A Peek into My Life

New Year's Eve, 12/31/14 - on our way to the annual celebration at our friends' house in Richmond

New Year’s Eve, 12/31/14 – on our way to the annual celebration at our friends’ house in Richmond

 

The first half of 2015 is almost over. This is hard to believe. It feels like just yesterday that Anne Marie and I were holed up in a Marriott Residence Inn for our 2015 weekend planning retreat. But that was January, and here we are approaching the beginning of June.

This is my first full year as Executive Director of a start-up non-profit. We’ve had a phenomenal start to our first full year in operation, thanks to the support of so many people and companies, plus partner non-profit organizations. We just wrapped up our fourth big-city show this season, and are gearing up to present “This Is My Brave – The Show” to help kick off the start of the Mental Health America annual conference on June 3rd. Plus, we’ve had several community events going on this month, to close out Mental Health Awareness Month – including a mini show presentation at our local library coming up next week! You can follow our schedule here and subscribe to our newsletter to be kept informed of upcoming events.

To say it’s been a busy month is an understatement. I wouldn’t have been able to do it without the support of my husband and my wonderful mother-in-law who is always available to babysit the kids when I have a meeting or event for This Is My Brave.

My writing here in this space has taken a hiatus, but I’m working on getting back into my regular writing routine so that I’ll have content to start publishing new blogs in the coming weeks. I’m reading a fascinating book right now on habits called Better Than Before : Mastering the Habits of Our Everyday Lives by Gretchen Rubin and it’s helping me to understand my tendencies and how to use those tendencies to my advantage to create habits that I’ll be able to adopt. If you wonder why you aren’t able to adopt a certain habit, say, exercise for example, you may want to check out this book to learn why and how to tailor your habits to your temperament.

So as I work on my writing habit, know that my goal will be to share more here in this space. I’d like to finish out the series I started at the beginning of the year – the 12-part series on How I Learned How to Manage My Bipolar Illness by Cultivating a Healthy Lifestyle. If you’ve been following along, you know I’ve only highlighted five out of the twelve so far. Seven more of those are in draft form in my calendar, waiting to be written out and published. Bipolar disorder is a part of my life, for sure, but since learning to control it, the disease itself has taken up less space, time and energy in my life and I want to share how I’ve been able to do that with you. These aren’t foolproof methods, and my life is in no way perfect, but they have been extremely helpful and if they can help you, too, then I’m happy to share.

Moving forward this year, I’m also going to be using video more, mainly on my Facebook page for this blog, but also in my everyday life. What better way to get a glimpse into someone’s world than by peeking in on everyday moments. When my husband found a little frog in our backyard to show the kids, and when my little man took the swim test yesterday at the pool I was able to broadcast those events live on my Periscope. Are you on there yet? It’s super fun, a bit addicting, and I’d love to connect with you so I could check out your Periscope, too. {You need to have a Twitter account to sign up, as it’s owned by Twitter and as of right now it’s only available on iPhone and Android.}

I’m off to celebrate the rest of Memorial Day weekend with my family and friends. Hope you have a wonderful, restful holiday. Thank you to all our men and women who have served, and who are currently serving, fighting for our freedom. We salute you.

My next six months

Next Six Months Bipolar Mom Life

Doesn’t it feel like we were just taking down the holiday lights and other decorations, pine needles all over the carpet in the family room? This year Thanksgiving and Christmas seemed to zoom by before I could catch my breath or even begin to finish getting ready.

Life is careening by in an instant.

My husband’s theory on the passing of time rings more true every year. He believes that when you’re four, a year is a really, really long time because it’s a quarter of your total life. Days and weeks seem long. But as we get older, as in forty years old, a year is only 2.5% of our life so it rushes by faster than a year at the age of four.

I’m glad I have a few more years to go before forty.

Typing this out sounds funny, but I do believe as we get older time passes faster. I guess that’s why it made sense to me when I read something posted by a writer I admire. She said that when people who have terminal illnesses reach the end they say it felt like life was only 6 months long. She suggested we all live as though we have 6 months to live. My IG scrolling stopped on her post and I thought about my husband’s time theory.

It hit home.

January just came and went. If I sit and think about the next six months and what I want them to look like, this is what I see:

More hugs, more kisses, more snuggles.

I want to go to bed earlier and wake up to see more sunrises.

No more hesitating when I think of a friend and want to call. I want more intimate conversations and less texting.

Date nights with my love and girl’s nights with my girlfriends.

Reading extra bedtime stories to my littles.

A 4-day mini-vacation with my husband to someplace warm and tropical.

Writing letters of appreciation to my family, especially my beautiful Grandma who turns 91 next week.

Dessert when I’m craving chocolate.

A glass of expensive red wine with my best friend who will help me talk it out when I’ve had a shitty day.

More writing with my flowy pen and favorite notebooks and less scrolling social media in boredom.

Time to walk and breathe in the fresh air, appreciate the beauty of nature surrounding me, and allow myself to learn how to meditate.

Listening with focus to new stories and developing new friendships that are built on trust and shared experiences.

More writing, less editing.

What do your next six months look like?

My story matters. And so does yours.

OC87Logo Your Story Matters Bipolar Mom Life on OC87RecoveryDiaries

 

 

 

 

I used to remain silent about my mental illness. I let fear control whether I shared my story even as my heart urged me to speak up, to free myself of the heavy secret.

I know how hard it is to open up. But the more we show our true selves to the world, the sooner the world will begin to understand our struggles. The same way we understand how a diabetic has to inject insulin, and how a cancer patient undergoes radiation and chemo. We know this because they aren’t ashamed of their stories.

We shouldn’t be either.

Last year I found an incredible documentary on Netflix called OC87. It’s a film about Bud Clayman, whose story is similar to mine in ways. He was a stellar student and went to college to pursue a career in filmmaking. It was during his college years when he had a breakdown, had to return home and entered a long-term residential treatment facility.

Thirty years later, in 2010, Bud released the movie that changed his life. It’s an inspiring story that provides a glimpse into the mind of someone trying desperately to find a way to regain control over his mental illness. Through video diaries, Bud reveals eye-opening glimpses of his inner world, including OC87, an altered state of mind named by Bud and his therapist.

Bud fought intrusive thoughts daily, and over the years was diagnosed with major depression, bipolar disorder, obsessive-compulsive disorder and Asperger’s Syndrome. But it’s his determined personality which allows him to use his creativity to learn to manage his illness and educate the general public to end stigma.

I recently was invited to write for Bud’s online community and would love for you to visit OC87 Recovery Diaries to read my essay.

 

Pushing Myself to Write a Book

5325613416_0964491115Photo Credit: Honey Pie! via Compfight cc

You say you want to write a book. You say this, and yet, you let days slip past without writing anything but emails or tweets or status updates. Those are never going to turn into a book.

You say you want to write a book. And yet, the days keep passing, the weeks and months that put more and more distance between you and your experiences of mental illness. They are beginning to feel more and more like harrowing nightmares that you’ve woken up from all sweaty and breathing fast.

But they weren’t nightmares. They were real life. And you better get these experiences down, out of the corners of your memory where you buried them for safekeeping, or else they may fade away completely.

Just write it already.

I’ve got a new Ed Sheeran album to inspire me. Plus, binders full of tips and tricks I was fortunate enough to acquire from a dear online friend who I’ll be meeting a year from next month.

But then summer schedules get in the way. My body moves like it’s stuck in quicksand. Each morning the early sunrise finds me digging myself out after staying up too late because after a 7:30pm yoga class is the only time I have peace and quiet to write and surf the internet. Walking into a quiet house at 9pm, grateful the kids are asleep, the dishes await me. The laundry needs to be folded. Trash taken out because it’s full to the top.

Still, I’m grateful my husband at least watched the kids and put them to bed so I could have my time.

Seventy-five minutes of pure blissful stretching, sweat rolling down my legs and arms as I melt into the poses which center me. Class leaves me tired, yet energized. These past three weeks of practicing yoga twice a week have begun to chisel my body and mind. Next items to tackle are prioritizing my schedule and sticking to it.

When there’s camp in the morning with only an hour and a half before early pick-up so that he doesn’t have to miss swimming and then dance class in the afternoon for her, the moments for writing are consumed by responding to emails and texts. And phone calls from my love in the middle of the day or on his way home, just checking in to see if I need anything.

I wish it didn’t take me an hour to get warmed up when I finally sit down at my desk and the clock reads 10pm. Discipline and focus are what I lack. I know this, and yet still have to click around for awhile, loosening up my typing fingers. It’s something I want to work on this procrastination issue I have. Wouldn’t be a writer if I didn’t struggle with this monkey on my back.

Baby steps. Other women writers with families have written memoirs. I’ll get there. I have a feeling my memories will protect themselves inside my head until I’m ready to resurrect them in the order that makes the most sense for this book that is sleeping in my heart. One step at a time.