Walking in a Winter Wonderland

We somehow managed to drive to Colorado and back during the Snowpocalypse. Colorado seemed like a winter wonderland. And what's even better is I came back from my winter vacation just before the next snow storm hit and just in time to check out my guest blog for HealthyPlace.

Check out the guest blog here:

Bipolar Hypomania: How to Avoid it's Tempting Lure

 And remember to stay warm and healthy!

Simple fixes to cabin fever

Have a little cabin fever? Take a deep breath, sip some coco and read this blog.

I’m not sure if claustrophobia and cabin fever are closely linked, but I suspect that they are.

And I have no doubt that I suffer from both conditions. I never used to be claustrophobic, but over the past few years crowds make me anxious. I avoid crowded elevators, go to grocery store at off hours, and I chug a couple of PBRs before I go to any live music events. I just can’t handle the crowds.

And on snow days like this, my own house seems to be little crowded. Batman and Gunther, our cat and dog are a little feistier since it’s too cold for them to burn off energy outside. The sound of my husband snoring in front of the TV seems a little louder and a lot less adorable than it does on Sunday afternoons. Between the barking, meowing, snoring and voices of Swamp People blaring through our surround sound I can’t seem to put together a coherent thought.

I am a daily work-from-home gal. I just want my regular routine back.

And perhaps this Snowmegettan wouldn’t seem so overwhelming if we hadn’t just gotten over the Ear Infectionpocolipis last week. And my husband insists his ear infection isn’t completely healed. I’m not sure how long he thinks he can get away with using this as an excuse for not hearing anything I say. I’m guessing he might try to stretch out the ear infection thing to March Madness. Once March Madness starts my voice increases to a volume he can no longer deny hearing.

But, I digress. The truth is snow storms, close quarters, and reminders of global climate change are all triggers for anxiety for me.

How can I get my car out of my drive way tomorrow? How can I get my husband to stop snoring and wake up? How can reduce my carbon footprint?

These are all questions I asked myself this afternoon. And surprisingly I found answers to these questions as I started this blog.

1. The driveway will have to be shoveled if we are going anywhere tomorrow. This is common sense, I know, but during times of anxiety common sense leaves me.
2. The husband may feel manly and needed if I ask him to shovel the drive way. Or he may just say “Ugghh,” and do it anyways. Either way the snoring will stop and he will have to get dressed for the day.
3. And as for the carbon footprint thing. There are tons of ways to lesson my imprint. I can continue working from home, buy local meat and produce, and buy less prepackaged drinks. Arizona Tea seems to be our weakness.

These are simple solutions that are baby steps in many ways. Baby steps to decreasing my anxiety. Baby steps to slowing global climate change. Baby steps that make all the difference.

The underlying cause of nearly all of my anxiety is a feeling of helplessness, a lack of control.

I can’t always stop our dog howling, and have no sway over the weather, but I can chose how I react to these conditions. I can be the change, at least within my own sphere of influence.

I can bribe Gunther to quite down with cold cuts. I can fix hot chocolate for Logan and I as we watch the snow outside. I can remind the flood of questions going through my mind to take a chill pill by actually taking a chill pill. Klonopin works wonders during times like these.

When you start to feel anxious, whether it be cabin fever or just a trip to Target on a Saturday, I encourage you to write down your anxious thoughts and see if you can find simple solutions to the problems, or ways to debunk your irrational thoughts.

This seems to help me. Particularly if I do the exercise while drinking hot cocoa. Cheers to the first big Kansas snow storm of the year.

Facing the mean girl within us all

My mind is full of mean girls. Their names are Ego, Super Ego and Super Duper Ego.

I’m not sure how my preconception consultation with the perinatologist turned into a cathartic rant about how mean and judgmental women can be, but it did. It totally did.

First, I would like to start off by saying that I am absolutely not one of those women who don’t have women friends and says she “relates” better to guys. Gag me. That’s  not who I am at all. In fact those women annoy me. (Looks like maybe I’m the one who’s being mean and judgmental.)

I have handfuls of women friends, whom I love. My husband has noted that he has never known a woman to have as many female friends as I do. And to give credit where credit is do, my friends are awesome. I feel extremely blessed to have such an amazing group of strong, intelligent, funny, sincere, beer-drinking woman in my life. I am truly blessed.

And honestly, if it weren’t for Facebook, pregnancy blogs and daytime television I wouldn’t even know how viscously opinionated woman can be when it comes to anything related to child bearing.

I left my small town because I hated the fish bowl, yet daily I log on to my cyber fish bowl where I see a plethora of photos and status updates reminding me of all of my shortcomings. And to be fair I put myself there. I mean I created this blog to share my experience about living with bipolar disorder and trying to have a baby.

I wanted to empower other woman who have this disorder. I wanted to break the stigma that’s associated with mental illness. I wanted to inspire others to share their stories.

But the truth is family planning is a very personal topic. One that I’m not willing to completely share on the public blogosphere.

I sat in the high risk OB’s office today with tears streaming down my face.

I tend to worry. And when it comes to decisions that will effect my future children, I tend to worry a lot.

I also have a neurotic concern that others are judging me.

“Uh, did you hear about Arley? Staying on her medications, despite the fact that there is a 1 percent chance that the baby could have Ebstein’s anomaly.”

“What a bitch. I mean sure she went two doctor’s who said the likelihood is less than 1 percent but what kind of selfish mother would put her child at risk like that. I mean just because she can’t handle the 'pre-baby blues'?”

“I know. People like her shouldn’t even have children.”

Okay, so maybe women in real life aren’t as mean as those in my inner-monologue, but you see what I mean. And I haven’t even replayed the conversations these evil inner-voices have had about me regarding, gasp, formula feeding! Or adoption. Here’s brief snippet of how the adoption conversation that plays in my head.

“Can you believe that stupid bitch Arley wantsta procreate? I mean how narcissistic is that when there are tons of children just waiting to be adopted. Not to mention all the 'crazy' genes she’ll pass down to the poor kid.”

“I know. I mean, sure most adoption agencies don’t let mentally ill people adopt, but really should the mentally ill have children at all?”

Let's hope that women in general aren’t as judgmental and bitchy as the super ego who dominates the conversations in my brain.

But this is the state to which I came to the doctor’s office today.

“I just want to know,” I said after blotting the tears from my eyes. “Is it completely irresponsible for me to try to conceive as someone with bipolar disorder?”

“No,” the doctor said without hesitation.

One word. Two letters. Lots of relief.

God, Gunther, grief, and other things that don't make sense

Gunther has no eyes, but he still has a fierce stare.

I seem to be in a stare off with my eyeless Jack Russell Terrier.

And if that sentence doesn’t make sense to you, well welcome to my world. It’s a world that doesn’t make sense. At all.

It’s a world where we spend more money on our dog’s food and medical care than many children receive. A world where friends bury their loved ones far too young, and yet this dog somehow magically survives every trial that comes his way. It’s world where I manage not to have a heart attack when TCU beats KU, yet still have heart palpitations when Gunther, our dog, points his face toward me in a standoff mode.

Even God can't explain KU's loss to TCU.

Gunther is 12. His eyes were removed a couple years ago due to glaucoma. I love him, fear him, and resent him all in one breath. In that aspect this little dog reminds me a lot of God.

I’ve often heard people ask the perplexing questions of God, such as why does pain and suffering occur? Why do the good die young and child molesters and meth dealers seem to live forever? Why are some children born into systemic poverty they can’t escape and others born into wealth they can’t explain? Why do the chemicals in some people’s brain function in a way that causes them to be classified as ill? And seriously why did TCU beat KU? Seriously.

The truth is no one has answers to these questions. And I am skeptical of anyone who claims they do. According to the book of Job, the questions of why are not ones that we are entitled to have the answers to.

What I have learned in my 30 years on this earth, is that our losses sometimes have the ability to make us stronger. And our defeats can teach us to appreciate our wins.

So if not for God’s, at least for Gunther’s sake, let’s pull off win today Jayhawks.

Gunther and I are counting on you.