Chasing Stability

I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder in May of 2016. I can barely count on one hand the number of times my meds have been tweaked, increased, decreased, or swapped out since then. Sometimes, they're not strong enough, sometimes they're too strong, sometimes the side effects are too much, and sometimes the cosmos don't align properly and something just screams out, "Nope, not this one. Next!" I am, at this very moment in time, in the middle of an important med change. We are completely swapping out one med for another, which is the worst kind of change because it means I get to be worried about withdrawals and new side effects at the same exact time. But it was necessary, so I'm trying to be patient and gentle with myself while I wait for things to settle in.

For all of their hassle, meds have been an integral part of my recovery. They saved my life. They allowed me to show up and do the rest of the work I needed to do to get, and stay, well. But they're only one piece of the puzzle, which is why I get so frustrated with people who decry meds as "the easy way out." There is nothing easy about living with mental illness, medicated or not. It requires hard work and hyper-vigilance in a lot of areas that many people take for granted. Meds help provide a jumping-off point, but the rest is all on me:

Sleep

I start with sleep because good sleep is one of the biggest impetuses for my mental well-being. When my sleep starts to slip, so does my mental health. More than a night or two of poor sleep makes me start to unravel. It means mania, depression, irritability, or all of the above. It effects concentration, memory, and stress levels. When it's bad enough, it literally makes me feel like I'm going to go insane. Giving myself a bedtime every night and ensuring that I get enough sleep are instrumental in my staying healthy. If I'm not getting enough sleep, or getting poor quality, broken sleep? It's time for a prompt change, whether through medication, habits, or behaviors.

Routine

While periods of mania or depression would like me to believe otherwise, routine is extremely important to my mental health. It helps tremendously to be able to count on a certain order of affairs every day, whether I'm feeling well or not. It's hard for people who don't struggle with mental illness to understand, but things as basic as personal hygiene tend to fly out the window during an episode. Having a good routine in place helps ensure that things get done, and that there is some semblance of normalcy even when life is feeling a little squirrelly. It also helps to give me a sense of control and stability, and leaves less room for unhealthy habits like self-flagellation and ruminating.

Exercise

I have a love/hate relationship with exercise. I love the way it makes me feel, but am not such a fan of the act of exercising itself. I have had to come to admit though that it too is an integral part of staying well. It is good for the body, it releases endorphins, and is a natural anti-depressant. I always feel better when I'm on a good exercise regime, and feel the subsequent dip when I'm not.

Diet

I think that most commercialized diet plans, with their rules and points and restrictions, are simply disordered eating wrapped in a bow. But diet is important, as is learning to listen to your body. Eating intuitively, and letting my body tell me what makes me feel good, both mentally and physically, has been instrumental in staying on top of my mental health. Food is fuel, so it only makes sense that the type and quantity of fuel that we're ingesting is going to have an effect on our overall well-being. When I'm not feeling well, what I'm eating and what supplements I'm taking is one thing I always know to tweak.

Therapy

I used to hate the idea of therapy. Not just disliked, but actively despised. I'm not sure why really, except for a bad experience with an ordered family therapy session when my parents took in a foster child. When I was first diagnosed though, I squelched my misgivings and gave therapy a shot. I'm so glad I did, as it turned into one of the most important decisions I've ever made for myself. Therapy helped me understand myself, my illness, and the people around me. It helped me make sense of the senseless, and gave me answers for things that I didn't even know I had questioned. It helped me unpack years of thorny issues. It gave me tools, that I use to this day, to deal with depression, anxiety, and relationships. I went to therapy for two years, and amicably left when I felt I was in a good place. I always said that I would go back if I felt like I needed a tune-up, and recently decided that that time is now. I look forward to going back, and once again having someone to help me unravel the muddled mess that is my brain. Support is important.

Managing bipolar, or any other mental illness, is a full-time job. While things like sleep, diet, and exercise are important for everyone, when you have a mental illness, ignoring them can have disastrous consequences. Is it sometimes exhausting having to do everything I need to do to stay well? Yes. Is it important? Yes!

I believe Jim Carrey said it best when he said:

“I believe depression is legitimate. But I also believe that if you don’t exercise, eat nutritious food, get sunlight, get enough sleep, consume positive material, surround yourself with support, then you aren’t giving yourself a fighting chance.”