Useful information on dealing with bi-polar disorder

Digging out some boxes today I found the online book that I read, that started teaching me what to do about bi-polar disorder. by Marlee Fisher certified Nami Trainer Co-victim of depression 

Here  are some of her useful suggestions for people who live with bi-polar loved ones: (obviously edited down to summary form) 

*5 things you can start doing today

1.  Accept--this is a serious biological and physiological illness that will not clear-up on its own.

2.  Detach--sometimes you'll be talking to your loved one, and sometimes you'll be talking to your loved one's illness.  Therefore you yourself must mentally separate you loved one from the illness.

3.  Stay in Control--No matter what (and this may be most difficult to believe) your loved one does not want to lose your love and support.  Knowing this affords you a certain amount of control over the situation and if that control is used wisely and fairly, it can greatly benefit you and your loved one.  Remember that you ILO's emotional crossing guard has checked out for an extended leave of absence, so yours must do the work of two.  And controlling your own emotions has now become critical. Do not take your loved one's personal affronts personally.

4.  Put your own healthy needs first--There is such a thing as "healthy selfishness"  and I suggest you start practicing it immediately.  Let go of your pain and find the value of positive action, hope and knowledge.

5.  Learn all you can.

Identify the emotional trip wires *(this really helped me TONS)

1--False Self Perceptions-- if your ill loved one has picked a non-fight is it because your ILO wants you to agree that he is right and you are wrong?

2--Fear of Abandonment--If your ILO is finding fault and verbally attacking you, think back, did you inadvertently snag ETW #2 

3--Control--Is your ILO attempting to manipulate you into saying or doing something you'd rather not?  Then your loved one may be fearful of losing control over himself or you.

4--Distorted Reality--slippery logic, railing about how an event or conversation happened differently than it did.

Identify who you're talking to--  Is his level of emotion justified?  If it isn't then odds are you're really talking to your ILO's illness and not to your ILO.  Once you recognize you're talking to the illness, emotionally detach from the conversation and become an observer.  During overt episodes it's rarely a good time to attempt to problem solve or emotionally engage them .

Establish your boundaries--ILO's rarely realize the emotional impact they're having on the HRs so it's important to consistently let them know when it's time to stop.

Stay in control--stay as calm, level-voiced, reasonable, direct, loving and consistent as possible

stick to your guns but don't shoot.  "I love you and we can discuss this at another time."

Provide Emotional and physical exits--It's always best to allow your loved one a clear and direct physical exit from the immediate area at all times--Don't block them in! (no ultimatums).

In a confrontation with your ILO, your goal should be to modify his behavior, not win the fight.

1 Be direct

Make I statements

focus on the emotions that the person behind the illness is feeling

confine your comments to his behavor and the emotions behind them

Then:

2. Acknowledge the emotion your ILO is feeling

Identify with the emotion, empathize, be on his side, not against it.

3. Move the discussion into problem solving, rather than confrontation--you are validating concerns/ not ignoring them while simultaneously reinforcing your personal boundaries.

4.Nonetheless--refocus the conversation.  Remember your goal is not to punish the behavior but to change it.

THE ONE THING YOU CAN SAY THAT WILL IMMEDIATELY ENABLE YOUR ILO TO FEEL BETTER AND BE OPEN AND WILLING TO LISTEN TO YOUR EVERY WORD--I LOVE YOU

Biological depression is a wound in the psyches and in the hearts of its victims and co-victims.  But to paraphrase Robert Bly's incredible book, Iron John, the only way to heal a wound is to exit through it.  Therefore you must confront depression, get inside it and see what it's made of before you can hope to set foot on the path of recovery.  Biological depressions is the ultimate road test of unconditional love. . .

I hope you take with you a sense of peace, a plan for positive, healthy action and a heart full of hope, for you see my friend, there is always hope."

There is quite a bit in this book that doesn't specifically apply to my situation, but much of it does, and the general  coping mechanisms have been a God send for me.  It was good to revisit them here. 

Light=Life

John 6:8

Then spake Jesus again unto them saying, I am the light of the world, he that followeth me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life.

We were discussing this in Sunday school yesterday.  What does it mean that Jesus was the light of the world? This was the question.  We talked about being an example--a lighthouse on a hill, that sort of thing.  I'm agreed that that is part of the meaning here, but this section goes way beyond that meaning, in my mind.

He said somewhere else:

"I am the light and life of the world."

Light=Life

Light is the source from which life springs.

Light is the energy source for life on this planet--the sun gives light to all the earth, which literally creates warmth, provides growth, and makes possible our existence on this planet.  Light = Life.  It is literally the source of energy that allows life to exist and in extension learning and growth.

I think Christ was comparing himself to light in this way, that he was the source of life, not in this instance, the exemplar, but that through him we may receive light and have life.

Other scriptures in the section include these:

"I said therefore unto you, that ye shall die in your sins, for if ye believe not that I am he, ye shall die in your sins.

If ye continue in my word, then are ye my disciples indeed; And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.

Whosoever committeth sin is the servant of sin.  And the servant abideth not in the house for ever; but the Son abideth ever.  If the Son therefore shall make you free, ye shall be free indeed.

Verily, verily, I say unto you, If a man keep my saying, he shall never see death.

Then said the Jews unto him, Now we know that thou hast a devil.  Abraham is dead, and the prophets, and thou sayest, If a man keep my saying, he shall never taste of death.  Art thou greater than our father Abraham, which is dead?  and the prophets are dead: whom makest thou thyself?

Jesus answered, If I honour myself, my honour is nothing; it is my Father that honoureth me; of whom ye say that he is your God:  Yet ye have not known him; but I know him; and if I should say, I know him not, I shall be a liar like unto you; but I know him, and keep his saying.  Your father Abraham rejoiced to see my day; and he saw it, and was glad.

Then said the Jews unto him, Thou art not yet fifty years old, and hast thou seen Abraham?

Jesus said unto them, Verily, verily, I say unto you, before Abraham was, I am.

He was teaching the Jews in this instance that He was Moses' God.  That he  would overcome death, and that through Him they could also overcome death, and sin, but they wouldn't understand his teachings because they would only look at the literal meaning of his words, and they rejected that He was the Son of God because they were liars, and deceivers.

Therefore, when Christ said he was the light of the world, in this case, I think he intended it to mean much more than He was to be our example.  I think he meant that Light=Life.  He is the Light and Life of the world.  The one through whom all men can live again and find remission of sin, the chosen one of God, to whom God gave authority and power to perform His work and who honored God through His entire life and through His complete obedience and sacrifice.  He only ever did what the Father would have him do, thus He gave his will over completely to the Father.  He was always the servant, but through that complete sacrifice of self He gained power over all.  Great paradox

Good Samaritans are still among us

So today mom told me a story that makes you feel good about people. This is the story as I heard it:

Kyndra was in Santaquin for a few weeks visiting her family and yesterday she flew home to Florida.  She had a lay over in Dallis.  When she got to Dallis, her flight was canceled due to weather conditions.  She was going to have to wait until the next morning to leave Dallis.  She was flying with her baby, and it was just the two of them. She had only expected to have a one hour layover, so she only had a backpack with her.  It contained a few diapers, and some formula.  She only had $10.00 cash and a debit card.

She called home when she found out what was happening, and Terri sent her some money through Western Union, but when she went to the Western Union counter, it was closed.  She was standing there wondering what she should do when someone spoke behind her.  "Young mother", he said, "are you stranded?"  She answered, "Yes."

He said, "Come with me."
He took her to the airline counter and had the girl use the computer to print out a voucher that he had for a hotel room.  He said for her to take the voucher and call the hotel shuttle to come and pick her up.  He said that once when he was a young, single father, that he had been stranded like she was, and that he had decided that when he had the chance, he would help someone in a similar situation.  Then he asked if she had enough money to buy the baby diapers and formula, and he gave her $20.

Kyndra thanked him, and then she tried to call the hotel number he had given her, but she couldn't get through to the hotel.  The phone kept getting picked up by an answering machine.

9:00 at night she was still in the airport, and she heard a voice behind her again.  "Are you still here?"  It was the same pilot.  He took her back over to the airport counter and called a Motel 8 that the airport shuttle ran to.  He got her a room reserved and went and put her on the shuttle and told her to go and get some rest.

When she got to the Motel, Kyndra was the last one off the shuttle because she had to have help getting the babies stroller off.  When she walked into the lobby there was a long line at the check in counter from all the people who had just arrived on the shuttle.  A man in the front of the line saw Kyndra and called her from the front of the line, young mother, come and take my place in line, I will take your place.  Then the others in line said, no, she could just go first and they would all move back.

Then next morning, Kyndra got up early to try to get back to the airport.  The same shuttle driver was there taking another shuttle back to the airport.  He saw her and asked if she needed to get back to the airport.  She said yes.  He told her that the shuttle was full, but that he had saved her a seat.  She ran and got a muffin for the baby and got on the shuttle.

From the airport she called Landon to tell him her arrival time.  She had not been able to find diapers or formula, but she had enough to make the flight.  She told him to bring a diaper and a bottle to the airport.  He asked his Sergeant if he could have time to pick up his wife at the airport, and got special permission to go.

Overall, a pretty good day for human kindness in the USA I'd say.

The Hunting Trip (short story 1995 by Michael Crowley)

So I finally got around to digging out the dry storage room--quite the collection of odds and ends.  Among the loot I have found memorabilia, old romantic letters from my handsome, soldier husband, and I found this paper by Michael which seemed like a perfect addition to my blog.

The Hunting Trip

I was on the top of the mountain in four feet of snow.  It was late at night, around 12:00 midnight.  The moon and the stars were out in the dark blue sky.  I was laying on the back of my Dad's Isuzu two wheel drive pick-up truck.  It has a shell on it, and I was looking out the side window watching my dad and my uncle Richard dig snow.  You might wonder how we got there.

It was the night before the day of the deer hunt and Richard, Dad, and I were going up the mountain to go deer hunting.  As we got further and further up the mountain we got stuck in the snow, by a lot of trees.  Someone stopped to help us.  They had a four wheel drive pick up truck and they helped us get out of the snow.  You would think that my dad would have stopped there, but he didn't.  We just kept going up the road.  I was sleeping in the back.  Next thing I knew we were stuck again.

Dad and Richard were digging the snow.  No one else was around.  After they dug for awhile they backed up and we got right out, and we rammed over the snow and kept on going.  We were out in the middle of nowhere and we got back on the road.  On the side of the road there was a big hill of snow and there were deer prints on it.

My dad got out of the truck with the flashlight and climbed up the hill to see if he could see a deer, but he didn't see one.  So he got in the truck and drove off again.  I went back to sleep. Next thing I knew it was morning and we were up on a ledge, and my dad and Richard were awake.  They were getting breakfast ready.  After breakfast we drove along the edge of a hill and we checked to see if the chains were there and they were; ten minutes later we checked to see if the chains were there, and they weren't there.

We drove back a ways and parked.  We had lunch and we went back to see if we could find the chains.  We drove some more than parked the truck again, got out and looked around.  We looked for the chains for a long time.  We walked along the tire tracks and we looked for deer and the chains, but we didn't see either.  Then we saw deer tracks off the road and followed them.  When we came back to the road, we saw a four wheel drive pick up truck that was stuck in the snow.  It was spinning its wheels and the snow was flying about 12 feet into the air, but it wasn't getting out of the snow.  We went down to where the truck was stuck and Dad and Richard talked to the man who was stuck.  We walked behind the truck and went into the hills looking for deer.  We walked through a bunch of trees, saw some deer tracks, and we followed them to another bunch of trees and the tracks disappeared.  We kept on walking and found a warm spot to rest.

Finally after a long day, we started back home.  We headed down the mountain and a couple hours later we got stuck again in a big hole in the road.  While we were stuck we saw a huge truck with big wheels and the driver stopped to talk.  He drove on and we tried backing the truck and we got out okay.  We rammed around the hole in the road and continued down the mountain and we went home.

It was cold and wet and tiring, but we had a good time in our little two wheel drive pick up truck.

The Deer Hunter (a humorous expository piece) written by Kirby Crowley 1994

The rifle deer hunt in Utah is almost a state holiday, observed by nearly every male and many female residents.  Many BYU students, as they witness the annual frenzy for the first time, consider Utahns barbaric.  As a transplanted Utahn and a convert to the hunt, I have learned to classify Utah deer hunters by method and purpose of hunt into the following groups: the beer hunter, the road hunter, the traditional family hunter, and the back country hunter.  As most hunters of all classes are male, I will use the masculine gender in the following descriptions.

The Beer Hunter

The beer hunter is noted for the massive quantities of alcoholic beverages brought on the hunt and the amount of ammunition carried--either not enough to do the job or enough to outfit a small country's army.  Other notable qualities include lots of loud talk and laughter and shooting at anything that "moo"ves.  The beer hunter is in one way like the animals of the forest:  He marks the boundaries of his camp well.  Stay very far away from this class.  His purpose seems to be to remember very little of the event.

The Road Hunter

The road hunter begins his hunt on the drive up to camp, the night before the official opening of the hunt.  He is often up before dawn, cruising the back roads of the high country (and sometimes the back roads of town) looking for his easy prey.  He is to be thanked for his contribution to the Department of Fish and Game in the way of fines for shooting during illegal times.  Riding in the back of a pickup or with the barrel of his gun sticking out of the window, he is ready for the easy shot.  The extreme road hunter will even insist on an uphill or level shot, making it easier to recover the kill.  His purpose is to get the easiest kill in the valley and spend as much money on gas as possible.

The Traditional Family Hunter

The traditional family hunter goes with the entire extended family, camping in the same place year after year, usually at the spot where Grandpa took Dad years ago.  The only family members excused might be pregnant women or mothers with very small children.  They establish their camp early the night before the opening, and get up before dawn so they can hike to their favorite rock or stump just as the sun comes up.  Their pockets are full of trail snack, ready for a full day of patient waiting.  When there are family members not yet old enough to carry a rifle, but big enough to make the hike, these younger members will often be used as "dogs" to flush out the deer during the middle of the day.  At the end of each day, the hunters return to camp, where dinner, campfire stories, and roasting marshmallows finish the day.  Their purpose is to spend time together and perpetuate the family tradition of the hunt.  They occasionally bring home meat, which is shared among all the family members.

The Back Country Hunter

The back country hunter is the serious sportsman.  He begins his hunt months before by selecting the area to hunt, where he and only a close friend or two will scout out the trophy deer he intends on taking.  Over two or more weekend scouting trips, he will identify the habits and watering holes of the chosen prey.  He and his friends will establish a base camp in the area one or two days before the opening of the hunt, and are prepared to travel several miles into the back country in search of a single deer.  Bucks smaller than the intended trophy size are passed over in search of the one previously identified.  The back country hunter is fortunate if he came on horseback, or hauling the carcass out can be a long day in itself.  (Not having a horse only gives him another good hunting story to relate to lesser hunters through the years to come.) His purpose is to bring home a trophy, stories, and the toughest, wildest deer meat.

Every type of hunter seems to enjoy the hunt for his own reasons, and come home with stories to tell and sometimes meat for the table.  Whichever type of hunter you are, or will be, do remember these three things: most important, hunt safely, second, have consideration for the other hunters out there, and third, have fun.

The New Friend (short story) written in 1995

This is the one story I actually got paid for.  I don't know if it ever got published though.  I got $60.00 from the Friend.  Does that make me a professional writer?  : P  Short career. . . .It is also based on an actual event from my childhood.   I was about 5 years old.  Not my finest hour--but one I learned a powerful lesson from.  A good lesson to learn at an early age I guess--Don't be a snotty little brat!



"Naa naa ne naa naa," I taunted as Susy ran away down the sidewalk.

Susy was my friend, but today I had a new friend, Tina, who had just moved in across the street.  Tina had curly brown hair and blue eyes that sparkled when she laughed.  She liked all the games I liked, and we had played together all afternoon--at least until Susy came.  Then I said I didn't want to play with her and Tina didn't either.

It wasn't that Susy wasn't fun to play with.  We had spent many hours that summer climbing the big tree in her yard and riding our bikes down the sidewalk.  Sometimes we jumped on my trampoline with the sprinkler on underneath or shared banana Popcicles--our favorite flavor.  I could have invited Susy to play.  I just didn't want to.

Susy stared at us.  Her coppery hair shone in the sunlight and her big green eyes reflected surprise and hurt.  A tear slid quietly down one freckled cheek.  She brushed it angrily away.

"You're rude," Susy said crossly.

"You're a cry baby." I said.

Tina laughed.

"Let's go," I said.

We ran away from Susy, but she followed us out onto the sidewalk in front of my house and stood some distance away glaring at us.  That's when I yelled at her, "Naa naa ne naa naa."  I felt triumphant as I saw her turn to leave and I laughed as I taunted her.  I couldn't remember having ever been mean before, but it made me feel powerful watching  Susy run away.  I knew she was leaving and now Tina and I could be best friends.

Suddenly Susy turned.  Her green eyes blazed through her tears.  In a sudden fluid motion she reached for the ground, and gripping a small stone she found there, hurled it toward us.  I felt a sharp stabbing pain as the stone hit me in the forehead.  Susy looked at me wildly for a moment and then she ran away.  I felt a bit dizzy.  Looking down at the sidewalk I saw a drop of crimson staining the grey cement.

"Oh, Jenny," Tina said, "you're bleeding.  We'd better get you home."

Tina led me along and I walked bent over, watching the red drops leave a trail.  My mother was sitting on the back porch watching my little brother play with little cars and talking to a neighbor lady, Mrs.  Barnes.  All I could see were the legs and feet of Mrs. Barnes which were bare on this hot summer day, and tan.  Her toenails were painted a bright red--brighter than the drops that kept hitting the ground.

My mother exclaimed, "Oh, what happened?" and jumped up to get a gauze pad to try to stop the bleeding.

"I got hit by a rock," I explained quietly.

"What? How did that happen?"

Suddenly, I felt ashamed.  I remembered what I had done to Susy.  "I don't know." I lied.

Mom's face was worried.  "This looks deep," she said.  "I think we'd better have it looked at."

Before I knew it, Mom had me in the car and was heading towards the doctor's office.  I sat silently holding the gauze pad on my head.  All of my bravado was gone.  I was scared and I felt awful.  It was my fault.  Warm salty tears dripped down my nose and onto my jeans where they left damp spots.  I noticed that there was blood there too.

The nurse took us right in and I had to lie on a table covered with white paper that crackled when I moved.  Soon the doctor was there, Dr. Hiatt.  He was wearing a white coat, his black hair was slicked back from his face and his brown eyes were concerned but kind.

"Well, let's have a look," he said.

After a moment he addressed my mother, "Well, we're lucky it wasn't a bit lower.  She might have lost her eye.  As it is, the scar will be in her eyebrow, so it won't show too much, but we'll have to stitch it.  It will take five or six stitches to close it up."

Dr. Hiatt put a white cloth over my face.  It had a hole in it so that just the gash in my head showed through.  First he gave me a shot to deaden it--right in my eyebrow.  That hurt the most.  After that, the stitches just felt sort of prickly.  I got a big bandage to cover it and I got to go home.

When I got home everybody fussed over me, and I had to tell the story of my stitches to Tina and her mom, and to Mrs. Barnes.  Then Susy came over.  Her mom was with her.  They both looked really sorry and Susy had a Popcicle in her hand.  She held it out to me.  It was banana, our favorite flavor.

"Oh," Susy said in a quiet voice, "Jenny, I am so sorry.  I didn't mean to hit you really.  I was just mad.  I wanted to throw that rock past you, just to scare you."  She paused and bit her lip.  Her eyes were brimming again with unshed tears.

I had never felt so ashamed.  I wanted to tell her that it wasn't her fault.  I wanted to tell her that I would never treat her so horribly again.  I wanted to tell her that she was still my friend, that she would always be my friend, even if I found new friends.  But I didn't say any of these things.  I just said, "Thanks for the Popcicle. It's my favorite kind."

Susy smiled then, a warm quiet smile.

I took her hand.  "Let's go eat this on the back steps," I said.  "We can share it."


By Sherri S. Crowley

Kyle's Ride Home (short story) written in 1995

I like coming home with Mom, Kyle thought, I get to sit in the front seat.  Kyle tilted his head so that he could see the treetops whiz by.  Trees are very high, higher than cars.  He tilted his head back further.  Now he could see the sky.  It was blue.  And clouds, just a few wispy ones.  They were white.  Kyle liked colors.

"I like orange and green," Kyle said.

Mom glanced over at Kyle, "You do, huh."

"Orange is for dragons."

"Oh," said Mom, "and what is green for?"

"Not dragons, ninjas,"  Kyle replied.

"Mmmmm."  Mom was busy driving now.

Kyle looked back at the trees.  Orange dragons fly over trees, he thought, but ninjas can jump high.  My green ninja can jump so high he can kick that dragon.  I think that dragon will pop if the green ninja kicks it.

"Mom, can ninjas kick dragons?"

"What?"

"Can ninjas kick dragons?"

"Well, I don't know, son."

"Well, my green ninja can jump high.  He can kick a giant dragon hard."

"Well, if the ninja kicked the dragon, wouldn't the dragon get mad?"

"Dragons pop when green ninjas kick them," Kyle answered.   Boy, moms don't know anything about orange dragons, he thought.  James knows about ninjas and dragons.  I love to play with James.  James knows how to kick just like ninjas.  I like the way James kicks.  Hi-yah!  Punch and then kick.--that's how.  I can play "Hi-yah!" when I get home.

"Are we home yet?"  Kyle asked.

He peered out the side window.  Red and white and green houses lined the road.  No orange houses.  Why aren't there orange houses, he wondered?  Probably the dragons ate them.

"We'll be home in five minutes," Mom said.

"Dragons eat orange houses," Kyle said, "I can play "Hi-yah" when I get home."

Mom laughed, "What's hi-yah?" she asked.

"You know--ninja stuff," Kyle replied.  "Does Dad know ninja?"

"Well," Mom wrinkled up her forehead, "I'm not sure.  You could ask him."

"Okay."

A bicycle went by.  A man was riding it.  He had on a helmet and black tight shorts.  He rode along side the car for a few moments.  Kyle liked bicycles.  He had a blue bicycle.  He had a helmet too.  His bicycle had training wheels.  He could ride fast.  He could ride his bike in the driveway.  He could ride as fast as a car.

"I can ride my bike fast,"  Kyle said.

"Yes, you can," Mom said.

"I can ride in the driveway."

They were almost home now.  Kyle could see grandpa digging in his garden.

I have a worm at daycare," Kyle said.

"Oh, really?" Mom smiled.

"It's gone now.  It got lost in the sand.  It was red."

"Maybe you can find a new worm tomorrow," Mom suggested.

"Okay."

Kyle smiled.  He liked red worms, orange dragons, and green ninjas.  As mom pulled into the driveway, Kyle spotted his blue bicycle.  Kyle liked colors too.

By Sherri S. Crowley