Hello my beloved Chubby Chasers, and Merry Christmas Eve!
This post is long overdue, but I've been struggling with the decision to make this confession or not. On the one hand, I promised in the very beginning of this journey to be completely honest with you all in every way. I wanted complete transparency so that I could be totally held accountable for my failures and success, and so that anyone interested in pledging or challenging would know that I would be honest to a fault.
On the other hand, numerous of my personal friends and family are now Chubby Chasers as well - so I'm not granted as much anonymity as I might have been as just "ChuChi" on the world wide web. The things I say on here can have repercussions in my life and affect the way that my friends and family view me.
But, I'm going to tell you everything because - maybe it will be therapeutic.
I'm going to tell you everything because I promise to tell you the truth, and I like to stay true to my word.
I'm going to tell you everything because I don't want you to think that this was just some flash in the pan gimmick that is over for me.
And I'm going to tell you everything because I have nothing to be ashamed of and maybe...just maybe...this confession will reach someone else going through the same thing who needs some inspiration. How wonderful would it be if - like with my weight struggle - my emotional struggles could also help to inspire or motivate others? Just maybe, then, it would have all been worth it.
So, here it is: I suffer from Bipolar Disorder; otherwise known as Manic Depression.
I was originally diagnosed with Depression as a teenager, but received the Bipolar diagnosis as a young adult.
Early on, between normal teenage hormone fluctuations and my disorder, I suffered as doctors sought the proper medication and dosage. And, over the years, I've had small bouts - I mean, medication just helps, but it's not a cure so the regular highs and lows that everyone experiences in life are just a little more dramatic for me.
For those who do not know what Bipolar Disorder is, it affects me in four different ways.
I can experience severe depression - the kind where I sleep for fifteen hours and cry at a pin drop and hate myself and life and everything about me. As a teenager, I once downed about 10-15 of antidepressants with the thought that it would either make me VERY happy or it would kill me but either way, I wouldn't have to be so terribly sad anymore. They didn't do either. In fact, no one even knew I did it until I recently told my parents. However, my Depression includes it's very own soundtrack. It's this internal voice on this loop that tells me I'm a failure, I'm worthless, that THIS is the person I really am and that - although my friends tell me they'll be there for me no matter what - they don't really know this side of me and if they did, I would just drain the life out of them. This voice tells me that my hopes and dreams and projects - like ChuChi - are all stupid and worthless and I'm just going to screw it up and embarrass myself.
But, unlike Chronic Depression, BD is more than just extreme sadness. One of the worst, for me, is the bouts of rage. I've punched walls and once broke my hand in a fit of uncontrollable rage. I feel hate and disgust and get to this point, for some unknown reason, where everything my mom says and does simply drives me up the wall to an almost blinding fury. When coupled with a mix of depression, I begin to inwardly hate...absolutely LOATHE myself. It's been over 7 years since I've self harmed, but in the past, I have resorted to mild cutting, poking myself with thumb tacks and just hitting or biting myself where no one else would be able to see the marks. One time, I raked my keys over my wrists numerous times until I scraped the skin badly enough to bleed. I've only confessed this to my mother and doctor this past month. But again, I can at least say that the self mutilation has not occurred in years. That inner monologue continues, but much more passionately than the sorrowful whining of depression.
Sometimes, I just go numb. It's like my emotions wall up and I have no care, no love, no apathy. I simply exist. I find no joy in the things I love to do - I simply go through the motions to keep my mind busy. I saw some funny pictures online and laughed, but realized that even my laugh sounded completely hollow and foreign.
And then, my one and only perk of BD: Mania. Now, these symptoms are a bit different for everyone, I would assume, but I've personally never experienced a mania that I didn't like. I am happy, SUPER productive and full of natural energy. I love everyone and everything and life is wonderful! People love to be around me when I am like this, and I clean the house to perfection and I'm at my very funniest and goofiest and usually have everyone around me cracking up. I am hopeful and optimistic and I can conquer the WORLD! In fact, this project was very likely created during a moment of mania, which I'm sure is pretty easy to understand.
I don't usually recognize a manic episode because that is when I feel the most like "me"...it's not until the mania wears off that I slip into depression or rage and realize what was happening, and then I'm stuck wondering "Which is the real me? What if the real me isn't the sunshine and rainbows part, but one of the others?"
For the longest time, my medication has worked well and I've been pretty stable for years. However, earlier this year, I began experiencing bouts of depression or anger or mania that were just slightly more extreme than usual. I was put on an anti-anxiety medication to help with mild side-effects and that seemed to help in the moment...but over the past few months, these episodes have increased in quantity, intensity and duration until finally, early November, I asked my Doctor if he could increase my dosage. Since I was already at the maximum dosage, he decided to change me to a new medication.
Now, the switch between medications is usually rough - but I had never experienced anything quite like this. I sunk into a serious depression and was dealing with thoughts of suicide on a daily basis. Now, I'd like to clarify something: THINKING about suicide and PLANNING to commit suicide are very different things. For example, I see Robert Pattinson and THINK about tearing his clothes off and having my way with him...but I have no intentions to actually do it. This is similar...it was a constant thought, swirling around in my head...but I had no intention of doing it or acting on it. Despite my emotions, I was clear headed enough to know that was not the answer, it would be selfish, and it would hurt others.
A week after switching to the new medication, my doctor was out of town on vacation, so I asked my mom to take me to Urgent Care so that I could ask for a higher dosage, or SOME kind of help to get me through it. The nurse asked me how severe it was and I admitted to having dark thoughts. Next thing I know, I'm being Baker Acted - which is a mandatory commitment to an asylum for at least 72 hours based on the "fact" that I pose a risk to myself and others.
Needless to say, being treated like I was crazy, dangerous and unable to care for myself because I was honest in seeking help did NOT help my predicament. I flew into a rage so powerful that my mom questioned my sanity and suggested that being hospitalized might be the best thing for me.
That sobered me up.
Luckily, I managed to swing my attitude around so that I was more manic. Its not usually that easy for me, but I guess it was a fight or flight response, and the adrenaline rush worked in my favor. While I was supposed to be out with my friends at the long awaited premiere of The Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn Part 2, I was in a hospital ER awaiting placement in a facility. I managed to joke around and tease the doctors and nurses and hold the tears at bay until another doctor saw me and claimed that there was no need for the psychiatric hold, releasing me with orders to double my medication...as I had requested ten hours earlier at the Urgent Care center.
Hrumph.
By now, it was Thanksgiving week, so I was trying to find a psychiatrist who could help me but I had to wait till early December. Luckily, I turned a bit manic the day before Thanksgiving and made it through the holiday on a high.
When I finally saw a psychiatrist for the first time, he explained that the medication my Primary Care Physician had put me on was meant for Chronic Depression - NOT Bipolar Disorder - and it could explain why my symptoms became worse. He subscribed a medication that knocked me out for two weeks - leaving me sleeping upwards of 15 hours a day and lethargic the rest of the time.
As of December 12th, I have been switched again and over the past week, my parents and I are all starting to see an improvement. It's scary, because everyday that I feel good, I worry that it's mania setting in, foreshadowing more rage or depression...but so far, I've been steady.
In the meantime, my father has been experiencing continuing trouble since his knee replacement surgery and is now in the hospital for the fourth time since October. He is undergoing surgery today - Christmas Eve - and will be in the hospital through New Year's. Due to my Bipolar Disorder, I've been unable to work and my Dad is still on extended Medical Leave for his knee - which means that we are hardly bringing in any income right now. All of this has added to my stress and worries, making thoughts of shopping healthy and such null and void in the grand scheme of things, when we are shopping on a very tight budget. My brother has taken my nieces on a tropical cruise, so not only has he not come by the hospital or called, but we will not be seeing them for Christmas. My aunt and her father are both in the hospital.
It doesn't feel like the holidays at all.
So, folks...it's not that I've given up. I mean...maybe I did for a little while...but I have to believe that that's not the real me. Things are just harder than expected, and I haven't been in a place to fight through it and focus on my weight loss at the same time. But, they're turning around...they're getting better...and soon, I'll be back on the bandwagon.
For those of you who have stuck with me and randomly shouted out to wish me well over the past month...you have no idea how deeply your support touched me at a very, very dark time.
For those of you who know me personally - please don't look at me differently. I'm the same girl you knew and loved...you just know me a little better now, that's all. There is no need to worry about me - to have gotten through the shit I've gotten through this past month - I am hella strong and I'm not going anywhere. My head's a little messed up, but my heart is fine and it is here to stay, so stick with me.
I hope that you all have had a much better year, and I wish you the happiest of happies and the merriest of merries. Hang in there...ChuChi will be making a comeback soon enough!
