First we take Manhattan........

I have realized something. I am just as insecure about the things I write on my anonymous blog as I am about the things I say in real life. Too many times I walk away from conversations thinking, "oh my gosh why did I say that? They must think I'm so stupid. I am so stupid. They must be laughing at me, or think I'm nuts. Why do I even speak?".  It is the same with this. I enjoy writing. I want to write everyday, heck two or three times per day even. However, I have no confidence in my words or ideas. "People will think I'm stupid, no one will want to read that." Which is completely illogical because I started this blog simply as a diary to get my thoughts out. A place for me, and no one else. But then a few people did read it, and that's when the pressure started. Self-imposed of course, but pressure nonetheless. Pressure to be informative, to be interesting, to be provocative, to be right.......

Ah that darn pressure to be right.

To pick the right topic, say the right thing, say it the right way, and always seem witty and intelligent while doing it.

Seems rather ridiculous even to me as I sit here typing it.

I'm not exactly sure if it is the fear and embarrassment of being wrong or the stubborn irrational drive to always be right, but whichever it is, it is hardwired into me. I've been this way as long as I remember. It's as if, somehow, being wrong or letting others see that I am sometimes wrong will spoil the facade. My act will be given away and everyone on earth will see everything I've been trying to hide and mask for so long. Everyone will find out that I'm nuts, and I'm not as smart as I pretend to be.

The funny thing is I am smart. Very smart. Ridiculously smart actually (in terms of IQ points and test scores). I know this. It's a fact. Always has been. Unfortunately, I am also ridiculously nuts so even though I know I'm smart I don't actually feel smart and I doubt myself constantly.

This leads to a horrible situation where either I am right and will fight tooth and nail to prove it to you, or I am wrong but will still fight tooth and nail to prove that I'm still right anyway or somehow it's not my fault I'm wrong.

Even more ridiculous is the fact that deep down I know there is actually nothing wrong with being wrong. It happens to everyone. Everyone. Some, more than others. Many, more than me. But it DOES happen to everyone. Daily.

Being wrong can be a very positive thing. I truly believe that we learn more from our failures than from our successes. That being wrong can lead to research and learning that will only help you in future.

Unless you're me. Then it's bad. Very, very, very, very bad. It means you're weak. It means you suck. It means everyone is gonna find out your dirty little secret and no one will ever love you for the rest of your days. An overreaction? Of course it is. But it is also a very accurate depiction of my inner monologue. Did anyone ever hear the Adam Sandler stand-up comedy bit where the mother keeps saying "NOOOOO, they're all gonna laugh at you."? Well that mother is my inner voice.

I keep saying that others' judgment of us, and the stigmas they assign to us need to end NOW. I am right, of course. However today I am feeling a tad hypocritical (and I really really hate that). Why do I feel hypocritical you ask? How can I expect outsiders to stop judging me and assigning me stigmas and stereotypes when I can't even do it for myself? Until I can stop judging myself, and accept and love me for me illness and all, how can I demand that anyone else do it?

So here we go #twitterpsychward, it starts with us. Until we demand respect from ourselves, until we can stop judging and hating ourselves based simply on the fact that we have an illness, until we can love and forgive ourselves, we cannot tackle the outside stigmas, judgments, and barriers.

Join me won't you?

My name is Cristina. I have bipolar II disorder and it's not my fault. I've had a lot of hard times, been in a lot of trouble, made mistakes, and yes I've been wrong sometimes, but that's ok. It's all ok.

My name is Cristina. I have bipolar II disorder and that doesn't make me any worse or less of a person than anyone else. I have value, I deserve respect, and my illness does not define me.

My name is Cristina. I have bipolar II disorder but I will feel guilt and shame no more. I am more than an illness, more than my diagnosis. I am a bright, smart, wonderful person, and I am fantabulous.

My name is Cristina, and if you think differently you and I will have issues. Starting now.

Speak up #twitterpsychward. Who are you?

First we change our own perceptions. Then we change those of the world.

I just had to write this.....

Yesterday when I read the news of former NFL football star Junior Seau's suicide I cried.

Did I know him? No. Was I a devoted fan? I had heard of him, seen him play, recognized his talent, but no.

So why would I shed actual tears over the death of someone I didn't know, who had no impact whatsoever on my life? Because I've been there.

More times than I would like to admit I have been in a place so dark, so painful, so lonely, so empty, and so hopeless that I would've done anything just to make it stop.

And I did things. I have done many things. In fact, the only reason I sit here still alive today is coincidence and luck. Am I glad I am still alive? Yes. Now I am. But do not judge me or anyone else unless you have been in that horrible endless cavern. Unless you've felt the unbearable, indescribable, intangible pain that we have felt. You will never in your life know hopelessness and loneliness unless you are unfortunate enough to be one of the millions suffering with a serious mental illness.

Let me make one thing very, very clear. Suicide is not about you. It is not about the family, the friends, the co-workers, the neighbours, the doctors, or anyone else. It is a desperate, frustrated, hopeless attempt to stop the seemingly endless pain. A pain that takes over your entire body. A pain that permeates every muscle, bone, joint, and cell in your body. It is a physical pain. It is an emotional pain. It is a mental pain. And it is relentless.

Don't write articles on how suicide is selfish and we all need to make our kids watch the video of Junior's mother's crying. That's ridiculous. If you knew anyone suffering with depression, bipolar, or schizophrenia you would never suggest that as a useful tool for preventing suicide. Because a suicidal person is not thinking about their family at that moment. They are not thinking about the tears or aftermath. The only thing in their mind at that moment is the pain and emptiness, and an uncontrollable need to make it stop. Shaming them with the potential pain suffered by their family would, frankly, just cause them more pain, guilt, and sadness-possibly pushing them over the edge. Because if you knew anything about the mind of someone in the grips of a major depression you would know that at that moment they are 100% sure that their family, and the world as a whole would be a lot better off without them. The fact that they are wrong about that is irrelevant. And you shaming them with their own thoughts is downright ignorant, and potentially dangerous.

A suicidal person, in fact anyone in the grips of depression or other mental illnesses, needs simply this: compassion, support, and understanding. That's it. They don't need advice. They don't need to be told why their thoughts are wrong. They don't need to be told how their illness or death would affect other people. Because they already know. They place so much guilt, shame, blame, and hatred on themselves that they certainly don't need it from you. Especially if that you happens to be a seriously misguided sports writer who is completely ignorant when it comes to helping people with a mental illness.

Do we need to pay attention to this tragedy? Definitely. Do we need to discuss suicide more, discuss mental illness more, and better help those suffering? Absolutely.

Is the guilt and shame game the way to do it? Certainly, absolutely, most definitely not.

How do I love thee???? Let me count the ways...

So how does one go about falling in love with themselves?

This was the question I was pondering last night in my frustrated insomniac state. I started off writing down reasons I might fall in love with someone else: attractiveness, kindness, personality, their actions, their goals, a mutual respect or admiration, etc. So I set out to write a list of the things I like about me. Some of them i currently fully believe, some I only partly believe (or at least want to believe), while others I don't yet believe at all but hope to soon.

I have a great smile.
I have beautiful eyes.
I am smart.
I am funny. (although my daughters don't seem to think so ha ha)
I cute.
I am strong.
I am resilient.
I am brave.
I am adventurous.
I am a good mother who loves my girls more than anything else on earth, and would do anything for them.
I don't quit. - I may postpone or procrastinate but I don't give up.
I can write well.
I am well spoken.
I am a great coach, and love volunteering with kids.
I am a good friend.
I still have dreams.
I am generous.
I want to help.

Not a bad list. I sound pretty fantastic. ;) Who wouldn't love me?

Ok well maybe me, but I'm working on that.

So now for the more difficult list....

I deserve love.
I deserve to be loved.
I am worthy of love.
I love you Cristina.

That one still sounds kinda fake and forced. But I will repeat it ten times a day until it doesn't. Or at least that is the plan.

(Damn now I sound like one of those shiny happy people I've always hated. There must be a way to be happy, fulfilled, positive, and inspired without turning into freakin Tony Robbins..... Finding that might have to be the next step in order to keep from making myself nauseous lol)

Off to Victoria for the weekend. Have a great one everybody. Try to love yourselves. It really does make a difference. And if we don't start with ourselves, how can we ever expect anyone else to???

PS: if you are reading this you are awesome too and I love you for it. Every single view this darn thing gets makes me smile. :)

A New Approach.....

Alright, why the change?

I'm not going to complain anymore. It's exhausting. It makes me feel crappier than I started out feeling. And to be honest, it never seems to accomplish much of anything.

So here goes: I have bipolar affective disorder type II with rapid cycling and mixed states. Medicine doesn't really seem to do any good. So I am starting a quest to see what will do any good. Step number one, I refuse to continue my habit of going on and on about being sick. I acknowledge it, I recognize it, but now I'm done with it. I shall begin from this moment forward to go on and on about being well and feeling better.

Will everything work? Of course not.

Will everyday be a balanced, happy, fantastic, brilliantly healthy day. No, but I won't dwell on that.

Will this work? I have to believe that it, or something I discover because of it, will because nothing I've tried so far has let me do anything other than merely survive and that is not enough anymore. I deserve more, and it is time I start believing that.

Today I begin the mission of falling in love with myself. I've spent too many years hating myself and it is clearly not working. It has always seemed at odds with the natural agenda to hate oneself, but having felt it for so long I have simply ignored that dissonance. Not anymore.

How am I going to do this? I'm not entirely sure yet.

I changed my "name", I have changed my blog, and now the next step is to fall in love with myself. (I'm pretty cute, shouldn't be too hard lol)

I don't have to see the whole staircase, just the first step. (or next step)

I see the next step. Here goes....

Sooooooooo tired

It is hard to complain when I look at where I am compared to where I was 7 months ago. My mood is better, I get out of bed on a regular basis, I have a new best friend who's supportive and actually understands, I leave my house almost daily, I am volunteer coaching for my daughter's track&field club, I eat junk food only occasionally, rarely binge, and am getting moderate exercise a few times a week. But it is still not enough. It is still just alright and ok. I want more than that. I want fabulous. Don't I deserve fabulous?

So what is holding me back from fabulous?

The best I can guess is exhaustion. I am tired ALL the time.

I will have 2 or 3 good to great days and then a day like today when I sleep from 11pm to 3pm.  A day where I can barely lift my head off the pillow let alone sit or stand up. My mood is low today, but not horrible. I am discouraged and angry today, but nothing I can't handle. The problem is mental and physical exhaustion that I can't explain or fix.

I thought that the healthier food would help, it hasn't. I thought that moderate exercise would help, it hasn't. I thought that a regular sleep schedule would help, it hasn't.

I'm not sure what to do now. Do I need to do something extreme? Some crazy raw vegan all banana detox diet? Intense exercise twice a day? Hot yoga? Tibetan bowls? Acupuncture? A meditation retreat?

I really don't know. At this point I'd be willing to try almost anything. As soon as I lift my head up off this pillow....

So did it work???

2 days ago no_H_cristina replaced bipolar2_gurl in the twittersphere (I wanted cristina_no_H but it was taken, boo). At the same time, I started trying to replace my self-imposed "bipolar gurl" label with less restricting, more positive thoughts about myself. Starting with the easiest to say and believe, "I'm Cristina, and yes my parents left the damn H out but I like it better that way".

 Has it changed my life? Well, no.

 But did it change my perspective enough to put together (so far) 2 1/2 very positive days in a row? Why yes it did.

 They say in life it's the little things that matter. Hugs, smiles, laughter, hope. Well this is a little thing, but it definitely matters. The only opinion of me that really truly matters is my own. I know that I can't do it all at once. I have a long way to go, but this was a great first step. Good-bye bipolar gurl. Thanks for fighting the fight for as long as you did. You are done now though, it's time for me to be Cristina again (and don't you dare put an H in there).

  :)

Can changing a Twitter handle change your life???

Earlier this week, out of nowhere I had an idea that prompted 2 thoughts. One: I spend way too much time on Twitter. But more importantly, two: how can I ever escape the trap this illness has locked me in if even I define myself first and most importantly as bipolar. Forget my name, my likes and dislikes, education, occupation, any of my personality traits, the biggest and most important label that I put on myself basically tells the world that I'm female and I'm crazy. Now, you may be thinking it's just a Twitter handle who cares? That would be the case if I had invented some weird meaningless pseudonym containing a clever pun or inside joke, but I didn't. I chose a handle that explicitly explains the label that I sometimes feel is tattooed across my forehead. I chose it for two reasons; first: when I originally joined twitter it was simply to connect with other people living with mental illness so that I would have someone to talk, second: it is what I see when I look in the mirror, what I think of first when describing myself, and what I'm afraid I project to the rest of the world. 


This second reason is that part that is currently troubling me. When I look in the mirror I don't see a cute blonde woman with nice eyes and a good smile. I don't see a mother, a sister, a daughter, a friend. I don't see an intelligent, funny, strong, determined soul. I see crazy plain and simple. I put the label on myself before anyone else could and I am afraid that I have let it blossom from just a simple description of my illness to a jail of my own making, filled with fear, anger, resentment, regret, pain, frustration, guilt, shame, self-loathing and self-doubt. 


"Well, I would go back to school but I failed before because I'm crazy so I better not even bother trying again."


"Wow, I would really like to ask that guy out but I'm crazy so I'm sure he'll say no."


"I had a fantastic job before, but I screwed it up because I'm crazy so I might as well not even try to work at all."


"I'd love to start working out again, but I'm crazy so why bother when I'll just quit eventually and start bingeing on junk food again."


"I am lonely sometimes and would like to make new friends, but crazy people make horrible friends so I better just keep sitting here alone."


"Every one I pass on the street must know that I'm crazy, insecure, and fat so I'll just stop going outside all together."


These are some of the common rationales that play in my brain which have allowed me to sit back, hide, and miss out on life for most of the last 10 years. 10 years! A decade. An entire decade wasted in my self-made jail. As I wrote those, well basically excuses, it occurred to me that I have made an interesting connection in my own mind. Crazy=Failure. In my mind failure sucks, and is embarrassing, and results in judgment so why bother. I have set myself up for failure for the last decade and have succeeded brilliantly at fulfilling that prophecy. 


Where am I going with all of this??? I have no clue. Not yet anyway. Can changing a Twitter handle really change the way you see yourself and in doing so change your life? I don't know. I'll keep you posted, I'm off to think up a clever pun or inside joke.