The Angry Neighbor

Travis and I have some downstairs neighbors that argue, yell, slam doors, and even supposedly hit each other right in front of their 5 year old little girl. Yesterday, the little girl ran outside and shouted "I can't take this anymore!" Then we heard doors slamming and the parents yelling at each other. The man was calling the woman profane names and the anger was running rampant. Want to know how we reacted?

Well, first, Travis has worked on his anger issues immensely. He no longer gets triggered or when he does he takes a deep breath and let's it go. I am so proud and thankful. I had to tell Travis that his anger was a deal breaker for me as I came from an angry and abusive household. He never hit me or anyone else but he would throw things or slam doors in the past. For example, he picked up the trash can one day and threw it down hard and it hit my leg. That was the last straw for me. I told him and his family he had to fix his anger quick or I would be gone. He fixed it by reading a book I bought him called "The Cow in the Parking Lot", some med changes, and just deciding that I was worth it. It took some time and a lot of working through it together. I finally feel safe again in our relationship. Travis is a different man today.

Many of the neighbors were outside or had their doors open because of the little girl. We all wanted to help her. A neighbor downstairs called the police. Travis came to the door and angrily yelled "Are they at it again?!!" hoping it would make them realize we were all watching and hoping they would stop. But all he did was add fuel to the fire and let out his own anger. I told him you are supposed to de-escalate anger not add to it. Travis was literally shaking after that. He kept apologizing to me over and over. He just let a little anger out, but felt like he had failed terribly. It's amazing how much it affected him and how easy their anger triggered his own.

The police came and settled the matter. The mom left with the little girl. Now Travis has decided he doesn't like being around angry people. The veil has lifted and he gets it. He really gets it. Today he said to me "I used to act that way, but now I know anger like that is not normal." This is huge to me because a year ago Travis was that angry guy. He didn't know how to set boundaries without yelling and screaming, or throwing things. He does now. And it has literally saved our marriage. I really hope that the lady downstairs is strong enough to stand her ground to not take the abuse and I hope the man gets help for his anger issues.  If you or a loved one has anger issues, there is hope. People can and do change.

What it's like in a Psych Ward or Mental Hospital

I was in a mental hospital twice last year for Bipolar related psychosis. Want to know what it was like and how I got there? Not all hospitals are the same but this was how my experience went as I remember it. The first time I went in was after a visit to the ER for pyschotic symptoms. I was delusional, thinking I was God-like and could control the TV, etc. They had the police transport me to the hospital. They were going to cuff me but my mom begged them not to and told them I wasn't violent. Travis was even allowed to ride in the police car with me. This was a good thing for everybody because at the time I was clinging to my family and was struggling with my identity. I didn't know who I was anymore. I remember asking Travis who I was and how I was supposed to act. He told me I am Staci and was there to get help. We pulled up and went in where a man asked me a bunch of questions and had me sign a paper. Then I was taken to a room where there was another girl sleeping who was snoring loud and yelling out in her sleep. It scared me so they allowed me to sleep in a room by myself the first night. I was going in and out of psychosis which I believe was caused by lack of sleep. So I slept and slept and slept.

The first day they left me alone to sleep most of the time. Nurses would come in and check vital signs and ask how I was doing. They say they take it easy on you the first day. The second day I was woken up for breakfast. I remember just sitting there staring at the food. I was freaked out by all the other people there who were also exhibiting bizarre behavior. One man was angry and violent and they kept him in his room all the time with a nurse at the door at all times. One of the other patients helped me by encouraging me to take a bite of food. I had lost a lot of weight as food was not important to me at the time. But I do like bacon, so I tried it. That particular patient was a care-taker. He took it upon himself to care for newbies like me. After breakfast I went back to bed and avoided socializing with other patients. Then a nurse came in and said it was time for group. We had a group session where we did a bit of stretching then we were asked to go one by one and rate our mood and tell what our goal was for the day. I put on my acting hat because all I wanted to do was go home. I said I was an 8 and my goal was to go home that day. And I did. I hid my symptoms very well at the onset of psychosis so the Psych Dr just put that I was depressed and sent me home.

The very next day we were back at the ER. I was doing things like talking to people who weren't there, had beliefs that I was going to die and that my daughter was going to die and that my Dad was going to die. Travis says I was gone. The real me just wasn't home. I can remember his anguish and frustration. Poor guy. I kept trying to take my clothes off and run outside. I thought if I could get outside then God could take me in place of my handicapped daughter. I did not want her to die. These were of course just symptoms of mania/psychosis and I was put right back in the hospital. They had to trick me this time though. I was taken by ambulance from the ER in my hospital gown and wrapped in a blanket. I am usually very modest but when I realized I was going back I became frantic. My back end was hanging out for all to see and I didn't even care. I was just crying and crying. The nurses kept asking if I remembered them but I only remembered two people and they were the only one's I would talk to. They made me take off my gown in a secluded room and wrote down any scars or marks I had on my body. This was torturous for me as I was sexually abused and am very modest because of it. I was allowed to sleep for awhile but then they got me into the "schedule." Almost every hour was scheduled during the day. We had group in the morning which was just like last time. I tried pretending I was OK again but my actions in the evening showed I was not. Then we had a nutritionist come to speak with us. We had craft time, we had game time, and played Apples to Apples or the Wii. We had a meditation class, a positive affirmation class, and more. They didn't MAKE you go to groups but the people who did usually got out faster so I went to every group. I thought I would get out quickly. They didn't even make you take a shower. There were two girls who did nothing but sit in front of the TV. One of them never showered and stunk pretty bad. The other seemed snotty. There were cliques just like high school. I wanted out.

We had med time where we all lined up for our meds. They would watch you take the meds and make you stick out your tongue after each swallow. Usually your assigned nurse kept track of when you needed meds and would come get you if you weren't in line. We were checked on every 15 minutes, even through our sleep.

My mom and Travis would call me quite often. There was a 10 minute time limit on phone calls and two phones. This time was so hard on Travis. He faithfully visited me during the week for our hour each night. There was NO weekend visitation. That was hard. Travis actually became suicidal during this time because I would beg him to take me home and he couldn't. He tried once but they said the 72 hour hold didn't include weekends.This meant the court granted the Dr permission to keep me in spite of mine and Travis's wishes. I wasn't even suicidal. But I was delusional.

It turned into a 9 day ordeal. I became very paranoid. I did things like accuse Travis of cheating on me and accused my mom of wanting to keep me in there forever. I even ran into one of the other patients room and woke her up in the middle of the night because I thought she was dying. (She was a very old lady and I was worried about her.) That little stunt got me pulled into the main room by dragging me on the floor and holding me down to give me a shot. I was left with a giant bruise on my arm from where security grabbed me. Then I was the one who had a nurse at my door. I was put on a different medication nearly every day. I guess they thought it wasn't working. I saw more than one Pysch Dr. so each one would put me on a different med. This frustrated my family.

We would meet with the Psych Dr every day and if he thought it was time to go home he would tell you right then. So waiting for that visit every day became very stressful. I wasn't able to fool anybody this time. Every day my goal was to go home. I gave my family hell for putting me in the system where I felt like a prisoner.  Finally I decided that my goal should be to get better and take advantage of the help I was getting. That was instilled in me by another patient who also had been there a while and wanted to go home. The Dr could go to the court and get an order to keep us whether we wanted to go home or not. He had me on 72 hour holds several times.

The good things about the hospital were that somebody cleaned up after us and made our beds and cooked us food. On Fridays we had pizza and popcorn. I found my clique and had made friends. I was learning about myself and my illness.

 I remember that one night I had went crazy over not having my wedding rings. I said to everyone "I bet you all think I'm crazy. Just crazy Staci." And one of the ladies looked at me and said "Well we're all in here with you!!" And that stopped me in my tracks. She became a close friend of mine inside. It's weird that I actually miss a lot of the people I was in there with. I wonder how they are doing now. One guy in there thought I was a girl he went to school with and he had a major crush on me. That was weird to deal with. When Travis came to pick me up the guy was upset. He did not want me to go home.

But, on day 9 I finally got to come home. I still wasn't all better but I was functioning. They set up appointments for me at a local mental health center for psychotherapy and to meet with a new Psych Dr. I have not missed an appointment in a year. I feel like I am finally on the right track now. My stay was scary but necessary. It made me realize I DO have a problem and need medicated. Feel free to ask me any questions about my stay that I did not address.  
 

Emotional Crisis and Little to No Help to be Found in the USA

(I wrote this in October of 2011. I get a lot of questions about how to afford medication and therapy. This was my road to being well enough to run this page and blog.) I am so sad angry right now that I can't stop crying. Is this America? I can't get anyone or any organization to help me right now and I am in crisis! I don't like to share this, but I suffer from major depression, Bipolar Disorder, and  have had two psychotic episodes in my lifetime. I have been suicidal at times. I have been un-medicated for over a year, and am currently experiencing such a dramatic change and hardship in my life that suicidal thoughts are popping up. I have two young children, and they are what keep me from going through with suicide. But truly, I worry that during a psychotic episode, I may not be in the right state of mind to remember they need me. I need medicine and I need it NOW. 

I have no job and no insurance. Even though I am an emotional mess right now, I have enough strength to make some calls. So first I call my Dr. who I have been seeing for 13 years. I have not been there for over a year because I moved away last year. I just moved back to my hometown area, and call to get an appointment. My last bill from them says I owe $5 and I plan on paying that during my visit. I guess that my office visit would be at most $50 and that I could get a $4 prescription from WalMart. When I call, I am told that I have an unpaid $200 bill (they sent that bill to my ex-husband so I had no idea) and they will not see me unless I set up monthly payments and come up with $80 upfront for my office visit. I have no money, so I can't do that. They say they will look into my bill issue and call me back.

My next call is to the local free/sliding fee scale clinic. They say "Sorry, we aren't taking new patients." I tell the lady that I need medicine right away and ask who else I could call. She says she doesn't really know, but try the clinic that's 20 miles away in another city.

I call the clinic that's 20 miles away and they say "The earliest we have available for new patients is 3-4 weeks away." I tell them that I really need some medicine now and they say try the local Mental Health center. At this point, I am crying. And crying. And crying. How am I supposed to be in the right state of mind to get a job and go through interviews when I am so emotional that I can't stop crying and nearly suicidal?! It took a lot of self talk to get up the gumption to make these calls and even admit that I am having a hard time and suffering from a mental illness.

The doctors office calls me back. They explain that somehow I was getting the $5 bill in my name and my ex was getting a bill that was for me but in his name. Since the services were for me, I have to pay it before they will see me. Had I known about the bill, I would have paid it when I had the money. She says try the local clinic. I tell her that they said it will be 3-4 weeks and I really need a prescription and am afraid I will go crazy before that appointment. I am so embarrassed that I am crying while I tell her this. She asks if I have anyone who can help pay for this. No, I don't. My entire family is poor. My friends are all poor. Usually, I am the one paying for their stuff. But since I just moved and have no job, I am in need. I tell her that I will figure something out and hang up.

By this time, I am desperate and afraid and remember to call 211. What a wonderful organization. They were able to sympathize with me and get me on the right track to help. When I called 211 they told me about all the local places I could get help from. 2-1-1 provides free and confidential information and referrals. Call 2-1-1 for help with food, housing, employment, health care, counseling and more. The best thing the lady did was verify that I had done all I could do and she was very caring and sympathetic. (I write the rest of this story now 2/18/13)

So I made an appointment with the free/sliding scale clinic even though I had to wait 3 weeks. I could also have gone to the ER I guess but someone I spoke to actually discouraged me from doing that because it would make my financial troubles worse because I would get a big bill. That is true, but I would rather go to the ER than die from suicide.

I don't know how but I made it the 3 weeks and went to my appointment at the clinic. My visit was free since I had no income. They prescribed me a $4 medication from WalMart. This helped for the moment, but I was only able to see a regular doctor who prescribed me Prozac for depression and lorazepam for anxiety. Less than 60 days later I was admitted to a psych ward in the hospital due to a complete mental break. I was psychotic and out of touch with reality. It makes me angry now looking back because I could have died looking for help. While in the hospital, I was seen by a psychiatrist who put me on Haloperidol after trying several other drugs with no luck. Upon release they set up appointments for me with a therapist and Psych Dr at a local mental health clinic. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to afford those visits but they were only $25 since I had no insurance. Now I see my therapist and Psych Dr. regularly. My new psych doc put me on abilify and prozac with Klonopin for anxiety. Those have been working for me. You may wonder how I afford abilify. I do so by ordering from an online pharmacy in Canada where there is a generic available. Isn't that sad?? What happened to America!? I am now connected with all of the right people, taking the right meds, and getting therapy but what a ride it was to get here. I would like to hear from other people in the USA about where and how they found help with no insurance and no money to spare. So tell me, how have you survived similar situations?? Do you know of other national organizations in the USA?? 

Need to tell someone that you are Bipolar?

My Journey Thus Far - by Travis

My Journey, Thus Far

by  ♜★ -Travis ★♜

My mother spent 36 hours in labor before the doctors decided to deliver me by C-section. Even at the beginning of my existence, I seemed to know that this could be a cruel, harsh world, and I did not want any part of it. Not as long as I could stay safe, hidden away in my mother’s womb, sheltered from the chaos and hardships of this existence. Sometimes I still feel that way. Hello everyone one, my name is Travis and I have Bipolar Disorder.

(Everyone in the support group chants “Hello Travis.” In either a monotone drone or an excited shriek depending on what head space they are in that day)

I’ve always wanted to start my Autobiography that way. I suppose I will have to do something worth writing about before that happens. So for now, I will have to be content to start this essay of my story for our Married And Both Bipolar blog and Facebook page.

As I said, my name is Travis. I am 38 years old. I am currently attending college online to earn my bachelor’s degree in computer science, a subject I fell in love with in high school, but drifted away from as life happened. I have been a self employed flooring installer for the last 11 ½ years. And approximately two and a half years ago, I started dating the most wonderful woman I have ever known. Staci is my rock. She helped me through my anger issues. She helped me view the world from a different vantage point. Most of all, she keeps me grounded and loves me unconditionally – something I have always craved and never received(except from my parents and siblings).

I grew up in rural Indiana. There were cornfields as far as the eye could see. My parents rented a acre plot from a local farmer on which sat our 12 x 72 metal sided mobile home. The lot also held a old, large, red barn that I was not supposed to play in, but I often did. My parents were married at the ages of 17 and 18. My mother gave birth to me at the age of 19, and my dad was one year older. I have a sister who is two and a half years younger, and a brother who is eight years younger – he was a “surprise”. Neither of them are bipolar, or have mental issues, other than my brother has a slight learning disability. I do, however, have a family history of mental illness. At least two uncles on my dad’s side have Bipolar Disorder, but my dad is “normal”. My mother also has a slight learning disability and suffers from Clinical Depression. Mental illness runs deep in her family. My maternal grandfather had Schizophrenia, and his sister entered a permanent psychosis at a young age for which she required 24/7 care. I was diagnosed with Clinical Depression at the age of 24 by my then family doctor and prescribed Prozac (the “miracle” drug of the time). I was diagnosed with Bipolar II at the age of 33.

My first real “episode” came when I was in my late teens. I called it a nervous break down at the time. It was an overpowering anxiety that left me as a basket case for a few days. Since that time I have experienced depression in the range of mild to severe and lasting as little as a day or as much as a few months. I have never had a manic episode that I can remember, although in my younger years I was occasionally subject to delusional thinking (none of which ever led to erratic behavior). I have, however, experienced my fair share of hypomania – those days, or even weeks, when I feel energized and exhilarated, and want to accomplish EVERYTHING. These also used to be the times I was most irritable and argumentative. I enjoyed the energy, but my family didn’t enjoy the hostility. My biggest complaint about my disorder, other than the severe depression that keeps me in bed, is the racing thoughts. It’s sometimes hard to “find room to breathe” in my head. When I’m up, I usually have four or five projects going at once, and when I’m down, I struggle to maintain those activities which are requirements for my very existence. In the past, I have been on Prozac, Zoloft, Paxil, Lexapro, Celexa, Seroquel, Depakote, and Xanax at one time or another. I have also self medicated with alcohol and/or marijuana in the past. I wouldn’t recommend the alcohol to anyone with this disorder. Marijuana can be a great equalizer, if you live in a state where it is available as a medical prescription. I do not advocate illegal activity. I currently take Seroquel and Celexa daily before bed, and have Xanax tabs to use as needed. This combination seems to work fairly well for me, keeping my highs and lows less extreme; but not diminishing them completely.

Even at a young age it was fairly obvious that there was just something not quite right about Travis. My parents often described me as moody, irritable, melancholy, and energetic. My mother favorite phrase to describe me was, “He goes from one extreme to the other.” I’m guessing that if they had been able to afford to take me to psychiatrist I would have been diagnosed ADD. I had chronic headaches as a child. I developed rage issues at a young age, even though there were no real displays of anger in my home for me to learn it from. I am told that chronic anger is generally a learned behavior. My father once mentioned that I might possibly have a chemical imbalance in my brain, but that’s all that was said about it until I was in my twenties. I grew up in a conservative environment fostered by highly religious home. I’d say my child hood was average. My father did become mildly physically abusive to me in my teen years. I believe this was caused by a combination of me being an intensely strong willed and irritating child and him being a very young, immature, and inexperienced father.

I was an intelligent and inquisitive child. I remember seeing Algebra, for the first time, when I was 6 or 7 and wanting desperately to learn it. I always loved numbers and math (manipulating numbers). Where others struggled occasionally with mathematical concepts, it just came to me naturally, like a second language. I did well all through school, with few “incidents” and very good grades. In high school I maintained a B+/A- average without ever cracking a book and not always turning in my homework. I was accepted at Purdue University in the Computer Science department, but dropped out after the first semester so I could “live life”.

I was married, the first time, at the age of 28. She was also from a devotedly Christian family, and everyone thought it was a match made in heaven. When we made it through the first year of marriage, which everyone told us would be the hardest, I thought we were home free. When she left me in 2008, I was obliterated. There were many other issues I don’t wish to discuss here, but my diagnoses of Bipolar Disorder the year before played a large role in the ensuing divorce. I am so, so happy we did not have any children.

I was distraught. I was a broken man. During this time I questioned life. I questioned god. I questioned my existence. I spent many months cooped up in my house alone, leaving occasionally to work just enough to keep the heat and electricity on. I spent hours upon hours on introspective thought and writing. During this time I also read quite a bit, and joined Facebook. Facebook became my outlet, my friend. It helped me “re-enter” the world and self actualize. It also, eventually, was responsible Staci finding me. We had actually dated ten years prior, 2 years before I met my first wife, for a couple months, but lost touch. I like to tease her about how she broke my heart. When she friend requested me I was ecstatic.

 Staci and I started dating again. She is the most kind, generous soul I know. She is highly spiritual and philosophical. I enjoy the talks we have immensely. She has a nine year old son who is amazing. I love him like my own, and am very proud of his achievements. The best part is she understands my illness and accepts me for who I am. I give this same understanding and acceptance back to her. Is this to say we never have “harsh” moments in our house? Nope. We are both bipolar after all. In the beginning my anger issues, which I’ve dealt with all my life, were a real problem for her, coming from an abusive home. I asked her to help me, and she did. She purchased the book The Cow in the Parking Lot for me, which helped immensely. I would recommend it to anyone who suffers from anger issues. Presently, mine have practically evaporated.

Staci and I have been married for just over a year and a half. Our wedding was Alice in Wonderland themed, completely conceived and arranged by us, extremely complimented by or guests, and more than anything merry and enchanted. Not only are we each bipolar, but our relationship is also bipolar. Sometimes, we are both up and competing to see who can get the most done. Sometimes, we are both down and commiserate while lying in bed in a dark room, with a blanket over the window. Much of the time, one of us is down and the other is up and trying fervently to take care of the other. It’s an adventure at our house; that much is for sure. Won’t you continue to join us as we travel even further down the rabbit hole?  

Who is online now and how are you feeling?

Who is online this evening and how are you feeling? 

Travis and I had a good day overall. The only bad thing that happened was when our downstairs neighbors were screaming and arguing and their little 5 year old girl was crying. Travis got really freaked out and I did too. The fighting started to trigger me due to my own parents arguing when I was little. That was an awful feeling. As soon as we started to consider calling the police, the fighting stopped. Travis wants to write them an anonymous letter saying that next time we will call the police. That was a few hours ago. I have been feeling a little down since then. We are trying out using the blog as our means of communication with you now. Please comment on the blog and let me know how you are. Hugs and much love -Staci

Positive Things About Bipolar

I spent an hour and a half on the treadmill today. Holy cow, Batman! I lost track of time watching YouTube videos on my Droid. Staci asked me if I could find something about the possible positive effects of having Bipolar. This is the best one I've found so far:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vp9afmFFBjU

♜★ -Travis ★♜

Our day so far

Hello everyone. Facebook was down for me this morning. Was it down for you all too?? So I took a nice 2 hour nap.

It snowed overnight. Blah! I hate snow but only because of the driving conditions. Travis has been perfecting a sugar cookie/snicker doodle recipe for me. Only thing is, I didn't really like them. I had to tell him or he'd make them over and over...lol Now I feel bad though. :/

I am looking for some great photos for you all. That's pretty much what I do while Travis is doing homework or studying. Just to give you a view of our day so far and what we're doing now.

Bipolar can kiss my butt!

So my ex and I share custody of my 9 year old son. He goes to his dads house for a week and then my house for a week. This is my week. I have to go get him and take him to martial arts. Seems like it shouldn't be a big deal but it is. Now I have to actually get dressed and leave the house like a normal person. Ugh. It shouldn't be this hard to do such a small thing. Sigh. This is when I don't feel like a good mom :/ But like some great people on my Facebook page said - at least I am going. I'm on my way to take him to martial arts now. So bipolar disorder can kiss my butt...lol.

Our Story

This is our story. Our names are Travis and Staci Bontrager. We are thirty-something and married and both bipolar. Yep, both  of us.

I am Staci and I am writing my background story first to share with everyone who has a mental illness or has friends and family with a mental illness and those who have children with disabilities. I found out I was bipolar at 15 in 1995. It was my 15th birthday actually. {Prior to age 15, I grew up in a poor, volatile, and abusive household. My father was always angry and often violent towards me, my mom, and my little brother. (He has changed now and I will explain why later.) I was also sexually abused by my dads cousin at the age of 8. When my parents found out about the abuse from my diary, my dad didn't believe me. Not until years later when that cousin got caught abusing another little girl.}

 I had been sleep deprived for days and started exhibiting bizarre behavior. At one point I left the party and walked across the yard to where a neighbor was and started singing "I will always love you" to him. It's funny now, he said: "Well that's great honey but I'm married!" Oh my. People say I just wasn't myself. I would be laughing and then suddenly crying. I was ungrateful for my cake, for presents, and the whole shebang. My grandma and mom took me to the ER where I was evaluated and sent to a behavioral health psych ward for 9 days. Back then, you weren't allowed visitors for 48 hours. I thought my parents had abandoned me.  In the hospital at age 15, I remember being held down, having my pants pulled down in front of men and given a shot to calm me down. I was so shy and inhibited from the sexual abuse that this scared the crap out of me and made me feel embarrassed and violated. From there, I would just lay in the hallway with the one thing I had from home, my blanket. I wouldn't eat and I just slept - trying to run from the nightmare I was in. They wanted me to do things like shower and go to the bathroom in front of them. As a sexually abused child I could not do it. One time I threw the "hat" they wanted me to pee in at a nurse. This got me thrown into a rubber room. So you can see that my experience with that psych hospital was as damaging as it was therapeutic. When I was released my parents were told I had manic depression, now called Bipolar disorder. 

Wikipedia states that "Bipolar disorder is a psychiatric diagnosis for a mood disorder in which people experience disruptive mood swings. These encompass a frenzied state known as mania (or hypomania) usually alternated with symptoms of depression. At the lower levels of mania, such as hypomania, individuals may appear energetic and excitable. At a higher level, individuals may behave erratically and impulsively, often making poor decisions due to unrealistic ideas about the future, and may have great difficulty with sleep. At the highest level, individuals can show psychotic behavior, including violence. Individuals who experience manic episodes also commonly experience depressive episodes, or symptoms, or a mixed state in which features of both mania and depression are present at the same time. These events are usually separated by periods of "normal" mood; but, in some individuals, depression and mania may rapidly alternate, which is known as rapid cycling. Severe manic episodes can sometimes lead to such psychotic symptoms as delusions and hallucinations."

I was on lithium for a while and did minimal counseling sessions which pulled me out of my mania and depression. My dad softened some. He started trying to control his anger and rages. I went back to high school. Except for a core group of friends, most of my classmates avoided me. Once they found out I was manic depressive they shunned me like someone with a crazy contagious disease. I even had a teacher tell me I would never go to college. I did get involved in choir and the dance team which is where my core group of friends met me. Choir and dance were my lifelines. It was 1997 and High School wasn't so bad after all I thought.

 That is until my mom nearly died from bacterial meningitis my senior year. She was so sick that she lost all of her motor skills, memory, and became blind in one eye. Before a big brain surgery the doctors called us in to speak with us about the possibility of death since the meningitis had gone undetected for so long. I had to miss a dance performance to go to it. My boyfriend at the time drove me and went with me to the meeting. I was a wreck. We went to Taco Bell after the meeting and a few "mean" girls from the dance team saw us there and told the dance teacher I just skipped the game to be with my boyfriend. No, he was literally taking care of me as my dad stayed by my moms side. He made sure I had food. My aunt kept my little brother. My dad lost his job due to missing work so he didn't have food or gas money to come home and take care of me plus he had to keep watch over my mom. The dance teacher kicked me off of the squad after 3 years of dedication. She just didn't believe me since there was also a situation before mom got meningitis where my parents stole my money from fund raising for dance and used it to buy us food. While my mom was sick, my parents missed my prom. I had no senior graduation party and didn't get senior pictures. We had no money. My parents were getting evicted. I was a hot mess and clung to my support which at the time was my boyfriend and his family.

 My mom ended up having brain surgery and pulled through the meningitis. She had to learn to walk again and was left with some vision in one eye. My Dad learned to control his anger. I had been through so much and my boyfriend was my respite. I ended up getting pregnant and married right after graduation. I had a full ride scholarship but put college on hold while I was pregnant. I thought I would start college after the baby was born. But 29 weeks into the pregnancy I had a placental abruption and my placenta pulled away from my uterus. In 1998 My daughter was born by emergency c-section weighing 2 pounds and fighting to survive. We named her Savannah. She was almost 3 months premature and went without oxygen during the abruption. She also had a brain bleed which we were told would cause permanent brain damage. It did. She is blind, tube fed, has cerebral palsy, epilepsy, and can’t walk or talk. When she was born I became somewhat of a nurse and fed her through a tube in her tummy, gave her many daily meds or oxygen if needed, spent many nights in hospitals, watched her have seizure after seizure, and slowly realized she was not going to grow out of her disabilities as I had hoped and prayed. This led to putting her in an institution for children in 2004. She was six. I cried and cried over that decision. Now she is a 15 year old teenager - or rather would have been had she been born healthy. Mentally she is 6 months old. I changed her diaper for 6 years and the nurses still do it. Imagine having a 14 year old that is like a 6 month old; A child who doesn’t deserve all the hell her body has been put through.

Now I don’t see her very much. I break down when I see her fragile, skinny, hairy teenage body that doesn’t resemble the chubby cheeked sweet little girl I took care of for 6 years (with the help of some AMAZING nurses and family). Her beautiful long hair has been cut very short so it’s easier to take care of. I know some of you have lost a child and can say to me that at least I have my child here on this earth and I agree. But when I see her, I mourn for her every time. She’s not my pretty little 6 year old anymore. I know looks shouldn’t matter but if you could see her you would understand. She is long and skinny and her eyes have sunken in to their sockets. I feel like such a loser when people ask if I go see her. It’s just so painful and she doesn’t know who I am now and maybe never has.

I have considered bringing her home but she is so heavy and hard to transport. And really, who am I kidding? I can’t take care of her. I can barely take care of myself and Hunter. Some people say I’m not a good Mom. Well it’s not because I don’t try or don’t love enough. I feel like I gave Savannah so much time, love, and energy for 6 years that I burned out that strong part of me. Most babies grow up and have milestones. I am so envious of watching other people’s babies go through theirs. Especially little girls. I see the pics you all post of your daughters and I just wish I had been able to see Savannah become a teenager and do mommy/daughter things with her. I wish she would have been able to call me Mom. The sweetest sound was when Hunter said “Mom” for the first time. I love Hunter, and I still miss my Savannah. I notice things; like most of my family no longer go to see Savannah, only my Grandma Foist gets her a Christmas present, and I think back to the first time we took her to the institution. We were shocked when a nurse told us most families only come by at Christmas time. How could they be like that? Well now I know. It hurts my soul to see her looking so sickly and helpless. Maybe I’m selfish in that way. All I know is when I go see her I cry like I've lost her and the body in the bed is a stranger. Every time she gets pneumonia and is hospitalized I worry about her dying. I wonder if this is going to be the end.

Now I am trying to be thankful for all the nurses and special people who take good care of her. I try to be thankful for Hunter’s health and being able to be a Mom to him and watch him grow stronger every day. I urge all of you to be thankful for your healthy children even when they are driving you nuts. If your child isn’t healthy or you lost a child, you know all about it and I don’t know how you feel exactly but bless you. I write this to just share my feelings and not for pity. Maybe it will help someone else know they are not alone.

Through all of this, I was strong because I had no other choice. I did go back to college but it took me 4 years to complete 2 years of studies due to Savannah's health. I had to keep dropping classes every time she was hospitalized, which was often. However, I had enough schooling to get a job as a mall property manager. I was finally living a normal life. I was happily married, had a great well paying job that I loved. I had my healthy baby boy Hunter at home and Savannah was well taken care of in the pediatric facility. We were going to church and loved it. For the first time in a long time all was well. Then in 2005 the mall I worked at sold. The new owners were going to keep me on board then changed their minds when I had a Bipolar break down during the transition. I LOVED my job. But the stress of the transition broke me down. I had been strong for too long. I totally flipped my lid. I did things I am so embarrassed of now. I told my new boss I thought he was spying on me (paranoia!) and was rude to him. I had an impromptu meeting with a city leader that ended in disaster. I was telling him things that were just crazy. I was in a full blown mania at that point. I was also delusional and depressed at the same time. The delusional state lasted about a week. My then husband took off work to watch me and take care of me. I begged him not to take me back to a psych hospital due to what happened when I was 15. So he didn't. I finally snapped out of it. I had one two year job at Starbucks during a particularly good time in my life from 2006 to 2008. I also had a great boss who became my mentor. When I tried to quit once he wouldn't let me. I excelled in that job. Then they shut my store down...sigh. I have struggled to keep a job ever since. It's something I have always struggled with actually. I just got lucky with the mall and Starbucks and had amazing bosses who believed in me.

 After 2008, depression was my best friend. I did nothing but sleep. I didn't keep the house up and I wasn't working. I wouldn't take my meds. My husband got fed up with me. We drifted apart and he didn't know how to handle my bipolar anymore. I didn't know how to handle feeling unloved because I couldn't work. After 13 years of marriage, we divorced in 2010. I don't like to be alone, so I found someone else rather quickly, Travis. But we had known each other in 2000 when my husband left me due to Savannah's issues. (My ex never dealt well with her but he is an amazing father to our son.) When my husband left me in 2000, I reached out to Travis. I was home alone with Savannah and heart broken. Travis and I met online. We didn't even know what each other looked like but we chatted for hours and fell in love. We met in person and fell deeper in love. Travis knew about my bipolar but he didn't care. He was on meds too and understood me. I was so happy. But then my husband decided he didn't want a divorce. So I broke up with Travis and went back to my husband since we had a child together. All those years I thought of Travis. I had no idea I would marry him 11 years later but I did. When we met again in 2010 after my divorce it was like no time had passed. I found Travis on Facebook and we rekindled our love. We had an Alice in Wonderland themed wedding on June 11th 2011. We are both bipolar but at first the "newness" of  love surpassed our illnesses and we were SO happy. Since getting married, we have struggled. Travis struggled with anger more than anything and I struggled with depression. Due to my childhood and the way my Dad was, I can't stand anger. I almost left Travis due to his anger issues. He was like Dr. Jekyll and Mr, Hyde. He was either super loving or a super angry jerk. He worked on his anger and has now learned to bypass it. He read a book called "The Cow in the Parking Lot" that I bought him and that seemed to change him drastically. He is writing his own story for you so I will stop there and say we have now worked out most of the kinks in our marriage. We have been together for almost 3 years now. One of the things that brought us closer was my third major bout with Bipolar last year. It was the worst. I was delusional and in psychosis. I had to be admitted to the hospital psych ward again. It was so frightening because of what I went through at age 15 in the hospital. But luckily, things have changed. 

My mom made sure they knew what type of experience I had at 15 and told them I had to be treated carefully or I would not do well. Travis knew I was terrified of being hospitalized again too. The hospital assured them that things have changed and nobody would make me shower or go to the bathroom in front of them. Travis will have to tell the story of my 9 days in the hospital because I don't remember much. All I know is that I fought against the treatment. I didn't want to do anything but go home. I was sent home earlier than I was ready because all I could focus on was getting out! Looking back, I wish I had not been so scared. They were all trying to help me. So now I am on meds and get regular therapy. I take my meds faithfully. I applied for social security disability for the third time and got approved. So now I am able to stay home. Travis is going back to school for computer science. I am so proud of him. I share 50/50 custody of my son Hunter so I have him every other week. I needed something to do so I started a Facebook page and blog. The rest of our story will unfold there. If you are interested, visit us at Facebook.com/MarriedAndBothBipolar or visit my blog at marriedandbothbipolar.blogspot.com 

Love,

Staci Bontrager

I can't snap my fingers and just "be okay"

Social Security Disability

As usual, Travis is busy doing his homework and I am on the laptop :) I wanted to discuss Social Security Disability. I was approved! This is the main reason I am able to stay home and Travis is going to school without having to work. It took 3 tries to get approved but I did it without a lawyer. I couldn't see giving half of my money to an attorney when I knew I had a strong case. On the weeks I don't have my son (We have 50/50 custody) I am so bored! That's why I decided to start up this page again. I have to do something with my time. I have also started "couponing." I mean the down and dirty kind where you jump into the recycling bin for coupons..lol Well, actually my son Hunter and hubby Travis did the jumping in. They loved helping me, especially Hunter. He's only 9 so it felt adventurous :)

♥ Staci

We Moved...Again!

We moved again! This time back to my neck of the woods and close to my son. He's with us every other week now. Travis started online college this month and is doing very well. I am having a hard time adjusting to him being occupied with other things which means we don't spend as much time together. I have been in a depressed mood for weeks now. My P Doc is weaning me off Abilify because of side effects and it has sent me into a deep depression. I have wanted to do nothing but sleep. I did read a book this week that lifted my spirits called "The Shack" More on that later.