The Day That Changed My Path Forever

When I was thirteen sitting next to a hospital bed telling my recently deceased father my last goodbyes, I really didn't think my life could get any worse. I struggled through the rest of my teen years and escaped to college. Those next four years were everything I hoped for: a good job, the ability to go to a university, and a great partner. The year after that brought an awesome house, an amazing son, and my new job of stay at home mom. If someone at that time had told me that my entire life would change in the matter of seconds, I would laugh at them. But the simple fact is that life can change in a matter of seconds and I found out the hard way on February 22nd, 2007…

I woke up struggling to get out of bed. An early riser after I had my son but now I was very sluggish due to my pregnancy. Must be the hormones I thought as I walked to my son's room to see if he was awake. He is, which fit in perfectly with my plans for that day. I fixed breakfast while packing little snacks and activities in his diaper bag. He just turned two and I wasn't sure if the rodeo parade we were going to would capture his attention the whole time. I decided to take him this year because I heard good things about it and I loved sharing new experiences with him. Everything had worked out for us to go. I didn't have to watch the little boy who came over three times a week, my house was clean, and I had no other things going on. But, I didn't feel well. I had morning sickness and I was really tired. I thought about staying home once again but I didn't want to deprive my son of an outing so I finished packing our things and got him dressed. We headed out the door unaware that our lives would change forever.

I drove around the area the parade was supposed to run so we could find the perfect spot. I decided the best spot was about five hundred feet from the stoplight. Hardly anyone was setting up yet so I was glad we had the choice of where to sit. I parked my Expedition and pulled out my son’s Red Flyer, loaded him in, and headed for our spot. We sat right where the street met the dirt. There were no barriers. I sipped on decaf coffee as we anticipated what we would see at the rodeo parade. The parade started a little after 9am and my son was excited about all the sights including the horses. Partway through, tragedy struck right in front of us. I saw little Brielle trampled by a team of horses. I heard screams and crying. I was so numb I didn't know how to react, I was in shock. I didn't leave right away because I was praying that she would survive. I wanted to see that she was ok. They took her in an ambulance and I just sat there as the parade continued. I came partially out of the shock and left the parade. I was just praying she survived.

I came home, put my son to bed for a nap, and lay on the couch. I had talked to my husband on the way and he had that said she had died. I was in pain. I cried and cried until my son woke up but still I was devastated. It was extremely tough to deal with all the emotions that I felt. I powered through as best as I could but was haunted by flashbacks and nightmares.

Exactly a week after the tragedy I was riding my bike with my son and husband. I didn't feel well while riding so we turned back sooner than normal. I went to the bathroom when I came home and realized that I had started bleeding.

We went to the hospital where they sent us home to wait. I went to my ob/gyn the next day where she said that it could or could not happen. I went home once again to wait until Monday. Over the weekend I was in a lot of pain and knew there really was something wrong. My sister drove me to the doctor Monday morning. Two doctors told me the baby was gone. I have never felt so much pain in my life, such raw emotion. My heart was no longer in my body. It was wrenched out of my chest and stomped on the ground until there was nothing left. I thought I had been through so much in my life and here was one of the worst things; it's one of the most horrendous feelings anyone could ever have. I cried and then tried to compose myself enough to leave the doctor's office. My sister was waiting with my son in the waiting room. I cried harder as I passed that room; the room with all the pregnant women and newborn babies.

My sister drove my son to my mother in law's house as I screamed and cried the whole ride. My son was crying too and I couldn't console him because I couldn't even console myself. Yet I was the reason he was crying. He didn't understand and I couldn't explain it to him if I tried. The little boy who told me he wanted a sister and was so excited that I was pregnant.

My sister drove me to my husband's work and we drove back to pick up my son, dropping off my sister on the way. I had calmed down some since and we decided to get a tree from Home Depot to plant in honor of the baby. Tragedy struck once more that night. As my husband and his brother made room for the tree in the backyard with a pick-up truck, they ran over our dog, Tiny, who had gotten out of the side yard. When my husband came in with the news holding the dog in his arms, I lost it. I pounded my fists against the tile, screamed, and ran out of the house full speed. I ran until I started hurting and found a ditch to curl up in. I felt hopeless, my insides felt like they had been ground into dust and the rest of me was just an empty shell, a black hole, a void. I felt like I had nothing left.

Over the next few weeks, I tried to talk to people about my pain but people tend to avoid you like the plague when something like this happens. Or they avoid the topic completely because they only want to hear happy things or they tell you that you can always have more kids. I wanted to yell, kick, and scream. I wanted to throw a temper-tantrum because they had no idea what I was going through and yet they said that we could always have more kids. No one would say that to someone who had just lost their 2 year old or 8 year old; why the difference? I did everything I could to get past this pain including getting a tattoo which I equated as the same as giving birth: pain, time, blood, and a constant reminder etched on my body.

These tragedies triggered the start of a new journey, one with Bipolar Disorder. I was diagnosed with this disorder not too long after these events. I had lost so much already but I would have to say that losing reality was one of the hardest things for me to overcome. This one day in 2007 started a chain of events that would cause my Bipolar Disorder and change my entire path in life. I’m happy to say that even if it was an extremely difficult journey, it has helped me become a stronger person. It’s often a daily battle with my mind but one that I feel proud of winning every single day.

Learning to overcome all of my losses and live with Bipolar Disorder has helped me assist others in their own journeys and has helped me save more than one life by sharing my own story. It has helped me connect with others on a deeper level. It has made me humble. It has helped me appreciate the good times more and has helped me value the time spent with the people I love. These experiences have changed me in a way I could never go back to the way I was but I feel like I am the person I was always supposed to be; flaws, scars, and all.

When Giving 110% is Too Much: Living 2017 for Self-Care

This past year, I stressed myself out way past my limit time and again. All of the goals I set at the beginning of 2016 led me to one of the toughest years of my life and left me mentally, physically, and emotionally burnt out.

One goal was to be an amazing wife and mother. Of course, in my mind, this would include self-sacrificing. As always, I put 110% effort into this. Ultimately this equated to all their needs coming before mine. All my emotions, needs, and desires were put on the back burner. This was not healthy as all of that built up into a huge emotional storm that I had to let out a few times. Honestly on one occasion it was just screaming nonstop for a few minutes (it actually helped). 

Another goal was to lose weight. Three years ago, I started tracking my weight and recording everything I ate when I was put on medication that caused metabolic changes and weight gain. For 3 years, I put 110% in eating healthy and exercising regularly. I even became a fitness instructor in 2014. I became so obsessed with losing weight this year that I deprived myself of almost every food group. I cut down to just eating protein, fruits, and vegetables (nothing more, nothing less). I still gained 10 pounds this year. That’s a total of 50 pounds gained since I started taking this medication. I joke that I’m the healthiest fat person and my bloodwork attests to that. 

The next goal was to get pregnant. My husband is the only child so we are under “a little” extra pressure to get pregnant. I alsoworry about getting pregnant soon because after 35 you become high risk. Unfortunately with my disorder, I’m already considered high risk. So again I put 110% into getting pregnant. Fertility pills, ovulation predictors, and a fertility app were purchased. Every month that came around with no pregnancy made me do more research, buy more fertility products, and then become depressed when nothing was working. It was a horrible,vicious cycle.

Yet another goal was to pay off credit cards that I racked up when paying for my son’s private school tuition a couple of years ago. Again, I threw 110% effort into that. I picked up additional tutoring jobs. I put all my extra money into paying off those cards. I rarely went out and did anything fun unless it was free or at the gym. I didn’t go out to eat and I wouldn’t buy anything for myself unless it was absolutely and desperatelyneeded. I didn’t put anything on credit except for emergencies. Even after depriving myself by not spending much money on myself, I was unable to pay everything off by the end of the year like I wanted. Unfortunately, unforeseen expenses crept up on me multiple times so I just about broke even this past year. So absolutely frustrating.

What I have taken from 2016 is that I need to make self-care a priority. I put so much effort into everything else, I almost lost myself. This year, I am taking a step back. My plan is to take care of myself by not obsessing or stressing about goals but enjoying each and every moment of life I have left. This means still eating healthy and exercising but not stressing about the weight I gain or lose. This means taking steps with my doctor and husband to solve the fertility issue but not obsessing and stressing over it. This means putting extra money towards paying off credit card bills but not excessively depriving myself of everything. I want to live a happy, fulfilled life and I can’t do that without taking care of myself first. In the end, by taking better care of myself, I can become a better wife, mother, friend, teacher, tutor, and mental health advocate.

2016: A Recap

2016 has been a year of ups and downs. January was uneventful. (That’s a first.) I enjoyed spending quality time with Will and Brian. February brought two birthday celebrations; one for my son and one for my nephew. Will had an amazing park birthday with his friends. He turned 11. My nephew, Zander, had an awesome Peter Piper Pizza Transformer themed birthday. March began a new journey in finding a house for me and Brian to purchase. April was full of stress and I tried to balance all of my activities. I continued to advocate for mental health through my International Bipolar Foundation Blog. The Mighty also picked up a few of my writings as well. May was when we finally found a house. We bought at a good price and our monthly mortgage was what we were paying for rent. We moved at the end of May with the help of Brian’s parents. June was busy with visits with family and teaching summer school. My car broke for the millionth time. I wish I wasn’t so loyal to Chrysler products. It was engrained in my head from an early age by my father so I really can’t help it. We began the process of unpacking and organizing the house. July brought more visits with family and friends as we had a housewarming party. Brian adopted two kittens that he found orphaned outside. I finally become a certified recovery support specialist. August is always busy with the start of school but this year was even harder as we dealt with things we hadn’t dealt with before. Will injured himself in Baseball. We thought it was just his knee but it turned out to be much worse. At the end of the month, I took him to the ER and found that he had slipped capital femoral epiphysis on the left side. He had immediate surgery and thankfully I knew an anesthesiologist who worked at the hospital. She made sure everything went smoothly for him and was in the OR when he went under. We were blessed for him to be able to see a familiar face right before going under. After a few days of us living in the hospital, we went home to focus on his recovery. A day later, he couldn’t keep anything down and had a fever. Back to the hospital we went. He had kidney stones (likely from the anesthesia) and was admitted to the hospital for another two days. We went home for the second time and there were no more issues. September was a complete struggle as Will was in a wheelchair for the entire month. We tried to keep our spirits up with Pokemon Go and movies. I turned into a helicopter mom and was very anxious about everything in regards to Will. I entered a personal narrative writing contest at the beginning of the month. I celebrated my 34th birthday on the 12th. October was looking bright as Will was finally released from the wheelchair by the doctor. Hurt my back with all the heavy lifting of the wheelchair in and out of the car. I went to the chiropractor and was told that my X-rays had abnormalities equivalent to cancer. Ended my Fall Break with a bout of depression. I threw a Halloween Party for Will and his friends celebrating Will’s release from the wheelchair. The chiropractor called the next week saying that his X-Ray machine was broken which explained the abnormalities. I started going to a different chiropractor who got rid of my back pain and was much more competent than the previous one. We ended the month quietly with no additional problems. November was stressful as I started a pre-candidacy class for National Board Certification on top of teaching full-time, teaching the 21st century program four days a week, and private tutoring four days a week. I volunteered to be the school representative for the Vote for Education movement and discovered that I would be in a video for the entire district. It was a very interesting experience and I got my five seconds of fame through TUSD and Expect More Arizona. December is always stressful as the holidays approach and anxiety about everything increases. I took on way too many tasks this month and pushed myself to the limit as school did not get out until the 22nd and I was required to be at work on the 23rd. Drove up to Phoenix the weekend of the 16th and visited some family and friends. It was an awesome visit. I desperately missed seeing my nephews but hope to see them soon. I pushed myself too hard the week of the 19th and ended up in the hospital for a few short hours that weekend. The holiday was merry and bright as we celebrated with family. It was some of the best times and I couldn’t have asked for better times spent with family. Carrie Fisher’s death hit me hard as she was a mental health advocate living with Bipolar and was one of my idols. We celebrated Brian’s 35th birthday. Will and I embarked on a trip to visit my Aunt Maggie in Prescott. I learned even more about my family from my Aunt and hope to be able to start writing more stories about our family before my winter break is over. I found out that the International Bipolar Foundation won’t be accepting any more blogs until they hire another person which means my goal to help people through my writing has ended, for the moment (hopefully). My reflection on the good and bad times: The good revolved mainly around times spent with family and friends. The very good was becoming a homeowner once again. The best was the pride in the good things I was doing as a teacher and being able to write to help people with mental illnesses succeed in life. The very best was all the support I received during the bad times. We are nothing without the support of our family and friends. The bad involved health issues, infertility frustrations, house mishaps, and no time for myself. Steps have been taken to fix these things. I will be changing the medication that I have taken for the past four years and replace it with one with fewer side effects. I will be pursuing assistance with our fertility issues. I will be prioritizing all of my activities and the rest will be tackled at another time. In this new year, I plan to be more mindful of self-care. This past year, I’ve been trying to take care of everything and everybody and not thinking about myself. In order to be the best version of myself, I need to take care of myself better. In 2016, I was burning the candle at both ends but this year will not be one of goals, but one of relaxation. Sometimes you need to slow down and this is the kind of year I plan on having. To put it into one word, chill. My 2017 will be chill. I hope 2017 holds joy and happiness for you and yours.

One of the Hardest Experiences

The tall hospital building looms in front of me, a shadow of my past. I take a long gulp of fresh air, trying to swallow the bitter tears of death. I begin to take a small step toward the clear, sliding glass doors, while my deep fears surround me. As I walk through the doors to visit my aunt, I remember that fateful day a long time ago. The classroom was decorated with colorful works of art and cluttered with schoolbooks. I sat in my eighth grade homeroom counting the minutes until school was let out. It was 2:30, January 9th, the second day back from Christmas break, and I was already bored. The teacher’s monotone voice seemed worse somehow, and I couldn’t quite concentrate. My thoughts drifted to my dad and a deep sadness came over me. He had lung cancer for four years, and for four years I had to watch him suffer. All of a sudden the classroom door swung open and my mom walked in, a welcoming sight until I saw her face. The moment our eyes met I knew that today would change my life forever. I gathered up my belongings as fast as I could and walked quickly out the door. We jumped into our '76 Station wagon and sped to the hospital. Through the window, I stared at the bare trees and bright cars as they flashed before my eyes. It seemed like a lifetime before we pulled up into the hospital parking lot. Uncertainty flashed through my mind as I followed my mom into the hospital. I listened to the quiet tap of my shoes in the deserted hallway as I walked with my mom to my father’s room. As I proceeded through the door, I surveyed even the smallest detail; the dull blue curtains, the faint smell of pee, and the consistent beeping of the medical equipment. I was a zombie; in a daze; as if in an episode of the Twilight Zone. This could not be happening, I said to myself. I heard nothing; I saw nothing except for the man in front of me. He lay on the bed, immobile, staring at a land far away. His hair was falling out in clumps due to the Chemotherapy treatment. His face was yellow and his eyes held a slightly glassy look. The quite sobs overwhelmed my body as the tears rolled down my face. That’s not my father; my dad was fine the last time I saw him, I thought. “Go ahead and talk to him,” my mother told me so I sat down beside him and told him about my day. Later, I stepped out of the room and took a deep breath. Emotionally drained, I walked down the hall to the waiting room where the rest of the family was sitting. As I sat down and stared at the blurred television screen, I pleaded for God not to let me see him die. The air in the room was suffocating, and I decided to go outside to the courtyard. The flowers and trees were a beautiful sight to see, and I wondered if my dad would ever see these things again. To bury the pain and emptiness I was feeling, I began talking to someone. All of sudden, I stopped mid-sentence and had the urge to look up to the third floor. Then and there I knew something had happened. I ran to the elevator and met my sister on the third floor. Her red, tear stained face looked at me, and I assumed the worst. “What happened, what’s wrong,” I asked, already knowing the answer. “Dad just died,” she sputtered. We met my mom at the door and I started crying. The hollow space in my heart grew unbearably large as I walked slowly away to be by myself. When I came back, I was allowed to see my father for the last time. I sat down on the chair near his bed and held his still warm hand. I looked into his pale face and choked, “Dad, it’s going to be awfully hard without you, but I promise I will make you proud…” Twenty years and more struggles than one person could ever imagine going through, I can finally say that I’m sure my dad is proud of me. I know he is proud of me not because of my successes in this life but how I have helped others through their own struggles. I know one day, I’ll be able to hear him say it.

Three Years Ago Today

Not many people know this besides my family because I was offline for a time in 2012. Three years ago today, I almost died. I was in the hospital for a week with no visitors. It was depressing but in all reality, it was my own fault. I pushed people away. I was ashamed. I felt like there was no place for me in society. So I lived my isolated little existence until I stepped out of my comfort zone and accepted myself for who I was deep down inside. I am not my illness. I should not be ashamed. I think I am a very sweet, intelligent, and motivated person. I had to accept myself in order to move on in life and become the person I am today. It takes a near death experience or watching others around you die way too early to put life in perspective. I have accomplished many things in the past four years. I have pushed myself to meet many goals and step out of my comfort zone time and time again; to face fear and anxiety and come out on top. I'm still afraid of people judging me but it's more miniscule than it's ever been. I have never been happier in all my life! I have friends and family whom I love dearly and love me too; just the way I am. I am proud of the person I've become and intend to continue to challenge myself in the future. I believe I am ready to finally accomplish the goal of helping others who are in the same situation. I would like to give hope, offer tips, and inspire others with my illness or other mental illnesses. This is my goal for 2015. I know I will achieve it because when I set my mind to it, I usually can do it.

Some Things Could Be Worse Than They Really Are

So the past few months have been kind of rough. Being sick and working a lot have been a huge strain on my positive attitude. Not to mention being the sole breadwinner in the family as Brian quit his job after he moved in. As well as having the financial responsibility for Will's school and health insurance. You think teachers would be financially well off but after all the deductions and summer pay, I really work for peanuts. Today was especially stressful but I'm tired of being negative so I put my thoughts in the right place. The tire fiasco could have been a lot worse. We could have been stuck by the side of road, or had a blow out, or an accident. We made it in one piece to Flagstaff to have fun and that's all that matters. For those who have read my blog, you know how much I've gone through; how much I've struggled. I am thankful that I am healthy enough to hold a full-time job; one that I love, I might add. I am thankful I have other side jobs to help me attempt to make ends meet. I am thankful that I am healthy enough to be a part of my son's life. I am thankful that my son is happy, healthy, and smart. I am happy that I have family and friends that love me and at the end of the day, that is all that matters. So if you're struggling, try to find the positive. Things could always be worse. At the end of the day, people matter; the people you love. I hope you all have a wonderful, blessed Christmas and that your New Year is filled with good times with the people you love!

Lucky!

Hi again, It's been a while...about three years to be exact. I actually forgot about this blog until a friend told me that he read it. In light of the tragedy with Robin Williams, I have decided to write once again. I just want to start off saying that I'm lucky; very lucky! In past posts on this blog, I often complained about how unlucky I was but I guess like everything in the Universe; it ebbs and flows. I have a wonderful job that I love, an awesome partner, and an intelligent son. I have the normal problems of anyone on Earth and I'm happy for those typical life problems. I relish the fact that I can have those run of the mill average problems because I've had so many not so normal problems throughout my life; especially loss. If you've read my other posts then you would understand why I'm so happy. Struggling with an illness and trying to live life is difficult. Being diagnosed bipolar is anything but normal. I don't tell many people in my day to day life because they judge. You see, there are many misconceived notions about bipolar people. They're lazy, they do drugs, they're alcoholics, they're violent. You name it, I've heard it. This makes it difficult to share with anyone your illness especially as a teacher. I have come a long way in the past two years. I tried many different medications to make me feel like the person I was before I was diagnosed Bipolar. Thankfully, I am on one currently. This is me: loving, confident, organized, social, motivated, creative, always striving to reach a new goal. Most of my insecurity and social phobia is gone and I'm living the American dream. I'd like to say again that I'm very lucky! Most people with mental illness cannot hold a job; their medications never working and having to live on disability for the rest of their lives. I know people who take 3-4 medications every day; I only have to take one. I've known friends who have committed suicide because they didn't get help soon enough. What people don't know about mental illness is that most who are suffering from mental illness are quiet sufferers. Those, like me, who went to the ER every night because something was wrong and being watched for an hour or two and sent home without treatment, without help. Unless you're ranting and raving, you don't get help. It took those around me to see what was wrong and get me the help that I needed and for that I am eternally grateful. I am lucky to have had friends and family who cared and who noticed. For all those people struggling out there; there is an answer! Don't give up! Don't suffer silently! Talk to someone you trust! There is help and if you need anything, I've been there before and you are welcome to reach out at any time! If I have learned anything through my struggles, it's to be there for others no matter what. You never know what they have been through and what they are struggling with.