If You Had One Super Power What Would It Be?

HAWMC Day 6:  Superpower Sunday! If you had one super power - what would it be? How would you use it? 

This is an easy one. Teleportation. Why? Well, personally, I love to travel. But I don't love planes, I get sea sick, and I can get motion sick on a train or car if the conditions are right (wrong). Nor do I love the price of many of these modes of travel. And teleportation, assuming it was free since it was a power I had, would solve this. I could see more places in less time and not have to pay for the travel to and from. Perfection! 

Speaking from the health advocate end, there would be several advantages. I've made a lot friends through my advocacy work and my blog that live all over the country and the world. Many of them I talk to daily or weekly and yet we've never met. We've become friends, not only in the health advocacy world but in life. I often forget how we got to know each other and that we've never actually met in person.  How amazing would it be to be able to be able to visit all of them? 

Similarly, because of my blogging and the mood disorders Facebook group that I run, I have a lot of people reaching out to me privately about things that they're going through. So often they feel alone, and just need someone there who understands and empathizes with what they're going through, so they don't have to feel so isolated. There are so many times that it would be great to say "let's go grab a coffee or a tea and talk." But I can't, because logistically we're no where near each other. 

I'm a wandering soul and a restless spirit. I don't do well held down, confined by budget and time constraints and all of that. I need to be able to explore.  Teleportation would give me that. But I want the straight teleport from here to there kind, not the Harry Potter kind where you have to fly through a chimney or whatever - I'm way too claustrophobic for that. My anxiety would never allow it. 

Getting My Voice Heard (Via Social Media)

HAWMC Day 5:  Are you all about 180 characters or less? Do you enjoy shooting the perfect photo? Or perhaps love sharing posts on Facebook.What’s your favorite platform to get your voice heard and why?

This is a complicated one. Twitter, overall, is my favorite. I like being able to say snippets of things, randomly, as they come to me, and not (because I try not to tweet 20 things all at once) clog up anyones feed. Whereas with Facebook, posting three times a day is considered excessive. And because my brain works in such a random fashion, the ability to quickly write a short post of whatever I'm thinking or feeling in the moment is ideal. Plus I'm verbose and it makes me cut to the chase once in a while. Which is actually refreshing. Similarly, I'm able to read others posts quickly and not get too bogged down. I've also connected with a lot of great people via twitter chats. I try to participate in as many chats for chronic illness, mental health, and health advocacy as I can, and it's a fantastic way to share ideas and inspiration and to find others who have similar health battles, even if your conditions aren't the same. And finally, the fact that I can't see tweets from people I don't follow unless they're retweeted (or ads) is fantastic. So, unlike Facebook, I can't see someone I don't even know ranting on someone else's post, which brings too much negative energy, which makes me anxious. I actually have had to take a break from personal (i.e. my page) Facebook the past month or so, because the negative energy on Facebook feels like it's suffocating me. That said, twitter has one big con: auto DMs.  If you auto DM me, unless I really, really want to follow you or I know you personally, I'll unfollow. I'm all about personal connection and interaction. Not automated.

The one area of Facebook I do love is private groups. I started a private group for mood disorder and mental health support and the people I've met (or "met") through there and the support I've found from others who struggle with mental health is amazing. It's one of the few places I feel I can go and find true empathy, as others in the group have been through what I am experiencing. It provides a great way to privately build a community of those looking for mental health support.

As for Instagram, I've grown to like it more and more. I particularly like using it to share pictures from charity events (i.e. when I participate in the Overnight Walk), and I've recently - as in this week - started a project called the Spread Hope Project, in which I'm going to take pictures wearing my "hope" shirt in as many different locations and with as many different people as I can, in an effort to spread the message of hope, and let people know they aren't struggling alone. While I'll be sharing in different mediums, this is obviously easiest in picture based mediums such as Instagram.

I guess overall, if I had to chose only one medium, it would be twitter. It offers the opportunity to interact with word, pictures, private (but not automated!) messages, and chats, all quickly and easily without having to get bogged down in too much nonsense. But Facebook and Instagram, and even mediums like Pinterest and Snap Chat (stories) have their place. I think to me, it's really finding what I like about each and utilizing those features to the best that I can. 

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. 

Be Yourself

HAWMC Day 3:  Quotation Inspiration. Find a quote that inspires you (either positively or negatively) and free write  about it for 15 minutes.

I love quotes. Inspiring ones, silly ones, smartassy ones. But if I had to pick just one, it would be this incredibly simple one by Charles M Schultz.

"Be Yourself. No one can say you're doing it wrong." 

Why? Well, quite frankly, I'm different. I always have been. I grew up knowing I was different, though not knowing how. Occasionally it bothered me. Most of the time I didn't think much of it. But as I got older, I thought more and more of it. I realized how different I was in so many ways. And the more I noticed it, the more it bothered me. I asked myself why I was so different. For all that I knew it, I couldn't really place my finger on it. The more this eluded me, the more angst it caused me. It was a self-perpetuating cycle. One that threw me occasionally into pretty dark places. 

As my condition started to become more evident to those around me (it was always evident on some level to me), they noticed it to. I faced a lot of "Why can't you just be normal" comments. A lot of, "Normal people aren't like that. Normal people don't think that way or feel that way or act that way. You're (crazy/delusional/irrational/pick you're stigmatizing descriptive). For a long time, even after I was diagnosed, I tried to defend myself, telling they were wrong, I was normal, even with this illness. I tried to explain my words, feelings, actions and why people should find them acceptable.  I tried and tried to justify them to people who didn't want to hear it. People who'd already passed judgement on me for one reason or another. I watched it in numerous aspects of my life and I rallied against it time and again. And then finally, I stopped. 

I'm not sure exactly when or how it happened. But one day, I realized I was able to take a less negatively biased look at myself and my life. I thought about the people who told me that my blogging and advocacy inspired them and made them feel supported. I thought about the friends who laughed at my quirky humor and awkward but apparently endearing antics. I replayed all the conversations I'd had with others close to me in which we could completely relate to each other, in which I realized what they liked about my was my differences. And I stopped caring so much. The veneer of needing to fit into a mold began to crack.

I won't be so brave as to say I never care. I won't claim that I absolutely love having a mental health condition and I'd never, ever hope to be "normal." Because quite honestly that's BS. At least as it relates to me. There are times that I wish I reacted to individual situations more normally. Like not feeling like I'm going to piss my pants out of fear every time I have to interact in a group setting. Or not breaking down crying out of nowhere in the middle of walking my dog or watching tv or cooking dinner. Or not having an anxiety attack while parallel parking, as I posted about the other day. There are times that it is still maddeningly frustrating when a way of looking at something is so obvious to me, and yet the person I'm talking to can't possibly see it. It's like me pointing at the sky and saying "It's blue," and them saying "No it's bright green. Why can't you see that?" Because life does feel that way sometimes. 

But I've learned to embrace my differences more fully. I've learned that I'm a creative person, and that I often express myself best through writing or vision boarding or dance or even just doodling (because what I do could not possibly be considered drawing or art - not even modern art).  I've learned that I see life in pictures, in snapshots instead of in a step by step manner. I can now explain this to people who don't see how I'm approaching a situation. It doesn't always work, but at least I can offer an explanation to bridge some of the gap. I've learned that in the right company, I can share my completely random thoughts and they'll be appreciated (like the recent time I told my boyfriend out of the blue that if our dog had a creative art it would be interpretive dance).  And so I now surround myself with only the right company (when I have any control of the company, that is). 

In the end of the day, I may not have a lot of talents or enviable skill sets. But I've become significantly more comfortable with being myself. And in fact, I've decided that's a pretty valuable skill to have. Because after all, it's one of the very few things in life that you can't do wrong. 

I Write My Best Blogs in the Shower

Day 2 of HAWMC.  Today's prompt:

Every great writer has their own process! What's the blogging process look like for you? Do you set aside time each week to write or do you wait until the inspiration hits? Do you finish a post in one night or use the week to perfect it? Do you edit your blogs or just hit publish? Whatever it is you do, it’s unique to you and we want to learn about it.

Usually, my posts come to me at some incredibly inopportune time - middle of the night, in the shower, while driving, in the middle of a meeting. If I force myself to sit down and write without any type of prompt or motivation, it ends up the blog equivalent of a bad stick figure drawing (if you've ever seen me draw a stick figure you understand how just bad that is). So when inspiration strikes, I write it down, anywhere and anyhow I can. I have sticky notes by my bed for ideas that come to me in the middle of the night (though admittedly those notes are sometimes illegible in the morning). I have a list of potential blog topics on Evernote. I have notepads on my desk, in my laptop bag. If I'm traveling, I often carry a mini notepad in my purse, to jot down ideas on the road. If my laptop is handy when an idea comes to me and I have only a few minutes, I'll open up my blog and jot down just a few lines to start a post, knowing I'll have to come back to it later but wanting to get the ball rolling.

"Action shot" of me writing (future blog) at 5:30 AM last Saturday

In cases such as HAWMC, where I have prompts, it's a bit easier. I don't have to "come up with content out of thin air", so to speak. But because my blog is so emotionally fueled and focused, and because my emotions can be so unreliable, I can't just force myself to write at a set time on a set day without fail.  (Disclaimer: sometimes I write several of these challenge posts at once when I'm feeling motivated. I call that "finding creative solutions.")  I do try to set aside times to write each week, but those are pretty flexible and vary from week to week. They have to be, because I might literally not be in the mood to write at the set time. 

On the flip side, there are times that I could write for hours, particularly during intense emotional cycles. I occasionally try to share what it's like in the middle of a hypomanic episode or bad bout of depression, because I feel it's the closest way for people to actually understand what I'm battling. They may not have experienced it themselves, but me writing when I'm in the throws of it, it's kind of the writer's equivalent to Facebook live or Periscope or whatever your preferred "live" medium may be.  The nature of my cycling is such that, once I cycle out, it almost feels like it happened ages ago, and I find it significantly more difficult to describe in depth. It feels like I'm telling a story, instead of a personal account. If I write during, I'm much better able to explain in detail, in a way people can visualize, even possibly feel. That said, if I know I'm in a really, really bad state, I try to give it a day or so before I post. I don't want to raise any cause for alarm, if none is actually needed. 

Despite my lack of any real plan, there are few rules that I try to set for myself: 

• Proofread. I sometimes type (and talk) faster than my brain fully computes. If I don't proofread, there could be a lot of jumbled up mess in my posts. Or rather, more than there already is. 

• Don't post ragingly angry. Post kind of angry, but not ragingly so, especially if the anger is primarily directed at one person or situation. Anger is an important part of mental health and not one a lot of people like to talk about. So I think it's important to post from that viewpoint so that, as described above, people get a "real time" insight. I also know, though, that my anger can be fueled by anxiety, panic, and hypomania, and that this multiplies it, making me significantly more upset about things than I otherwise would be. I don't want to emotionally hurt anyone by letting this take over in a blog post, so even if I write, I try to hold off and see if I still feel that way a little while later, or if I've "simmered down" a bit. I've written a lot of drafts that, if posted, would have resulted in some serious foot-in-mouth syndrome later on.  And if I am angry, I never, ever mention personal names (assuming it's someone in my personal life I'm angry at). Ever. 

• Don't overthink it. I proofread, and I make sure any facts that I've stated as facts are as accurate and updated as possible, but I try not to re-read sentences for hours, wondering if it sounds ok, if it makes perfect sense, what everyone will think of it, etc. As long as it's somewhat sensical, and it's not going to lose me friends or my job, it doesn't have to sound perfect. My brain is a beautifully, weirdly, messy place. My blog reflects that. Intentionally. 

• I post for me, but I hope that it helps others. Writing in general, and therefore blogging, is therapeutic to me. I was always a writer. As a child, adolescent, teen, young adult, I journaled. I still do (on pen and paper, in addition to my blog). So sometimes, I write just to "get things out". Sometimes, I end up not posting those pieces. Just writing it has done it's job, and I realize I don't want to, for whatever reason, post those. But when I feel that others may go through the same thing, that it could help them or inspire them in some way or simply let them know that they're not alone, I post. So I write for me, but I do so in hopes that it will also help others. 

These are by no means a "recipe" for writing a mental health or chronic illness or any blog. In fact, I pretty much spent the last x number of paragraphs saying, "I really don't have a process, I just throw spaghetti at the wall and see if it sticks." But I guess that's kind of the point. I have my ways that work for me, but they're fluid. And you may have a great process that works for you. But if you don't, that's ok too. If you want to write, write. There's no perfect formula. That's the beauty of a personal blog - it's as unique as of each us, our conditions, and our journeys. My stickies in the middle of the night and mentally writing blogs in the shower is what works for me - and I'm completely ok with that. And when you find what works for you, run with it, even if it's equally as weird a process. 

Why Do I Blog About My Illness?

Happy November! November, for those who don't know, is National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo), which every year I say I'm going to participate in and every year I sadly do not. But lucky for me, there's another writing challenge this month that I'm much more likely to stick to, at least on a somewhat regular basis, and that is the Health Activists Writers Month Challenge (HAWMC), hosted by WEGO Health.  I'll be blogging daily based on daily prompts, so posts will probably be nice and random - just like I like them.

Day 1:  Why do you blog? 

For nearly the first almost three decades of my life, I thought that I was allergic to red food dye. That was my diagnosis, at the age of two, when I started having "episodes".  The doctor told my parents that the red food dye in the cereal I'd eaten (I want to say Captain Crunch but I may be wrong here) made me "hyper", and I was to avoid red food dye. I spent the next 28 years doing just that - admittedly, not a tough feat, unless you count the cherries in Old Fashioneds and Manhattans. But though the "episodes" calmed down for a long stretch of time, in part due to intense gymnastics training that helped with a lot of the extra "energy", in part writing them off as just being an aspect of my general personality, they didn't stop. They started back noticeably when I was in my early twenties and got increasingly worse, to the point that I'd have someone (my then-husband) hold my arms and legs so I could punch and kick the air to release all of the pent up "energy", for lack of a better word. In between these episodes, went through periods of feeling lost to myself, which grew in frequency. Finally, weeks before my thirtieth birthday, I was admitted to the ER with what I thought were horrendous panic attacks that wouldn't go away. Long story short, I was hospitalized, and upon going back to my therapist afterwards, was diagnosed with rapid cycling cyclothymia, a rare mood cycling disorder.  It was this that had actually sent me to the ER.

I had never heard of cyclothymia, and as it turns out, neither have a lot of people - even medical professionals. It's that rare - something like 0.04% of the population is diagnosed. I noticed that there was very little information accessible to the general public about my condition, yet there seems to be a massive amount of stigma. I realized that people don't have to know anything about your condition in order to begin stigmatizing, especially when it comes to mental health. To so many people, it's all the same. In fact, it's the lack of information, and the education, that feeds so much stigma. And so I set out to do my part in righting that. To tell my story, so that others have first hand accounts of what my illness is like, and to offer support to those who also battle, or feel that they may.

What do I want people to know about my condition?

• It is not bipolar disorder. Often I have to choose that from the little drop-down box of illnesses on online forms with health history, but it is a distinct condition of its own, that shares many similarities with Bipolar Disorder. 

• I cycle between hypomania and depressive episodes, sometimes as often as several times a day. While many people battle more depression, I battle more hypomania - which is not as fun as it sounds. Hypomania, I often tell people, feels like drinking an entire pot of coffee at once on an empty stomach and then trying to go about your average daily routine. You feel jittery, irritated, unable to focus or concentrate. It's in fact very frustrating. 

• I'm not always cycling. Sometimes I'm neither hypomanic or depressed - many times, in fact. Nor do I cycle mid-sentence, like the media would have you believe. I slowly begin to feel the warning signs, which generally only I can feel, and it begins to gradually transition. Again, using the coffee example, the first cup is probably ok, the second cup may make you a bit extra energized, by the time you've finished the pot, the effects are full-fledged. 

• I battle anxiety because of my condition. I've developed social anxiety, phone anxiety. This is not uncommon. 

• I can do "normal" things and have a "normal" life. I run my own business, work part time at a conference center, own a home and a dog, am in a committed relationship, and have been on several volunteer board of directors. I've also traveled to six continents and over 40 countries. 

• Not everything I do or say or react to is because of my condition. Sometimes, I'm happy or sad or emotional or annoyed or angry at something just as anyone else would be. 

• My condition does not make me weak. Just because I'm depressed or crying or feeling worthless or hopeless does not make me weak. I, and others with similar conditions, have to be incredibly strong just to get through some days. 

• I will always have this illness. It is genetic.  I was born with it, and I will have it for the rest of my life. I can't "get over it".  It just gets better or worse. I've accepted this. Please do so as well and stop waiting for me to "snap out of it." 

• I'm not lazy or over-reactive or not trying to hard or dramatic. I can't just relax or calm down. I can't just think positive thoughts or smile or be grateful. 

• Sometimes the best thing I can do is rest. I need that time mentally and physically. Sleep is critical for mood cycling, and my condition is very draining. Doing every day tasks can feel insurmountable at times. 

In addition to Cyclothymia, I also battle Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, "severe" (doctor description) IBS, vertigo, and various forms of frequent migraines. While I don't discuss these often, I do occassionally post about them, especially as they intertwine with my mental health. 

The Time I Had An Anxiety Attack While Parallel Parking

I've had a week. Since Tuesday I've been battling a migraine complete with visual auras and light sensitivity - and I rarely get visual auras and light sensitivity with my migraines. My chronic fatigue has seemed in high gear almost nonstop for the past few weeks. Last night I started with a flare up of IBS, which I don't discuss much but have been battling for the past 12 years or so. My overall anxiety has been off the charts over the past month. The pharmacy didn't fill the right Mg of medication, so I've had to improvise by combining smaller Mg tablets until they do fill it, and I'm not sure when that will be. Which of course is causing me anxiety. So I didn't really need a particularly poorly timed anxiety attack.  

But low and behold, today, while trying to parallel park in my neighborhood, I had an anxiety attack. Let me back up. My condo comes with one parking spot, but we have two cars. Whoever gets home first parks on the street, because as the hours tick by the chance of finding street parking dwindles. So when I got home from work about an hour ago, I found a very tight but skillfully feasible parking space on my street. I don't like having to parallel park when others are driving around, edging in trying to rush me (it makes me anxious when anyone rushes me doing anything) but I do it often enough. But for some reason, perhaps because the spot was especially close and I was already not feeling well, I had an anxiety attack, right there in my car, mid maneuver. I was most of the way into the spot, enough to let people pass on the street, and I froze. Somehow, a kind woman driving by seemed to know something was wrong. I don't know how she did, because I was just of sitting there in my car, frozen, but she did. There was nobody behind her, so she pulled up next to me and tried to help me park, thinking maybe I needed some assistance. While she was not spot on about the kind of assistance I needed, I was incredibly grateful that she wanted to help at all. Then, cars pulled up behind her. Within a few seconds they all started blaring on their horns. Undaunted, this kind woman still tried to help me. But they laid into her with their horns so badly that I finally told her it was ok, just to go. Then, as they drove past, they glared at me. 

I finally pulled out of the spot, knowing that between the initial anxiety attack and the extra shot of anxiety from them blasting their horns and glaring at me, I would never be able to park in such a tight space. I continued to drive around until I found a spot I could have fit a school bus in. I was shaking when I did so, petrified that people were going to do this again if I found a spot I had to take my time with. When I finally parked and was walking towards home, a big SUV (Suburban or something of that size) pulled up in the street parallel to my car and started beeping. I jumped, scared that it was someone I'd held up in my previous attempt who somehow recognized me out of my car.  You never know with these days - people have gotten shot for less, seriously.  I realized soon that the car was beeping as a way to call to someone he/she was picking up out of the house, since there was no space to pull over such a big car and wait. Still, I put my head down and walked quickly home. 

I had plans to work out this afternoon, but I know that high anxiety + workout = a bad idea. Exercise increases adrenaline and when my body and mind is already stimulated from anxiety, it can throw me right into a massive anxiety attack or a hypomanic episode. After working out, I was going to start a nice dinner so that it was all ready when my partner gets home, since he has to work later today. Instead, I'm battling anxiety "hot flashes", sitting on the couch in an outfit that looks like it was rejected from Goodwill (though I did in my ironic sense of humor manage to put on my "Cute When Moody" Eeyore shirt), curled under a blanket and blogging while I can, because getting my words and thoughts out is one of the few things that helps anxiety when it gets this bad. Afterwards I'll probably curl up and read or watch something horribly cheesy but non-anxiety-producing on the Hallmark channel, because it's what I can handle right now. 

To the woman who stopped to help a fellow human who was having an anxiety attack with particularly unfortunate timing, thank you. There should be more souls like you on this earth. You didn't even back down when people started in on you, determined as you were to help.  To the impatient assholes who were in such a hurry that they couldn't wait even a literal minute to allow this kind woman to help, I hope you never have an emergency when it's inconvenient. I hope nobody ever has to stop and help you while delaying others for even a moment to ensure that you're ok. And I hope that if they do, you're completely understanding at the impatience of others. After all, it's every person for themselves, right?