A Moment in Time

Sometimes when you least expect it, you need to take a step back.  Try to figure out what goal it is that you’re looking to achieve.  Really look inside your head and block out all of the outside forces.  I’ll be honest.  Behind the whole “let’s change the world and make it a more tolerant place” facade, lies one exhausted, overwhelmed, and frustrated individual. 

So, here I am…awake at 3:09 am, listening to my husband’s C-Pap machine and wishing my restless leg syndrome would go away.  I feel hurt and let down by a lot of people, but I’m letting them make me feel that way.  I know I’ve grown a lot, and I’m in a different place than I was in 2013, but I honestly have no idea where I’m headed next.  I’m lost in the shadow of the pain that hovers over me. 

It’s the anniversary of my mother’s death.  Eight years have passed, and somehow just thinking of it automatically transports me back to that moment at 7:00 PM, the doctor came in and turned off those machines.  I’ll never forget that feeling of utter despair and loss.  When I lost her, I lost a piece of myself that I’ll never have back. I’ve never been the same person since that day, and I never will be.  I just can’t get that image out of my head. 

So, I am taking that much needed step back.  Which is ironic, because I was just informed by my publisher that I will be embarking on a virtual blog tour.  In essence, I will be contributing to whatever blog and/or podcasts will have me.  Maybe that’s why, on a personal level, I’m inclined to move away from social media for a time.  I know I spend far too much time online as it is.  There are days when I wish I never would have started using Facebook.  When my husband is sitting next to me, and we’re not talking to each other, using our phones to talk to other people…well, you’ve got to draw a damn line somewhere.  I’ve worked far too long and far too hard to let my marriage go down the tubes because we don’t actually communicate with each other anymore.  That is not going to happen to me. 

So, if I have to take his phone and throw it across the room, I’m going to do it.  I have so little time with him to start with, and to have social media come between us in our time together is unacceptable.  I know he’ll read this, and I hope he understands and agrees. 

I cried a lot today, and at one point when I had stopped, I opened the curtain in our room, and noticed the sun start to shine. Inside my head, I said, “Hi Mom…I love you too”.  We have an old answering machine that I have I believe 4 messages from her stored on it. I’m not sure where that machine is right now, and maybe it’s better that way, because I think hearing her voice would break me more than build me up.  When you start hitting your forties, and you start realizing that the older you get, the more people you’re going to lose, well…it’s like a kick in the gut.  I feel like I’ve lost enough for a lifetime, but I have so much more to endure.  How I will get through that, I have yet to determine.  With my husband by my side, we’ll figure it out. 

I just wish I didn’t have to.  

The Urge (Trigger Warning - Discussion of self-injury)

Ironically, it’s still quite embarrassing for me to come forward and talk about particular issues that I’m going through.  Even after everything that I’ve said publicly.  I think I will always be afraid of what people will think.  Thankfully, even though it is in the back of my mind, I rarely let is stop me from being the same brutally honest person that I have always been. 

Most of you know by now that I’ve written a book.  You may also be aware that the sales are not nearly what I had hoped for.  That has been a source of stress for me, but I felt like I was handling it pretty well, for a while. You may also not be aware that I have had little to no relationship with the original publisher of the book.  After the giant catastrophe that occurred with errors in the book, he hasn’t been around much.

Last night, I found myself having to reach out to him again about more errors.  Quite frankly, it caused one of the worst panic attacks I’ve experienced in quite some time.  I was irrational, I was sobbing, and I couldn’t breathe.  It was like the dam broke.  It started a flood of pain and heartache that I’ve just been swallowing since November 1st when I had maybe 10 people in attendance at my book signing.  What kind of a fool am I?  How could I ever possibly think that I could be a success.  Everything that I’ve ever touched has turned to shit.  The ONLY thing I haven’t screwed up yet is my marriage and thank GOD for that. 

So, the darkness set in.  The depression, the sadness, the feelings of worthlessness, of hopelessness.  I feel like someone draped a lead blanket across my back and shoulders.  It’s inescapable.  Last night, I tried to go to bed early, hoping I might feel better with sleep, but I felt even heavier when I woke up.  I started this project, attempting to get my book on another format, and it wasn’t working.  I had to call the company and when I hung up, I just lost it. 

 The feelings of failure were suffocating me.  I was hyperventilating.  I didn’t understand a word she said to me, and I had no idea how to fix a thing.  Suddenly, I felt like a small child lost in the woods.  Which way do I go?  Where do I turn?  It felt like there was no answer, so I was frozen in my fears. 

All I could think of was, how stupid are you?  What the hell made you think you were capable of succeeding at anything?  So, you told people you were depressed, big damn deal…nobody cares.

This repeated in my head obsessively…until it happened.  Something I truly thought I had let go of.  It was the images of cutting.  It starts out slowly.  I just sort of picture what I might use, what the cuts may look like.  Then the cravings kick in…the deep burning desire to punish myself for being a failure.  To feel the rush of having cut hard enough to bleed. The rush calms the nerves, and everything slows down for a few minutes.  The need runs through my head like a song on repeat. 

I’ve never in my life told anyone outside my closest family members or therapists that.  The first thing I did was tell Joe.  God how I hate having to be that kind of person that interrupts her husband’s work day to tell him this horrible news.  As bad as that news is, there’s even better news.  I DIDN’T CUT.  That’s the real accomplishment in this story.  Even now, it’s buzzing around in my brain.  I know it probably sounds really stupid to someone that hasn’t experienced it.  Maybe you think it’s a dumb reason to want to do it.  None of that matters.  What matters is, I had horribly painful urges and I made it through them. 

I’m not going to sit here and run down the laundry list of things that are going wrong for us right now, that’s not what this blog is about.  What matters is that these things are painful enough…life altering enough that for one moment in time, I wanted to hurt myself to stop thinking about these things.  To punish myself for not living up to the expectations I had for myself. 

 I’m sure there are many people that don’t understand.  It’s OK.  I don’t need you to understand.  If you still want to be my friend, what I need is maybe a, “hey, are you OK?” once in a while.  You would be amazed at how much feeling cared about can change your outlook on self-injury. 

Is my book a success?  No.  Is it the only dream that I truly ever had?  Yes.  Do I feel like a gigantic failure?  You bet your sweet ass I do.  I long for someone to come along that has some fantastic ideas or really wants to help me get my name out there…because I am exhausted.  I beat myself up for being too tired to spend more time online trying to reach out to anyone and everyone in hopes of hitting it big.  Maybe to the average person, none of this is reason enough for me to want to hurt myself.  Well…good for you, truly.  I’m glad for you not having to experience this. 

Do I feel better about my life? No…not at all, honestly.  However, I have an ever-so-small glimmer of hope in the back of my mind know that I am still able to maintain my 2 years and 6 months clean of self-injury. 

I guess I’ll think about the rest of it tomorrow. 

Thanks for listening.  

Don't forget to stop by my website: www.rebeccalombardo.com

Check my book out on Amazon: www.amzn.com/0692509739

Follow me on Twitter: @BekaLombardo

Like my Facebook page: www.facebook.com/notyourjourney

I Guess This Is Growing Up

This time of year, I often feel particularly introspective.  2015 is coming to a close, and I can’t help but look back on the past 10 months.  When October hits, I see myself becoming more somber, knowing what the holidays have historically had in store for me.  This year, I’m finding myself in a different place. 

I’ve really been thinking about how I’ve grown as a person.  I know in the past, I’ve changed in ways I wasn’t particularly proud of.  For a very long time, it seemed like as each year passed, I became more and more bitter.  I hated that about myself, but I didn’t think I could do much to change it.  I was stumbling through life, pretending I didn’t care that I was a miserable person. 

I cannot tell a lie.  Previously, if I found something particularly offensive, I wasn’t afraid to tell anyone and everyone just how pissed off I was.  I believe that I’ve blindsided people who were just going about their life, not ever knowing I was coming to unleash my misguided fury. I am grateful to be able to say that today, that is not who I am.  I saw this meme online the other day, and I loved it. 

I completely connected with it.  Sure, there are some reprehensible things on the internet.  I understand that.  If it’s a fight for a good cause, I’ll be the first one to throw my hat in the ring.  If it’s some stranger that I couldn’t care less about or even someone that I do know, talking about politics or giving an opinion on a movie that I don’t agree with, I move on.  I keep Bill tucked away in my brain. 

Don’t we all have enough on our plates?  Do we really have the energy to devote to all of this nonsense?  I know I don’t.  Why have I always gotten so riled up about people that say stupid, insensitive things?  If it’s directly about me or said to my face, well…it’s entirely possible that they’ll have a fight on their hands.  But if I can avoid the conflict, I think it’s essential to walk away...and quickly before I change my mind. 

It’s like most things, really.  It’s all about balance.  I don’t mean to say that I’ll just sit here quietly and let people walk all over me or anyone that I love for that matter.  Quite the contrary.  I do think that I’ve had to learn a difficult lesson about picking my battles.  I’ll be the first to admit that I have flown off the handle at people, too quickly and for absurd reasons.  I hate the fact that there are people that are no longer in my life because of that.  Yet, at the same time I know that perhaps my slightly hysterical nature helped me to thin out the herd, in a sense. 

I know I’ll never have all of the answers.  I understand that I’ll make mistakes along the way.  I’ve most assuredly put myself out in the public eye where I will often be judged or criticized.  I will want to fight back and sometimes I will fight back.  I just know that at my age, I don’t have time to sit around getting in ridiculous confrontations with even more ridiculous people. 

It’s a relief, really.  It’s been a long time coming.  I deserve to find peace and happiness.  We all do.  So, on this Thanksgiving, while I will still miss my loved ones dearly, I will feel grateful.  For the insight, for the love I do have in my life, and for how I hard I worked to just be me. 

Happy Holidays. 

Q & A

I've decided to start taking questions from my readers.  I will do my best to answer any questions you may have about bipolar, writing, marriage, etc.  Just always keep in mind that I am not a licensed professional.  Any answers I give are based on my own personal experiences.  What worked for me, may not work for you.  

Here are a few questions I was asked recently:

1. What helped you find the impetus to start your blog?

I started writing my blog to help me relieve some of the pain, stress, and guilt from everything I have been through in my life up until now. I didn't even originally plan on publicizing it. I had always wanted to be a writer, but I gave up on that dream a long time ago. When I started to let people read it, I gained confidence from all of the positive feedback.  Once I made it public, the response was overwhelming. I started writing for me...I kept writing for everyone that was learning from it.

2. Over the last two years, what's kept you motivated to continue writing and posting to your blog?

Bipolar disorder, depression, anxiety, suicide--all of these issues are widely misunderstood. Once I realized I was reaching people, I knew that I needed to keep going. It was scary because a lot of people didn't know that I had this disorder, and I didn't know what they would say or do. However, the outpouring of support was amazing. It feels incredible to know that you’ve helped someone.

3. What was the process like of shifting from writing a blog to writing a book?

It was difficult staying true to the premise of the book. I wanted it to read like a journal, which is why all of the chapters are dated. It was important to me that everyone understood that it was real and unfiltered.  I will admit, I wasn't entirely convinced that I wanted all of these stories out there for the world to see.  I can't even count the number of times I had to edit, rewrite, or eliminate chapters. Sometimes it was too overwhelming to be reliving all of these painful experiences over and over. I'm just glad I made it through.

4. What would you say to other people who are dealing with bipolar illness, depression, or other illnesses that can make it hard for them to be able to write and create?

I would say take it slow. Don't be hard on yourself if you don't write a best seller the first time you sit down in front of the computer. There are days when I can't write either. I don't get down on myself because I know that there will be a day when I can. I try to avoid deadlines if I can, but I know that isn't always realistic.
I worry that I'm setting myself up to fail. With the feeling of failure comes tremendous feelings of depression, and that's what we’re all trying to avoid. You may find that you're second guessing yourself, predicting that you won't be able to do it. If you're feeling that way, sit down in front of the computer or with a pen and paper and just see what happens. You might surprise yourself!

You can submit the questions to me via email Paradoks1@aol.com
Or via Twitter @BekaLombardo  

Don't forget to check out my author website - www.rebeccalombardo.com

I'll Be Your Voice

On Wednesday the 16th of September, I was given the opportunity to make a brief speech at a local event.  The event was for people that have experienced the pain and loss of suicide.  We spoke to one of the coordinators a few days prior and asked if it would be alright if I presented a different angle.  This was the speech I made. I was terrified and trembling on the inside, but I did it!  Some of you have heard all of this before, so I will apologize ahead of time.  I felt like this was something I absolutely had to do.  It was well received, and many people approached me afterwards.  It felt good.  

Let me know what you think.  

Hello,

I’m here to provide a different perspective on suicide.  When I was 19, I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder.  I just turned 42 this last year, so you can imagine it’s been quite the journey.  In 2008, I lost my mom to lung cancer, even though she hadn’t had a cigarette in 21 years. We had a large family, six kids all together, and we were never the same again. I’ve never felt that kind of pain in my life, and I had no idea how to process it.  In 2011, on March 23^rd, my dad called.  What he told me made my knees buckle underneath me.  My brother, Dana was dead.  It was my birthday, and I was just told my brother was dead. 

He had been found brain dead in a hot tub with people none of the rest of us knew.  The hospital called my dad to say he was gone.  He was a lifelong alcoholic and had apparently started using cocaine as well.  He was often depressed and miserable, so we have no idea if he did it on purpose.  I was never able to say goodbye.  We hadn’t spoken since the year before. 

While my mom was on her death bed, I leaned over her, and I promised I would take care of the family.  That everyone would be OK.  It wasn’t a lie.  I tried, but I was failing miserably.  My husband and I have always had a happy marriage, but I haven’t always been a happy person.  The bipolar disorder was wreaking havoc on my life again in 2013, and I decided to take my own life. 

As someone that used self-injury as a coping mechanism, I always kept sharp instruments around as a security blanket.  I cut myself several times and took an entire, 30 count bottle of one of my prescriptions.  I didn’t even tell anyone I did that until we got to the ER.  The state of Michigan had me committed to a horrible place, and I worked as hard as I could to get myself out of there.  When I did, I vowed that this was NEVER going to happen to my family or me again. 

Since I couldn’t find the kind of help I wanted or needed in the medical community, I decided to go back to something that had always given me comfort before.  Writing.

I started a blog that got very popular on the Internet, all over the world.  Eventually, I started to feel so good that I was helping other people while I helped myself, that my husband and I took to making it into a book.  I am proud to say that the story of how I got my life back is on sale on Amazon right now.  It’s Not Your Journey is just that.  MY journey of how I had to damn near die to learn how to live again.  I’m helping people, and it feels amazing. 

This book is for anyone.  If you’re depressed, if you are married to someone that is depressed, or if your child is depressed.  It will give you insight that you could never have expected.  I’m not here to sell books.  I’m here to speak for those that can’t speak for themselves anymore.  The ones who are called cowards for taking the easy way out of life.  The people that were in so much pain that they simply saw no other way out.  They deserve a voice. 

We all do.  

There's Nothing Funny About Bipolar

When I have to look at a person and say, “I’m bipolar”,  they get a bemused expression on their face as if they’re waiting for the punchline.  That’s all there is to it, and believe me, this is not a joke my friend.  I can’t think of many more things as infuriating as someone using a mental illness as an insult.  You’re going to hear, “Oh my God! Don’t be so bipolar!” much more than you’re going to get, “Wow, do you have to be so diabetic all the time?” 

The truth is that there are many people that are bipolar and have done horrible things.  Things like theft, murder, even rape.  That does not mean that all of us are capable of such unspeakable acts.  Hollywood doesn’t help matters at all.  Have you ever been using one of the movie streaming services and caught a glimpse of a film that might me interesting?  Sure, many people have.  How many times have you clicked on the description of that film and discovered that the lead in the story is a horribly insane person, and you guessed it…bipolar. 

What is the real difference here?  Bipolar disorder is a disease of the mind;  it manifests itself in physical ways all the time.  Just ask anyone who deals with it. Conditions like Fibromyalgia, Cancer and AIDS begin as physical conditions and can eventually have a negative impact on your mind.  I know I’m walking a fine line here.  I would never tell a Cancer patient that their disease isn’t as serious as mine.  I’m just trying to say that it deserves the same amount of patience, acceptance, and respect. 

We hear a lot about stigma these days.  If you try hard enough, you can stigmatize any disease or disorder.  Is social media helping us or hurting us?  I honestly can’t decide.  For example, many, many people commented on the death of Robin Williams.  A lot of the comments were centered around how badly people felt that he was in that kind of pain, and their hearts went out to his family.  Conversely,  the number of comments that described him as a psychotic freak that only cared about himself was staggering.  Some people even went so far to go after his daughter in probably the most painful time of her entire life. 

There are positives to using social media.  I’ve experienced that myself.  I’ve had people from all over the world approach me to talk about my story, or to ask my opinion of their situation.  I’ve yet to come across someone that downright insults me, and I hope that I never do.  I’m not one to hold my tongue on something like that.  I do know that people have quietly unfollowed or unfriended me since I told my story.  Whether they did it because of my disease, I may never know.  The fact of the matter is if they want to walk away from me because I’ve said something that offended them, I completely understand that.  To take a hike because I have a disease that I cannot control is ridiculous. 

I get it.  There are people out there that use mental illness as a way to garner attention or special treatment.  To those people, I say shame on you.  Unfortunately, that kind of behavior has been around forever.  I watched a documentary on a woman who fooled an entire community into believing she was a survivor of the towers falling on 9/11.  People like that are sick, but not in the way they want you to believe.

I know the facts are hard to comprehend.  Especially for those people that have never dealt with mental illness on any level.  All I’m asking is that you think about it.  We didn’t choose this.  If we could “get over it” we would.  Think about the last time you were really sad.  Maybe when a loved one passed away.  Now, imagine feeling like that every single day for months, with no end in sight.  Consider that you could possibly be in that much pain for no discernible reason.  Nobody has passed away; no catastrophe has taken place. 

Envision yourself terrified to leave your house, scared of what people will say about you. Think about losing your job because you were diagnosed with something like diabetes and you had to miss several days because you couldn’t control your blood sugar.  Lastly, pretend for a minute that friends and family members no longer wanted to have anything to do with you because of that illness.

This is just a snapshot of the life of someone with bipolar disorder.  People like me are not coming forward just to get attention.  Believe me, most of the attention we get from the general public, we don’t really want.  The reason we’re coming forward and enduring all of this scrutiny is because we need acceptance.  We need to be able to talk about this.  We deserve to have the right to not feel like a freak or psycho.  I’ve often said, you don’t have to fix it.  You don’t even have to help.  Just don’t make us feel even worse.  Don’t mock us and please don’t call us selfish. 

You have no idea what your future holds.  A day may come where someone very close to you is diagnosed with some form of depression, and now you’re the one looking for help or acceptance.

People don’t have to give us special treatment or attention.  All we’re asking is to be treated like a human being.  A little respect would go a long way.  We aren’t any less worthy of a fulfilling, happy life than the next person. 

You can pick up my book on Amazon or by visiting my website: www.rebeccalombardo.com

Follow me on Twitter @BekaLombardo

And please like my Facebook page: www.facebook.com/notyourjourney

Thank you!

Racing Thoughts

For well over 20 years, I have been battling this thing called bipolar disorder.  A big part of my struggle centers around racing thoughts and the anxiety that they create.  After having dealt with this issue for so long, I was beginning to think I had a handle on the situation.  I worked very hard to develop my own coping skills, using a great deal of self-talk.  If you’re unfamiliar with this term, I’ll break it down for you.  It is essentially what one would think.  Talking to yourself using encouragement and common sense.  At least, that’s my definition. 

I have been able to talk myself down on a pretty consistent basis by realizing that all of the obsessing over anything and everything wasn’t going to change the outcome.  If that didn’t help, I would write down whatever I was thinking.  This helped me achieve some peace.  If none of that was helpful, then I tried to picture one thing in my mind and focus on just that.  I put all of my efforts into noticing the colors and the landscape of whatever I chose to focus on. 

I was pretty successful in these endeavors for quite some time.  However, in the last 3-4 months, nothing seems to help.  The hardest time is at night when I am trying to sleep.  I could be tired around 10:00 or 11:00 pm, but the battle to actually fall asleep can last until 4:00 or 5:00 am.  It’s an exhausting and frustrating way to live.  Once I do fall asleep, I can’t wake up until far too late in the day because I am so tired, I feel as if I’ve been drugged.  One can imagine that I’m not getting a lot done under these circumstances. 

I don’t know about you, but I am flat-out a basket case if I don’t get enough sleep at night.  I get the shakes, my vision is blurry, I have headaches, and I’m often nauseated.  So, these last few months have been a struggle for me.  I’m trying so hard to keep a positive outlook on everything, but this lack of sleep is causing an extremely negative frame of mind.  I’ve spoken to my doctor, and he has increased one of my medications, but frankly it’s not helping.  Not even a little bit.  I’ve tried everything at this point. Turning off the TV, using thunderstorm sound effects, even combining my medication with Benadryl.  I’m extremely aggravated, and I just want to know when it’s going to come to an end. 

I’m at a point in my life where I should be feeling extremely optimistic about what lies ahead.  My first and possibly only book is set to release this week.  I am truly grateful to be able to say that I have made it this far.  However, it is difficult to jump for joy when you feel like you’ve been hit by a truck.  Next week, I have to see the specialist about my back.  We’ve had to reschedule a couple of times. This last time because our cat, Hayley was very sick.  Which, of course, added to my inability to sleep.  I’m sure that if I wasn’t in this much pain, and I could be more active during the day, I could probably sleep better at night.  I’m willing to test that theory if I can ever get some relief for my Sciatica. 

Depression, anxiety, fear, grief, nightmares, PTSD…all of these things can lead to racing thoughts.  It’s like a row of dominos.  Just tap on one, and the rest will fall.  I just wish a resolution could be achieved a bit quicker.  I know what happens to me emotionally when the lack of sleep finally gets to me.  It’s not pretty, and I really don’t want to revisit it.   I’ll keep trying, and I’ll keep fighting because that’s what I do.  Will I be successful? 

Not 100% of the time, but for every time I’ve stumbled I’ve gotten back up stronger and wiser. 

Here goes nothing. 

You can pick up my book on Amazon or by visiting my website: www.rebeccalombardo.com

Follow me on Twitter @BekaLombardo

And please like my Facebook page: www.facebook.com/notyourjourney

Thank you!