Don’t Break

Living with bi-polar is like being in a car accident in the rain while hydroplaning- the more you fight against and try to brake- or not drive into the terror the worst your outcome. It’s only when you embrace you have to drive into what your instincts are telling you not to do- then do you survive.

My life was hydroplaning and here I was with two of my soccer players in the back about to careen off the road. I had been here before so I knew not to brake-my brain slowed down and could feel the wheels not touching the asphalt. Maybe I was so hyper focused because there was other human beings in the back I cared greatly about- but a calmness took over me in the midst of the storm that was spewing down water like buckets of gatorade being pour over coaches who have just won the championship. I knew not to put my foot on the brake-any sudden breaking could cause us back into oncoming traffic or cause the car to flip over. So I took my foot off the gas and glided into the safety of the grass median between highways. Maneuvering onto the grass the car stopped hydroplaning- and then with some nifty avoidance of guard rails and without flipping over- I was able to stop the car without any great incident other than losing my front bumper. In the back I immediately asked Paul and Dedieu if they were alright- “Coach, I thought we were going to die.”

We made it to practice 20 minutes later. The car- like my life was still drive-able- a bit banged up but still able to get to its next destination.

Both my players soon shook off the near death experience and went to practice without a seeming care in the world other than being the best player on the field. Soccer was something they could control in their life- a life that was always uncertain as refugees from Africa.

The whole time not being able to have control I did not think about death- that idea never popped in my mind- which is bizarre because a desire for death has chased me for the last twenty years. Living with bi-polar is often a nightmare- something I wouldn’t wish on anyone. It’s having constant suicidal ideation even on your best day- you start to train your brain that those are just thoughts- and thoughts aren’t real- but it wears you down. You worry if you are actually feeling happy or just manic- meaning this happiness is just a sign that a crushing low is about to hit you like a left hook from an opponent you didn’t even realize you were fighting. You are treated like a guinea pig by doctors who throw medicines at you and hope it works for your chemistry. You learn you have to be on constant guard- I got to put in work like I am Kobe Bryant chasing the greatness of Michael Jordan just to be at most people’s level of stableness. So each morning I do a gratitude list- and currently read from “Daring Greatly” a Brene Brown book on the topic of vulnerability- which is always fun to see in print all the ways you have not coped with your issues. It’s part refreshing and also shitty- so I can’t just numb myself to the world and function- I am going to have to lean into these uncomfortable emotions, and feelings I have. It sucks realizing when you numb one emotion- you numb them all. There is no secret way to numb sadness without numbing joy at the same time. For so many years I thought I could just do that- but unfortunately feelings are a package deal- and no matter how hard you try to just avoid one- you end up avoiding them all. So I am trying to do that- lean into all my feelings and failing miserably sometimes like this past week- but always being able to get back up from that damn left hook by writing about my vulnerability now.

When I went inpatient they changed my meds. They took me off the one med that had me stable for over three years- the med that kept me out of hospitals, kept me working, and a stability led me to create Panther Elite and to win a volunteer award tomorrow night at The NH Spirit Awards- to try a different medicine. The thing with inpatient- they don’t have enough time to work on why I crashed my life- why I couldn’t take my foot off the brake- and why the suicidal desires had become so overwhelmingly strong again. So they throw a pill at it and hope for the best. And for a bit I felt immensely better- I was putting in the work and that overwhelming desire that life was always going to be a living hell- where I wanted to slice my heart my in half was gone. I remember weeping my first night in-patient that happiness was always going to be an illusion to me- a magic trick that seemed real but I knew was false. When you are that low- you will cling to anything that will bring you some brightness. So I clung to the belief Lithuim would set me free because that’s what my doctor said- forgetting my past year’s success to only focus on the past two weeks of torture I endured. So I went to work- I worked on this great book “The Power of Letting Go” by John Perkins- read it and did the activities- writing about my fears past and present-the ideas I was clutching onto that were holding me back- and made sure to go to every group offered. I was the ideal patient and thought I was finally going to be happy. But funny thing happens with these short stays the happiness can be fleeting- especially when the benzo they gave you to help detox from alcohol was making the agitation- and well pure assholeness that lithium was going to unleash on myself at bay. By the second to last day of my stay inpatient- I started feeling super agitated and annoyed. I tried gratitude lists- didn’t work- I tried only thinking positive because you can’t think two thoughts at once- it didn’t work- I justified it was just some fear about leaving. But i didn’t voice these thoughts out loud because I desperately wanted this medicine to fix everything- and the more I learn is no pill will fix my life- at best it will just keep my brain like a relatively calm ocean instead of a tsunami- and allow me to do the work to get and stay better.

So I left inpatient and the anger only increased over the next few days- the anger and the thoughts of suicide and with every moment my desire to want to end it became more strong. So with the desires wanting to become a plan I did what was my oldest coping habit- I numbed it with alcohol. It worked for the first couple hours- then maybe I passed out- then become the plot to drink more but keep it secret so nobody knew-and then what I really don’t know. That’s the problem with alcohol and numbing there is no solution- nothing that actually works when you use it. So I went to check back into the hospital- but they told me another stay inpatient would not be therapeutically beneficial for me-apparently I tried to hard the first time around- and even though I was on this new med they had changed was making me feel like life was not worth living- I should find somewhere else to go. I mean I was bitter- you have people that don’t go to groups there and come and go all the time- I was being shown the door for trying too hard my last time. I was shocked- dumbfounded- and left to wonder what the fuck I did wrong. All I wanted to do was get better and then being told you’ll be fine- you just had your chance inside so live with the outcomes. So I did and I drank again. I was angry that two bottles of wine for at least an hour could put me at so much ease. But I knew that couldn’t last so I stopped- and I started writing this.

I figure writing is better than inpatient anyway- and I get to share it with all you- my loyal readers. I am taking Antabuse again which will luckily not make even the idea of alcohol not an option again- it’s a medicine that makes you ridiculously sick if you try to drink on it- and getting back to basics like practicing gratitude and writing. I know being honest with this universe has helped me in the past- so I figured I try it once again. The things is no matter how much my brain tells me I want to kill my self- I know it’s not true. So everyday that voice gets less loud- the things I am grateful for start clouding out its babble. And I know I am nowhere near a finishing line- because living with Bi-Polar 2 is a journey- where the only way to survive is to lean into every part of it with your whole heart while out working it like an athlete training for an Olympic spot. So that’s what I am going to keep doing- grinding everyday- making my jaw just solid enough for those left hooks that come out of nowhere. Because as powerful as bi-polar seems it’s also heightened its own cryptonite- it’s ability to make me write and see the world different. Without all these hardships I don’t think I would have developed the empathy I have- and without that I don’t think I would be as nearly as effective as a coach and teacher I am. So why I hate bi-polar with a passion- it’s also been an enormous blessing in my life. And I know today to be grateful for any blessing in my life- regardless of what they are or come from.