Getting Through a Bipolar Hurricane

Tuesday night
I just hung up the three shirts I took to Zen tonight, not knowing what I'd need over my tee - the doctor's office today must have been at 65 degrees, and I wanted my fleece jacket.  So I took a short-sleeved denim shirt, a long-sleeved flannel shirt, and a fleece shirt-jacket.  This is why we old ladies get classified as fussy, because we really don't want to catch a chill.  And we've learned.  The hard way.

I seem to learn everything the hard way.  The reason I say that freely is that I'm pretty sure that's not a personal fault unique to me, but just the only way we monkeys learn.  I imagine there are people smarter than that; I hope they know how lucky they are.

But my point was about being messy.  I came home tonight wanting to get a card ready to send to Jacques, who's in the hospital with a painful and serious condition............
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Fast forward to Thursday.
I did get Jacques' card done and out, though our general disorganization made it a challenge.  But it turned out to be a rotten day for me, and I didn't get much else done.  That's been my life for several weeks - up, down, up down.  And sometimes UP
then d

           o

             w

                n........

                          ..... . ;(

 If you're not bipolar, the way this differs from your life is that the ups and downs are occurring on their own internal clock, which has nothing much to do with your actual emotional life.  There is a mysterious switch that turns on dopamine and serotonin, feel-good chemicals like that, gets them flowing well, then uh-oh, they are flooding.

Everyone likes hypomania.  Everything is beautiful, you are confident, you love everyone and want to make art out of everything.  You begin great new projects.  It was in that frame of mind that I took the above picture, just loving the subtle colors I saw from my car in the Safe Auto parking deck at OSU. And by the way, that frame of mind can make it hard to sleep, even when you're very tired.

But the day before that I described in my log as "indescribably wretched."  I remember crying as we did my weekly pills.  Days like this I don't make any progress at all on great projects; I am doing well to take a shower and get Tom to take me to the health club, and force myself to exercise on the Nustep.  If I can find something, anything to distract me on Netflix or a book, that's good.  Those days are just something you get through.  Maybe like huddling down during a hurricane. 

The day I took that picure I was at OSU to talk to my psychiatrist about all that, and he prescribed an uptick in one of my medications.  A week later it seems to have leveled the moods somewhat.  Somewhat.  There is no cure for bipolar, like most of what ails you.

If I have a point to make it is that my life (and Tom's) is definitely made easier by the years of daily practice.  Sitting Zen is especially good for me when I'm being wow, really !creative! and have a thousand things to do, and want to do them all, and start new projects, too.  Nothing is better for mania than pulling the blinds and sitting still in a dim room, preferably cool.  And not moving, not scratching an itch, not answering the phone or writing down the new ideas for great projects that are dancing through your mind.  Letting your muscles relax and your breathing and heart rate settle.

And oddly, sitting is pretty good for neurochemical depression, too, though not in the large quantities of a retreat, in my case.  (Learned that the hard way, of course.)  It can be healthier for me to seek distraction.  But sitting there once or twice a day practicing looking at your sadness and lack of volition, standing back a little mentally to witness them, then letting them move on, not sticking to stories that easily balloon into your whole difficult life.

I'm just here to testify.  That's all.  I haven't found much to read on Zen for bipolars, and other mental afflictions.  Yet we are people who need the help Buddhism can provide just to get by.  I'm beginning to think I might have to write that book.  That should tell you I'm having a good day.

Zen and Bipolar: What to do When You're Going High, Part 1

This morning I'm having fun with a three-month-old list I made titled 100 Cool and Stupid Things to Do.  It is gratifying to see that though I closed that file and forgot about it, I got a lot of those things done.  (And am reminded to do others.)

One thing on that list was the suggestion to write this post, as part of a larger project about Zen for Bipolars.  I'm neither low nor high today, just in that nice balanced space between waves, so I'll take advantage of that and begin.

Starting up on a manic moodswing is similar to being pleasantly excited for a normie (I don't like that word, we're not abnormal, but what else can I call people-who-don't-have-moodswings?  Maybe "ordinary people"?)  But it includes the allure of a mental shapness and confidence.  And it will not naturally subside.  That's my experience, and I was just ordinary until I was 33, so I know the difference.  This difference highlights the crucial fact that bipolar is a neurochemical dis-order.  That's why chemicals are often useful in the treatment.

Science is telling us these days about brain plasticity, that is, how we can change our brains even into old age.  There's a lot of further research on the specific effects of meditation on the brain. My own experience is that nothing will calm you down better when you're too excited than meditation, which has been briefly described like this: 

Sit down.
Shut up.
Breathe.

Teachers of young children call this a time-out.  It works.  Even little ones can follow those directions for a few minutes.  For kids with temper or panic attacks, a one-minute meditation of three deep breaths, exhaling all the way, can work magic.

But the little ones have an advantage over us; someone is making them do it.  (Most elementary school is a formidable training in doing what an authority tells you to do.)  As a grown-up, you have to exert this control over yourself, unless a manic episode gets so bad that you are hospitalized.  Then you will be medicated.  If  you are really bothering people, you will sometimes be shut in a 'quiet room" for a time.  Interestingly, a quiet room is rather like a Zen meditation hall:  empty, clean, quiet.  No screens, no one to talk to, no stimulation, nothing but a mattress on the floor. But we can actually arrange our own quiet times.

They can have the same calming effect as contemplating nature.  That doesn't mean hiking, climbing, caving, making a big effort to accomplish something.  Contemplation is simply walking or wandering alone in a park or woods, just for the sake of experiencing nature.  I love doing that on retreat.  (Caution: it is  stimulating to be exposed to sun, heat, and light.)

To the left is a photo I took at Grailville in 2010, a month before my scheduled transplant, when I was very sick and very frightened.  It was a good retreat for me, given that. Perhaps you can see how calming it was.

I like the subtle colors and shadows in the photo, which is of the hedge that separates Grailville from a meadow; if you look, you might be able to make out the wire fence in the late-morning shadows.  I took photos that year for the first time; it became a contemplative activity for me, and neither the teacher nor anyone else chastised me.  Ama Samy's retreats are relaxed and kind in the way I understand retreats are at Springwater Center, founded by Toni Packer.

[If you know someone who is bipolar, or close to a bipolar, feel free to share this post on Facebook or elsewhere.  You can use the little icons below.]