by the behavior, not directly by the person. For the purposes of this post, I'm going to classify them all together.

I don't think that those of us who have engaged in these behaviors stop to consider the impact we have on our loved ones, just like people who contemplate suicide don't think about the devastation they're going to leave behind. When I was at my worst, I tried to obliterate or punish myself in every way possible. I don't think that I once stopped to think about how my behavior was affecting those around me. I thought nobody knew, or cared for that matter. I felt I was pretty good at hiding it all.

The alcoholic and the drug addict think they're fine from the outside, that they're experts at disguising it. I know I considered myself "high-functioning." I wouldn't go so far as to label myself an addict, but I suppose I was pretty close to it. As far as I was concerned, I needed those behaviors to cope with life. As far as self-injury goes, I thought I was very clever and that no one could see what I was doing, I only did it in spots that didn't show to the public. Appearance was important to me, after all I was an Office Manager, and then later a mother, and at that time cutting was unheard of. Not that it's accepted or understood now, it's just I had no idea that other people did it and I thought I was a freak.

Now, self-mutilation is "in your face." It's obvious most of the time, and it screams "help me." But those of us that have to stand by and witness these behaviors are at a loss to what to do to help. In my post Helpless and Hopeless I talk about my daughter's last hospitalization. The images of her self-harm are burned into my brain. I don't think I every really looked at the results before, I always glanced away. But this time it was unavoidable, so much worse. Until I had a Healing Touch session yesterday, I was afraid to close my eyes, I couldn't sleep, that's all that I would see. Tears threatened to fall at any moment.

If those of us who engage in these behaviors knew the effect we had on those that care about us, would it make a difference? I imagine not, perhaps we are subconsciously aware of the impact, and that's part of the shame and the impetus to keeps us going.

Just a mom

noreply@blogger.com (Sheri Weinberg) — Thu, 05 Jan 2012 18:18:00 +0000

(Facebook friends, you've already seen this)

So after the last heavily depressing blog post, I was motivated to write this by someone on Facebook who posted something very touching about being "just" a mom. Many years ago I got very tired of saying I'm a stay-home mom and having people respond with stupid things like "What do you do all day?" Or "How lucky you get to stay home and play with your kids." I went to a career website and listed all the job titles that pertained to what I actually did all day. I gave myself the title Goddess of Everything and tried not to think about how much money I could be making if I got paid in dollars for what I did. Don't get me wrong, it's a very satisfying and rewarding job in and of itself, put a few samolians would have been nice.

Goddess of Everything

Job Requirements: Must be available at a moment's notice 24 hours/day, 7 days/week

Chief Financial Officer

Personal Banker

Cash Manager

Loan Officer

Accounts Payable Administrator

Budget Supervisor

Strategic Planning Executive

Schedule Manager

Event Planner

Social Director

Organizer

Administration Executive

Benefits Administrator

Shipping & Receiving

Safety Specialist

Law Enforcement

Information Technology Officer

Research Specialist

Technical Support Manager

Network Administrator

Word Processing Specialist

Proofreader

Animal Welfare Manager

Pet Care

Dog Valet

Dog Walker

Clothing Specialist

Fashion Consultant

Laundry Wench

Alterations Manager

Director of Health & Emotional Well-Being

Education Counselor

Career Counselor

Drug Safety Specialist

Pharmacy Manager

Nurse Practitioner

Relationship Manager

Therapist

Administrator of Medical Records

Food Service Executive

Chef

Dietician/Nutritionist

Grocery Management & Supply

General Maintenance Manager

Carpenter

Interior Designer

Groundskeeper

Janitor

Housekeeper

Handyman

Dishwasher

Head of Transportation

Mapping Manager

Chauffeur

Courier

Automotive Maintenance

Materials Management Executive

Errand Runner

Non-Food Supplies Procurement

Helpless and hopeless

noreply@blogger.com (Sheri Weinberg) — Wed, 04 Jan 2012 13:51:00 +0000

*Possible triggers*

She's lying in a hospital bed in the ER, once again. Each time I think 'it can't get any worse, she's running out of places to cut', I'm proven wrong. This time there's a mess in the bathroom to clean up that I don't want to think about yet. I haven't even gone in there. She complains about the bleeding and the pain, my compassion wanes, "What the hell did you expect?"

Parenting with a mental illness is hard, being a mentally ill parent with a mentally ill child is hard, being a mentally ill parent of a mentally ill adult is more difficult than I ever imagined. I feel helpless and frustrated. I want to save her, I want to fix her. But I can't, it's not my "job" anymore. I "did the best I could with the tools I had," has been said to me over and over. No matter how many times I hear that or tell it to myself, I don't believe it. I must have done something wrong along the way, I'm certain of it.

There has to be something I can do, but I can't make her appointments, I can't force her to go, I can't be by her side to pull the blade out of her hand. I can't even live with her anymore. I can love her unconditionally...but it just doesn't feel like I'm doing enough. She still feels unlovable, she still hurts herself, she still hates herself, she still feels shame, she still lies about what she does or doesn't do. I can't erase the borderline diagnosis, I can't put a bandage on the pain. I can't even help myself anymore. All the things I've learned to do over the past nine months have fallen by the wayside. I can't seem to pull it together. This feeling of helplessness is slowly changing to hopelessness.

Mom, is that you?

noreply@blogger.com (Sheri Weinberg) — Tue, 20 Dec 2011 13:16:00 +0000

Yesterday could have been an incredibly depressing day, except for the fact that my mom wouldn't allow it. The woman's been dead for almost 23 years, but her influence lives on. I don't believe in heaven, so as far as I'm concerned, she's spread out on the Pacific Ocean floor (that's where her ashes were thrown). Other than hearing her in my mind demanding that I be a perfectionist in my baking and sewing, I don't remember any kind of specific after-death communications from her, until yesterday when she practically yelled at me.

I'd like to preface the rest of this post by saying that I don't normally toot my own horn, and that isn't what this is. It's about me getting kicked in the ass to keep a promise of payback. I had a fairly busy morning, trying not to think about the annual visit to the doctor later in the day that us women dread. I recently added my city's page to my Facebook account, and when I was taking a break between scrubbing the bathroom, cleaning the kitchen and folding laundry, I was checking to see what was going on in the world (ok, I admit, I was playing WWF as well).

The city page reposted a post from a church that said a young woman with three kids just got out of the Daughters of Ruth shelter and didn't have enough money to get the water turned on in her name in her new home. There was my mother, staring at me from my Facebook page, saying "it's your turn." My mother's name was Ruth, and I was once at a point in my life where I had to escape with only my children and a few suitcases and practically no money. A multitude of women I didn't know came out of the woodwork to help us, and if it weren't for them I wouldn't be here today.

Now here's the part that takes away the shine from my shining moment. I faltered, and in a prejudiced way. I'm not proud of it, but I think it's important to point out that I'm not the wonderful, selfless person you may be anticipating at this moment. I called the shelter, and it turns out it's not a domestic violence shelter, but a homeless shelter. The woman is married with four children and she and her husband have jobs and have tested drug-free. They just had a little blip in their lives and needed help to get back on their feet. Can you believe I actually thought "oh, nevermind"? The director of the shelter told me she'd talked with the teacher of the woman's kids, who was so impressed with the children that she and her husband wanted to adopt them for Christmas. To me, the behavior of the children speaks well of the parents. So I wrote down the woman's information and mulled it over. Greg's daughter-in-law helped homeless people, so I talked to her about it and she shed a whole new light on things for me, telling me she saw people from all walks of life needing help. My ignorance was glaring.

So in the end, I did meet the family at the water department and put down the deposit to have the water turned on. I was glad I had the opportunity to meet the whole family, because seeing these people face to face (especially those of the children) made a big impact on me. It made me feel ashamed that I had hesitated, but grateful I had the opportunity to do for them what so many people did for me.

The rest of the afternoon when I tried to feel crabby about the doctor's visit, in which I learned I shrunk an inch and gained a lot more weight than I thought, I just couldn't do it. No pity parties for me. Thank you mom for checking in on Facebook, and thank you to Heidi for forcing me to see beyond my before-unknown prejudice.

I love you the most

noreply@blogger.com (Sheri Weinberg) — Sun, 11 Dec 2011 15:18:00 +0000

I know he doesn't mean it literally, but every time my 3 year old grandson snuggled up next to me and said "I love you the most," I just melted. He has the most amazing blue eyes that look at me with love and fill me with happiness. One more tool for the tool box. Now I understand why my mother used to use my daughter as an imagery tool during her last year.

Then there's the 2 year old, with impish green eyes. When he saw me every morning he'd yell "Bubbe!" (Yiddish for grandmother), and give me huge neck hugs. This child taught me the joys of squishing peas, and how to find delight in the most mundane things. More tools for my tool box.

The newborn is beautiful, of course. Hard to say what color his eyes will be, but I loved holding his warm little body while he peacefully slept in my arms (always nice to be able to give him back to mom or dad when he woke up crying!).

I had one wonderful week of unconditional love and unbridled joy of life. I was only doing this once a year, but I think I'll find a way to budget for twice. I need this kind of week, I wish everyone could have this kind of happiness in their life.

Has she completely gone off her rocker?

noreply@blogger.com (Sheri Weinberg) — Fri, 25 Nov 2011 13:13:00 +0000

This is difficult to talk about, but it's been made apparent to me that it's important to do so. I finally got comfortable talking about my Healing Touch treatments as an adjunct therapy to my antidepressant. With the mindfulness tools I've learned I've been able to handle the manic and depressive episodes I've been through. I would like to state, as I always do, that I am aware of my limitations, and if any of those episodes got out of hand I would have called my psych or gone to the hospital. I am not advocating giving up meds or professional help.

What's difficult to talk about is the next level of awareness of my spiritual side that I've found. Being a life-long atheist, I'm always afraid that when I start talking about the things I've been experiencing I'll come up against ridicule. I've never really been afraid of what people thought of me before, I suppose I'm just concerned about losing my credibility as a mental health advocate. But it has become such a vital part of my remission, that I think it's important for me to discuss. Don't worry, I'm not going all New Agey on you. I still can't stand Yanni or John Tesh, and I'm not going to run off to live on an Ashram any time soon.

I'm going to use the words of Ted Andrews, author of Animal-Speak to explain:

In the past shamans, priests, and priestesses were the keepers of the sacred knowledge of life. These individuals were tied to the rhythms and forces of nature....They helped people remember that all trees are divine and that all animals speak to those who listen.

....Though these rituals and behaviors may seem primitive and even silly to the rational minds of modern society, they are no less powerful today. And the laws which govern them--physical and spiritual--are no less viable.

....all things are connected and have significance. We cannot separate the physical from the spiritual, the visible from the invisible.

....It is for this reason that a study of Nature Totems is essential for understanding how the spiritual is manifesting with our natural life. A totem is any natural object, being, or animal to whose phenomena and energy we feel closely associated with during our life. (Italics added)

There's so much more to it, but that pretty much sums it up. Two weeks ago, during one of my Healing Touch treatments, I vividly saw a black panther walk across my mind (I don't know how else to explain it). I said "what the hell is this all about?" to Jill and she gave me the Animal-Speak book to read. I learned about animal totems, and what the panther means. Now, mind you I thought I was ready to go back on heavy meds after this because she (the panther) is by my side all the time now, but the more I read about it the more it made sense. There are so many aspects to this animal that I can relate to, but the one that hit me the hardest was that it "...often signals a time of rebirth after a period of suffering...." (from the same book).

A totem isn't something you can just close your eyes and ask for. You can meditate or be mindful for years and never find one, I'm extremely lucky. I plan on finding more information about this, and exploring Kundalini Yoga, which is called the yoga of awareness and is strongly tied to the panther. I'll probably write about it more since it's become such an important part of my life.

I hope I haven't lost any readers, I would love for you to stay on this journey with me as I explore other aspects of spirituality. I'd like to think I'm still the same person with bipolar ups and downs, a skewed sense of humor and a strong sense of the need for advocacy for mental health and domestic violence prevention. I'm just a little better off than I was before.

It takes one to know one

noreply@blogger.com (Sheri Weinberg) — Tue, 22 Nov 2011 12:34:00 +0000

"Hello Sheri, we're back here in the room with all the stuffed penguins, Baxter will lead the way."

With that statement, I walked into an office filled with penguins, toy cars and planes, robots and all sorts of gimcracks and doodads. As I sat down, a marble-eyed Shih Tzu politely sat at my feet staring at me until I allowed him to sit on my lap, at which point he promptly feel asleep and stayed that way for the next hour...which was spent talking mostly about him. I heard about Baxter's opinion of Jim Tressel, Baxter's history as a therapy dog, where not to pet Baxter, Baxter's varied forms of communication, and Baxter's opinion of me (obviously a good one). I think we spent five out of approximately sixty minutes talking about my medication and hospitalization history.

After my last psych told me a penis joke and refused to listen to my holistic approach to managing my moods as an adjunct (not a replacement) to my meds, I asked my therapist for a referral to someone else. "He's a little weird and has a dog in his office." Sounded like someone I could get along with, so I made an appointment.

Although admittedly a bit odd, he was very intelligent (the psych, not the dog...well the dog seemed to be as well), and didn't try to shove mood stabilizers down my throat. While amenable to my holistic approach, he made me promise to call - even gave me his home phone number - if my mania got out of hand. He kept the Nardil the same since I'm doing so well, and it seemed like such a miracle drug for me. I said I'd rather switch to citalopram, which is the only generic drug my insurance will pay for, and he responded with a reminder of what I had just told him about how severe and drug-resistant my depression was and said "$43 versus severe depression is no match - just lump it."

I think he'll do.

Knock Knock Housekeeping!

noreply@blogger.com (Sheri Weinberg) — Wed, 16 Nov 2011 12:33:00 +0000

I understand that mine isn't the most important blog in the blogosphere, on which no one is really clamoring to be listed. Be that as it may, I'm updating my links list and if you've changed your blog or have any other interesting link you'd like me to consider adding, let me know.

Thanks for reading!

There, I said it

noreply@blogger.com (Sheri Weinberg) — Tue, 15 Nov 2011 14:26:00 +0000

(Disclaimer: May be one of those posts you wish you hadn't read. No triggers, just possibly offensive.)

You see that beautiful bird? That's a loon. And why is this awesome bird (check out those eyes!) on my website? Because I don't give a rat's ass what you call me. Go ahead call me a loon, I've even said it myself "I'm such a loon." The very first time I was in a psych hospital (back in the old days when they weren't little tiny wards stuck into the depths of a "regular" hospital), I called my dad to tell him where I was and he said "Oh, you're in the loony bin. I've been there." People gasped when I told them, they couldn't understand how my dad could be so callous. Well I could, that's just my dad. Doesn't mean he loved me any less. Words are just words, nothing more. Oh I know, some people are more sensitive to them than others, and I apologize to those of you who might find this post offensive...no, wait, oops I take that back, remember the disclaimer at the top of the post or the one you clicked on to get to this site? Anyway, maybe it's because I've survived so much that it just takes a hell of a lot to offend me. Child abuse is offensive, domestic violence is offensive, genocide is offensive...get my drift?

When you were little, did you learn this the first time someone called you a name and you ran home crying? 'Sticks and stones may break my bones but words shall never hurt me.' Words are amazing things. They can be hurtful, loving, scathing, uplifting, encouraging, or demoralizing. I am very careful about how I use my words when speaking to someone, but I honestly don't care what anyone says to me. I choose not to allow words to cause pain.

The following are for the word 'crazy' from the Merriam-Webster Thesaurus website. Some of these are just downright silly.

Synonyms balmy, barmy [chiefly British], bats, batty, bedlam, bonkers, brainsick, bughouse [slang], certifiable, crackbrained, cracked, crackers, crackpot, cranky [dialect], crazed, crazy, cuckoo, daffy, daft, demented, deranged, fruity [slang], gaga, haywire, kooky (also kookie), loco [slang], loony (also looney), loony tunes (or looney tunes), lunatic, mad, maniacal (also maniac), mental, meshuga (or meshugge also meshugah or meshuggah), moonstruck, non compos mentis, nuts, nutty, psycho, psychotic, scatty [chiefly British], screwy, unbalanced, unhinged, unsound, wacko (also whacko), wacky (also whacky), wud [chiefly Scottish]

Related Words dotty, fey, loopy, off, potty [chiefly British], teched (or tetched), touched; aberrant, delirious, delusional, delusionary, disordered, disturbed, neurotic, obsessive-compulsive, paranoiac (also paranoic), paranoid (also paranoidal), schizoid, schizophrenic, sociopathic; eccentric, odd, oddball, pixilated (also pixillated), queer, strange; foolish, senseless, witless; irrational, unreasonable; amok (or amuck), ape, ballistic, bananas, berserk, nuclear; depressed; distracted, distraught, frantic, frenzied, haywire, hysterical (also hysteric), raving, wigged-out; fixated, monomaniac, monomaniacal, obsessed

In addition to many of these, I've been called quite a few other choice words by my ex-husband, which hurt a lot less than anything else he did. Later on in life when I was dating, my mother warned me about dating non-Jews. I was shocked, since we were "cultural" Jews, not religious at all, I didn't understand why it mattered. She said "In the heat of an argument, they might call you a kike." My response? "Give me a break, I've been called worse." Since many people have called me a variety of unpleasant names, I must apparently evoke strong emotions. So you see, I'd rather look at it as the power I have over others, not the power their simple words have over me.

KAPOW!

noreply@blogger.com (Sheri Weinberg) — Wed, 02 Nov 2011 18:07:00 +0000

Pull the trigger and *kablooie* another bipolar episode is shot out. I never really thought of the word 'trigger' and how it's definition actually relates to starting a manic or depressive episode. These past few weeks I've had so many triggers pulled on me that I'm riddled with holes from the roller-coaster ride.

kaboom! Physical Therapist tells me I can't do anything until my back is better - no baking, cooking, cleaning, laundry - basically what I do everyday. Depression ensues when this triggers memories of the abuse I received from my ex when I had a ruptured disk and consequent back surgery 16 years ago.
kablam! Chiropractor tells me the exact opposite of the PT, and I'm off and running, triggered into a manic episode, wanting to make up for lost time. I need to finish my ever-increasing to-do list...today.
boom! November is blogging month and WEGO and BlogHer both have daily prompts, so my brain is triggered into thinking "I must do this every day."

But wait a minute, put on the safety, I've learned to recognize the beginnings of these episodes and have been able to cut them off at the pass.

I am now loved, cherished, and respected. I am not expected to be superwoman and do things that are bad for my body.
I don't have to accomplish everything on my list in one day. I can break my list down into manageable projects, or even eliminate some of the unimportant items - delegate!
I'm not really interested in the prompts provided for blogging month, nor do I have the time and inclination needed to blog every day.
I can even take a damn nap if I want to!

The triggers will always be there, but I will always have my tools to fall back on to keep them from shooting my life out of control. Since I have been learning about integrative medicine, my life has finally become manageable.

For more information on triggers and their relation to bipolar disorder refer to the following articles:

Recognizing Bipolar Disorder Triggers on the EverydayHealth blog
Mood Swings and Bipolar Disorder on the WebMD Bipolar Disorder Health Center
Identifying Your Bipolar Stressors and Triggers on the PsychCentral website

My Outlet

noreply@blogger.com (Sheri Weinberg) — Tue, 01 Nov 2011 15:26:00 +0000

I hope you don't get sick of me this month. I've decided to attempt the NaBloPoMo challenge as well as the WEGO mental health bloggers' challenge. I'm doing this because I enjoy writing, especially about things that are important to me. I want to share my life with other people in hopes that I can provide some type of support in the areas of mental health and domestic violence. I have survived a great deal over the past half century (yikes, really?), and life would not be as wonderful as it is, most of the time, without the support I have gleaned from others. I want people to know that if I can survive...and thrive...that they can too.

Feedback from my blog lets me know that I have been able to impact the lives of others, and recently I was notified that an essay of mine on motherhood is going to be in a book coming out in April published by the NPR show 'This I Believe.' I started this blog thinking "who the hell wants to read this crap?" and am now very appreciative of the fact that what I have to say actually does matter. Maybe not to the whole world, but if I can help at least one person, then I've accomplished my goal for my blog.

Life in Five Acts

noreply@blogger.com (Sheri Weinberg) — Mon, 31 Oct 2011 22:43:00 +0000

If I were to write a book about my life, Life in Five Acts is one of titles I might consider. It's not really that simple, but sometimes it feels as though I can plug my life into five different sections. Here's the book jacket synopsis:

Act One opens as our protagonist struggles as a high achiever through her first 16 years of life. After graduation with High Honors, and being accepted with Honors at Entrance at the University, all hell broke loose and she was on academic probation by her sophomore year. Life went on a downhill spiral from there. Act Two is filled with drug and alcohol abuse, "inappropriate" behavior (as the professionals like to call it), one failed marriage, and a couple suicide attempts. During that time Sheri amazingly returned to school, received her Associates Degree and held down increasingly responsible positions. By the midst of Act Three, before becoming so mentally debilitated work came to be impossible, she was an Office Manager.

Act Three consists of 15 years of an abusive marriage, numerous hospitalizations, more suicide attempts, and other frightening behaviors. A pharmacopeia of medications made her somewhat able to cope with her trials, albeit nearly non-functional. During Act Four the courageous fighter appears. After digging down deep into a medicated haze, Sheri was able to escape with her two daughters to safety.

Act Five is the happy ending. It covers another 15 years, also filled with difficulties, but these years become increasingly better as each struggle makes her stronger. The book has a happily-ever-after ending, with our heroine exhilarated and ready for the next Act.

In case my imaginary publisher doesn't like this title, I've come up with a few others:

Sex, Drugs, and Suicide Conquered (Too racy? But it would sell, wouldn't it?)
Winning the War
A Courageous Life
Discoveries

Perhaps it will even be made into a movie, then you're all invited to the opening!

This post was written as part of NHBPM – 30 health posts in 30 days: http://bit.ly/vU0g9J

ECT Aftermath Update

noreply@blogger.com (Sheri Weinberg) — Thu, 27 Oct 2011 12:38:00 +0000

Yes, I know it's a permanent wave machine, but I'd rather post this than an actual ECT pic

I was just asked by a friend if I'd recommend ECT. Interesting that it should come up because I've been thinking about it lately. I've been doing that stupid "what-if" dance...if I had started Healing Touch before January, would I have been able to pull myself out of the treatment-resistant depression? If I had switched psychs before now, would the new one have recommended it? If my psych had thought of the Nardil before the ECT, would that have worked then?

The past couple weeks the sustained memory loss has seemed to become more evident. I'm so tired of saying "no, I don't remember that." It's been ten months, according to the professionals, all memories should have returned by now. I've divided my life to Before January and After January. That's what I ask now when my memories don't match someone else's "Was that before or after January?" I started to say I have a Swiss cheese brain, and now others are saying it as well. I suppose that one's my fault for perpetuating it. I thought it was funny at first, but now that the people I care about are saying it, I have to admit it hurts a little. I feel defective.

I can finally get around to familiar places without my GPS, but as I bring out my winter clothes I'm surprised sometimes by what I have. It's kind of like having a new wardrobe, except I don't really like the person's taste who picked out those things...and I can't find my damn gloves! It's hard to look at it with humor anymore because it's been going on for so long, its' just not funny or 'quirky' anymore.

So would I recommend it? I don't know how to answer that one. I wish I'd never done it, and I don't think it did any good for me, but I do know it's been a lifesaver to others. I'd hate to think that someone based such a life-altering experience on my advice. It's a tricky question, one which can only be answered by doing research. I didn't do enough, I just listened to my almighty psychiatrist. "Here take this pill, zap your brain, don't do this, don't do that, do only what I say." Well, no more, Dr. Holier-than-thou. I'll think for myself now, thank-you-very-much. With what little brain I have left, I'll make my own decisions about my mental health care now, and I strongly suggest that others do the same. Do research, ask a lot of questions, and for your mental health's sake, if you don't feel comfortable about something ask more questions or find another psych.

The Heartbreak of Genetics

noreply@blogger.com (Sheri Weinberg) — Mon, 17 Oct 2011 12:06:00 +0000

*possible trigger*

I look around her bedroom, trying to find her pajamas amidst the disarray. It's a mess, much like her mind. My eyes fall on the X-acto blade, the pills scattered across her bed. At least she called 911 before she took too many.

Sitting next to her in the ER, I look at her arms and legs covered in more cuts than I've ever seen before, and my heart feels like it's in a vice. "I'm so tired of being depressed. I just can't take it anymore." I hear her voice resonating in my head, saying the same words I've said to therapists more times than I care to remember over the last 30 years.

Logic tells me it's not my fault, I can't control genetics, but I can't help feeling I did this to her. She has that horrible look of despair because I have passed on this terrible disease. At this moment in time I feel like I've given her a death sentence.

This isn't a skinned knee I can fix with a bandage and a kiss. This is not something I know how to fix for her. I fixed myself, why can't I do the same for her?

Is depression exacerbated by pain?

noreply@blogger.com (Sheri Weinberg) — Fri, 14 Oct 2011 12:37:00 +0000

Of course it is. Silly question, but I'm in too much pain to think of a clever title. I learned to have a high tolerance to pain, it's one of those skills you develop in an abusive marriage, so that's how I know when I'm in trouble with pain...when it gets in the way. My spine is in bad shape, and the pain is wearing me down. I have a congenital spinal problem (scoliosis), degenerative disk disease (actually a scary title for a "normal" condition), and I'm developing arthritis inside my spinal column (spinal stenosis). It seems that perhaps all this has been worsened by 15 years of, ahem, "relations" with a man who was 6'4" and weighed from 250 lbs in the beginning to 450 lbs by the time I left. That's actually the cause that was given to me when I first had a ruptured disk in 1995. (I kid you not!)

The depression side of things has been under control, but as the pain worsens and my ability to function is lessened, it's greatly affecting my feelings of self worth. I can't stand long enough to do all my baking, cooking and cleaning...a huge part of my identity. Of course everyone in the house is kind and understanding, except me. I just don't know how to be kind and patient with myself.

I had a Healing Touch treatment (and of course will continue to do so), and am using an essential oil blend for anti-inflammatory (can't remember what it is right now, don't feel like looking it up, if you really want to know I'll find out). I've also started some physical therapy. I was doing so much better, almost pain free until I had to take Rachel to the ER for severe ear pain and ended sitting for about 8½ hours (6 in the ER and 2½ in the car). The pain came raging back. At least it's not radiating down my legs...yet. When that happens I know I'll be in big trouble.

According to a question/answer article on the Mayo Clinic website: (italics added for emphasis)

Pain and the problems it causes can wear you down over time, and may begin to affect your mood. Chronic pain causes a number of problems that can lead to depression, such as trouble sleeping and stress. Disabling pain can cause low self-esteem due to work, legal or financial issues. Depression doesn't just occur with pain resulting from an injury. It's also common in people who have pain linked to a health condition such as diabetes or migraines.

This portion of an article in Harvard Health Publications also addresses the relationship between pain and depression.

Pain is depressing, and depression causes and intensifies pain. People with chronic pain have three times the average risk of developing psychiatric symptoms — usually mood or anxiety disorders — and depressed patients have three times the average risk of developing chronic pain.

Part of my home care routine from physical therapy is to lie down for 20 minutes with a heat pack every fracking hour. I just can't get anything done with a schedule like that. I'm pretty sure I'm more cranky and frustrated than depressed. I haven't had time to call around to find a new psychiatrist, I haven't baked bread, I can barely stand long enough to do the dishes....whine, whine, whine. Kind of makes the old days of self-medicating into oblivion look good.

That last statement alone, proves that pain is not conducive to good mental health. Don't worry, I won't go that far, but damn, I sure wish this would go away.

We need more holistic psychiatrists

noreply@blogger.com (Sheri Weinberg) — Thu, 06 Oct 2011 10:00:00 +0000

Aren't you lucky? Three, count 'em, three posts in a row!

**Disclaimer: I am not advocating managing bipolar disorder without medication, I take medication and will continue to do so.**

Today was the last day I'm going to see my psychiatrist. I've been seeing him for four years, dutifully and unquestioningly taking whatever drugs he shoved at me, submitting to ECT, and generally being as compliant as possible. But today I had enough. I hadn't seen him for 6 months and was doing very well the last time I saw him, that's why the appointment was for so far away. During that time was when I started the Healing Touch treatments and learning how to be mindful of my moods and behaviors.

The doctor asked me if I'd had any manic or depressive episodes, and being unable to lie I told him I'd had two manic episodes, two depressive episodes, and one mixed episode. Then he asked how long they lasted, and I told him I was able to deal with them and that they only lasted a couple days. I explained to him about what I do, but he wasn't listening. He already had his prescription pad out. His immediate reaction was to give me a mood stabilizer. I said "No, I don't want to take a mood stabilizer, especially not an expensive one like Geodon, I'm managing my moods just fine." Well he didn't want me to manage my moods, he didn't want me to have any mood swings at all. "You don't know what could have happened." He's not listening, I don't give a shit what could have happened. The point is nothing bad came of the episodes, I was able to deal with them holistically, and I'm smart enough that if I couldn't have dealt with them or they got worse, I would have gotten help. I even told him that my therapist was aware of what was going on and was very supportive of my holistic approach as an adjunct to my medication - NOT a replacement. But no, not listening, he whips out the prescription and then hands me a month's worth of Geodon. At that point, I just walked out.

I called Jill to see if she had any resources to refer me to a new medication manager that will listen, and I did the same with my therapist. At one point in my life I was seeing a psychiatrist that just prescribed pill upon pill. I was taking eight different psych meds at once. I ended up a zombie that nearly walked into traffic. I don't ever want to be like that again.

Does a holistic psychiatrist exist? Am I not entitled to manage my disorder in the way that seems to help me best? Aren't I the one in charge here? How many other mentally ill patients are there that could be doing better without relying completely on meds? Again, I stress that I'm not saying without meds, just something in addition to meds.

Why is Western medicine so against Eastern concepts? Wait I know the answer to that one, Big Pharma won't make money off of mindfulness or meditation. If we could put it in pill form, and a doctor could write a scrip for it, then they'd all of a sudden all jump on the bandwagon.

In the past, I've been intimidated by physicians of any type, I was never able to question my treatment (my dad was a doctor, maybe Freud would have something to say about that). But I'm not like that anymore, I want to question what they prescribe, I want to be a part of the decision making process and take control of my health and well-being. I'm not a sheep, I'm not stupid, I'm not irresponsible, I'm not crazy.

Dual Identies

noreply@blogger.com (Sheri Weinberg) — Tue, 20 Sep 2011 22:02:00 +0000

I think I've mentioned it before (I'm sure you all read every word of every post), but it's been about 19 years since I've worked outside the home - a "real" job to some of you. For all of my professional life I was able to hold down jobs which increased in responsibility until I became an office manager. Not once during any of those 18 years did anyone suspect that there was anything amiss. As a matter of fact, if someone did find out about my mental illness they were always shocked "You don't seem crazy." I was an excellent actress with the ability to do what needed to be done, and often over and above that, during the 8-5 work day. Of course, I'd barely function once I got home, unless it was during "those" years when I just self-medicated and did just fine, thankyouverymuch.

When my brain finally blew up, I ceased to function at all for a while. But after I got into the rhythm of things, I could once again pull out the acting experience and be the good mom I imagined I was supposed to be. I volunteered at school almost daily, and even ended up on the board of the PTA. There I was again, two different people. More people knew about my mental illness then, but not everybody. It was a pretty much "need-to-know" basis, and the majority of day-to-day functioning was done with great aplomb. On occasion, I even took a lighthearted approach by answering the "what do you do" question with "I get paid to be crazy" (I get Social Security Disability for my mental illness).

Since then I've developed a happy medium. I've blended the two identities and have become a relatively well functioning person who happen to has bipolar disorder. I'm very lucky to have a good health support group, good friends, and a loving family. But here we go again. I've started this jewelry business, and I have once again split into two. I've been careful about not using any reference to my "regular" life. I've started another Facebook profile so I could have a Page that customers and potential customers can see without reading all the nitty gritty of my life. I even have a different email address, and don't list this blog, my Twitter identity or my day-to-day Facebook on any business-related website. I love that my friends and the people who really know me can have access to the jewelry side of things, but scared to death that the jewelry people will find the "dark" side of me. I'm guessing it's inevitable, I haven't done a very good job of hiding my internet tracks. I want people who need help to be able to find me, I want to be here (or wherever) for those suffering from a mental illness or the aftermath of domestic violence to know they have a person who's been there to listen to them.

I'm finding it more difficult to split in two than it used to be. I've gotten used to saying "This is me, and I don't give a shit what you think." But would it affect my business if they knew? What if there was someone looking at my jewelry that's struggling with bipolar disorder. What if there's a woman sitting at her computer looking at my jewelry while her husband's at work, worrying about what he'll do when he walks in the door? I can't help them, I have to pretend I'm not who I am. Right now that's a moot point since nobody seems to give a crap about my jewelry anyway, at least I'm having fun making it. But will pretending I'm someone I'm not eventually take away the fun? Can I still do it? Do I even want to keep up the charade? I'll let you know how it turns out. Stay tuned...same bat time, same bat channel.

Fighting Old Demons

noreply@blogger.com (Sheri Weinberg) — Fri, 16 Sep 2011 12:38:00 +0000

I can hear them now...
"You're not good enough."
"You're talentless."
"You're stupid."
"What are you thinking? Oh I get it, you're not."
"You're too crazy to accomplish anything worthwhile."

Whether it's the bipolar disorder, the remnants of domestic violence, the lack of encouragement or the abundance of discouragement through my life, it all came to a crescendo in my head last night. I didn't want to say anything to anybody. I didn't want to hear "oh honey, you're doing fine." I don't want to be patronized, I don't want someone to say something nice just to appease me. I just want to give up. Oh, I'm not talking about life, that's going pretty good. I'm talking about this jewelry business I got so excited about. OK, I know, I just started and I don't expect to have customers beating down my door; but it's just that when I look at the jewelry other people have designed I feel so amateurish. I keep thinking "Who do I think I am that I can compete with others?"

I started this because it was something I believe in and I enjoy doing, like baking. I love to bake yummy things. That sounds dumb, who wants to bake yucky things? Anyway, I've been baking since I was a little girl and it's one of the few things I can remember my mother giving me praise for. Actually, I've got another loaf going this morning that I think might not like the cold, doesn't seem to be rising well. But I don't see that as a reflection on me, I know bread dough can be fickle and I know it's not my fault. For some reason I can't seem to cut myself slack with the necklaces in the same way. I'm expecting beauty and perfection right off the bat. Two things that I myself have never been able to personally achieve.

But I won't give up, I'm too stubborn for that. I started making them because I couldn't find exactly what I wanted. I think that refocusing on doing it for fun and my own edification is what I need to do. I'll still put them up for sale, I'll still hand out business cards and brochures, but I have to remember what I initially said...if I don't sell any that's fine, I'll have a whole wardrobe of beautiful (yes, I said beautiful) necklaces.

This is how I need to think!

Postscript: Just got this in an email from my daughter Rachel: "Don't give up. There's always going to be someone or something better than you or what you can do but it doesn't mean you should just give up. Someone thinks you're good enough or the best thing ever and that's what matters. Unless you're born into genius and large sums of money you will always start at the very bottom but the best part is working your way to the top.

Just breathe and stop comparing yourself. Jewelry making calms you down doesn't it? Focus on the fun parts of it for a while."

A confidence booster

noreply@blogger.com (Sheri Weinberg) — Fri, 16 Sep 2011 11:55:00 +0000

This is a new recipe I created that's so yummy! I'm so pleased it came out so well (except for the little mouse hole). I'm calling it PB & Add Your Own J because it's made with peanut butter. I just had a piece with a little homemade strawberry jam (not my doing), and it's got just the right hint of peanut butter. It's made with wheat flour, but with the addition of VWG and a cup of white flour, it didn't come out like a brick. Give it a try!

PB & Add Your Own J

1 C + 2 T water
1 tsp salt
½ C peanut butter (I used crunchy)
2 T honey
1 T vital wheat gluten
2½ C whole wheat flour
1 C all purpose flour
2¼ tsp yeast
sunflower & flax seeds, toasted (I didn't measure, just tossed some in)

Directions:

Bake at 350˚ F for about 40 minutes.
Slather on your favorite jam.

No time for mental illness

noreply@blogger.com (Sheri Weinberg) — Thu, 08 Sep 2011 18:49:00 +0000

Life is getting just a tad bit overwhelming, but I refuse to let the good parts get lost behind the bipolar disorder. I had a couple horribly bad days last week, one in which I was ready to give up. Haven't felt that way in years, it was quite scary to know that those thoughts still lie dormant in my head. It just felt like it would be so much easier to stop trying, the effort I was expending making compromises so everybody else would be happy became just too much. I completely forgot all the tools I've learned, stopped all self-care, just went into 'function' mode until even that was no longer working. Fortunately I have a very loving boyfriend who listened to me fall to pieces and helped me find my way back. A visit to the therapist, then my weekly visit to Jill, and I slowly started to get it back together. But still, something was missing.

I don't have time for this kind of crap. I have a to-do list long enough for a red-carpet from Air Force One. I have a business I want to make successful, something I'm actually excited about. My baking is being neglected, my writing is being neglected, my online friends are being neglected (I know that sounds stupid to some of you, but they've been there for me through so much that they're an important part of my life), my reading is being neglected. I'm running around like a chicken with it's head cut off, but I'm not manic (thank goodness).

Yesterday I made a second to-do list, a daily life list. On it I scheduled time for self-care, time for reading, time for my back exercises (my poor back is killing me!), time for me. My new aromatherapy jewelry business is very important to me. I'm happy and confident about the beautiful necklaces I create, I've never done anything like this before that makes me feel that good about myself. I've never thought about putting myself out there in front of the public and saying "hey, look at me, I'm valuable and worthwhile."

So you see, I have no time for mental illness. It's not on either of my to-do lists, so it's just going to have to simmer on the back burner while I get on with my potentially fantastic life.

And now a word from our sponsor

noreply@blogger.com (Sheri Weinberg) — Fri, 02 Sep 2011 11:22:00 +0000

Please indulge me a moment while I pimp my new Etsy store, Uniquely Scentsational. I learned about aromatherapy when I started going to Jill at Healing Touch. Lavender worked so well for me that I wanted a necklace that could carry the scent with me all day. I couldn't really find anything I liked at a price I was willing to pay, so I pulled out my jewelry making supplies and figured out how to make one myself. Jill wanted one for her client, and I had a couple other requests as well, so I've now ventured out into the world of e-commerce. Here are a few I've made, and if you're interested check out my store.


Special request for my friend's son.

I'll Sabotage the Saboteur

noreply@blogger.com (Sheri Weinberg) — Wed, 31 Aug 2011 12:19:00 +0000

I think it's been almost 20 years since I've had a "real" job. I'll never forget the day my brain blew up and I became catatonic. I was done, had enough, no more room to stuff it all away. I know it was terrifying for my two little girls, because I can remember the youngest pulling on my arm and crying trying to wake me up, and her older sister pulling on her, trying to get her away from me. I don't remember much else after that.

Fast forward to the present, and my life is pretty good. I've had a few glitches over the past couple weeks. OK, I have to admit one was way more than a glitch, I was at that point of "I'm tired of trying;" but I got through it with the help of friends and loved ones ("don't drive your car off the road, you won't die, you'll only dent it worse than it already is"). I understand the nature of bipolar disorder, I know that those days will come and I now understand that I don't have to deal with it alone.

Sometimes happiness is an uncomfortable feeling. It's a relatively new one for me, and no matter how much "work" I do, it seems that my brain wants to fall back into the old feelings of depression and despair. I'm so lucky to have people around me now who won't allow that to happen, I just have to learn how to sabotage my brain's attempts at sabotage.

Back to the remark about a real job. For almost 20 years I had progressively more responsible positions until I was an Office Manager. During that period there was no time, nor was there any inclination, to express my creativity. I didn't even know it existed. Several years ago I started drawing as an outlet of emotion (is that how artists start anyway?), and then I started making bracelets. I lost the desire to create during my bout with treatment-resistant depression which was worsened by ECT.

Shortly after I started with Healing Touch, my creativity started to return and I started drawing again. Then after learning about aromatherapy and the wonderful effect lavender had on me, I asked Jill if there was such a thing as an aromatherapy necklace. She said there was and I started looking around on the internet...ugly and expensive, nothing was what I wanted. So I started to play around with my jewelry making supplies and came up with a few ideas. I had so much excellent feedback, that now I'm going to open an Etsy store. Yikes! Scary! Success? Me? My brain has started to do everything possible to sabotage my progress, but this morning I recognized that and am putting it on notice. I have learned from an expert, I will sabotage back.

My wish for you

noreply@blogger.com (Sheri Weinberg) — Mon, 22 Aug 2011 11:53:00 +0000

The courage to keep going
The strength to face adversity
The power to overcome obstacles

The joy of a new day
The wonder of a child
The contentment of a kitty in the sun

Time to play and be goofy
Time for napping
Time to read

Patience with yourself
Acceptance of your strengths and weaknesses
Unconditional love from any source

Life is better than you may think it is, right at this moment. Don't give up.

"I wish they would only take me as I am." Vincent Van Gogh