***Fur babies are children too!!
“Happy Mother’s Day (on Sunday)” 5.7.21
“Sandy’s Advice” 4.30.21
My grandmother gave me some helpful advice this morning. She usually does. She is a fountain of wisdom, a source of strength in my life. We spoke on the phone for a while today, longer than usual. She sounded happy, and hopeful. If there comes a day when everything is wrong, Sandy puts a positive spin on the situation. God listens to her prayers, and God answers.
I have expressed my love and gratitude for my adopted grandmother, but she is worthy of much more. I would like to share a bit about our relationship.
When I was sixteen, I was helping with Vacation Bible School at my church. In the life of a preacher’s kid, I have often been roped into volunteer work. This year was special. My area of expertise is art, so I was assigned to the arts and crafts station. I wasn’t the sole leader. A wonderful, talented, energetic, fun, funny and endearing woman worked by my side. Over the course of the week, we spent quite some time getting to know each other. I learned that she didn’t have grandchildren. My grandparents live at a distance. I fell in love with Sandy, and asked her if she would be my grandmother. With tears in her eyes, she agreed to be adopted.
Over the years she watched me grow up, right by my side. Her house was located not far from mine in the Westcross Neighborhood, the distance of a one mile run and a halfway point before reaching home. I would often stop at her house for a “drink of water,” and that glass of water transformed into a soda, an ice cream sundae, and visits that lasted hours after the sunset.
If I had traveled by bicycle, my Grandaddy T would load the bike into their van and drive me home. If I ran to their house, though it was safe to run home, I also hitched a ride down the road to my house on Planter’s Lane.
I spent so much time hanging out with my grandma watching daytime television, shopping, walking and talking for hours. I vacationed at her house during the summer; when times were the hardest, I skipped school and hid out at her house where I felt safe, warm and loved. The feelings of dread and anxiety washed away with each moment I sat next to her. We have a close relationship to this day. Today her advice anchored me, tethering me to a reality that helps me face the truth without fear.
“When you fall, it’s not about how you fall. It’s about how you get up.”
Life is all about being positive and pulling through when times are hard. It is about leaving the negative feelings and triggers in your life behind, the reasons for your fall.
Give thanks for another day.
Help others.
Do something good.
Stay connected to people outside of your internet presence (six feet away and wearing a mask).
Take a deep breath.
Stay in the now.
Take nothing for granted.
Enjoy every moment.
I challenge you to enjoy every moment without trying to catch it on camera, and to limit your screen time.
In these times of anxiety and uncertainty, it is easy to lose track of time. Mornings turn to evenings so quickly. Time has confused us. It is slipping away as we prepare for what comes next, which is why it is so important to find ways to slow it down. Keep busy, stay productive, and do not take the special people in your life for granted. My life would not be the same without Sandy. I cherish her. She is a bright light in my life, and she glows brightest when I am in the dark. Her advice is sound, and I urge you to heed it.
—SJB
“Physical Health” 4.23.21
Physical health is just as important as mental health. In fact, the two are related. Nutrition and exercise feed the mind, metaphorically like the gas you pump into your car. If you fill your body with diesel and your tank runs on 87, your body and mind are poisoned from the inside out. Your body, like your car, cannot run with the wrong fuel. The ingredients needed to encourage your “car” to move are the healthy choices you make in your diet, and the exercise that fills your mind with endorphins, which stimulate happiness.
Not everyone likes to eat healthy food. Unfortunately, vegetables taste so much worse than chocolate. Why do all the “wrong” foods taste so good, and why is it so difficult to make it to the gym five days a week? A thirty minute workout video at home feels like a chore!
You have to get off the couch and make yourself go for a walk, at least. My husband and I walk about three miles every day and it has become part of our routine. It gives us a chance to talk while we exercise so the time goes by more quickly. Before we know it, we are home again! I will admit, we do not eat as healthily as we should. I would feel like a hypocrite asking you to eat vegetables and fruit, because we eat pizza for dinner a lot. We have cut back on a lot of the sugary food we used to eat and it has had a great impact on our bodies and our minds. Baby steps. Nobody is asking for cold turkey.
Sleep is of utmost importance, especially with cases of mental illness such as bipolar disorder. Trust me, staying up all night being productive and feeling like sleep is a waste of time is exhilarating. It comes back to bite you. I am certain, from personal experience, that we all need sleep in order to have a clear mind and a functioning body. Sleep is your friend. Don’t neglect her.
When you take care of your body, you are taking care of your mind. Remember to give yourself the right fuel.
—SJB
“The Tail of A Dragon and His Girl” 4.16.21
This is a story about the importance of emotional support animals to their people. It is a fairy tale based on reality, a guide to adolescents discovering their new relationships with “Berman” and how to handle him with help from our furry family members. This book is in the process of being published and will be available soon! Stay tuned!
—SJB
“Recognition” 4.9.21
The mind is a powerful entity. Much of it is still a mystery. What causes us to dream, to remember, to recognize the people in our lives, and to comprehend the situations happening around us? I don’t have these answers, but I am no stranger to memory loss and lack of recognition.
When we are children, we are taught basic table manners. We learn how to use napkins, utensils, and to keep our elbows off the table. I never imagined that one day I would not recognize the relationship between the utensils and the food. The key to starving is forgetting how to eat.
I tell this story many times over because this is something I will never forget and letting it out helps with the pain of remembering. While I was in the psychiatric hospital in 2013, I didn’t realize that the medication the doctors were trying to force down my throat was for my benefit. I couldn’t recognize that the doctors weren’t “bad guys.” I had horrible dreams that felt so much like reality. They clouded my judgment and caused me to believe my delusions. It was nearly impossible to talk me down.
Worse than mania, depression, psychosis, memory loss, or delusions, was not recognizing my parents and loved ones. I understand now how much harder that was for them than it was for me. I have been reminiscing today and some terrible memories have come to light. I am sure that during our sheltering in place we have all had time to think about things we wanted to bury. Memories can be repressed, but they are always in the back of our minds, waiting to be remembered.
Sit down. Write down what you are remembering, good or bad. It may help you to release some of your emotions. While it is more fun to drown our sorrows by binge watching television, we have to do the real work of recognizing our deepest traumas if we are to put our bad memories behind us. Talk to someone you trust. Release your emotions. Recognize your feelings. Cry. Laugh. Heal.
—SJB
“Easter” 4.2.21
The season of Easter within my faith is the celebration of the living God. It is the miracle of the resurrection of Christ on the third day after the crucifixion. On Palm Sunday, Jesus’s followers paraded through the streets with gusto believing that their king and prophet was going to smite their enemies and raise them up to power. They had great expectations for the Son of God. Most did not listen, understand or accept his parables as he taught them what was to come. During the Last Supper, the disciples broke bread and drank wine together, symbolic of God’s sacrifice and the bond we all share with God even after death. Many did not understand the significance at the time. Their expectations were not fulfilled. As Jesus was dying they could not imagine a resurrection, though he tried countless times to open their eyes. This story has been passed down for thousands of years and we know what happens, but at the time the people did not. They relied on their faith as we do, but watching their hero appear vanquished made room for doubt in their hearts. When Jesus was resurrected, doubt was replaced with awe. We are now blessed with the knowledge of what transpired so long ago, though we did not witness these events first hand.
This year during the Palm Sunday service I cried as my father read the portion of Mark’s Gospel, in which Christ is crucified. I usually do. This year, even sitting at home attending virtual church I felt God’s presence within me and all around me. I broke out in chills. It was a very rainy day, and I found time to talk with God. I thought maybe the rain drops were tears from Heaven, expressing God’s sadness about the sacrifice which saved us from sin.
We preach that God is love, and not to be feared. We buy new spring dresses to wear to church. We have an Easter egg hunt after the service. An Easter bunny visits the children. Easter is about so much more than running around trying to collect the most candy. We must not forget this. This is a sacred week to study and pray. It is a time for silence and searching deep within ourselves to define what really controls our lives. Money? Power? Comfort? Material objects? It gives me hope and a feeling of security to have faith in a higher power we call by different names. We are all here together. I think we should try to make a conscious effort to help each other and to spread hope and love no matter what we believe. Jesus teaches me and many others that death is not the end. It is the beginning.
—SJB
“Twelve Again” 3.26.21
I am currently experiencing the deepest depression I have encountered since the very first time I was depressed. It is not because of oatmeal, or apple juice, or any underlying reason I can think of. I haven’t been triggered. Still, the depression washes over me like a tidal wave from which I cannot surface. There are key differences between the depression I am suffering now and the first time it coursed through my veins. This time, I know that with the right medication and therapy I will push through to the other side. I have shared bits of my first depression story, but not all. I will try to recount those first few hard weeks.
When I was twelve years old, and Justin Timberlake was around eighteen or so, I had a mad crush on him. N*SYNC is indisputably the best boy band the world has ever known. When I was twelve, I loved listening to one of my favorite N*SYNC CDs every night, crying myself to sleep. It was so moving and romantic and I figured I would never love another person the way I loved Justin. But he would never know. I figure that’s a reason to cry, but it wasn’t the reason for my silent suffering and the tears that spilled from my eyes.
At the time, no one knew how to help, and I just thought it was normal to feel that sad. As time passed, I began to realize that there really was something going on in my mind but I didn’t know what to do about it. My pediatrician tried to figure me out, but psychiatry wasn’t his area of expertise, so my suffering continued for a few horrible weeks and then it became a little piece of myself that never truly went away. I stayed at home from school for about a week, wrapped up in comforters without an appetite and drinking only apple juice. This was a time of much change in my life. My family moved to an unfamiliar part of the state, and still my depression enveloped me. I skipped school, and my mom stayed by my side to help me with my mountain of make-up work. I remember sitting on the floor wrapped in an old blue sleeping bag while Mom and I made it through The Odyssey. Then the veil of depression was lifted and I went back to my new school, made friends, played soccer, and strived to be “normal.”
Now I am taking an anti-depressant in the mornings and it hasn’t really kicked in yet. I take a load of pills at night to help me sleep because that is very important for my condition. Mood stabilizers keep me from having too much energy, but lately they have been pushing me down really hard. The mood stabilizers I am currently taking are so very helpful most of the time, but they reduce the serotonin production in my brain. Serotonin is the chemical in our brains which causes us to feel happy. I have never felt so far away from happiness.
It is important to note that I am not suicidal, no matter how unhappy I am. I have many reasons to live, and many people I love. I will make it through this. That is the key difference between my first bout with depression and this one. I know I will heal, no matter how slowly. If you are feeling as miserable as I am and depression darkens your door, know that you are not alone. There is a light in the darkness.
This too shall pass.
—SJB
P.S. Now there is a man in my life who inspires smiles and laughter instead of the tears that JT brought upon me every night when I was twelve. I just had to wait twenty years.
National Suicide Hotline:
988
“Triggers” 3.19.21
Triggers are events or reminders of past trauma which can send a person over the edge into mania or depression.
Triggers can be big ordeals, or small details that open up a part of the brain and reintroduce the trauma a person has experienced. My triggers began with apple juice.
My dad is an Episcopal priest. When I was in the eighth grade, I was told that we were moving away from the town I grew up in. I was feeling uprooted. When you are the daughter of a priest, you are not supposed to tell anyone if, when, or where you are relocating until the whole church is informed. I wasn’t even allowed to tell my best friend. Unfortunately, it took her a while to forgive me for keeping such a secret from her, but it was my duty.
Once reality set in and the move was impending, I got very sick and stayed at home from school for a week. I laid in my parents’ bed and didn’t eat or drink much other than apple juice. It was the beginning of my worst depression. To this day, I cannot drink apple juice without being reminded of that depression and once reminded, I start to sink.
Another of my triggers is oatmeal with butter and brown sugar. It reminds me of the days when I was literally starving, in a hospital that couldn’t take care of my needs. Trying to fatten me up, the women serving breakfast always gave me an extra bowl of oatmeal. I remember a man in line behind me ask, “Hey! Why does she get two bowls?” To which the woman replied, “Look at her!”
Now, when I eat oatmeal with butter and brown sugar I cannot help but think of that time. It reminds me of sick days spent in bed as an adult skipping work. I stayed away, depression enveloping me. I burrowed into my blankets and felt the guilty aches of anxiety deep within my core.
Anxiety is the trigger that has the biggest effect on my life. I cannot work, because I cannot handle the stress. I have been unable to keep a steady job because of my disability. I cannot even handle a part-time job.
As my illness progressed, I began to recognize running as one of my most heartbreaking triggers. It was always my favorite activity and my greatest escape. I have ruined my knees due to years on my feet. I no longer run, but it is not solely due to my injury. When I run, the occurrence of an ocular gyro crisis is highly likely. An ocular gyro crisis is involuntary rapid eye movement. I lose control of my eyes. It is an extremely rare side effect I inherited from one of the many medications I was prescribed in the past. Running also invites the voices into my head; one voice is encouraging and the other is reckless. Although I realize these consequences, my desire to run is high and my loss of running is emotionally painful.
Even if you don’t have a mental illness, everyone has triggers. Sit down and write a list of the things in your life that make you “tick.” Once you have named them, they will be easier to circumvent.
–SJB
“TGIF” 3.12.21
Good morning and Happy Friday! Have a great weekend!
—SJB
“Procrastination” 3.5.21
Waiting until the last minute gives some of us extra motivation to finish work when the deadline is impending. For others, dread fills us to the brim. Often, the work doesn’t ever happen at all.
Procrastinators are often characterized as “lazy.” For many years, I accepted that as my own character flaw. My views on the matter were altered when I entered therapy.
I didn’t work with a therapist until five years into my illness. I had a psychiatrist, medication, and lots of problems. I had no idea how much I needed to talk to someone.
I began seeing a psychologist in 2009. It changed me forever. I released my emotions, worked through several problems with her guidance, and would not be the same without her help.
I was in college studying art. I started skipping my drawing class. It was too difficult for me. I have always had trouble with perspective and realism, beginning in my Thursday afternoon art lessons in elementary school. Trying to depict reality has always been so frustrating for me. I was in the dark until the fifth grade, when I realized that there are other techniques and areas of art to explore. I didn’t have to make things look real in order to express myself!
In that college drawing class, though, it was vital in order to pass and the teacher was ruthless. He was especially stern with me because I wasn’t improving despite his suggestions. So I skipped one of his drawing classes.
Then I skipped another, and another. I skipped a week of his drawing classes. Then I stopped going entirely.
With a stomach full of dread and my anxiety level through the roof, it seemed that the more classes I missed, the harder it would be to catch up. Therefore; I never returned. Procrastination as I have never seen the like.
I suffered through every day of college, unstable because of my mental illness. I didn’t seek help from the Disability Resources Department because I didn’t know it existed.
It wasn’t until years later that I learned a fact of utmost importance from my therapist. My “laziness” and procrastination were tied to my mood disorder. Sometimes I was literally “not in the mood.” And it wasn’t my fault!
Try not to punish or misunderstand the procrastinators in our midst. Truly, sometimes there is an underlying reason for appearing “lazy.”
Next time you feel “lazy,” or continue to spiral into procrastination, look it in the face and ask yourself where it comes from. It could be a characteristic of a mood disorder, and entirely no fault of your own.
It is something to ponder, whenever you’re in the mood.
—SJB