Mental Health Day

Have you ever taken a day off work and not been sick?

Have you ever flaked on plans with friends, just because?

Or have you ever faked an illness to stay home from school and done nothing super productive?

Or even nothing fun?

My friend, this is a mental health day.

A day where you need space from everything. Space to take stock of what’s happening, where you’re at. How you’re doing.

You don’t have to be in a  high or low phase.

You just want context. You want to know how you’re doing. And that’s okay.

If you need a day off, do it.

And do it with integrity.

Make it a bi-monthly thing. Sit down with yourself when you know you’re doing okay and be honest. Think about how you’re doing. What works, what doesn’t. What you want to explore.

Then whatever your resolutions, put them into actions.

Some may question the idea of taking a day off when you’re not sick. But I say it’s better to be prepared. That it’s worth the cost.

And so are you.

Symptoms

Symptoms

If you show symptoms of your mental illness, you’re not being manipulative.

You’re communicating.

And that’s okay.

If you hide symptoms of your mental illness, you are not “faking it”.

And you are not “better” or whatever. You’re getting by the best you can. And maybe you’re thinking of others and choosing to not burden them with your problems.

And that’s okay too.

The trick is to find a balance that works for you.

Your health is #1 and you need to look after yourself first. And it’s okay to find people who value this priority and your need for balance.

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It ain’t about you.

There is one key element I’ve seen that helps relationships last when one of you has a mental illness.

It’s the same thing that helps keep neuro-normal partners together as well.

(Neruo-normal is such a fun word to say!)

It’s called understanding.

With bipolarity and cyclothymia, my episodes and depressions are rarely, if ever, about my partner. They may be involved due to circumstance, location or because they’re the only person in shouting distance/who is willing to give me a hug. But this interaction is not entirely triggered by, nor aimed entirely at, them.

This interaction, whatever it is, is more about chemicals and neural path ways in my brain lining up a certain way.

It’s me reacting to unseen stimuli.

A partner who understands this doesn’t take it personally when I cancel romantic dates last minutes because “mental health”. Or when I drink too much and try to fight their friend who keeps hugging me because he’s “too friendly” and is “ruining my vibe”.

Sorry about that.

But yeah. The key to a lasting relationship is understanding.

Taking the ego out of the equation and looking deeper at the root cause of my sometimes-painful-but-mostly-weird behaviour.

People who do that for each other are magic. And if a person is willing to do support their mental-illness-bearing partner, to look deeper and understand the mechanics – then they get to be the most magical thing of all.

They might get the chance to be a reason for someone’s recovery.

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Have You Tried [X]?

In your journey to manage your mental health, you are going to receive advice.

Several times.

Okay, a lot.

From many people.

The first few times will be nice and simple and you’ll nod and listen and thank them.

And
then the next few times you’ll stare them down. Maybe inform them that
”… no actually this *is* a chronic illness, there’s *no* cure, and I
don’t *care* what worked for your Aunt Selma.”

It’s about this time that you’ll start wondering what the fuck is wrong with people.

It’s called “the illusion of control”.

The reasoning goes like this.

Person
A is a reasonably healthy individual. When problems crop up, Person A
is in a position to act. Person A believes that bad health comes from bad choices, and that they can stay healthy by
continuing to make the right choices.

This is Person A’s world.

Person A feels in control.

Now, say Person A meets Person B.

Person B is reasonably healthy, just like Person A.

Except Person B has a flavour of bipolar.

For
Person A, the idea that bad things
can happen to good people is antithetical to their experience.
Person A doesn’t *want* to believe that shit luck is real, because it means that it
could happen to them.

Bad health = bad choice. That’s the mantra. And by extension, they can turn bad
health into good health just by doing more of a good thing, or by doing less of a
bad thing.

To Person A, the idea that they are not in control
of their health is terrifyingly new. And so they will pile on the advice
in an attempt to drown out their fear.

Now, this phenomenon
is not even remotely unique to mental health. The illusion of control
pops up frequently. Especially when talking about poverty, criminality,
antisocial behavior, politics, economic choices, terrorism and more. It’s their fault, they could fix it if only they do [X].

So what can Person B do about Person A?

In my experience, you have three choices:

  1. Decide to put up with their feverish attempt to maintain their illusion
    by smiling and nodding and thanking them for their input.
  2. Choose to distance yourself from anyone who doesn’t take the time to educate themselves on the realities of mental health.
  3. Take a stand and attempt to educate them on the realities of mental health.

If you choose 1, you will get by okay, but may find yourself quite frustrated.

If
you choose 2,
you will find it difficult to get on in most societies.
And, while sometimes necessary, I don’t recommend making this your
default behaviour.

If you choose 3, you are in for a fight.
People’s egos take the news that they might be susceptible to shit luck
as a threat. In response, they may go all out to defend their worldview.

There’s no wrong choice here. Look after yourself first. That’s rule #1.

But, if you do choose 3, you *may* just make life a little easier for Person A by
expanding their understanding and teaching them how to empathise. And in turn this *may* make it easier on the next
Person B that they encounter.

Choose wisely.
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The Chat

Listen, honey. We… we need to talk.

This ain’t about you, or anything you have done. 

This is about me.

I am bipolar. I experience emotions in extreme intensities.

These moods do not have a correlation to reality. 

They are polarised. Hence… well, hence the name, I guess.

Like, for example, you know that one time when you had a small break down because you broke a glass? You told me you knew the reaction was extreme. You also told me it happens because your grandmother was very protective of her stuff. And anyone who broke her crockery would receive a full-on backhand slap, no matter the company.

That reaction? That freezing up from fear and regret? I can agree with you, it’s extreme.

But it has, like, an anchor. A reason. Your brain learned that smashing glassware meant bad things.

Now, can you imagine having that freeze up reaction if your grandma didn’t even exist?

Yes, I know your grandma was a sweetie really, and she would never hurt anyone otherwise. And no, I mean no disrespect in using her in this example.

Honey, please just listen. This is very personal and hard to talk about.

Can you imagine how hard it would be to freeze up at the sound of broken glass for no reason?

Good.

Now, can you imagine feeling something else at that sound? Like getting really angry at that sound? Like, primeval, flipping tables and breaking bones kind of angry.

Yes, kind of like that one cousin who throws tantrums a lot. Drop of a hat.

Or you know those times when your feeling in the zone? Just getting things done, and anything that gets in your way has to be smushed?

Now imagine having these feelings for no reason. Nothing has happened to you to. And having them for days on end?

I know, honey. It’s hard to imagine without experiencing it.

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No Filter

I feel everything.

I’m operating without a filter. There’s
no time to stop and think. Events are moving too slowly. And while I
feel all the things, the overriding sense is one of urgency.

I must make things happen. I have so much energy. I can’t waste time on being nice, reasonable, a “good” person.

And the people around me suffer because I can’t stop to consider how I’m impacting their lives.

How can I handle so much energy?

I make lists. I write down everything that needs doing, and everything I want to do.

Then
I cut it down. Which ones matter? Which ones are feasible? Which ones
are going to have an awesome impact? Which ones will I regret not doing?

What does this do?

Culling the list forces me to concentrate on what matters. The list becomes an external filter.

Yes, I can still feel everything, but I can choose what to focus on.

And yes, the urgency is still there, but now it’s focused. Useful. Like a blowtorch rather than a firecracker. Directed.

With
my list in hand, I can get to grips with making things happen. I’m less
distracted. More accurate. And less likely to lash out in frustration.

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Liloing

A plateau is a flat ground at the top of a high point. If it was a feeling, it would be contentment – the feel that you’re in a good place, but that nothing’s changing.

The opposite of that? Maybe a canyon.

If a canyon was a feel, it would bee that feel you get when you’re stuck in a rut, and are limited in directions to go. I mean, yeah, you could climb the walls, but that’s hella hard, and when I’m at the bottom, any direction that isn’t immediately ahead of me is doomed to failure.

So, how can I beat it? Well,I can’t, and I don’t. Fighting against depression is like throwing rocks at a cliff wall – I can flail away, but in the end I will just get frustrated at my lack of progress. I’m weak. And if I take it too far, I might hurt myself or those around me.

Instead of fighting it, or trying to force change where change won’t happen, I accept my situation. Hell yeah, it sucks – that’s mental illness for you. But there’s another way.

I just go liloing. Perhaps the best way out of a canyon is to follow the water – just jump on an inflatable tube mattress and let the current carry me along. Eventually, I find myself at a place where the canyon walls are low enough to scale. Then I can get out any time I like – or if I want, I can just keep floating.

Here’s the lilo lesson – sometimes it’s best to just go with the flow.

Mental Yoga

On my travels, I have met a number of people who practice yoga.

They focus on their inside environment by stretching their bodies, (safely) push them to their limits. They focus on their breathing.

They know that what they consume affects their experience. Many of these yogis and yoginis (sp?) focus on their food and drink as well, with a strong emphasis on fresh, clean meals that taste great. Nothing unpleasant. Nothing toxic.

They extend this philosophy to their daily lives. In the places they stay, the activities they attempt, and even the people they meet – they seek to increase the frequency and duration of the more pleasant experiences, places and people they encounter, while removing the toxic and unpleasant.

They learn to trust their instinct. These yoga types have a kind of watchful circuitry. One that keeps an eye on their moods and feelings, lets them know if something’s amiss, and helps them identify how to rectify the situation. They learn to listen to their emotions, because they recognise them as real.

There are some amazing similarities between these exercises and practices, and the habits I have cultivated to help me manage my bipolarity:

And now I’m wondering if this is something I can look into more fully. What more can yoga teach me about managing my condition?

Cross the Void

We live in a mechanistic universe with a limited range of senses at our disposal. So it’s understandable that people get things wrong. There’s just no way to have all of the facts all of the time.

Bias exists, and we’re all party to it. Cultural, historical, political, personal lensing – these past experiences and the views of peers have a powerful sway over how we interpret and filter information.So we cast different meanings on the same set of events.

The nervous system enforces solipsism. How can I know that you see the colour red the same way I do? Or that what I hear when a train passes in the night is the same sound as what you hear? I can’t. There’s no way. It’s built in.

It helps to know these things. People can’t help but view things differently, because they are different. 

This matters with mental health because as a person living with bipolar, there are times when people don’t get it. And that’s fine. They don’t have to.

So it helps to be aware of the difference. It means I can deal with people who don’t get it. My imagination lets me empathise with them, without necessarily agreeing with them.

I can cross the void. Then, instead of trying to change their view, or convincing them of a certain perspective, I can just work around them with a minimum of fuss.

KDR

There’s a popular building package where I grew up called the Knock Down and Rebuild. Basically you just pay some dude with a bulldozer or whatever to smash up your house, then build a new one.

Sounds like fun, yes?

When I had my last real episode, I knew this was something I had to do – I had to smash the habits that had lead to my breakdown, and bolt together something better in its place.

BULLDOZE BAD HABITS – be it work, relationships, substances, staying up late at night watching Netflix. If something is causing you stress, stealing your sleep or in other ways damaging your cool, then walk away. Smash that habit and never look back.

BUILD A SUPPORT NETWORK – maybe tell family, friends and mental health professionals what’s going on. They can’t shoulder the burden for you, true, but just telling them what’s happening means you are taking responsibility. And that’s some powerful stuff.

THERE WILL BE COLLATERAL – there are gonna be times when you slip. This is expected – you can’t be ready all the time. But by telling your support peeps, they will be ready, and can sometimes help you rebuild things.