If You Wonder What It's Like To Have a Rapid Cycling Disorder, Watch the Whether

Not sure about where you live, but here in Philly, the whether has been fluctuating between drastically hot and sunny and Armageddon. This past week people were being rescued from roofs of their cars due to flooding on our major highways. Intense storms toppling trees, thunder pounding, lightening illuminating the sky.  And then twenty minutes later, I'd be putting on my sunglasses. Storms have been rolling through so quickly and tumultuously that streets are being flooded out in a matter of minutes when there were no clouds in sight just an hour before.

This, folks, is what its like to have a rapid cycling mood disorder. At least mine. Of course, I can't speak for everyone. Technically, rapid cycling is described as four or more mood cycles in a year. For me, it can be four or more cycles in a week, or even a day. Of course, this isn't always the case - and four cycles in a day is extreme even for me. But truly, I do go to bed every night having little inkling of how I'll feel in the morning. And even once I wake up, my mood often does not predict how I'll feel by lunch time, let alone the end of the day.

To clarify, it's not as drastic as they'd show in Hollywood, where I just completely do a 180 mid-sentence and you can't recognize me. In fact it's nothing like that at all.  I can feel the cycle coming on, when I'm awake at least. I'm especially on alert if I know there are contributing factors that tend to make me cycle - lack of sleep, for instance. Or too much external stimulus, a major change to my routine, not getting enough recoup time/self-care time. In these cases, much like watching the whether radar patterns, I can pretty well anticipate that I'm going to cycle.  But no matter how prepared you are, sometimes there's only so much you can do. You can try to time your day out perfectly, analyze all the weather forecasts, diligently study the radar, and still get caught outside when the skies decide to open up. Because sometimes, shit just doesn't go like you or anyone else thought it was going to.

So if the whether has left you frustrated these past couple of weeks, pouring down with little warning and turning sunny the minute you cancel all of your outdoor activities, know that I can empathize. This is my brain on any given day. And no matter how much you try to prepare, to do everything correctly, to take all the precautions, to carefully listen to all the storm warnings and predictions, sometimes you miss the mark, or the storm changes course swiftly and there's nothing you could do to change it.  And when that happens, you get to a safe space as quickly as you can and, as one apparently only does in big storms or serious flareups, hunker down until it lightens up.

Today, I Empathized With A Mouse

Some background:  My fiance and I (and our dog) are currently staying with my parents while our condo is under kitchen and bathroom renovation (complete tear down and rebuild). Over the past few weeks, we've noticed that something other than ourselves and our dog has been munching on the food in their pantry. Now if you know anything about me, you know I'm a strict vegetarian that literally can't hurt a fly. But I also understand that my parents don't want mice traipsing, among other things, around in their food.

My parents, being the good people they are and knowing that I can't stand to see a creature harmed, put out sticky paper so that they don't have to kill the mouse, but can manage to relocate it outside. This morning, a mouse, being unknowingly obliging, got his or her foot stuck on the sticky paper. My parents shielded me from it by telling me to stay downstairs, so that I didn't see the mouse struggling at all, while they brought it outside, extricated it's foot from the paper, and set it free in what seemed as safe a spot as they could. And I love my parents for doing the most humane thing possible outside of just letting a mouse wander through and poop in their food, potentially spreading any disease that goes along with this.  But still, I broke down. 

It wasn't really about the mouse. Yes, I was sad for it. Being the highly sensitive person and empath that I am, I hated the idea of a living creature experiencing any pain or discomfort. But more than that, I empathized. I pictured that poor mouse stuck, having no idea why, with no clue of what to do, trying in vain to move and run but being trapped - not in an actual trap, but by its inability to go anywhere, struggling for the little movement it had managed to obtain, all the time confused about what had happened to it. And in that moment, I felt just like that mouse. 

Lately, that's exactly how I feel. Depression, anxiety, and mood cycling can stop you in your tracks. There are days, weeks, months where you can try as hard as humanly possible and you can't break out of it. No matter how much wonderful you have in your life, no matter how grateful you are for the support you have and the good things that come your way, it doesn't matter. The sadness takes over, the anxiety sets in, the cycles continue despite every attempt to stop them. Your life seems to halt, even though the world goes on without your feeling able to participate in it, at least not as you wish you could. You feel that you're going nowhere, that you have no hope, that you aren't able or capable. It feels as if everyone else is, and somehow you just fail - like someone else could do exactly what you do and they'd be successful and moving forward, but when you do, there's nothing. Some days, you just don't feel like you have the energy to even try to fight it. Like you're that mouse, and you eventually realize that all your struggling to move just takes precious energy that you're already lacking. 

And on top of all of this, unlike the mouse, you often must try to pretend it's not happening. It's not acceptable to spend your days curled in the corner of your office crying, unable to interact with coworkers or clients. Or maybe there are those who don't understand, and when around them you feel it's easier to just put on the mask. Or perhaps you're simply tired of everyone thinking of you as "that person who's so depressed and anxious that they can't handle anything." Do you know how frustrating it is when people assume you're anxious even when you're joking and happy? But they're so used to you being worried about everything that even what sounds like a joke to you comes off to them as seriously upset. Even in your happy moments, when they come, you have to deal with the results of depression and anxiety. And so you just smile and nod and say you're OK, until those days when you can't. Then, you do those things you absolutely feel you must, and then quietly retreat, cocooning in yourself in an attempt to heal through isolation. 

I realize that this is a lot to get from a mouse with it's foot on some sticky paper. And there may be some ever-optimistic people who say "But look, the mouse got out free! Your parents made sure it was safe!" And that did make me happy. It managed to bring a bright spot into an otherwise incredibly tough morning. But the difference between me and the mouse is, there's nobody who can ensure I will be Ok. They can help me along the way. They can support me. They can be there for me on the days that I'm not, and they can try to lift me back up. And perhaps nobody can ensure that the mouse is OK either - nobody knows what happens to it after it ends up in the field, and that's life for all of us. But in that moment, we could. We could take care of that little mouse and set him or her free, and hopefully he or she felt like it had a new chance at life. I'm sure there are people ready with platitudes to say things like "Every day you wake up is a new day and a new chance at life". But that's not true, not really. Because I still wake up as depressed or as anxious, or I'm still cycling badly. There's nothing new about it, and that's the trouble. I'm stuck in that trap. Nobody can magically set me free and say "Go, run, live! You're saved!" And while a week from now that mouse may have no memory of the sticky paper on which it struggled, there's not a day that goes by that I can forget the illnesses I battle, even if they're just kind of sitting there quietly on the periphery.  And so many days I wish someone could just say "You are too precious to hurt, even though you don't really belong here. So we're going to save you. And once again you'll be where you belong, running free." 

Mental Health Pet Peeves

In the mental health community, we face a lot of stigma. Some of it is overt. People calling us crazy or mental or insane. People saying we're dangerous, violent. These people, while they frustrate the hell out of me, are sometimes easier for me to deal with. I pull out statistics about how those with mental health conditions are ten times more likely to be victims of a violent crime than perpetrators. I tell people how I run a business and work a part time job, have recently written a novel in my "spare time", and have served on numerous boards of directors, to name a few accomplishments. This tends to make people realize perhaps I'm not as "crazy" as they would like to think. Or they do, and I tell them where to shove and move along because they've decided to be closed minded and nothing I can say will change that, so they aren't worth my time. But the people that don't get what they're doing are the ones who really get to me. Because that is how stigma and ignorance disguises itself in a pretty little helpful bow, and continues to be perpetuated. Here are a few of my top mental health pet peeves.

•  "Just pray about it." Ok, first off, I've been black listed by the Catholic church for living in sin for the last umteen years (divorced, not annulled,etc etc) and quite frankly it pisses me off that I'm counted as much of a sinner as a murderer or a rapist simply because I left an unhealthy relationship. But all of this is besides the point BECAUSE MY ILLNESS IS NOT A SIN OR A PENANCE! I jokingly call it the gremlin in my head, but that's a joke. Because it's so ridiculous that a separate being would be actually possessing my brain that I can joke about it. Praying, if I were religious, might calm me. It might give me some sort of comfort. If I were religious. Which I am not. Now, to be clear, if you are religious and want to pray that I'm feeling better, by all means, go ahead. It's how you feel you can help, and I truly appreciate that you want to help in some way. I'm not telling you not to pray or believe, and I appreciate you doing what you can to help. Who knows, maybe it'll work and I'll become a believer again.  But please, don't tell me the only thing that I can do to help is pray. I respect that it's your thing, but it's not my thing. And I'm not looking for a miracle. 

• You're a pawn of the pharmaceutical/doctor industry. They're making you sicker so you buy the drugs and they get rich.  Ok first of all, did you witness the first 30 years of my life? Did you watch me at 2 years old in hypomanic episodes begging my parents "make it stop, make it stop." But I'm just fine off my meds?  How exactly do you, who is not in my head or my body, know that?  Let me set you straight: my meds, and the meds of so many others, are life-saving. When you have a potentially fatal cancer and choose not to take medication, please, come to me and show me how you've magically healed on your own. Then we can talk. 

• Oh I don't need medication, I've cured myself with these herbal supplements and exercise. Well hoody hoo for you. You are not me. You're not inside my brain. I have a bachelors in kineseology, worked in corporate fitness for five years, and am a certified personal trainer and fitness instructor. If exercise could cure me, I think I'd be fine and dandy by now. I'm honestly glad that works for you. You're lucky. Me, not so much. It does help me at times, but it doesn't cure me. Nothing does. I have a chronic illness that currently has no cure. 

• Just relax/chill out/calm down (during anxiety/hypomania). *%&$&*$%&#$%*$% You. If I could, I would. And here's a tip: never, in the history of telling people to calm down, has telling someone to calm down actually made them do so. In fact, it does the reverse. 

• Just focus on the positive more. Be more grateful.  I'm not ungrateful. I know I have "no reason" (as you put it) to feel so awful, worthless, terrible, hopeless. I know there are starving children in Africa and that so many people are more sick, or have it worse. But I do, actually, have a reason. It's called a medical illness that screws with my brain. And now, thanks to you, I simply feel guilty about having this illness, and more like a giant piece of shit than I already felt. 

• Why are you depressed? You have a good life. If I asked you why you couldn't just stop having cancer because you have a good life and *should* be healthy, I'd look like the biggest asshat on the planet. When you ask this, so do you. 

• I  avoid people who are emotional/dramatic. Every time I see this in anyone's status/profile/etc I run like the wind. Because this makes me feel like I can't be myself if I'm having an overly emotional day, and like it's my fault if I am. Like it's not an illness that makes me this emotional but a choice. It makes me feel like a burden. And I don't want to be a burden to anyone. I'd rather be alone. 

• Happiness is a choice. Ah, well, no shit?! If only I'd known! All this time, I've been suffering from a lifelong illness when I could have just decided not to be depressed! I hope you can sense the sarcasm. If happiness was a choice, approximately 16 million Americans would not be living with Major Depressive Disorder (source here). Trust me, we don't want to be depressed, and we certainly never chose this on purpose. 

• You can't control what happens to you but you can control your reactions to it. Clarification: in a perfect world, I agree. But in a perfect world, 16 million Americans would battle major depression either. By nature of my disorder, my brain makes it increasingly difficult to control my reactions, and sometimes nearly impossible. If it helps make this a bit more clear, my meds are actually used primarily for seizures. Basically, I'm having a seizure- like reaction in my brain that manifests itself emotionally/mentally instead of physically. And if you've ever witnessed someone having a seizure, you understand the lack of control. If I could not have an anxiety attack or panic attack in public, I would.  Because nobody likes being stared at and steered clear of in public. Nobody likes collapsing in a pile of tears in the middle of a crowd. And if I could not sink into a depression, I would. Trust me, even through a depression, I'm trying to keep to react as best as possible. I'm trying not to let it drag me under into an abyss of nothingness. I don't always win. Please believe me, if I can't control it, I really can't.

Fellow mental health battlers, have more? I'm sure there are plenty. I try to laugh at them, to brush these things off. It helps keep me from isolating myself, feeling like nobody understands me. So I joke and use colorful language to make them lighter. But honestly, these things aren't funny. They're annoying at best, and ignorant and stigmatizing at worst. 

A Letter To Myself On the Day I Was Diagnosed

HAMC Day 4:  Do you remember the day you were diagnosed?  Perhaps you were scared, felt alone and surely you had tons of questions. Write a letter to yourself for the day you were diagnosed, knowing all you do now.

Dear Maya, 

I know this day is a mixture of virtually every possible emotion. I know that right now you are both relieved that you finally can put a name to what's been happening, and scared of what that means for your future. I know you aren't completely surprised by your diagnosis, and at the same time frustrated as hell that every other health professional you've seen for the past eleven years ignored you when you told them that you were battling more than just situational stress. 

I know you have a lot of questions. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but those questions don't end. Every time one is answered, another is presented. Each time it seems like you understand your diagnosis and how it affects your brain, your emotions, and your body, it'll throw you a curve ball.  I'm sad to say that I don't have all the answers. I'm still figuring them out myself. As you'll come to understand, maybe already have begun to from experience, mood cycling by nature is unpredictable. Depression might present itself one way one month, and a completely different way the next. Hypomania may mean being extra productive one week and completely distracted to the point of utter frustration the next. Some cycles will last a two weeks and some will last two hours. They say the only thing constant is change. Whoever "they" are, boy are they right. 

Be prepared for the meds. They're doozies. The dizziness, the nausea, the disorientation, the numb lips and tongue. But it gets better. You get to used to them. Of course, each time you do, the dose increases until you reach your proper daily does, but eventually, I promise it doesn't feel so crappy. Most days, you'll take your meds as nonchalantly as you brush your teeth. Trust me on this one and stick them out. Therapy too. Keep going. It'll be well worth your while (and money - by the way, start saving up for those costs now). 

There's good news too. Life will settle down. You'll always cycle, but you'll learn to live with this illness. You'll learn to use it as an opportunity to help others. You'll discover pieces of yourself that you never knew - creative, artistic pieces that help you express your emotions when it seems you can do so no other way. And believe it or not, this illness will help you learn who to keep in your life, and who to separate yourself from. Not everyone will accept your diagnosis easily, but more people than you think will understand. In fact, you'll find understanding and empathy in people you never imagined went through similar struggles. 

You have a long road ahead. I know it's confusing. There are so many facets to consider now that you have a starting point in knowing your diagnosis. Take them one at a time. Focus on the most crucial first. Learn everything you can. Arm yourself with information from trusted and unbiased sources. Ask questions. Build a support network. Create a plan of action and go from there. You will battle this for the rest of your life. Some days will be worse or better than others, but it will always be there, lurking in the background, even when you can't feel it directly in the moment.  And some days, weeks, months even will really suck. But you will get through it. When you're not sure how you can possibly keep going, just remember to put one foot in front of the other. You'll be ok. 

I'm Not Just Sad All The Time

When people find out I suffer from a mood cycling disorder, they're often surprised. Maybe not at the cycling part so much - I'm a very emotional and passionate person by nature, and people frequently experience my "ups and downs", but more so on the fact that I suffer from depression as part of this. I think people tend to think of me as just overall emotional, and that I'm often down based on a certain situation or circumstance, but I'll bounce back up quickly enough. This is image is aided by the fact that, unlike many mood cyclers, I have significantly more hypomanic episodes than depressive ones, and when depressed, I often feed into my introverted tendencies and make myself scarce.

By the nature of mood cycling, I'm not always exhibiting signs of depression - because I'm not always battling it at the moment. But even in depressive cycles, I'm not always exhibiting what those without mental health conditions would think of as depression. Depression is so many things, and I think the best way to explain it is to answer some of the most common questions I get about it.

So your depression comes and goes?
Well, yes and no. It comes and goes because I cycle. But even in a depressive cycle, it's sometimes more evident - to me and those around me - than others. Not all depressive cycles are alike.

So you're not just always sad? 
No, I'm always depressed when I'm in a depressive cycle, but I'm not always just sad.

What's the difference? 
Sometimes I actually feel sad, or I guess that's what you would call it. I cry a lot, I feel really, really, really down. It's an incredibly deep level of sad. But there are so many other feelings that accompany depression: hopelessness, worthlessness, lack of ability to focus or concentrate, mental, physical, and emotional exhaustion, and the worst, nothingness.

Nothingness? 
Yes, the inability to actually feel anything. Like your emotions have been siphoned out of you,and you'll never feel anything ever again. You would even prefer to feel sad or hurt or angry or frustrated, anything, than nothingness. It feels subhuman.

So when you're sad, then you're just sad, right? 
Not really. It's like a sadness. But a sadness that doesn't need an additional cause. If you think about it in terms of other illnesses, it's easier to explain. When someone has asthma, it can be triggered by certain things (allergies, air quality, increased physical activity, etc), but sometimes the reason they have trouble breathing is simply because they have asthma. There's no other trigger. Depression is like that. Sometimes, a trigger can throw me into depression.  But often, I'm just depressed because I have depression as part of my cyclothymia.

So are you ever feeling normal? 
(After recovering from laughing at the thought that anyone could think I'd be normal even without illness). I hate the word normal. Nobody's normal. I sometimes don't feel ill. I sometimes am not depressed, or hypomanic, or anxious, or experiencing any other symptom or stages of my condition. But it's always there. Always. It's like walking around with someone holding a bucket of water over your head that could get dumped on you without much warning, at any time. So I do have times where I guess you'd say I feel "normal", but I always know a cycle is not too far off, and it's hard to feel "normal" with that knowledge, though I try the best I can. 

8 Things That Having A Mental Health Condition Has Helped Me Stop Giving A Sh*t About

Having a mental health condition sucks. It absolutely, completely does. I've been the worst depression in a long time lately, topped with pretty severe anxiety. Thank goodness my boyfriend is the most patient and understanding and supportive man in the world. I don't know that I'd get through all of this without him, though he promises me I would. But having a mental health condition, and dealing with all of the turmoil, pain (physical, emotional, mental), struggle, stigma, and everything else it brings on, has helped me stop caring so much about a few things that I realize, when compared to... say... my ability to positively function in the world... aren't that important.

• That you think I'm "crazy". Now, let me clarify. This is NOT saying that this term is ok. It's not. It's ignorant, stigmatizing and downright wrong. But the fact that you personally think I personally am "crazy"? Unless you're using it as a grounds to discriminate against me somehow, I could give a rats ass. Because we're all our own kind of "crazy". Meaning we all have things that make us unique, quirky, different. Maybe I'm a little more different than the average person. So what? Do I really care what someone who is clearly ignorant and judgmental and stigmatizing thinks just because I'm not like everyone else? No. But if I hear you using the term to refer to someone, or mental health in general ... well let's just say I've been doing a lot of boxing training lately. 

• Being trendy or cool. I've never been trendy or cool. Ever. And honestly, I've kind of always marched to my own drummer and not cared. But having a chronic illness puts things in perspective even further. It makes me realize that I have no choice but to be my own person, because I can't possibly be like everyone else even if I wanted to. And, it's given me a group of spoonie friends who get this, and realize that staying alive and functioning in day to day life is way more important than if you have the latest hairstyle. Also, I spend a crapload of money on therapy appointments, medications, health insurance, etc. If I'm buying the latest brand names, I'm buying it 75% off on the TJ Maxx sales rack. 

• Getting drunk. I kind of outgrew this naturally because I'm a 36 year old adult, and therefore should have. It doesn't mean I don't enjoy a good beer or glass of wine or bourbon (or two). But I already lack enough control over my brain sometimes. Why the hell would I want to lack even more? Plus, alcohol is a known depressant and I suffer from depression naturally so that doesn't make for a good combination. Plus again, priorities. "Hey, I'm finally having a good day! Let me do something so I won't remember it!..". No. Let me relish actually feeling ok and enjoying a day with my loved ones.... that I'll remember in full detail and not be feeling massive effects of later. 

• Staying out/up late.  Similar to the above. Lack of sleep makes me cycle. When I'm finally not cycling, why do I want to stay up late and chance lacking sleep, and therefore cycling (I am unable to sleep in past 7:30 or 8 AM unless I'm severely ill or jet-lagged)? I'd rather actually continue to catch up on sleep that I've missed from waking up due to cycling or anxiety the rest of the week/month. 

• Material things. I never really cared about these, but now, I really, really don't. Yes, I have a Mac. Yes, I have an iphone 6. These products help me work, and more importantly, keep me in touch with friends and loved ones. But similar to being cool or trendy, I have priorities, and having the biggest tv on the block or the newest coach bag are not among them, even remotely. I'm not saying there's anything wrong with you wanting these, but quite frankly, I have bigger fish to fry. Like staying alive and feeling sane some days.

• Being the same size as I was at 21. I will be 37 in September. I take pride in being active and eating healthy and generally keeping in as good health and shape as I can (minus the obvious chronic illnesses, in which I have no choice).  But things change from 21 to 31 to 36, and I am probably never going to be as thin or my body as firm as my younger self unless I'm ill and unnaturally losing weight.  My childbearing curves will surely come in handy when it's time to bear a child, and when I'm taking the best care of myself, I have done pretty well for my age, I think. I have battled body image issues in the past, and I do not want to go back there. I have to eat a certain amount before I take my meds each time, which often means a larger breakfast or extra snack.  So if that means I'm a little curvier and more muscular than thin, well, at least I'm as healthy as possible. 

• Being popular/having a large group of "friends".  I have an amazing family, a boyfriend who is my best friend and partner in everything, and some very close friends who would do anything for me, and vice versa. I don't need a huge group of people. In fact, as an INFJ introvert, I don't want a huge group of people around me. I want a few close friends that I can count on, and I'm happy to have others who want to do things occassionally, but who I realize aren't my best friends. As I mentioned above, I've never been cool, and I see no reason to start being cool or overly popular now. 

• Having a big savings account. I never much had the opportunity to care about this before, because let's just say I haven't chosen careers that scream six figures. But the longer I live with chronic illness, the longer I am all about experiencing every positive moment, every "healthy" day (i.e. a-symptomatic/less symptomatic). I want to explore, learn, experience. I have spent the last 15 years exploring the world, and I've been even more gung-ho to do so since being diagnosed.  It's equally true of things closer to home - taking impromptu day trips, visiting a new attraction or museum in my home city, going to the local farmers market to pick out food for the week, family game night (with actual family or close friends). I value lazy Saturday mornings making breakfast and sipping coffee with my boyfriend, because those mornings are precious - we're rarely "lazy", and they give us a chance to spend time relaxing, just the two of us, with nothing on the agenda but enjoying each others' company. This doesn't mean I want to be poor (it's tough to be poor and travel like I want to), but I don't care about having a massive savings account just to have it. I need money to live a comfortable-enough life of experiencing and truly living. Not to just to watch the total increase, and not to buy expensive things that I clearly don't need. 

I'm not saying that caring about these things is wrong. But for me, it's just not that important. It doesn't mean I don't have moments of "I wish I had more money", or "why is nobody around, don't I have any friends?". But they are not my focuses in life.  Quite frankly, I don't have the time or energy. I have too many other things to focus on, like staying healthy, spending quality time with loved ones, and enjoying each good day as much as I can, because I know it won't last very long - that's just the nature of rapid cycling. So while I hate my illness, and I wouldn't wish it on anyone, I have learned and grown from it. And there's a lot that to be said for that. 

A Shift In Hobbies and Perspective

#HAWMC Day 22:  Running and 3PM dance parties are some of our favorite hobbies at WEGO Health. Tell us, what are YOUR hobbies? Love to crochet? Can’t stop collecting rocks? Take photographs of everything? Share your favorite past times.

Whenever someone asks me this question, I start to answer, and then realize I must sound like I pretty much have no life. We established, two posts ago or so, that I love to travel. Which is awesome. But it's also kind of work. I run a travel planning company. So it's not really a "hobby" per se. And I love to blog and do mental health awareness, but to call that a hobby make it sound like it's something I do for fun when I have the time. I enjoy it, but not in the way you enjoy a hobby. I enjoy it because it's cathartic for me and helps others, but it's not the same as people enjoy, say, crocheting or running. So right there that's two big parts of my life that I "can't really count."

I'm not sure even how often you have to do something to consider it a hobby, and what makes something a hobby exactly. We also established, by way of the chemistry museum dance video, that I like to dance. I could dance to elevator music. I dance in the car. I dance randomly whenever I hear music and it's so second nature that I don't realize I'm doing it until someone points it out and we both laugh at me. So I guess, dancing, however sporadically and randomly, could be considered a hobby.

I like creative pursuits. Writing is the one I spend the most time on (just finished the very very rough draft of my first novel, woo hoo!). It transports me out of my messy mind, which is probably why I like it so much. Reading, similarly. I have the attention span of a gnat, but I could sit down with 400 page book and read it from start to finish, moving only for bathroom breaks and to get a cup(s) of coffee. I've spent entire days reading, literally. It's like I'm in some sort of time warp.

I enjoy outdoorsy things, like long walks on the beach. I'm kidding, this was just starting to sound like an online dating profile, so I had to throw that in there. I do, though, like outdoors activities - hiking, kayaking, going to gardens and parks. Nature soothes my soul, which is ever in need of soothing. I love photography, but despite having a DSLR camera, I pretty much keep it on automatic mode and just shoot, hoping the lighting is ok. My brother, who's a very good photographer and has sold some of his work, has tried to teach me countless times. But like everything else, the information gets jumbled in my brain and when a good shot comes along, I freeze trying to remember, so go back to my tried and true method of putting it on auto and hoping it works.

Does coffee count as a hobby? I think that might be more of an addiction. But I love to just sit and sip my coffee, whether it's in a cafe while writing, watching my dogs run around (read: sit lazily) in the yard, or just curled up under a blanket on a cold day. I guess anything you enjoy doing that you do routinely counts as a hobby, and therefore, I can consider coffee one.

Honestly, that's all I can think of. Pretty sad, I know. There are a lot of things I enjoy - music, festivals, playing cards and board games, the beach. But I wouldn't call them hobbies. They're situational activities I like, but not things I do routinely. (Though when I lived at home, my dad and I played cards every morning, so the line may blur there).

When I look at the hobbies above, chemistry dance video aside, they're mostly things I do alone. Things I want to do alone. Things I do because I can be alone. It makes me realize the shift in myself in the past year or two, and one of the reasons I find my life a bit more confusing these days. It challenges the, oh, 33 years or so that I lived my life as a complete extrovert, surrounding myself with people and, it seems, living vicariously through them, though I don't realize it then. But, despite the confusion, and I'll admit, the loneliness at times, I feel more true to myself with these new hobbies and this new perspective. There's no social standard to measure up to, no show to put on,without even realizing it's a show at times. No trying to fit in, but knowing you don't, even if others can't see it. Just me, and my book, or my notebook, or my camera, or my cup of coffee. (And my dogs). There's some inner peace in that, however boring it may seem to the outside world.

Leaving On A Jet Plane

#HAWMC Day 20:  If you could travel anywhere in the world, where would you go and why? Maybe you’ve already traveled to an exciting place and want to go back. We know travelling with a chronic illness can be challenging, so any tips for others that you can share would be great!

I feel like I'm cheating a little on this one, because I run a travel planning company. Travel is, more or less my life. People always ask me my favorite place, and I find this question extremely difficult. My "favorite" depends on what I'm looking for - a city escape, time with nature, lying beach with a fruity drink in my hand, exploring an exotic or unique landscape. But if someone said they could teleport me to somewhere right this minute, I'd choose Paris. 

I've been to Paris twice, once as recently as this past November. The first time I visited, about eight years ago, I wasn't excited. I was new to the travel industry, and I had not heard very positive things about Paris. We all know the stereotype - they're rude, they hate Americans, etc. I had a conference in Lyon and I thought, "I'm so close. I work in the travel industry now. How can I not go to Paris just to see what it's like." I fell in love. With the city, that is. This past trip only solidified this. 

When I'm in Paris, I feel like I belong. To someone who, in 35 years, as almost never, ever feels like she belongs, this is borderline miraculous. I don't know what it is about the city. Everyone there is chic and fashionable and I am ... not. My french is more or less limited to names of pastries, asking for the toilet, and the word "canelle", as it's French for Cinnamon, which is the name of my dog. (Fun story, I know this because I met the "house dog" of a hotel I was staying at, who was also named Cinnamon). So I'm not sure why I feel such a sense of belonging in this city that so many feel repelled from, and unwanted in, but I do. 

As for traveling with chronic illness, that greatly depends on your illness, of course. First and foremost, meds, meds, meds, meds.  If there's a time difference, you may need to adjust the time of day that you take them to keep on your schedule. Set alarms or ask someone to keep you accountable. Bring a few extra, in case for any reason your return flight is delayed/cancelled/etc and you are there longer than expected. Even many of our over-the-counter meds can't be found overseas, so don't count on running to the drug store to pick them up once you get there. Finally, as a travel planner I cannot stress this enough: DO NOT PACK YOUR MEDS IN YOUR CHECKED LUGGAGE. Or even a carryon that's big enough that it may have to be checked at the gate if they run out of overhead space. I was on a flight with a woman who had put her insulin in a large carry-on that they checked at the gate. Our plane was then grounded for mechanical issues, and the next flight out for her was the next day. She had to stay overnight in a an airport without her insulin because the airline said they "weren't authorized to retrieve her luggage". Understandably, she was freaking out. Just keep them on you. Always. Please. 

Ok, that rant done, - sorry, occupational hazard - a few more things I find helpful: 

• If you need to travel with any medical equipment, make sure that you have the proper written documentation from your doctor. I recently watch a woman kicked off a plane because she didn't have documentation for her oxygen tank. She was about as happy as the insulin lady above (note; also make sure all meds are in the original packaging. Customs doesn't like unidentified pills). 

• When you first arrive, try to adjust to the time zone. If you can make it until about 7 or 8 PM and then go to bed early, it helps to adjust your body to the time difference. 

• Try to keep more or less to regular schedule. If you usually go to bed at 10 and wake up at 7, don't stay up until 2 AM every night and sleep in until noon. Illness doesn't take a vacation (unfortunately) just because we do, and I think for many of us, routine is key. 

• Build in rest time. I'm guilty of being go, go, go when I'm on a trip because I don't want to miss anything. I've learned I have to build in a day or two to relax - go to the hotel spa, order room service, or at least do something less physically strenuous to give myself a break. 

• Alcohol. If you have an illness that is affected badly by alcohol, it's still affected badly by alcohol when you're on vacation. This is a sad but true fact. 

• If you have food allergies or sensitivities, try to learn the words for these foods in the local language before you go, so that you can at least attempt to ask about them. The same is ideal for your condition, though I'm nearly certain that cyclothymia doesn't translate into other languages, and I suspect many chronic illness sufferers are in the same boat.

• Other countries seem to have a different idea of a food "containing something" - as in, it doesn't contain it if it's not the main ingredient. While I hate to advise being a finicky traveler, sometimes it's too important not to be. 

Ok, I think that's it. As I said, travel is kind of my life, so I apologize for the particularly long post! Wherever this prompt takes you, I hope that you have a fabulous time!