Yesterday I mentioned that I had forgotten my medicine on Saturday. To people that have not been in the state of a mental health crisis this can sound like a small thing. One day, can’t be that bad can it? The answer is, of course, that it can be devastating. I’ve been using all of the skills the hospital reminded me about to keep my mood from skyrocketing out of control. It’s actually kind of entertaining to me today that they have labelled me depressed type schizo affective disorder, but that’s what they were able to see. The anxious, quiet, brooding mood permeated my thoughts as I was trying to figure out how to finish my semester without interrupting anything. Now that I’m free to do what I want I’m everywhere with my thoughts, there are a hundred projects that need to be done and damn it if they won’t all be done in the next 10 minutes. I’m excited about them all, and most have no real importance except in my own head.
I’m really grateful that I’ve reached a point in my illness that I’m beginning to recognize this shift in mood, and even more grateful that this particular time I have had the sensibility to try and prevent the really big upswing. I am still finishing projects, getting things accomplished, and dealing with an increased sense of mania. The difference is I am forcing myself to slow down, listen to meditation videos, and take one project at a time. Once my mood slows down again, which I’m expecting to happen towards the end of the week, I am going to start really looking into yoga. I want to be able to do meditations on my own. I’ve read amazing things about the ability to slow not only thought processes, but also physical processes. Blood pressure can be lowered, heart rates can be slowed, the brain waves can actually be manipulated enough to show differently on an fMRI scan. I doubt I’ll be able to have that kind of control, the studies I read used Buddhist monks, but if I could attain even a fraction of that control I will be a better mother.
That stupid phrase “It’s no longer about you, you have to think of the BABY” drives me crazy. The people that say that are the ones that believe in being a helicopter parent treating their kids as if they can do no wrong. I don’t want to live for my child, I want to live for me and in turn give them a better shot at seeing what a whole person should look like. I remember my parents groping each other in the kitchen, it was gross. It’s still gross, but that is the kind of parent I want to be, one that doesn’t stop living their own life or experiencing their own love just because there is now another person in the house. I want to do the things that are right for me because they are right for me, and in turn I think a lot of that will end up right for my child. It will set a good example, and set up a positive sense of well-being.