Anxiety followed me everywhere, even during a Hawaiian vacation!
Ever since my chronic bipolar depression lifted, I've felt like I've been tumbling around in my dryer. Maybe that's not the best analogy to use, but it has been a long, strange, emotional trip!
My bipolar depression finally vanished when my psychiatrist added an old-school medication to the cocktail I was taking. This medication isn't widely prescribed, in part because it has dietary restrictions. That drawback didn't faze me because the benefits far outweighed the sacrifices! Like any medication, the one that I use doesn't work for everyone, but it has been studied and found to help people with treatment-resistant bipolar depression.
Ever since my depression disappeared, I've been holding my breath both literally and figuratively. I've always been an anxious person, but once bipolar disorder entered my life, my anxiety skyrocketed.
I suspect I hold my breath so I can feel (irrationally) that I'm controlling something in my life, and it's a nasty, harmful habit. I've also been holding my breath because of my fear that my depression will return at any moment. Growing up in a household in which my family constantly voiced their worries about me, I was taught to fear the very worst. That perspective remains hardwired in my brain.
I often think self-defeating thoughts such as, "Now that my depression is gone, something really bad is going to happen!" This way of thinking is fruitless, and let's face it -- I can't control the universe. Having children obviously compounds my worrying, and gives me much more to fret about.
My psychiatrist and therapist advise me to add meditation to my routine. They practice what they preach -- they've both been meditating for decades and they're amazing role models. I'm creeping closer to trying meditation, especially after I read a convincing article about how meditation can help those with bipolar disorder.
All my troubles were put into perspective yesterday when I reported for jury duty selection for the first time in my life. I was freaking out about the process. My worry was so strong that I was on the brink of asking my doctor for an excuse note. That felt wrong. Then I listened to the jury commissioner's phone recording explaining what would happen to citizens who didn't report for duty.
The penalty: a fine up to $1,500 and up to five days in jail! Hearing those penalties sent me over the edge. Although I had two sick kids at home and I hadn't showered for three days, I ran out the door in a dirty sweater and sweat pants, with no makeup and messy hair. I drove to the courthouse hunching my shoulders the entire way. Thankfully my husband was able to watch our children and work from home; I felt very lucky to have his support!
To my surprise, it turned out to be a very interesting experience. It dawned on me that the reason I was so resistant to attending jury selection was my fear of the unknown. I was scared I wouldn't know where to park. I was scared I wouldn't find the right building. I was scared I'd be grilled by the judge and lawyers in front of everyone in my grungy get-up.
Before I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, none of those logistics would've frightened me to the extent that I felt paralyzed to act. Now that's no longer the case, and my progress feels good.
Sitting in that sterile court room, I watched a young person on trial for a crime, and the intense scene triggered a deep sadness in me. I pondered how the person's family must have felt, and how such a serious allegation would affect his life forever. It was a sobering sight to witness. At least the judge had a sense of humor and humanized the proceedings.
The room had such a serious, intimidating energy, and I was relieved that I was simply an observer, not someone on trial. I couldn't help but notice the anxiety of some of the prospective jurors -- one of them began crying when she told the judge she had a financial hardship, and I was glad the judge treated her compassionately.
At the end of my adventure I had figured out everything I needed to do, and I wasn't even quizzed in court; in fact, I was excused. I was actually little disappointed that I didn't get to participate on the jury!
When I left the cave-like court room and walked outside into the beautiful, sunny day, I was so grateful for my freedom and for the blessings I usually took for granted. I was returning to a loving family where my girls greeted me by saying they were proud of me for facing my fear. The "shoe" that I was so petrified of crashing down in my life was suspended in air for the time being.
Like everyone, I have no idea what the future will bring, but being in the moment whenever possible and having gratitude can only help an anxious mind affected by the challenges of bipolar disorder
If you or someone you know is experiencing symptoms of bipolar disorder, please contact your doctor.
If you -- or someone you know -- need help, please call 1-800-273-8255 for the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline. If you are outside of the U.S., please visit the International Association for Suicide Prevention for a database of international resources.