Impractical Grace

I had an interesting response to the concept of faking it 'til you make it.  Someone pointed out that this approach may not be completely honest.  What I meant was that things may not be good yet, but I hope  they will be, so I'm going to try to  help them along. I don't think being optimistic is being dishonest. I guess I see it more like this--I might not have ever kept a garden alive before, but I really want to this year. I don't have a green thumb yet, but if I try to fake it 'til I make it, and go through the motions, maybe I will. Maybe not one that makes things flourish, but a decent one.

Thank You

Thank you.  Thank you. Thank you from my whole heart for your kind words, love, and support so strong they're nearly tangible.  You all seem to know exactly what I've needed.

Some of you have been asking how I've been lately.  Let's be honest.  I'm not a saint.  I am faking it 'til I make it.  In a situation where I have so little control, I am trying to be positive--and that's only because I've had many experiences when I've had the option to be positive or negative, chosen the latter, and later regretted it.  By choosing this attitude I'm not pretending that my disorder doesn't exist.  It DOES--and I prefer to be open about it.  Here's why:  Really, this has been one of my biggest fears.  I used to think that mental illness was something that someone would kind of know they had as they were growing up, but a few years ago when I learned that it often manifests itself in early adulthood, I considered what that would be like and decided it would be one of the worst things that could happen to me.  

So Now What?

While at the hospital I found a quote I'd tucked away in my scriptures:

"Everything, no matter how dire, becomes a victory to the Lord.  Joseph [of Egypt] although...undeserving of his circumstances remained faithful to the Lord...and made something very good of his...circumstances."
-Hartman Rector, Jr. Oct. 1972-

My Diagnosis

I have Bipolar Disorder (manic-depressive).  I'm still learning about it myself, but basically it means that I Am Still Caitlin and that I experience extreme happiness (manic) and extreme sadness (depressive).

The Psych Unit

When I arrived at the Psych Unit I wanted to leave as soon as I could--like immediately.  When I left four days later, I was so grateful for every single minute I spent there.

My Story

In July 2012, Abbey, our infertility miracle arrived.  After the three year struggle to create her, severe gestational diabetes (complete with a strict diet and insulin shots), and a mysterious two-month migraine, my quick and natural labor was bliss and we REJOICED! 

Within about a week, I developed severe anxiety--particularly with the onset of dusk or poor weather. Then I began seeing and hearing things at night--like a homeless man sleeping on our couch, a wolf in the hallway, and a train crossing right outside our bedroom window.  One night I remember being so hungry but unable to eat anything.  I was convinced an apple was poisoned, cereal was contaminated, and I would choke on popcorn.  I realized all of these things were very ridiculous, but they were also very real to me.  I went in to my OB and of course we agreed it was postpartum depression-- "with a psychotic flair," he added.  Lucky me.