Raw Writing for the Real World of Bipolar

Living Like You're Dying

cristinacfender@gmail.com (Cristina C. Fender) — Wed, 11 Nov 2009 14:00:00 +0000

Kris Allen has a new song out and it reminded me that I need to live like I'm dying. I need to treasure each moment of my life instead of just trying to get through the day. Some days that's difficult advice to put into action. What do I do when I feel like dying?

I need to notice the little things in life that make it worth living. Seeing my daughters smile. Hugging my husband. Seeing the sunshine shining through my windows. Getting up and taking a walk to smell the air. Looking in the mirror and liking what I see.

My life is good. I have a good family. I need to remember that when times are tough. Life can be a battle, but I can win if I have a winning attitude. I just need to remember to live like I'm dying and I can get through anything.

Harmful Actions

cristinacfender@gmail.com (Cristina C. Fender) — Tue, 10 Nov 2009 14:00:00 +0000

I pull my hair and claw my skin when I feel extremely anxious. It usually comes on when I feel so out of control that I need to feel that I'm in control again. It's a fight or flight response that I feel ashamed about, but it happens nonetheless. When I claw my skin it's like I'm trying to make the outside of myself feel worse than the inside, like I'm trying to let it all out of inside my body and brain.

While I'm doing it it feels good to let it out. Afterwords I notice the claw marks on my skin and I feel embarrassed. I feel like this illness is a monster that I cannot control and I feel shameful. What makes me feel the need to harm myself? I have to let it out. I have to get it out of my insides before it crushes me.

I don't do this often. I did it two times this past year. Once when my father was in the hospital and again when I held his boots after he died. The feelings overwhelmed me and I needed to get them out of me. Feeling the pain on my arms settled me somewhat. The pain was more tangible that way. It was serious and real. I didn't feel as crazy on the inside.

My therapist suggested that I write in my journal when I feel that out of control instead of harming myself, but when I'm in the throes of anxiety I can't think of anything except what I need to do--claw my skin.

It's a serious problem that I need to work on. Hopefully it won't happen again.

Conversations with my 21 year old self

cristinacfender@gmail.com (Cristina C. Fender) — Mon, 09 Nov 2009 14:00:00 +0000

I say this in love: Be honest with yourself and your psychiatrist. When she asks if you hear voices or see things, be honest. Don't worry she'll think that you're crazy. That's the least of your problems. It's better to have a correct diagnosis than to live ten years in pain.

Tell her about your anger issues. Tell her about your road rage. Tell her that you can't keep friends because you get so angry. Tell her how angry you are at the mother who abandoned you and that it makes you keep people at a distance because you don't trust easily.

Tell her about your sexual escapades. Tell her about your drug and alcohol use. Tell her the damage it causes on your soul.

Tell her about your obsessive need for perfection. The dishes have to line up just so or you won't do them. It's a problem that needs to be discussed. It's not just that your parents demanded it of you. You've taken it to another level.

Out of all the things I've told you, this is the most important: Be kind to yourself. Don't be so hard on yourself. All of these things will pass if you get help. Be kind to yourself and get the help you need. Don't be embarrassed to ask for it. You'll find yourself in you.

Recovery: Sleep Patterns

cristinacfender@gmail.com (Cristina C. Fender) — Fri, 06 Nov 2009 13:57:00 +0000

I'm typing on my brand new computer! It's beautiful, shiny and has great colors. This web page looks nicer on it, too. It has a webcam on it. I can't wait to use it! Stay tuned for some video from me.

I'm feeling okay today. A little tired. I overslept. Depression takes it's toll on all parts of your body and mind. Fatigue is just part of it. No wonder I spend so much of my time in bed these days. Yesterday I was in bed straight after dinner. I watched my shows on TV and read, but I was exhausted. I could barely keep my eyes open. I would've gone to bed, but I knew that I would wake up at 3am if I did that. Finally at 9pm I gave in and took my sleep medicine and turned on my iPod to help me sleep. My iPod is filled with soothing music from Aqualung. I highly recommend it. Not only does it cancel out the noises around me, it also calms my mind from thinking too much so I can sleep.

Sleep is an important part of recovery from Bipolar. Regular sleep patterns, going to bed at the same time and waking at the same time, does a lot to reduce changes in mood. Too much sleep leads to depression and too little sleep leads to mania. It's best to get 7-8 hours of sleep per night. I usually go to sleep at 9pm and wake at 4am. Sometimes I'll have enough energy that I can go to sleep at 10pm, but that doesn't often happen. Regular sleep patterns are essential to recovery.

Out and About

cristinacfender@gmail.com (Cristina C. Fender) — Thu, 05 Nov 2009 14:00:00 +0000

I ran errands yesterday. A feat that hasn't been accomplished in a long time. It felt good to get out of the house and the sun on my skin felt nice. I managed to take my daughter to her speech therapy appointment where we discussed whether or not she would be going to school in the spring. She has to have an evaluation sometime in March, so we'll find out then if she'll be able to attend pre-K. On one hand I want her to go so she'll have some other kids to play with. On the other hand I will miss my baby.

I watered my plants, swept the outside porch and cleaned a bit. Then we went to Walmart after that. We're looking to buy a new computer. There were so many options to choose from! We went to Best Buy last night and we decided on a computer. I wanted to sleep on it since it's such a large purchase! Today I'll go and buy the computer. It's really nice and it has a webcam on it. I can't wait to use it! Stay tuned for my first webcam!

Of course the computer has to be cleaned of all the programs I won't use and I'll have to buy Microsoft Office. Computers are big business. Even though we're buying a cheaper computer there's still all the software that I need to purchase. I was anxious at the store. You never know if the computer will be a good purchase or not. I'd like to purchase some photo editing software, too, but that will come in time. One step at a time.

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A Dark Place

cristinacfender@gmail.com (Cristina C. Fender) — Wed, 04 Nov 2009 14:00:00 +0000

I cradled my dad's boots in my hands. As I stroked the leather I began to cry in earnest. I was unable to let go of the tears that wracked my body. I curled up on my bed.

I began to think about my current situation. I'm in the throes of depression. It crept over my soul quietly day by day until I couldn't dislodge it anymore. I thought the grief that overwhelmed me could be quieted, but instead it triggered a Bipolar phase of depression.

I wept that I was once again in a dark place. Thoughts of ending it all entered my head. I looked up and saw a picture of my daughter and I scattered the bad thoughts quickly. I had much to live for.

My days have been filled with sleep. Depression brings fatigue that is undeniable. Only today I've finally been able to open my blinds and appreciate the sunshine. I can't say that it's over, but I think that I've turned a corner. Soon the days of lounging in my bed will be a distant memory.

I continue to grieve the loss of my father, but it's getting easier. He won't be back. The memories that I have of him are all I have left. I know that I will miss him terribly this Christmas, but I will get better. Thank god for Pristiq and thank god for my advanced psychiatric practice nurse.

Kay Jamison on Grief

cristinacfender@gmail.com (Cristina C. Fender) — Tue, 03 Nov 2009 14:07:00 +0000

From UVA:

How can you tell the difference between grief and depression?

For Kay Redfield Jamison, the distinction is critical.

"It has been said that grief is a kind of madness. I disagree," Jamison told a nearly full house Thursday at the University of Virginia's Newcomb Hall Theater.

Jamison, a psychologist, knows firsthand: She detailed her own experience with manic depression, as well as research on the disorder, in her groundbreaking 1995 book, "An Unquiet Mind."

Then she lost her husband to cancer after almost 20 years together. Her most recent book, "Nothing Was the Same," not only pays tribute to Dr. Richard Wyatt, but also makes distinctions between grief, a human condition that eventually shows a way back to life, and depression, a disease that alienates one from life.

While learning to live with manic depressive, or bipolar, disorder, Jamison said she thought she had to trade love for sanity, to give up having a passionate love relationship for the sake of having a settled life. Wyatt both upended that cautious stance and supported her fully in dealing honestly with her mental illness, especially considering her profession. He encouraged her "to write from the heart," she said.

Reading from the prologue to "Nothing Was the Same," Jamison said, "There is a sanity to grief, in its just proportion of emotion to cause, that madness does not have."

Jamison said grief can trigger or reveal untreated depression, but they are not the same. Grief can become unhealthy if it keeps one from engaging in life after the initial feeling of being engulfed, she said.

People really shouldn't be medicated while grieving. As someone who has bipolar disease, however, she depends on medicine.

Grief will hit in waves, strike when one feels most alive. Depression is unrelenting, impenetrable. "One cannot access the beat of life," she said

Grief makes one distraught, but not deranged like bipolar illness does.

After a loved one dies, we may grieve over lost dreams, but we don't lose the ability to dream, which Jamison ascribed to manic-depressive disorder.

Grief will be restorative, whereas depression can be "lethal," she said.

Grief will yield memories and a new relationship with the dead loved one, a gift depression cannot give.

Jamison spoke with admiration about her husband, an expert on schizophrenia, when describing his struggle to overcome severe dyslexia. He had his patients read back the prescriptions he wrote for them to make sure he had written the dosage correctly.

She spoke of him fondly, describing him as "catnip for women" and said he was fun to be with. Life with him she described as "a blithe time, and it did not last."

She also found out he kept a syringe and antipsychotic drug hidden in case he ever needed to give it to her if she went out of control. He explained, "Medicine is imperfect ... love is imperfect."

Wyatt had beaten Hodgkin's disease when young, and he lived more than 35 years after that, but the price he paid for the earlier aggressive radiation and chemotherapy was getting cancer in middle age.

Both of them were concerned his illness and impending death would push her into a manic-depressive relapse. It did not happen, Jamison discovered.

"As it transpires, grief follows its own path," she said.

The night before he died, Wyatt encouraged Jamison to go home and get a good night's sleep, knowing she wouldn't sleep in the hospital. Sleep is essential for everyone; people with bipolar disease particularly benefit from its restorative and calming effects.

His gesture showed his understanding and concern for her, she said.

Hope can find a place in grief, but not in depression, she said. Remembering a trip to the natural history museum, Jamison said while walking through an exhibit of owls, she thought about how they were no more – dead and fixed. That state, however, enabled her to view their parts and proportions. She realized how death and grief instruct us.

"All die; much is lost, but not everything," Jamison said.

A professor of psychiatry, Jamison is co-director of the Mood Disorders Center at Johns Hopkins University. She has written several other books about manic-depressive disorder and suicide, and manic-depressive disorder and creativity.

Still Grieving

cristinacfender@gmail.com (Cristina C. Fender) — Tue, 03 Nov 2009 14:00:00 +0000

I went to the in-laws for Halloween. The kids had a wonderful time spending time with their cousins and grandparents. On the way back we stopped by my cousin's house. She'd been to the valley within the last couple of weeks and my stepmother gave her some things that I wanted that had been my father's. I got his gray cowboy boots and an old briefcase that my father had carried that had once been my grandfather's.

I promptly went to bed when I got home. I was exhausted. When I woke up the house was quiet since my husband had taken my daughter to the store. I carefully unwrapped my father's boots and then I began crying. He's never coming back. The only way I would've gotten those boots is because he is dead. It all came back to me. How much I miss him...how much I wish this wasn't happening...how much I wish I could make all this pain go away.

I'm still grieving. I wish I could make the process go faster. I don't think that I will ever stop missing my father. He was my best friend and I could always go to him when I needed him. I still have the urge to call him. I look at my phone and then I remember he's not there.

Thank you, Psych Central!

cristinacfender@gmail.com (Cristina C. Fender) — Thu, 29 Oct 2009 13:00:00 +0000

My blog is one of the Top Ten Bipolar Blogs! I'm honored and touched that my blog has touched so many of you. I work really hard to make my blog relevant and I'm so happy that it's been rewarded.

Here's what Psych Central had to say about my blog:
Raw Writing for the Real World of Bipolar
Intimate, absorbing and moving, this is a diary-style blog by Cristina Fender that has mushroomed since she began. She’s now welcoming guest posts and building community, and has self-published a book as well. Energetic.

Be sure and check it out to see if there are any other blogs that are on the list that you might want to add to your blogroll. I was happy to see that Seaneen from The Secret Life of a Manic Depressive was added to the top ten list. She has an amazing blog. If you haven't checked it out yet, you should.

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Why Do You Blog?

cristinacfender@gmail.com (Cristina C. Fender) — Wed, 28 Oct 2009 13:00:00 +0000

I got interviewed yesterday for Cross Currents, the Journal of Addiction and Mental Health about why I blog.

It was an interesting interview and it opened my eyes. Apparently I blog because it helps me get my feelings out of me and into this venue. Although I appreciate the community I'm a part of, I mainly blog for myself. It's opened up my world and I blog so that my feelings don't get trapped inside me and fester.

I'm interested in finding out why do you blog? Do you blog to put your feelings out there or do you blog for others and their feedback?

Bipolar Life Before Diagnosis

cristinacfender@gmail.com (Cristina C. Fender) — Tue, 27 Oct 2009 13:00:00 +0000

When I was thirteen I became very depressed. I wrote in my journal a lot and I sat in my closet so nobody in the house would hear me cry. I've always been a loud crier. Tears didn't merely slide down my cheeks. I sobbed. That year I wrote in my diary for the very first time that I wanted to die.

My parents were ignorant about mental health. I was only threatened that I needed to see a psychiatrist when I was bad. My stepmother found my journal that year and read it. She never saw the red flag. I continued to have depression every year around the same time in my life and it got worse when my grandmother died. I grew up thinking that what I was going through was normal.

When I turned twenty-three, I broke up with my boyfriend. I had a bottle of pills in my house from having my wisdom teeth out. I wanted to take those pills and never wake up. I finally sought out help by myself. I was scared that I would return to depression with a vengeance. I was diagnosed with depression and I went on my way.

My life was filled with going out, doing drugs and shopping, lots of shopping. I was living beyond my means, going out and paying for drinks and cigarettes and clothes to look fabulous in while doing all that. I also had anger issues. I was consistently mad at the other drivers on the road. I had hardly any friends because I always got mad at them for one trivial thing or another.

I also moved around a lot. It was hard to get along with a roommate especially because all my projects were strewn out all over the floor. I had projects upon projects. A lucky few got completed, but most were discarded because I would become frustrated with myself that I could not get them all done at once. I also continued to get depressed every year around the same time. I would visit a psychiatrist and I would get my antidepressant filled until I was sick of taking it. I also had panic attacks. A couple of them were severe enough to warrant a trip to the ER. I was always flabbergasted when they said I had panic attacks. I didn't understand them, but I just figured they were part of my life and, again, I went on my way and ignored them.

It wasn't until I began seeing advertisements on television about medication for Bipolar Disorder that I began to piece my life together. What they were describing was my life. I went online and took a questionnaire and I took it to my psychiatrist. He looked it and then looked at me and told me that he was certain that I had it.

I was devastated. My life turned upside down. How could this one word, Bipolar, define me? A friend of mine asked me if this could possibly be true. How could I have missed all the warning signs? I told her that I thought they were normal. I thought it was normal to see hallucinations outside of the corners of my eyes. I thought I was just going through a phase when I craved sex and drugs. I thought it was all normal. And, it was. For me.

Passion Builds Community

cristinacfender@gmail.com (Cristina C. Fender) — Mon, 26 Oct 2009 14:20:00 +0000

I've lost my zest for life, but rather than whine about it, I'm going to do something about it. Yes, I'm still in chains of depression, but that doesn't mean that I can't resist. I'm going to start blogging more. It's time to get back to what I love.

When I started blogging in 2006, I had no idea what I was getting myself into. I wrote sometimes twice a day. I wrote about what it was like to be a newbie on the Bipolar front. I spent countless hours researching medications and therapies and I shared it with some who have thanked me for being relate-able to their own circumstances. But, it is I who should have been thanking you. You gave me a zeal for life. I was helping people and it was helping me get stronger.

Blogging for Therapy was the best idea that I've ever had. It gives one such a sense of empowerment when one often feels lost and alone. It brought out my true life's passion: to help those with mental illnesses and to inform the public that we are not crazy lunatics. We are people who live, breathe and hurt like everyone else.

I began to realize that this blog that I started long ago slowly evolved into a community. I started offering Guest Blogger posts so others could share their own experiences. I continue to offer it to those who feel they need to share their voice. Please send me your stories or articles! All post commentators are welcome to share their views. I read all comments and mail that I receive. It's good to have discussions that make us rear up and think!

I am passionately committed to creating the best blog on the web on Bipolar Disorder. If you have any advice or comments please feel free to Email Me.

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Excerpt from Reaching for Sanity, Chapter One

cristinacfender@gmail.com (Cristina C. Fender) — Thu, 22 Oct 2009 14:00:00 +0000

Today I'm sharing with you an excerpt from my book, Reaching for Sanity. I hope you like it.

I was anxious, clawing at my skin, crying and breathing irregularly. I was having suicidal thoughts, but not any I would act on---merely I wanted these feelings to end. I’m pregnant, so the thought of harming my unborn baby was atrocious to me. However, I had to have an emergency visit with my psych doctor. He wanted to hospitalize me, but I said no. I was scared of the cost, scared of what it’s like. What if they kept me there indefinitely? I’d never been to the mental hospital before.

Boy, my doc is an asshole! I was told almost as soon as I sat down that I had to be taken off of the Depakote and Ambien that he had prescribed for me on Monday. He asked me how far along I was and I told him. He said, three or four weeks? I said, no, three months. He said that I couldn’t take those meds while I’m pregnant. I started crying. He asked me what my OB had okayed as far as meds. I said I hadn’t asked her yet about these two specific meds, but that she had stated that we needed to weigh the good to the mother and child at the same time. She stated that it’s more important for me to be stable since I have bipolar. He said the fetus could be in danger and he didn’t want that on his record. He told me to call my OB and ask her to send a written statement stating what meds she wanted me on. I said that wasn’t her area of expertise and he said it was her call. He said she was passing the buck onto him. I told him I thought that was ridiculous.

Of course, by this time I exploded. I said that I had told him every single time I’ve seen him how far along I was and my due date except the last time when I was having a nervous breakdown and he should have it in my chart by now. I asked him why I needed to discontinue the Depakote and Ambien when it’s been working and what the difference it was between today and yesterday. He said yesterday I was suicidal. I said that I never said that I would harm my baby or myself. I just said that I wanted these feelings to end. I told him that I thought the only difference was that now he remembered I was pregnant. He agreed. So, I simply said, what if I go home and hurt myself, won’t that be harming my baby? Wouldn’t it just be better to just medicate me so that wouldn’t happen? Boy, he jumped on that one and began writing furiously in his notes. I thanked him for his time and quickly left. What an asshole!!

Ugh!! I’m so pissed and depressed! I haven’t been feeling THAT much better, but I haven’t been feeling as anxious. I still lay around all day and sleep a lot, but I’m not better.

The doctor said that I should go to the hospital to prevent myself from hurting myself, but I don’t really think there’s any danger in that. Should I still go to the hospital to get my meds regulated? What should I do now that I need a doctor pronto?

Seeing things move that aren’t moving. Is this mania? What is mania? Racing thoughts. No motivation. Mild anxiety.

It’s 12:31 am and I’m awake and taking a bath. Hope the computer doesn’t fall in.

I have often wondered if my husband, Darren, would’ve married me if we had known about my Bipolar Disorder. He told me today that he wishes he knew how to help me. I guess the best way to help him is to help myself. My whole life I’ve put others first. Now it’s my time to put myself first.

Sleepy. Mild anger. Mild anxiety. Moderate anxiety and anger when Alexis, my three-year-old daughter, would not go to bed. UGH! I just want to have a little bit of PEACE! I can’t even take a bath by myself!!!!!!!!!

Oh, how sick I am of the drugs! Today I tried half an Adderall to try and get me jump started out of this depression, but so far nothing is happening. Oh, how I detest this illness!

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Taking Charge

cristinacfender@gmail.com (Cristina C. Fender) — Wed, 21 Oct 2009 14:00:00 +0000

Normally, I'm against the idea of antidepressants for Bipolars, but my nurse practitioner convinced me that it would be a good idea to just to use them to get over the hump of my depression. If I hadn't been having suicidal thoughts I would've argued with her, but I realize that this holiday season is going to be a tough one without my father.

She put me on Pristiq, a new antidepressant. I've been on it going on a couple of weeks now at 50mg. I still have good days and bad days. Yesterday was a bad day. I had another suicidal thought and I spilled a bottle of pills into my hand as I thought about it. I thought of my children and immediately put it away. I think I'll call her today to see if my medication can be increased. She previously said that I should notice results in a week.

I haven't had suicidal thoughts in a year. It's disconcerting, to say the least, to hear these thoughts in my head. It reminds me that the Bipolar is never far away. I may control it at times with antipsychotics and Lithium, but it's never far away. I recognized the signs of depression coming this time, but I thought that it was just the grief talking. But, when I heard and felt the suicidal thoughts I knew it was time to see my nurse practitioner. I realize that the only person who can be my own advocate is me.

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Therapy: Grieving

cristinacfender@gmail.com (Cristina C. Fender) — Mon, 19 Oct 2009 14:00:00 +0000

I had my first therapy appointment since my father died. I had to tell her what happened and relive that awful day that my father died. It was incredibly painful opening up that wound. I spent the day crying and hugging my father's robe. I kept thinking that I would do anything to have my father back in my life. I would do anything to hear his voice. I would do anything to feel his hand in mine.

I have been having suicidal thoughts. Thoughts of how I would like all this pain to end, not any plans or anything. The Pristiq isn't working yet. I have another week of being on it and if it doesn't do any better then my psychiatrist will increase the dosage.

One thing that my therapist said that really got to me was that it was okay to cry. I spent my whole life thinking that it was bad to cry because my father didn't like it when I cried. It was like a flood gate opened and all I did was cry yesterday. I miss my father so much that it physically aches my heart when I think of him. I know that I need to cry if I'm going to grieve properly, but I just hate it. It makes me feel horrible. It doesn't give me a sense of relief when I stop crying. I just continue to think about my father and memories of him.

Birthday Blues

cristinacfender@gmail.com (Cristina C. Fender) — Wed, 14 Oct 2009 14:00:00 +0000

It's my birthday today. I should feel happy, but I don't. Today will be a difficult day. I won't be hearing from my father today.

My family has a luncheon planned for me and a dinner with cake. That will be nice. Hopefully I can get rid of the sense of dread that I'm feeling so that I can enjoy it.

Once my birthday is over then I'll be back to my depressed state. I really hope that the Pristiq kicks in soon. I've been sleeping a lot and ignoring my duties around the house. I need to get back into gear. There's a lot to do this time of year. I need to start getting ready for Thanksgiving and I need to start buying presents for Christmas.

All in good time, I guess.

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Depression Visits Again

cristinacfender@gmail.com (Cristina C. Fender) — Mon, 12 Oct 2009 14:00:00 +0000

Much thanks to HealthyPlace.com and an anonymous donor for donating money for my Walk for NAMI this weekend. To find out more visit Super Bipolar Brain and Body.

I walked this weekend even though I visited my psychiatrist last week and she told me that I'm depressed. She put me on Pristiq until I can get over the hump of it. I have just been feeling sad and alone because of my father's death. This holiday season will be particularly hard on me. I always had my dad. He always called me on my birthday, which is this week, and we talked every few days. It's been difficult not being able to call him and ask him questions and to hear his voice. I wanted to spend Thanksgiving with him this year since he was finally living in the States, but that is not meant to be. And then there's Christmas. I wanted to spend Christmas with him, too.

But, it wasn't meant to be and I have to deal with that. I guess I'm not dealing as well as I thought I was. But I know it will get better.

Walking for NAMI this weekend

cristinacfender@gmail.com (Cristina C. Fender) — Thu, 08 Oct 2009 14:30:00 +0000

Did anyone see the episode on Schizophrenia this week on Oprah? It was about a schizophrenic seven year old and how her parents deal with her disorder. It was so hard to watch. I feel for her parents and for her. Life is not easy for a mental patient of any age, but especially for children.

It reminded me of why I'm walking for NAMI this weekend. I'm walking in the hopes that NAMI will use the donated money to better help people with mental illnesses. I'm walking because I want there to be a cure. I'm walking for those who can't help themselves and who end up in mental hospitals without an end in sight. I often pass by the state cemetery where they bury patients from the state mental hospital. It's so sad that they live their lives with mental illnesses that destroy their brain and then when they die they're alone because their families have forgotten about them.

I walk for myself, too. I walk in the hopes that one day there will be a cure for what I have. I walk because I'm proud that I've come this far. Three years ago I was a bipolar mess and now my medications have leveled me out somewhat. I'm functioning. I might fall now and again, but at least I pick myself up and get going again. And now I'm walking for those that can't get up.

Sad and Angry

cristinacfender@gmail.com (Cristina C. Fender) — Mon, 05 Oct 2009 14:00:00 +0000

I haven't been posting much here. I feel kind of alone right now. There's not much to talk about. I've just been trying to make it through the day. I'm not exactly still crying for my dad. I haven't cried about him in weeks, but I still think about him every day. I keep reliving my memories of him in my mind.

I entered the anger stage of grief and I am so angry with him for lying to me about his condition, like I could've done something to prevent this tragedy. I know that even if I had known about his condition that I probably couldn't have prevented the outcome, but I'm also angry with myself for not being there when he needed me. I thought, because he told me, that the only reason he was still in the hospital was because he needed to be feed by IV and the doctors were being cautious. I didn't know that he had an infection that wasn't clearing up. I would've suggested surgery a lot sooner for him had I but known. And the tumors--why wasn't I more insistent that they check those out? Why wasn't his wife more insistent? I would do anything to have this been a bad dream, but there's nothing that I can do and that makes me angrier.

My birthday is coming up and I should feel excited, but all I feel is dread. I will be sad. My father won't be calling to wish me a happy birthday or taking me out to eat to celebrate. I don't want to be sad anymore. But, I think the hardiest part of not seeing him will be for the upcoming holidays.

I'm taking my prescribed medications and they're getting me through this. I may not feel like doing much, but at least I'm not tied to my bed, crying my eyes out. My dad wouldn't have wanted that.

Join in my Walk for NAMI

cristinacfender@gmail.com (Cristina C. Fender) — Mon, 21 Sep 2009 14:26:00 +0000

I am writing you today to tell you about an upcoming event that I am participating in that is both very important and very exciting to me. It is NAMIWalks for the Mind of America, NAMI's signature walkathon event that is being held in Austin, TX at Auditorium Shores on October 10, 2009.

I would like to ask you to come and walk with me or to donate to support my participation in this great event. Donating online is fast and secure, and I'll get immediate notification via e-mail of your donation.
NAMI, the National Alliance on Mental Illness, is the largest education, support and advocacy organization that serves the needs of all those whose lives are touched by these illnesses. This includes persons with mental illness, their families, friends, employers, the law enforcement community and policy makers. The NAMI organization is composed of approximately 1100 local affiliates, 50 state offices and a national office.

The goals of the NAMIWalks program are: to fight the stigma that surrounds mental illness, to build awareness of the fact that the mental health system in this country needs to be improved, and to raise funds for NAMI so that they can continue their mission.

NAMI is a 501(c)3 charity and any donation you make to support my participation in this event is tax deductible. NAMI has been rated by Worth magazine as among the top 100 charities "most likely to save the world" and has been given an "A" rating by The American Institute of Philanthropy for efficient and effective use of charitable dollars.

Thank you in advance for your support.

Sincerely,
Cristina Fender

Dying isn't just about dying

cristinacfender@gmail.com (Cristina C. Fender) — Sun, 20 Sep 2009 08:52:00 +0000

I'm still trekkin' along. My grieving has taken a back seat to all the legal ramifications of my father's death. There's so much to take care of: taxes, creditors, money, letting people know of his death. This week I finally let his ex-wife and my ex-stepbrother know of his death. It was difficult, but I got through it with only minor tears. I found out there are more outstanding debts and it got me thinking about how much mess my father left us to deal with.

I decided that I never want to do that to my own children and we are increasing our life insurance payouts in case of our deaths. Life insurance is so important to have. I've learned that the hard way since my father left us without any and we had to struggle to pay the funeral costs out of pocket. Thank god he was in the military and his remains were put into the cemetery at no additional costs.

I'm still waiting to hear about his retirement fund. My father always told us that us children were the only beneficiaries on the account, but it's been like pulling teeth to get them to tell us that and what amount is in there. I should have the death certificate soon and then I'll be able to fax it to them and then they'll possibly be able to tell us more.

I just wish my dad had had his affairs more in order. I think he thought that he was infallible and that death would never happen to him, but death happens to anybody. It's always better to be prepared because sooner or later death will happen. I want to make arrangements for myself so that my family doesn't have to go through what I had to go through just to bury my father.

Giving Yourself Permission to Grieve When You Have Bipolar

cristinacfender@gmail.com (Cristina C. Fender) — Wed, 09 Sep 2009 14:00:00 +0000

When you have bipolar disorder how do you give yourself permission to grieve without totally losing it?

This is the dilemma I'm faced with now. I don't want to cry because I'm worried that my bipolar will kick in and I'll be in a long depression. I'm hoping that my Lithium will keep me steady, but I'm doubtful.

I'm also faced with the fact that even if I don't cry that I'll enter into a deep depression. I feel like I'm damned if I do or damned if I don't.

I wish that I was not going through all this, dealing with the grief and loss and dealing with the legal ramifications of his creditors and the money that he left behind. We have to get an attorney and that's difficult on us financially right now. I keep feeling like this is all a bad dream and one day I'm going to wake up, but I know my father's dead and that's an impossibility.

So, right now I have to deal with me. Do I call my psychiatrist and have my meds increased? I think that's the safest bet. I just don't want to deal with the tiredness that goes along with increasing my meds, but this is where I am and I need to deal with it.

The Robe

cristinacfender@gmail.com (Cristina C. Fender) — Mon, 07 Sep 2009 14:00:00 +0000

I think of my father almost constantly these days. I miss him terribly. I think about the memories I have of him and I hear his voice in my head.

I don't think I'm going crazy. I think that this is normal for a woman grieving for her father. But, I'm still in the denial phase. I think that one morning I will wake up from this horrible dream and he will call me on the phone. Then I cry because that is never going to happen.

The day of the funeral his wife gave us things to remember him by. I got an old Cowboys mug that I gave him one year for a birthday or Christmas, his cowboy boots, a bottle of his cologne and his robe. When I got home I sprayed cologne on his robe and it's stayed in my bed ever since. I sleep cuddled up next to his robe at night. It helps to know that I have something that I can hold close to me as I cry myself to sleep at night.

My father would've wanted me to stay strong during this hard time and I'm trying my best. I try to keep myself busy. Today we're going to a water park to celebrate Labor Day. It will keep me busy and my mind occupied until I enter the house and see his ashes on my mantel. I bought the exact same urn to occupy my small portion of his remains as the one that went inside the wall at the cemetery.

I spent last week framing valuable pictures of my father. I have the blown up picture of him that we had displayed at the funeral home, church and cemetery and another picture of us dancing together at my wedding. He had such a proud and happy smile on his face and the picture of us dancing is priceless to me. I also put his military medals into a shadow box and hung it on my wall.

But, keeping busy is just delaying the inevitable. Grief only waits so long. I have to go through the stages of grief: shock and denial, pain and guilt, anger and bargaining, depression, reflection and loneliness, the upward turn, and acceptance and hope. Right now I'm feeling a little bit of denial and pain and guilt. I should've been there sooner to see my father. I know that everything happens for a reason, but I would've given anything to talk to my father and hear his voice one last time.

I Loved My Father

cristinacfender@gmail.com (Cristina C. Fender) — Wed, 02 Sep 2009 10:52:00 +0000

My father passed away on Wednesday, August 26, 2009 of Septic Shock (infection of the entire body) due to complications from the surgery he had to remove the tumor that had grown from his pancreas into his stomach and spleen.

When I got there on Tuesday night I got to see him. He was hooked up to a respirator and he was sleeping. He looked like he had another time I had seen him and, although I was worried, I was sure that he would get better. When I arrived on Wednesday morning I was in shock. My father was unresponsive, but awake and he was staring to the right at the ceiling. He looked highly uncomfortable. But, I just thought that he was in pain. I still thought he would pull through.

I talked to him and he looked at me but it was like he stared right through me. Then I began to be frightened. I called my aunts to come to see him and told them that he didn't look well. I called my sister and my brother and then I ran back into see him. My aunts got there in time to see him and he responded to them with a jerk of his head. We told him to fight to get better, but it was too late.

The doctor came into to see us and told us what I had feared the most. My father would not live through the day. I ran from the hospital room, sobbing as I ran down the hall. This could not be happening, I thought. This must be a horrible dream and any minute I would wake up. I called my husband and told him to get there. I needed him in the worse way. But my husband was in Austin and I was in McAllen. There's no way he would get there in time.

My father was heavily sedated and he was put on medication to keep his blood pressure from going so low. They almost needed to shock his heart that morning. The doctors talked to us about resuscitation. We decided that there would be no DNR. Eventually we talked about whether or not to discontinue all the medications for his heart. After much discussion we agreed that the medication was only delaying the inevitable. There was infection all over his body and it had spread to his heart and his brain. There was no way that he could live.

I waited that night until 10:30 P.M. I could not leave my father. His heart began to slow and I laid my hand over his heart as it slowly stopped beating. It was the hardest thing I've ever had to do to watch my father die. To listen to the monitor beep was excruciatingly painful. I could not wake up from this dream, it was a reality. I cried and cried that day, hoping for the release of the pain, but to no avail. My father was dead.

The funeral was hard, but not harder than the day he died. I said my goodbyes in the Eulogy that I gave at his rosary. But, I have not truly said goodbye. I surround myself with his pictures and his favorite robe and cologne. I miss him more than I can say. I still think that the phone will ring and it will be him. But, he will never call again and I must learn to deal with that.

I thought that I would go into a deep depression after all that happened, but somehow I keep going. My only thought is of my children and how they need me. I will not let them down. I try to keep my crying at a minimum. I think that if I really let myself cry that I will not stop and my own family needs me now.

Follow Me at Super Bipolar Brain & Body

cristinacfender@gmail.com (Cristina C. Fender) — Mon, 24 Aug 2009 13:56:00 +0000

I've recently been asked to contribute at a new online blog called Super Bipolar Brain & Body. It features me using the Brain Muscle Workout to help my Bipolar Disorder. I invite you to follow me in my journey to wellness at http://superbipolarbrainandbody.blogspot.com/. I'll see you there!