Coming to the end of this year, i just want to scribble some words in my blog ……. First of all, Merry Christmas guys ….

This year has been so complex for me and taught me some valuable lessons; how to survive the crisis, handle the pressure, deal with the problems. Overall the lessons were wonderful. Well there are some salient features to be noted. Finished my Engineering, Joined the company: Samsung. Well how can i forget my first job which i had done. Teaching – The Best Job ever. Being a teacher was a wonderful experience and I started my career as a teacher. Worked in TIME for 4 months and later joined Samsung.

Life at Samsung is pretty cool. Working in the mobile division currently in Noida. Its an awesome feeling to be part of a project that you will be using as a product. Training went properly in Jaipur and had a great time with all the freshers. The only fearful fact is that the temperature over here is 5 degrees right now. It may go up to 2 or 3 degrees. Lets hope my body gets adapted to the climate before there is a climate change.

Coming to my team in Samsung, its a superb team with awesome friends. and out team’s : Worker Hard, Party Harder ….   We party a lot. And i got the coolest set of friends over in my team : Jigi, Guri, He-man, bada Sakhshi and K.G. We rag each other, chat a lot and we all pull pranks on each other, though for the past one week, i was the target. I accidentally told Jigi that i had a crush on one girl on the 3rd floor ; thats it … My game over ….. May be he his seeking revenge on me for what i had done earlier ….

And Hey thats my desk in the office……….

Well this year has ended for with 2 perfect movies. Avatar and 3 Idiots . I already watched avatar 2D, this Sunday i am gonna watch it again, this time in 3D ……  Hats off and 3 cheers to the director, James Cameroon. Well coming to the other movie 3 idiots, it is one of the best movies i have ever seen. It will definitely touches one’s emotional cord and make us to think about our lifestyle once again. Its was so fun watching this movie and i laughed till i cried.

Hmmm…. what else ? Lots of stuff to write, but right now getting sleep. OK catch you later guys….

Well, today was the first full day of winter. The winter solstice was sort of a poignant holiday for me this year. I was keenly aware

Looks like Wepwawet wanted some light here, too.

of the change of seasons this year – the days growing darker during the Mysteries of Wesir (late November), as the son of Nut and father of Heru dies and takes His throne in the Duat. I reflected on death. God has died. This God, unlike Jesus, stays dead. He stays dead because the ancestors living there need a King. Now that’s love, if you ask me– I’m sure He could come back to life just fine if He really wanted, but he doesn’t. And the world is dark, and getting darker. The plants are dying, everything is cast in a cold, hard shadow. And then, in the middle of winter, there is light. The solstice signifies the return of the Eye of Ra, who has wandered to the South. At this time, She turns back to us, and is bringing Her light back to us. She is carrying with Her a new light, a growing light, to warm and brighten the Nation. We have spent some time contemplating the darkness of the death of Wesir and now, we once again return to a place of joy and celebration, illuminated with Her love.

This past weekend, I celebrated a festival of Bast with some local Shemsu. We sang, lit candles, and played sistra for the Perfumed One. The quiet fellowship, the solemn ritual and the joyful song and dance renewed my faith with great fervor. I stepped from that time of quiet, dark contemplation, and into a light of joy and fellowship with my brothers and sisters in the faith. I had some deep, burning questions answered by Bast, through a little bit of informal fortune cookie divination. But most of all, I remember what I love most about this religion. Not the stories, though they are intricate and beautiful, not the making of offerings and the reverence, but the pure delight of being in the presence of God alongside others who share in that joy. It is one thing to stand before one’s altar and sing and dance, but to do it with others with no fear of feeling foolish– t

hat is one of the single greatest things I have ever experienced. I vowed as I left to invigorate my spiritual practices– well,  just as soon as my sinuses de-stuffed from sleeping with four cats.

I really do feel as though I am cast in a new light, and I look forward to the experiences I will be sharing in light (pun intended) of this.

There was something awfully wrong at my parent’s home.  The house looked the same as always.  I mean, it looked the same as any given day in September, April or February.

Something was missing: Christmas.  No tree, no presents, no strings of lights, no holiday cards taped on the door.  Just like Gilligan’s Island: “No phone, no lights, no motorcars, not a single luxury.”

No Christmas.

1983. I was a graduate student in Chicago.  I had skipped Thanksgiving at home that year (no money for travel).  For the Christmas break, my parents sent me a plane ticket home to Texas.

Bleary-eyed off my late flight, Dad picked me up at the airport.  We never did talk much.  Well, he never did, except to tell stories about my Grandfathers or the grande olde days back in ancient times, when gasoline was a nickel a gallon and men wore hats.

We drove the 15 miles home along the dark highway in relative silence.  Nothing new about that.  I had gotten used to Dad’s silences.

The night was cold, but nothing like it had been in Chicago.  Chicago was routinely below zero.  At least December in Texas still registered in positive numbers, even if it was at the freezing point.

Too many late nights, too much coffee in graduate school had begun to take its toll on my health.  I was dog-tired and need about 90 hours of sleep.  Ominous gray circles had formed under my eyes giving me that oh-so attractive Gulag labor camp look.  I needed my Mom to make me a cup of cocoa.  I needed to curl up in a familiar comfy bed and hibernate for a few weeks.

We pulled into the driveway and slid into the garage.  As I hauled my suitcase up the back stair to our little ranch-style bungalow, a two bedroom house where my parents raised four kids, Mom met me at the door with a big hug.  Home at last.

“Mom.  Dad. What happened to Christmas?  Where’s the tree?”

“Well, it seemed like too much this year.  Everyone’s busy.”

“What do you mean, everyone’s busy?  No one is coming over?”

“Nope.  They all have plans.”

“Whad’ya mean ‘plans’? Their plan better be to get their butts over here.”

“Well, now son, we don’t want to cause a fuss.”

“No presents?”

“Well with all you kids grown, I just thought we’d give you all some cash.  Seemed easier.”

Not that we ever made a big deal about Christ.  Our family was not religious.  We weren’t church goers.  We thought of Jesus as a very nice man and we grew up with the Golden Rule and allot that “do unto others” stuff, but—no offense intended—Jesus didn’t come to the house. We did not have a lot of formal traditions or sacred rituals, but the few truly family events —birthdays, Christmas day—they meant something.  Didn’t they?

In our family, Christmas wasn’t about religion.  It was about family and capitalism.  The true American spirit of E Pluribus Unum.  It was about showing thanks and expressing fondness by exchanging presents.  Hours spent with the Sears Roebuck “Wish Book.” It was about dreams coming true.  Wish fulfillment of the highest order.

As I lay in my room awake that night, I knew I had to act.  I mean, I had not come all this way to be depressed.  I could be depressed away at school without any help from the family.

Christmas was about family and we were going to act like a family if I had to hog-tie them into chairs.

The next morning was December 24.  Time for action.  Time for Christmas, no matter what.  Called my older sister and just said.  You’re coming over to mom and Dad’s tonight for dinner. Buy food for ten people.  See you at 7 o’clock.  Dazed, she said yes.

I kicked my youngest brother out of bed.  “Get up.  We got work to do.”

“Wha, wha what?” he said.  But he did get up, pulled on a pair of jeans and his boots and that was that.  He wasn’t the kind of person to ask too many questions.  He could tell when something different was about to happen.

Took the keys to Dad’s truck.  Asked Mom for a charge card.  Time to get busy.

First we drove to the mall.  Fighting our way through hordes of last-minute shoppers like ourselves, we had to elbow our way past huge ladies in spandex, each trailing five little kids and one in a stroller, to get to the checkout counters.  It was a Xmas eve madhouse and these were the inmates all alive with the energy of bargains, bargains, bargains!

We went from store to store at first then split up, dash around and find just one nice present for everyone.  We bought practical presents—nothing too fancy: a sweater or two, a toolbox, warm gloves.  In Dad’s typical half-way finished fashion, he had previously obtained a new stereo, turntable, receiver and all , but did not have working speakers.  We got him a small pair of speakers that were compatible.  At least it would sound like Christmas.

Shopping done, it was time for a tree.  You can’t have Christmas without the tree.  We envisioned rescuing some small frail natural tree, an image lifted directly from “A Charlie Brown Christmas.”  We went to the nearest Christmas tree lot, but all they had were leftover wreaths.  No more trees.  Drove a few miles.  The second lot was the same story.  “No trees, sorry pal.  You shoulda come by yesterday.”

Drove a few more miles, we started to get nervous.  What will we do if we can’t find a tree?  Will it still be Christmas? Be cool.  Be cool.  We’ll find a tree.

Third stop.  As Grandpa, may he rest in peace, would have said, “Third time’s the charm.” Honestly never knew what he meant until that moment.  Old geezer at the tree stand said, “Well, we got one left in the tent.  We was just packing it in, but you’re glad to have a look see.”

Inside the tent, it was all wrong.  The lone tree was about six feet tall, and the right shape, but it was all wrong.  It was flocked in pink, as if the Cat in the Hat came back and forgot to use the “Voom” to clean up the pink snow.  This wasn’t going to work at all.  We always had a natural green tree.  Not aluminum, not flocked and certainly not pink.

But it was the last tree and we were running out of time.  We shook the tree and some of the flocking fell off.  Shook it again.  Wide-eyed, we had the same thought.  We could remove the flocking, but how?

As we drove back towards home with the tree, we debated the best remedy.  Sweeping the tree?  Not enough flock removed.  Raking the tree?  Too much damage.  Paint it green?  Clever, but not practical given the temperature outside.  And then we passed the outdoor car wash.  Perfect.  We’ll wash the tree.

The tires squealed as I made the turn into the lot.  Of course, we were the only people washing a vehicle.  It was a pretty sight, all hung with unintentional icicles that glittered and shimmered just like sliver-foil tinsel in the late afternoon sun.  We took the tree from the bed of the truck and placed in the center of the car-wash bay.  Dropped a few quarters in the machine and the high pressure hose sprung to pneumatic life.  Aimed it at the tree and —blamm!  Away it blew.

Too close.  Too much pressure.  Time to reposition the tree, step back to a greater distance from the spray nozzle and try again.  It worked!  Flocking began to peel away, revealing the green tree beneath.  But as we progressed, the top of the tree began to droop a bit, like it was melting in the sun.  Not good.

The top of the tree was soaked and began to freeze up.  We had to hurry or soon we’d have a gigantic green and pink Popsicle on our hands.  So hit it again!

Then in a flash of icy spray, icicles and pine needles, the tree exploded in half, the two sections parting like the Titanic and heading in opposite directions. The top half was headed for Abilene, the bottom half for Arkansas.  I ran one way, brother the other.

We hadn’t figured on traction being an issue.  After spraying water on the cold pavement of the car-washing stall, we had effectively created a small ice rink.  As anyone who routine wears western boots will testify, they aren’t good on ice.  Two steps were all it took for both of us to end up head over tea-kettle.  That’s a hard fall.  We did manage to snag the tree halves before they left the county.

Sore, wet and angry, we examined our truncated tree.  It wasn’t a tree at all.  It was two trees: the top of one, nailed and wired to the bottom of another, then camouflaged by the flocking. In our zeal to get our natural tree, we had bought a Frankenstein tree, put together from discarded trees.  Dumbfounded but undaunted, I said, “We can fix this.  We have to fix this.”

Ever the problem solving, do-it-yourselfers, we knew that back at the garage, we had a thousand tools, lumber and 90 choices of wire.  As kids, we’d help Dad build a television from hundreds of individual transistors, capacitors and piece-parts with Heathkit plans.  We had shingled the roof of our home entirely with nuclear family labor alone—four kids, Mom and Dad on the roof wailing away with hammers and nails for days on end. We held the light for endless hours as Dad worked on the car.  We were fixers.  Just about anything broken could be fixed.

But we still had to start with clean tree parts.  So, I held my half up as my brother blasted the flocking with the spray nozzle.  In another five minutes, I was soaked head to toe and covered in flocking. And then we switched, until two otherwise perfectly reasonable and sane adults stood frozen solid with outstretched arms, covered in pink flocking.  Look Mommie, it’s the ambiguously gay cowboys of Christmas!

Cracking the ice sheets of our frozen armor, we tossed our tree halves in the pick up and headed back to the garage.  Before we could operate on the tree to restore its height, we had to melt the ice and dry it.  Roping each half, we tossed the spare ends over the rafters and hoisted the pieces up.  It only took a few minutes to heat the garage’s car bay with the propane burner, its jet engine sound echoing in the peace of Christmas Eve.  Ice melting, the garage began to smell green and piney.

Selecting a small 1-by-2, we gave our Charlie Brown tree a new spine and wired the halves along it.  With a few lights and ornaments, no one would know what this little tree had been through on its journey from the tree farm.

Brothers and sister arrived.  Welcome hugs lasted a minute or two longer than before.  We trimmed the tree together that evening, taking care to place the ornaments individually and to talk about our favorites.  After dinner, we savored opening presents one at a time, taking a moment to admire each one as a group and give thanks.  Making a mad dash to the presents as we had as children and ripping them open in frenzy didn’t seem right.  After all, there was exactly one present per person.

As the last slice of pecan pie was served, my brother-in-law, a burly mountain of a man, got choked up and shed a tear as he toasted our family, the tree and the Christmas that almost wasn’t.

From that night forward, Christmas changed.  We slowed things down, took time to enjoy each other.  Christmas was about family again.

Over the years, our family celebration has grown and now includes husbands and wives, children and grandchildren, uncles, aunts and cousins and the occasional holiday waif.  As Andy Williams sang, “It’s the most wonderful time of the year.”

Before God came into my life back in the seventies I believed mankind had a force field around them that could be activated during times of trouble. My thoughts were that this force field when activated was about fifteen feet in diameter and strong enough nothing could overcome it. I arrived at this conclusion one morning when I stepped out from behind a parked car into a lane of traffic and a car going about forty miles per hour upon reaching that distance from me followed a line of travel around me that I thought was the outer perimeter of my force field. Another time when I was in the military stationed in Londonderry, Northern Ireland, a friend and I were racing another man in their new MGB’s down a narrow country highway just outside of town. The lanes were very narrow and a lorrie which is an english term for a semi literally filled a lane from the center line to the outer edge of the road. We were in one lane and the other racer was in the other when we came upon a long line of traffic going the same direction we were. My friend who was driving changed lanes to pass the long line of traffic, the speedometer showed 120 mph, when a lorrie with a line of traffic behind it topped the hill a few hundred feet in front of us. We had no where to go but straight ahead. I was bracing myself for the collision with the lorrie when the cars to our right and the lorrie with the cars behind it, separated, the one to the right, the other to the left, they seemed to peel away from us or were moved over to the sides of the road in perfect harmony just like the air flow diagrams show in television commercials to illustrate how air moves over and around a vehicle in motion. This action left a clear lane in between the two rows of vehicles for us to pass through. We did so without touching either line of traffic. Everything that happened in that short span of time seemed to do so in slow motion. And despite the fact we were traveling at a very high rate of speed with a lorrie coming at us in our lane and we could have died that evening on a narrow highway in a foreign country three thousand miles from home, there was no fear present. I never gave what I saw happen that evening much thought. I just thought we were two very lucky people. It wasn’t until a few years later and several more isolated incidence had taken place in which I could have died or been seriously injured that I begin to put two and two together and came up with the idea that we have a force field around us that could be activated during times of trouble and it would protect us from whatever danger we were facing. Eventually I came to believe the greater the danger, the greater the strength of the force field. I never mentioned my theory to anyone besides my brother who was with me that day in Oklahoma when I stepped out from behind a parked car into a busy traffic lane for fear people would think I was crazy. I was at the point of testing my theory further when I read a story in a magazine about a man in Russia who also believed men possessed a force field and had proven his theory by stopping a bullet, a speeding car, and many other things. However, at the conclusion of the magazine story, the man had been killed when he stepped out in front of a speeding train.

I more or less forgot about my theory of a personal force field after reading about the death of the Russian man and never gave it another thought until I read the bible story of Job and the hedge of protection surrounding him and his possessions. I realized then that it hadn’t been a personal force field I possessed that protected me and those with me during those dangerous times, but rather God had assigned angels to watch over me and all those who will be saved. [Job 1:9-12] So Satan answered the Lord and said, “Does Job fear God for nothing? Have you not made a hedge of protection around him, around his household, and around all that he has on everyside?…” (Or, in other words, the only reason Job is not fearful is because you protect him, his household, and all that he owns?) Verse 11; “But now, stretch out your hand and touch all that he has, and he will surely curse you to your face!” (Or, my paraphrase of Satan’s reply, Remove your protection from Job and turn him over to me for a while, and I guarantee you he will turn against you and curse you to your face.) Verse 12, And the Lord said to Satan, “Behold, all that he has is in your power; only do not lay a hand on his person…” We, as Christians really need to understand what God is telling Satan in this verse of scripture. The Lord God’s confidence in Job was so great that he allowed Satan to take away everything Job owned, kill his children, and steal all of his livestock. Job fully trusted in the Lord, but was ignorant of what had taken place in the unseen realm. However, his confidence in the Lord God was so strong that despite losing everything of value, he still praised the God of heaven. And to further prove His point to Satan, God allowed him to afflict the body of Job with boils so severe pus ran unopposed from the open sores. Still the severity of Satan’s personal attack on Job’s body did not shake Job’s confidence in the Lord God. And God proved His point to Satan, “A man whose faith is in God is a lot tougher than Satan gives him credit.” As a result of Job’s faithfulness during his trials, God not only restored His protection around Job, but He doubled everything Job had lost during his trial and blessed Job with more children in which there were none like them in the whole country. And, like Job, we will not always understand what is going on in our life, or the reason behind it, but we do need to know that God’s love for us is always present, and He is always for us just as He never deserted Job during His trial, even though it may have appeared so. If you read the story of Job’s losses during his Satanic attack in Job chapter two, and God’s restoration of Job in the latter chapters of the book; you will notice that it describes exactly what Jesus taught His disciples about Satan in John 10:10 “The thief, which is the devil or Satan, comes to steal, kill, and to destroy, (and of God’s plan for His children) but I have come that you may have life, and life more abundantly.”  Or in other words, “Our shield of faith will sustain anything the devil can throw at us.” So let us never forget to activate our force field of faith in God - and let us remember God’s plan is always to restore us if we are injured in the battle, and to bless us extremely more abundantly when the ordeal is over. DThrash

The Different Voices series on Ireland’s Newstalk 106-108 FM continues with The Music Tree – a documentary featuring the Irish flute maker Martin Doyle.

Martin Doyle in Tanzania

As a young man, Martin Doyle travelled from Bray in County Wicklow to Africa. He was employed as a ships engineer – a job he took to raise funds for his burgeoning flute making business in the early 1980s. Now an established and highly respected flute maker living in County Clare, Martin decides to return to Africa where Mpingo, the timber from which Martin makes many of his flutes, comes from. There he hopes to visit the forests where the Mpingo grows, to meet those whose livelihoods depend upon it, and make an Irish flute with the help of local craftsmen in a Tanzanian workshop – quite possibly a world first!

Martin Doyle at the workshop in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania. From left: Martin, Focus Senga, Salim and James Laizer.

The Mpingo tree (the English name for this timber is African Blackwood) is the national tree of Tanzania. It is under threat from exploitation because its dark, lustrous heartwood is one of the most valuable timbers in the world. An exemplary and durable tonewood, Mpingo is used extensively for woodwind instruments such as clarinets, oboes, bagpipes and Irish flutes but is also misused in many ways. The Mpingo Conservation Project is working with community groups to conserve these endangered forests by promoting sustainable and socially equitable harvesting of Mpingo. Martin’s journey from County Clare to Tanzania, documented in The Music Tree, charts a musical, environmental and socio-economic challenge.

Martin Doyle and friends stand before a mature Mpingo tree near the village of Kikoli in Tanzania.

The Music Tree was aired on Newstalk 106-108 FM on Saturday December 19th, 2009. It can now be heard here – you may need to scroll down the list to find The Music Tree podcast.

I’m a big fan of the carefully curated mixtape or cd-r mix. Surfing around the web for Christmas tunes, I stumbled on a great article that reminded me of some great experiences I had during adolescence. Although I’ll make a ‘mix’ for anyone, the practice has been a part of my romantic ventures since late middle school. Possibly this article can remind you of some good times, and some worthwhile bad times too:

Actually, it has two parts.

A Cassette Valediction: Part One of Two

A Cassette Valediction: Part Two of Two

Also, I did find some Christmas tunes worth checking out:

Banjo or Freakout Xmas Album

Note that I haven’t heard the whole thing yet- just the first two (beautiful) tracks. GvsB blogger Chris says the album “[features] the eeriest versions of “Jingle Bells” and “Joy to the World” ever recorded.” I’m not sure if I want an erie version of “Jingle Bells.” We’ll see.

And now there’s more to check out:

Indie Christmas Songs 2009 at The Audio Muffin

A Very Indie Christmas Playlist at The Indie Files

Happy Holidays everyone!

I am a 37 year old woman who has been on a wonderful, exciting, painful, and challenging journey. Three years ago I was diagnosed with High Blood Pressure and Type II Diabetes. I was scared, ashamed, and embarrassed. So much shame to pile on the existing shame that had been piling up all of my life. This is a blog about my journey through the pain and into the light. I’ve since embraced the health issues. They were wake up calls for me to stop abandoning myself. Once I decided to fight these diseases, I had to look long and hard at what brought me to this point at 34 years old. My food addiction was brought on from being codependent. This codependency is an addiction / disease in itsself that was created by my wounded self to protect me from the life threatening abuse I and my siblings were subjected to as children. But I make no mistake, I am the one who has abused me more than anyone else. I learned well from my parents and as Robert Burney says in his phenomenal book on codependency, “Dance of the Wounded Souls”, codependecy makes you behave in a way that says… “I’ll show you, I’ll get me”. The codependency I developed has been using my oldest addiction to keep me in fear of rejection my whole life. The core shame I carry, this false belief my father instilled in me 37 years ago… “You think people like you, just wait till they find out who you really are, they won’t like you at all”. Throughout all the intense and often life threatening abuse that I was subjected to, I do not think anything did more damage than that one statement. It has left me with a belief that I am in some way defective at my core. That “others” are better than me. Codependent behaviors saved me as a child, but those same behaviors are what brought on my food addiction to kill the core shame and pain I felt from being “worthless”. I initially lost alot of weight, as I was diagnosed at about 200 pounds. At 5 feet tall, that’s almost another person. But I gained the weight back when I thought my life was out of control again and I ignored my health for about a year and a half. During this time, I got married, bought a house, and then my husband lost his job within a month of us buying the house. The stress was unbearable and I ignored my health. Since then, I have been in recovery and joined a 12 Step group that has helped me get back on track. I’ve been on this wonderful journey of healing from the pain and my core shame of never being enough. Many people and workshops and books have helped me see things differently. But I am starting to realize that the answers I am looking for reside ONLY in me. No one else can tell me what I need to hear… only I can tell myself the words I want to hear so much and have been searching outside of myself for so long (codependent behaviors). LOVE and UNCONDITIONAL ACCEPTANCE. That is what I am looking for and I can ONLY get that from myself. I am using EVERY experience I encounter as an opportunity to love and accept myself unconditionally. To not ruminate and analyze in my head what I did or did not do right, to not fear rejection from others (which means I am really the only one rejecting myself). And if I do these things, well guess what? I am going to love and accept myself AS I AM! This is my journey and I’ve set a major mindset for myself. I am ONLY responsible for myself. I have NO control over what happens outside of me and I am letting go of control of everything and trusting my Higher Power to take care of it ALL. What, then is my top and ONLY priority? My emotional and physical well being. I plan on getting into physical shape and down to a weight this is healthier for my diabetes. I’ve been abstinent from my food addiction of flour and sugar. I eat no sugar, flour, or processed foods… knowingly. I make most of my own meals and only eat approved foods and at “safe” restaurants where I can get something I know is safe for me to eat. Thank God for Ruby Tuesdays… their bunless burgers are great! The exercise goals I have are for my health and I let go of any outcomes. I only have control over the effort I put into this. I am not focusing on the outcome this time. I am focusing on my efforts this time! It’s time to put MYSELF first and let my Higher Power take care of the rest. My goal is to be the emotionally and physically fit person I was born as and along the way learn to forgive and let go.

I’ve made a commitment to myself that exercising is more important than anything else, besides abstaining from my food addiction. I am working out at least four times a week. Starting out slow and not overdoing it with very hard to do exercise routines. I am giving myself the opportunity to learn and grow each time I exercise. Nothing has to be perfect. I am exercising and whether I am perfect at it or not, I will get the same benefits. I created diabetes, obesity, and high blood pressure in my body by the choices I made. Now I am choosing to reverse those conditions and restore my health by the choices I am making. I am not ashamed of what I did nor do I judge myself. I had very good reasons for making such choices. I was full of pain and shame generated by a very abusive and dysfunctional childhood and from 20 years of treating myself the same way my parents did. My father told me from a young age that I’d never amount to anything and I’d be fat and ugly my whole life. I was not fat as a child. In fact, I’ve been anorexic, bulimic, and finally when my body could no longer handle those coping mechanisims, I turned to a full fledged food addiction. Over the years I put on an extra 100 pounds.  Obesity… the result of self hatred and self abandonment. I accept 100% responsibility for my actions and behaviors. I did this to myself because I knew no other way. I learned it from the way my parents dealt with their shame by overeating and abusive behavior. I grew up and treated myself with shame, talking to myself as if I were worse than shit on the bottom of a shoe. Expendable, worthless, disgusting, hopeless, unlovable. These are the words I would use to describe my value. Is it any wonder I turned to substance and process addictions? Looking outward for the love and approval I never knew how or that I could give to myself.  I realize I have a choice here. I could keep believing what my very wounded father and mother told me I was through their very abusive behaviors; or I could decide that I was going in search of the TRUTH! Is the truth out there? No. The truth is within me and no one can help me find it and no one can give it to me. It is up to me to find my truth. What is my truth? That I have value because I was born and put on this earth. That I do not have to do or be anything to have value. That my parents treated me the only way they knew how, were operating from their wounded selves, and the abuse is a reflection of them and their beliefs about themselves… not of me! I am responsible ONLY for myself. I am not responsible for anyone else. I am taking loving actions towards myself by letting go of control of the external world, exercising and eating healthy, and taking 100% responsibility for my own self. No one is responsible for me and the moment I require others to treat me a certain way in order for me to feel good about myself, I have handed responsibility for myself over to someone else. No one else is responsible for me. No one! So, I go forward with the knowledge that every day is about taking responsibility for myself and letting go of EVERYTHING else. My higher power will take care of it all. Whatever happens is in the highest good of my soul. If I had not developed diabetes, I would not have been led down this life changing and empowering journey of discovery. I no longer have high blood pressure and I’m continuing to lose weight. Most importantly, I am putting myself first and taking loving care of myself. I forgive myself and I accept that everything in life is as it should be. I was supposed to get to this point. it was the only way I could be led to the truth. The truth is not outside of me, it is within me. Your truth is only inside of you too. Don’t look outside for it. You won’t find it. You’ll find everything, but your truth. If you want to heal the world, heal yourself.

Codependence is a word I discovered when I got serious about my recovery. Since then, I’ve learned there are numerous ways that we can be codependent. Every addiction, no matter how small, is a codependent behavior. We all have heard of the “hard”  or substance addictions of drugs and alcohol, but there are many more less life threatening addictions that are nonetheless addictions that serve the same purpose as the hard addictions. These are called “process” addictions. Process addiction is defined as an addiction to an activity or process such as eating, gambling, and spending money, smoking, caffeine, etc. Amazingly, there is a thrid type called “soft” addiction. These “soft” addictions are seemingly harmless, but when looked at closely meet the definition of codependence and addiction, such as, procrastination, watching too much TV, compulsive behaviors like OCD, recurring thought patterns or moods, and even surfing the internet too much can be considered a soft addiction. The need for approval is a soft addiction because it is a codependent behavior. What do all these things have in common? They all make us go unconscious and avoid pain. They help us escape our reality. In a way, they help us cope. Why am I putting all of this down? Certainly not to shame or judge anyone. Quite the opposite. It’s to understand that we as humans, no matter how hard we try, will always on some level be codependent and have some aspect of our personality that has an addictive aspect to it. That when the hard and process addictions occur, it is a sign that we are carrying around negative feelings and even shame about ourselves and are trying to avoid the pain those negative feelings bring. For you cannot have an addiction without shame. If you felt relatively good about yourself, it is not likely you would be a full blown addict. There is also a genetic predisposition to addiction and at the very least, you model behavior you saw in your parents as you were growing up. What does all of this mean? Addiction is not something we should look down on and judge others for. Because on some level, we are all addicts. People with hard or process addictions carry around an awful lot of pain and shame about who they think they are. My own food and codependency addictions were born from one statement my father told me and my siblings… “You think others like you, just wait till they find out who you really are”. For decades, I hid behind the shame of who my father told me I was. I hid behind the shame of who my parents were because they were not exactly Ozzie and Harriet Nelson. I held onto the shame of coming from a home that was dilapidated, filled with roaches and filth, and a complete mess. All the shame that piled up every time my father beat me or told me how ugly and fat I was. But I was not fat then, I was an 80 pound anorexic / bulemic. All of this disgust and shame about myself turned into self hatred and I turned into a raging food addict. Literally, I abandoned myself and treated myself worse than my parents ever did. I did this all not knowing what drove my addiction until I walked into a 12 step program that led me to see that because I felt so shitty about myself, I looked to food and anything else outside of myself to bring me comfort from the pain of the belief that I was worthless and it was just a matter of time before everyone else found out. I realize now that my parents behavior was a reflection of them and the abuse they most certainly suffered in their own childhoods. Because no one turns out so abusive and dysfunctional that they can only instill and emulate hatred and abuse towards others. My father in particular was abusive beyond the normal realm of people’s imagination. He was verbally, physically, and sexually abusive. The “trifecta” of abuse. So, I see I learned well from him. Instead of turning that abuse outwardly as he did, I turned the abuse on myself and I became the person that told myself how fucking worthless I was. What a loser and failure I was. That I was not worth anything and had no value on this earth. is it any wonder I became a food addict? Who wouldn’t have? Bottom line is next time you see someone in the throes of addiction, think of all the pain they must be in. No need to enable them, as that is codependent as well. But how about some understanding about what it takes to become an addict. Shame, and lots of it! Not the kind of shame that says.. “oh, I shouldn’t do this”. But the kind of shame that says no matter what I do, I will always be worthless and a piece of crap. It creates a visceral core pain that you would do almost anything to get away from.

Is everything I do to get approval from others? Why? What am I so afraid of that I have to constantly have the approval of others? The answer comes quickly to me… I need validation that I’m not “wrong” or “defective” in some way. You may think that your feelings are a result of how others treat you. But in reality your feelings are in reaction to how you treat yourself based on how others treat you. If someone rejects you, how do you respond? I know I respond with self loathing. Why? Because my core belief is that I need the approval of others to keep me safe. How did I develop this core false belief? I developed it because that is how I survived my childhood. If my dad was in a “good mood”, it meant I was safe. If he was in a bad mood, it meant I had hell to pay and life was in turmoil.  So, that is how I learned to operate in my adult life… keep everybody happy and life will go smoothly. Not…. this belief system caused me to abandon myself. Every time I seek the approval of someone outside of myself, I am abandoning myself. Effectively saying I am not enough. I am crap and I need someone else’s approval in order to feel good about and accept myself. I can do this many times a day, but the anecdote each time is self love and acceptance. How? Just by stopping to try and change yourself and just accept who you are as you are. Even the wounded parts of you. They need your love more than any other part and that is the answer…. unconditional self-love and acceptance. When the self judgments start and I am concerned about what others think, it is a sign that I am not giving myself what I need and am looking outside for it. I want to remain safe my whole life because I’ve never felt safe. But the more I love and accept myself unconditionally, regardless of my behavior, the more I am at peace and okay with life. the more “safe” I feel.

My body does not work anymore. Not the way I want it to anyway.  I’m only 38 and it hasn’t worked the way it was designed to for many years. I am frustrated by this. I have been ashamed of this. I started out as a teen with anorexia. Once I could not continue with anorexia, I started with bulimia. I did bulimia for about 9 years. Throwing up in bathtubs if I had no where else to throw up. I’ve let the food sit in toilets and rot. Eventually, it would be found out and I would have to clean it out by taking it out of the toilet and putting it into garbage bags. I think I did this because I did not want to flush the toilet and be found out, so I’d throw up in the toilet for a long time .  I could no longer continue the bulimia when I was 25 because I started getting chest colds after throwing up. So, I gave up the bulimia, but my voracious eating habits continued and even worsened. I continued covering up my self loathing and emotional pain with food until my body gave out and I was diagnosed with a host of health issues that were a direct result of the chronic abuse and addictive behavior I inflicted on myself. I had blood pressure that was diagnosed at  190/110. This is stage 4 hypertension and the next stage is death. I was obese at over 200 pounds and developed Type II diabetes and thyroid abnormalities. Due to the decades of abuse I inflicted on my digestive system, I have chronic heartburn and digestive issues that can really flare up and cause me pain and fatigue. I am owning up to this damage I have done to my own body because I want to live with the blinders off and accept the state of my body and live with the truth. I never respected my body because I never respected myself. Never saw it’s value because I never saw my value. How could I? I was never taught my value or how to love myself. I was taught how to shame and judge myself. I was taught to loath and despise myself.

I’ve given up myself for the approval of others. I’ve done things for the purpose of getting approval and avoiding rejection. I’ve ignored my own wants and needs to accommodate everyone else in order to feel “safe” and avoid conflict.  I’ve been codependent, expecting others to be responsible for my feelings of approval, acceptance, worth, and safety. This behavior gave me a sense that I had control over how others saw me and how they treated me. In reality, it left me feeling empty, extreme anxiety, and fearful. How could I not? I was at the mercy of how others treated me! I was not in control of anything because it is not possible to control your external environment and any attempt to do so amounts to self abandonment. This is not a judgment statement. It’s just fact. Because your internal environment is the only environment you can control.

So here it is. I take full responsibility for destroying my body. I take full responsibility for abandoning myself to the extent that I was slowly killing myself. A slow suicide indeed. This is the truth. This is the reality of my self loathing. Because I did not know how to love and accept myself, I was slowly killing myself with my addictive behaviors. Not just with food, but constantly shaming and judging myself as inadequate and worthless. Why would I treat myself any differently with the belief that I was worthless? Shaming myself gave me a false sense of control over my external environment. I subconsciously thought to myself that if I could just get it “right”, then I could avoid rejection, criticism, and judgment from others. It felt too “unsafe” to experience rejection, criticism, and judgment from others because it reminded me of how helpless I was as a child and the extreme abuse I suffered and had no control over. So, just as I had learned to as a child to avoid rejection, criticism, and judgment from my parents, I applied this behavior to my adult life. This codependent behavior was developed as a child when I truly had no control over my environment and was at the mercy of my parents. I did not feel safe and it was not safe to be me. At least, that is the message I walked away with from my childhood. So, I created an acceptable version of myself which I now know is what kept me alive through my childhood. But I am not in my childhood anymore and it is VERY safe to be me. Does it mean I won’t be judged, criticized, or rejected by others for who they think I am? Nope. But I can handle it now. I’m no longer that helpless child. I and ONLY I determine my worth and no one else has the right to do that for me. It is only when I give that right over to others by taking their behavior personal (as if there was something wrong with me and that is why they are treating me this way), do I give my personal authority over to others to define me.

I am grateful for the self abuse. Because it resulted in life threatening illnesses that were a wakeup call. A wakeup call to my value as a human being. Without these illnesses, I would never have been pushed to heal from the abuse I suffered at the hands of others and myself. I take 100% responsibility for my behavior and I have deep compassion for a person who slowly was killing herself because she saw no value or worth in herself. For me, it was the lack of self love and acceptance and a fear that it was not safe to be me that motivated me to slowly kill myself through addictive behaviors. It has been an eye-opening and wonderful journey using the very pain I was running from all my life to discover the false beliefs about myself and my environment. I realize now that true power comes from unconditional self love and acceptance and not from trying to control my external environment or get approval from others. I am so happy to say that I have learned to love and accept myself to the point that (gasp) I am actually being assertive, helping myself see that it is safe to be my true self, willing to lose everyone and everything rather than myself, putting my health before everything and everyone else. Seeing my true self. I know it sounds corny, but when I deal with the pain instead of running from it, I am able to see that it is a scared little girl who still thinks I am 8 years old and am going to get thrown head first into the piano again. Well, I love that little girl and I am so sorry she ever had to go through horrible abuse and neglect. But I am no longer ashamed of my childhood because it is part of who I am and shaming it is shaming myself. I am coming to terms with my childhood and embracing all of it, the good, the bad, and the ugly. As I deal with the pain from my childhood, it is being set free and I can see it for what it is, as it was intended. I do not know why I was abused except that my parents were terribly abused in their own childhoods and never knew any better. That is the earthly explanation.  The spiritual explanation is that all the abuse has allowed me after decades of suffering to come full circle and realize what very few people on this earth fully experience, unconditional love and acceptance. I gotta tell you, once you experience self love, it is more powerful than anything you can get externally from others and things. It takes practice and we are human, so I will always run into situations or events that challenge this and I am grateful for them. Because if I dare to look into those feelings, I find the false beliefs that need my love and acceptance. Like a butterfly, they go on their way and I am a bit freer and authentic.

I now use my body to tell me if I am on the right track. The right track, meaning being fully and 100% responsible for my feelings of safely, lovability, and worth. My body tells me when I am putting someone or something before me. It tells me when I am scared of being criticized or rejected. It tells me when I am shaming myself as inadequate. This has helped me no longer need blood pressure meds and as I continue on my path of healing emotionally and physically, I see myself being restored on all levels. That being said, even if I am never totally healed, I am grateful for everything. I forgive myself for the self abuse. The only reason I abused myself is because I did not know how to give myself love and acceptance. That I was still living in fear that it was life threatening to be my true authentic self, a deep false belief from y childhood that still shows itself from time to time. But the difference is that I am here for myself in ways that no bag of salt and vinegar chips could ever be. I have come full circle and I am fulfilling my life purpose, to learn to love and accept myself unconditionally.

Here is my mission statement:

I am willing to lose others before losing myself. I am willing to lose everything rather than lose myself. I will NEVER risk my health again. It is more valuable to me than anything else and it is no longer acceptable to put ANYTHING before it.

The bible as a whole is a book of the failure of man to honor God for who He is, and for what He has done for us. Satan was present in the Garden of Eden when Adam was there in the beginning of the book, and he is present in the book of Revelation at the conclusion of the book. From beginning to end, the Bible describes the ‘Goodness of God’ toward mankind. Everything Adam would ever need was placed in the garden with him, and he enjoyed it all, until he disobeyed God’s command to not eat of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. Since that time God has made a way for man to be blessed, and at times man has honored God and reaped the blessings of it, but for the most part men play the fool and refuse to honor his Creator.

Then along came Jesus, the Word of God, and the Son of Man, who restored unto man the blessings Adam enjoyed in the Garden of Eden. However, most men do not understand why Jesus came and why He had to die because they do not take the time to understand God’s plan for man. Adam partook of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil in the garden and died because of his sin, and today, men are dying by the untold thousands because they are still eating from that same tree. But in spite of the fact that all men sin and fall short of the glory of God – He still made a way for them to regain their former glory through Jesus Christ His Son because God is faithful to His creation.

Because of man’s failure, Jesus brought God’s blessings to earth with Him, and the blessings of God are still in operation in the earth today, but so is the curse that has been here since Adam’s fall. God said in the Old Testament men continue their sinning ways because, “men love evil more than good.” The times haven’t changed all that much. People still love evil more than they love God. And there are people in this country who call themselves Christians, and by doing so they are proclaiming to the world, “This is what Christ is like.” But these people are phoneys. They do not know Him, they don’t act like Him, and they have never really understood that His greatest desire is for them to walk in the blessings He has provided for them. The truth is the world feels sorry for the church because the church which is the greatest institution ever created can’t offer them hope because the majority of its people are sick, broke, and disgusted. Frustrated with life because they don’t know enough of God’s Word to understand it breaks His heart to see His highest creation living in this way. God didn’t create men to live as paupers. He intended for men to live at the level He created them to live. God created man to be a king who would rule and reign on the earth all the days of his life. But, man allowed himself to be deceived into thinking because he has sinned, that God is against him. Nothing could be further from the truth. God hates evil, but He is not against mankind. John 3:16 tells us, “For God so loved the world, (mankind) that He gave the life of His only Begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him, should not perish, but have everlasting life.” Jesus made it abundantly clear in this scripture that if we do as God commands; He restores us unto our original glory. Adam was created a king, but died a fool. Why? Because he refused to listen to God and did things his way. In the end it cost him dearly. He lost everything God had given him. But God didn’t give up on man and every manchild born today comes into this world a king, but as he grows people tell him what he will never be instead of telling him what God says he is, and in the end the majority of men die as fools never having come to the understanding that God will forgive them for their tresspasses against Him and restore unto them a right relationship with Him. People will tell you – you have to do all kinds of things to be pleasing to God, but most of them are not only lies, they are not scriptural. God made it easy for man to open a dialogue with Him. All we have to do to start the presses rolling is ask to be forgiven. If you meant it, you were accepted and your life and your desires will begin to change. You become God minded, whereas before, you only thought of yourself. If you didn’t mean it when you asked to be forgiven, God knows, and there will be no change, you will have to try again. If you are sincere in your request, God will not turn you away.

After all, He sent Jesus into the world to show us what a man’s life could be if he would only honor his heavenly Father. If God didn’t intend for us to have access to that kind of life, Jesus would not have been our example. But instead of honoring God for His goodness, mankind killed His Son. And to this day men continue to believe the lie that they will never amount to anything unless they are smart enough and powerful enough to take it from someone else, and because men believe such dribble, to our shame, we live way below the level of life God intended. DThrash

According to Time Magazine, the past last ten years have been regarded as the “worst decade ever”. Factors such as the September 11th attacks and the financial meltdown have been regarded as the lowest points among the majority, particularly those living in the United States.

There has been many personal experiences, also, that have occurred over the past ten years which have made me feel extremely disheartened. From family deaths — my Mother in 2005, my Granddad in the same year, my Grandma in 2007, and another close family friend in 2009 — to my diagnosis of Crohn’s disease, I hardly feel as if it has been a decade to celebrate.

But as the common philosophical arsehole would say: “It gets worse before it gets better,” so it seems there is plenty of joy to look forward to in the near future. I’m definitely hoping so, anyway.

If you ever happen to work at the park, don’t go to work after finding out a friend has died.  True of all jobs, actually, but if you have to go to work at a safety position…yea…not a good idea.  Minutes after finding out a friend died, I had to go to work, driving Casey, Jr.  And now, say hello to my first Safety.  By the by, safety = bad.

What I do at St Joseph can be divided into categories such as students classes and administrative work.

 Classes means helping the student with the class activities. I have been involved with a cook and eat class, jewelry class, arts class and gardening class. All of the classes I found very interesting. The cook and eat class is my regular class which means  I know all the students which is a big help, because they all have different disabilities and therefore need different kinds of help and care. We teach the students how to make different kinds of foods which hopefully encourage them the do some cooking at home. The whole basis means of the classes is to encourage the student to do similar work at home and become more independent.

Regarding the administrative work it mostly takes place in the reception with basis receptionist work such as answering the phone, helping students with checking in and out, selling lunch vouchers, packing letters, making sure that all the information boards are up to date, and different kinds of ad hoc jobs.

Furthermore I help with collections at tube stations and events in the weekends.

I enjoy the classes because I’m together with the students and that gives me a great pleasure when I know that they have had a great day.

Until next time

Pia

-What were some signs that indicated there was something wrong?

We both had a spiritual feeling that something wasn’t right several months before she was diagnosed. I guess it was parent’s intuition. We didn’t feel good about her leaving for college.  We were uncomfortable with something, but we couldn’t nail it on the head.

Decreased confidence—Lindsey had always been really confident and nothing really held her back. She was an honor roll student, star swimmer and just a well-rounded person.  I noticed her confidence not being where it used to be. She wanted to be home more. She wasn’t as social.

Inability to do a simple task—She could not do her senior project. She would sit for three hours and not accomplish anything. It was very frustrating. I remember saying, “What is your problem? Get with it!” Both Kevin and I thought it was senioritis.

Extreme highs—after the “lows” came the “highs.” She started decorating her room differently, dressing differently, and drawing on her shoes. She always wanted to be busy. She did a lot of reading from encyclopedias and research articles. She wanted to write a play. She became obsessed with the talent show our ward was throwing. She made copies of the sign-up sheets and laid them out on everyone’s beds. Basically, she had an over belief in her abilities.

Changing moods—She went in-between being emotional and depressed to being belligerent. At times she didn’t care what we thought. This made us nervous; we constantly had to watch what she did.

Breaking point: Two nights before her diagnosis, Lindsey needed to prepare a presentation for her senior project. She would not go anywhere but our bedroom to work on it. She left the lights on all night. We knew that there was definitely something wrong. That same night she had had an emotional breakdown.

-What were your feelings before and after her diagnosis?

Before: We felt very driven to find out what was wrong with Lindsey. Even though we were blown away with the idea that it could possibly be a mental illness, we were willing to accept it. In some ways we thought a brain tumor would be easier to accept. But we would never choose that if we had to choose between the two. We kept thinking oh maybe she’ll get better, maybe something will change.

Lindsey’s Mom: I remember waking up at 6am on the Friday morning of Lindsey’s diagnosis with a different determination.  I felt that I was going to make something happen that day and find out what was wrong. I could not suffer through the weekend having to be that pitiful, and I definitely did not want Lindsey to have to.

After: We were torn between wanting to keep it quiet and being kind of embarrassed. Lindsey was so strong and dealt with it so well that it made it easier for us. She accepted the diagnosis and wasn’t depressed about it. She felt relieved and we felt relieved. Although we felt a sense of relief, we didn’t’ want to talk about it and we didn’t’ want people in our business. I guess you could say we were relieved, but also slightly embarrassed.

-After the diagnosis was it easier to be understanding to her, knowing what she was going through?

It totally changed our perspective on her and I really think it made us closer as a family. The way Lindsey handled the situation with such maturity made both Cindy and I have such a great respect for her.  It made us realize that she is a very chosen person.

-Was it easy to find a support network and necessary resources?

It really was easy. Lindsey’s psychiatrist is absolutely wonderful. We have a great relationship with him—we feel comfortable calling him anytime with questions. When Lindsey goes for her visits every couple of months we go with her. We all sit down together and communicate about whether the medicine is working the way it should, how everything is going, etc.

Kevin and I both have friends that suffer from depression. We found that those were the friends that were most easy to approach at first. They understood the pain and the heartache. Now that it has been almost a year since Lindsey’s diagnosis, we are more comfortable talking to other friends. For the most part people have been understanding. Many of our friends and family were surprised to find out that Lindsey suffers from bipolar disorder.  Some weren’t as surprised because they had seen how Lindsey during her manic phase.

-What advice would you give to family and friends of those with bipolar disorder?

I would just say that if you think that it’s a possibility to get some help. Listen to your feelings about how to deal with it and don’t ignore them. Go to a psychiatrist and get some medication. Don’t keep putting it off and going to your family practice doctor. He/she can only help you so much. As far as the right medication, it is different for everyone. Be patient when trying to find the right medication and be willing to change. Find a psychiatrist that works well for you and take his/her advice. Be willing to accept that your friend/family member has bipolar and deal with it.

Do you feel like people look at you differently when they find out you suffer from bipolar disorder?

My friends have definitely looked at me differently. When I told originally told them that I had bipolar depression they got confused looks on their faces. They said things like “What, girl are you serious? I would have never guessed. You don’t seem like you would have bipolar.” Well, I would have never guessed in a million years that I would be diagnosed with a mild case of bipolar depression about one month before I graduated high school either.

Sure people may look at me differently or judge me for having bipolar depression. How do I let that affect me? I simply don’t let it. I know that my Heavenly Father loves me. I know that my family and friends love me.  I don’t classify myself as a “bipolar” but instead as someone “with bipolar.” I know that this illness does not define who I am. Like my mom always says “What someone says negatively about you shows more about them than it does about you.”

What advice would you give to someone struggling with bipolar disorder?

I would tell them that bipolar disorder is real and alive and hurts. I only have a mild case but I can still relate to each of those suffering in some way. Do not let the disorder define who you are as a person.  You have bipolar, but you are not “a bipolar”.

I would recommend finding a support group whether it be members of your family or just some friends. They can make all the difference in helping you live a normal life.  However, be wary of who you talk to about your disorder.  Tell those that are close to you and that you trust most. If others find out, don’t worry. If they judge you, turn the other cheek. Be the bigger person.

Find a psychiatrist that works well for you. Be open and completely honest with him/her.  I’ve been very blessed to have an understanding psychiatrist who has worked hard to find ways to tackle this disorder.

Journal writing is something that has been very therapeutic for me as well. My aunt gave me a journal the week I was diagnosed with bipolar. Written in the front was this simple message, “Lindsey, fill the pages of this journal. Refer to it in good times and bad.”  I’ve found that getting my feelings out on paper, whether they are good or bad has always been helpful.

How has treatment helped you live a normal life?

It’s totally regulated my behavior. Before, I had no boundaries. Now I have boundaries and I feel as if I am back to my normal self—I don’t feel like a different person. I have not had a manic or felt depressed since being on medication. Yes, I do get sad like everyone else does at times; but never to an extreme point.

What treatment has been most beneficial for you?

A combination of treatments has been beneficial to me. To start, the medication that I am now on, Lithium, has been great. Originally I was on a medication called Abilify. It did not work well for me. It actually made things worse (described later). Lithium has done the exact opposite. It has helped me come back to my old self. I take four pills at night. Additionally, my psychiatrist recommended that I take one prenatal vitamin and 3 fish oil vitamins each day. This treatment has proven to be very effective for me.

Another thing that has been a great strength for me is my family. Neither my Mom nor Dad suffers from depression or any sort of mental illness; however, they have shown an immense love and support for me.  This is their first time raising a child with bipolar depression. Parenting doesn’t come with a handbook, but they have definitely handled the whole situation wonderfully. My siblings have also been a great support. They do not judge me, but instead love me unconditionally. I am grateful for the constant support that I have been given.

A couple of days after being diagnosed some of my close friends came to visit me. They didn’t know what was wrong, yet they understood that I was going through a hard time. They brought me some treats and just came to talk with me. It’s wonderful to know that I have such great friends that stick by me.

My psychiatrist is one of the most understanding people I know. When I go for visits it is a little awkward at first (kind of how it is when you meet with a doctor about an embarrassing medical condition). However, once I developed that relationship of trust and realize that he was there to help me, everything was ok. I really liked that he didn’t make me feel dumb but instead got down on my level.  He asked me questions like “so how is school?” “How’s your family?” Eventually we talked about my medication and current condition, but he first took the time to talk to me and get to know me.  It was a totally relaxed and trusting environment.

What symptoms did you experience before you were diagnosed?

Aggression—I found myself getting angry at others easily. For example, I was in the kitchen one night at 10:30 deep cleaning. I felt really happy, and I was singing pretty loud. My dad came out of my parent’s bedroom and asked me nicely to be quiet or at least sing a little softer. I was very sassy to him and said, “No!”After he left, I stopped singing, but instead hummed loudly. When my dad asked me a second time to stop I got really angry and stormed up to my room. At that point I became upset and started crying. I specifically remember that I was crying not out of sadness, but sheer anger. This was the thought that I remember having: “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. This is not me! This is not me!”

Lack of motivation –simple tasks couldn’t be performed. I remember thinking, “I want to do this because I know I need to do this, but I can’t.” It was so frustrating!

During the time that all of this was going on I had a deadline I had to meet for my Senior year project.  I remember a specific time when I was sitting at the living room table trying to write information from my sources to my note cards and I just couldn’t do it. My cousin was kind enough to come over and help me (she ended up doing a lot of the work).

Strange sleeping habits—I went to bed really late and got up early in the morning. Sometimes I wouldn’t even sleep at night.

Lack of hygiene—I don’t remember this as well as my parents; however, they said that for a couple of days during my manic phase I didn’t care as much about how I looked. Normally I washed my hair every day. During this time I didn’t. I also dressed differently and wore several layers of clothing. I was overly modest.

Excessively religious—I wanted to help the local missionaries out and I tried to give them advice. My parents also recall that I constantly gave them religious advice on how to raise their own children.

What symptoms did you experience from Abilify?

Drooling

Increased heart rate

Avoidance of social situations—After my morning church class instead of socializing with my friends I secluded myself and went to a classroom to work on homework. Also instead of doing things on Friday nights with my friends, I decided to stay home and watch movies.

Increased confidence—I believed that I was on top of the world and that I could conquer anything. I remember feeling this overwhelming desire to do everything that I possibly could. I wanted to make a difference in the community and reach out to others, but it was over-excessive. For example, I was the Spanish Club President of my high school and with only 2 weeks left in school I wanted to get involved in all sorts of service projects. I remember my Presidency kind of shutting down my ideas. It bothered me.

Also another thing that I did was film a video of the “English as a second language students.” I wanted to post it on YouTube and thought that it would be helpful to others. Once a teacher at the school found out that I wanted to put it on Youtube he got upset and approached the principal.

Easily offended—When my sister and mom were helping me clean my room I got really offended. I had some interesting decorations (such as a rock garden in an open briefcase) that they were trying to get rid of and I thought that they were so mean. Now looking back I realize that they were just trying to help me.

Paranoid—although I was pretty comfortable in my shoes, I still was a little paranoid about others finding out about my condition.  I wasn’t worried as much about close friends finding out, but rather those that I wasn’t as close with. I didn’t want them to judge me.

Drowsiness—I constantly felt tired. Many days I went to bed early and slept late in the morning.

Irrational thoughts:  I remember when I first received my medication I was convinced that Abilify was going to give me the ability to do anything. To represent this “ability” I wore a purple bandana around my head. It was a gift that each of the girls in my youth group received from our leader, but it was intended to be worn only during certain activities.  I became convinced that this purple bandana made me a fighter and gave me a sense of strength. I wore it everywhere and I wasn’t embarrassed by it. During the time that I was on Abilify I did get a lot accomplished; however, more than anything the medication hindered me.

Lindsey is a young woman diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder. The next five posts are her responses pertaining to all the different things she has experienced. The fifth is an interview with Lindsey’s parents. These have been posted with their permission for the purpose of a personal insight. Hopefully this will be an aid for all dealing with Bipolar disorder in their lives in one way or another.

When were you diagnosed with bipolar disorder?

April 24, 2009

What led you to seek treatment or diagnosis?

Well, my parents really did. I didn’t know what was wrong with me, but I knew that there was something wrong with me and I didn’t like it. I felt as if I was floating. I began to think that I had a medical condition such as a thyroid problem or heart problem because those things run in my family.

What did you know about bipolar disorder before you were diagnosed?

The only time I had ever really heard the word bipolar mentioned was when my friends would jokingly say to each other, “stop being so bipolar.” It was a figure of speech that we all used openly. My understanding of someone with bipolar disorder was just a crazy person.

How did you feel when you were diagnosed?

This is my journal entry from the day after I was diagnosed with bipolar:  “Yesterday I was officially diagnosed with bipolar depression. You know what? I’m a fighter and will make it.”

After I was diagnosed I remember being worried about people labeling me. It seems that when someone is diagnosed with a mental illness, people stamp them and put them in a category as if to say, “that is the way you are and that is the way you will act.” I tried not to let this effect me.  I was pretty optimistic, but at the same time was scared about people finding out what was wrong with me. I think the thing that scared me most is the fact that bipolar controlled with medication isn’t obvious like a physical ailment/condition is. It’s not out in the open and so you are always on edge, wondering if people figured out your “problem.”

Lindsey is a young woman diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder. The next four posts are her responses pertaining to all the different things she has experienced. The fifth is an interview with Lindsey’s parents. These have been posted with their permission for the purpose of a personal insight. Hopefully this will be an aid for all dealing with Bipolar disorder in their lives in one way or another.