Truth.

Hi. My name is Adrienne, and I'm bipolar.

This is the part where I'm supposed to make some joke about how I change my mind all the time, but the joke's not here.

Because I really am bipolar.

Before you get all google happy, I'm bipolar II. That matters. The diagnosis is new, only 3 weeks old. I've been frustrated lately because I don't feel like I'm getting any support for what I'm going through-then I realized the truth: nobody knows what I'm going through.

Bipolar II means I have all the lows of being bipolar without having the unbelievable highs. My lows are devastatingly low, and the highs (in my case) mean that I'm irritable and agitated. I spend most of my days walking around completely numb, not feeling anything for anyone or anything. When feelings do materialize, all that's left is excruciating emotional pain and crippling anxiety. They say the medicine is going to help. So far it doesn't. So far nothing really does.

So when I say I'm fine, it just means I don't currently want to curl up and die. When I say, "We're surviving," it means "at least we made it through the morning/night/afternoon."

My name is Adrienne. I'm bipolar. And I feel like my life is eating me alive.

And that's the truth. Finally.

5 things I can't live without

I know, I know...the most important things in life aren't things. That said, there are some things in my world that I'm fairly certain I would die without.

Have you ever had a super-hard day? Duh. Of course you have. At the end of a hard day, who doesn't want to unwind with a special treat? Well here's mine. Izze Clementine soda. Yum. This stuff is like liquid sunshine. And hey-two servings of fruit. Can't beat that.
The Baby Jogger City Mini Double stroller. Not a jogging stroller, but pretty much the most incredible stroller in the universe. It folds almost completely flat, fits in the trunk of our civic, turns on a dime, and fits through every doorway I've ever tried to take it through. Have you ever had a crush on an object? If I did, it'd be my stroller.
These disposable/reusable sippy cups are a gift from heaven. Ok, maybe not that impressive, but I love knowing that I'm not going to feel like crap if I forget a sippy cup somewhere. And on top of it all, they dont have valves, so it's only two pieces in the dishwasher, and no weird places for things to get stuck. I love them.

I would take a picture of mine, but I'm feeling pretty lazy. This is the Erin Condren Life Planner. It sits open on my dining room table, and if something isn't written in it, it doesn't happen. It keeps all of my crazy appointments straight, and I even write down our shows so I don't forget. Ha! It has tabs for every month, a page with a full-month calendar, and each week is broken down into days, and the days are broken up in morning/day/nigh boxes. No lines, so I don't feel weird drawing pictures on the pages. There's also a handy pocket in the back for receipts and things, and a pouch that holds address labels and stamps (at least that's what's in mine). If you've been looking for a planner that keeps you organized and haven't been able to find the right one, this is your baby. Worth every penny.
Last but certainly not least, the Nikkor 50mm f/1.4 lens. Swoon. It gives almost perfect bokeh, and has taken all of my best photos. I even have a camera nicer than my Nikon, but I use the Nikon most often so that I can use this pretty little thing. Fast and sharp as a tack. If I could marry a camera lens, it'd be this one.

What items can't you live without?

Happy Half-Birthday Little Sam!

My dear Samuel,

It seems like just yesterday they placed you in my arms for the first time. The time is flying, and it feels like I blinked and six months have passed. You should know that this moment-the moment I first met you was one of the most incredible moments of my life.

We learned very quickly that you were a little giant! When you were born, you just barely fit into the special outfit we brought to bring you home from the hospital in. It didn't matter though, because we were especially happy just to be taking you home. Our little family felt like it was missing something until you were born.

One day when you were about a month old, I was having a really hard day. Late that night you did something really special-you looked right into my eyes and gave me a great big smile. I felt like the luckiest mom in the whole wide world. You have a great smile.

When you were two months old, we celebrated your first Christmas. You got some new pajamas that matched everyone else in the family, and had your picture taken with Santa. We were very busy over Christmas, and you got to spend some special time getting to know all of your aunts, uncles, grandparents, and cousins.

On January 1, we celebrated our new year by going to Fairfield and having your baby blessing. It was a special day, a year after your big brother was blessed, and twenty-five years after I was blessed, all in the same building. Dad was baptized and confirmed there too.

When you were three months old, I discovered I could take some pretty awesome pictures on my bed! So I got out a special quilt Mamaw mailed to us and the wonderful duvet and pillow shams from GG, and we took a few pictures. Here's you wrapped up in wonderful soft things from two of your great-grandmas. They've been extra-special people to me, so I wanted to share that with you. They sure do love you!

In February, we started going to the zoo. You mostly like to look around at all the people, it's hard to see the animals that are so far away. You love to ride in the stroller, and you don't mind wearing hats.

As you continued to grow, we got to see more and more of your personality. You love to laugh, and you're always babbling away. It sounds like you have something pretty important to say, so we can't wait to hear what words you're saying. Your laugh always makes me laugh!

We celebrated your first Easter in the evening because we were so busy all day long! You got to play with Grandma and Grandpa Unklesbay, and they were so happy to spend some time with you! Your Easter basket had some new pacifiers, your swim trunks (I think they're going to be too small!) and the book "Green Eggs and Ham." I thought you'd like that when you get a little older, because a guy named Sam-I-Am tries to get a grumpy guy to eat green eggs and ham. Sometimes we even call you "Sam-I-Am."

Sweet Sam, we're so lucky to have you in our lives. Your big brother adores you, always wants to talk about the pictures on your clothes and point out your eyes and nose. When you get a little sad and I'm busy, he brings you a pacifier and tries to help you feel better. Your dad loves to make you laugh and watch you try to learn how to crawl. It makes him especially happy when you start to say, "Da da da." You did that for a little while, but then you stopped. We can't wait to hear it again!

And as for me, Sammy, I'm just happy you're here. I can't imagine my life without your special smiles. I always love hearing you giggle and talk. I can tell you were born to do something important. I can't wait to see who you're becoming.

I love you, little Sam-I-Am. Happy half-birthday!

Love,

Mom

A Blanket of White.

Since Sam was born, I've struggled with finding a new normal in my life. This winter has been particularly dreary and dark. I've felt exhaustion, anxiety, stress, and sometimes extreme frustration and rage. Having two babies at home means that the soundtrack of my day is usually more screaming than it is squeals of delight. I long for the moments of peace that come when everyone is asleep. I long for something gentle and peaceful to brighten my world. In the winter, that peace comes for me in the form of snow. This winter has been even more of a challenge as I waited and waited for the snow to fall. I would see the glorious flakes in the forecast, only to feel disappointment as the dusting only touched our cars or the grass to melt away before the day was through. The sky would darken, and the rough brown grass would mock me. There wouldn't be a soft blanket of white brightening my day anytime soon.

I would be joking if I said I didn't feel like it was symbolic of the dark gloomy world inside my head.

This morning when I lost the game of rock-paper-scissors that meant I'd be feeding Sam his early bottle, I finally didn't feel angry about being awake. I sat on the couch with a bottle in hand and suddenly something felt different. "Christopher! It smells like snow." (That sweet man was unloading the dishwasher instead of sleeping in.) As soon as Sam was finished eating, I looked out the window. There it was. After I had given up hope that our world would be covered in brilliant white, allowing us to forget how dreary life can be for just a little while, there it was. My snow.

Sometimes snow doesn't come to lift your mood. Sometimes it waits to fall until you've learned to lift your mood yourself. Sometimes it's the light at the end of the tunnel that says,

"You did it. You made it. And look how beautiful it is out there."

I knew God loved me.

So I talked to Sam about the snow. I told him what it means to me. Snow means God loves us. It means He wants to give us something beautiful to look at for a while. It means He knows who we are, and today it means, "you did it."

Spring is just around the corner, and we won't need the snow anymore, but for today, a little symbol of God's love for me. Sorry if you had to clear your car off this morning, but I needed it.

It's always been a challenge for me that I don't have any extra-special pictures of myself with my mom, so we've made a point of taking pictures of the boys with me when we have our first real snow. When March got here and we still hadn't had any, I had almost abandoned hope and started to write Sam a letter to tell him that I was sorry, but we waited and waited for his special snow day, but then it came! Chris came home for a few minutes to take these very important pictures for us because we're not positive it'll last very long.

I really love that little giant. My little Samuel.

And I'm thankful we got to share the snow today.

I think it's going to be a good week.

I rocked this day.

Sometimes I think that women are taught from birth to downplay themselves. We question what we do, we look for approval, and when we don't get it, we think we've failed. We work, and work, and work... and for what? To finish the day thinking about all the things we didn't get done?

Well guess what? When I got home from the grocery store tonight, I looked in the mirror and for the first time ever thought, "You rock. Seriously. You rocked this day."

I grew up hearing this verse of scripture:

"The worth of souls is great in the sight of God."

For some reason, I always thought that only meant that everyone else's soul was worth a lot. Not mine, not little old me! I have so many shortcomings. I have so many failures. I never get anything right. I'm too fat. I'm not spiritual enough. I'm too dumb. I'm too lazy. I'm not good enough. I'm not happy enough. I'm not worth anything.

Oh no, no. I was sorely mistaken. Because guess what? The verse doesn't say, "The worth of everyone's soul but yours is great in the sight of God." Souls. Everyone's souls. Even the people we don't like-which most often includes ourselves. So make a list. Write down everything you accomplish, because you may discover that you actually accomplished quite a lot, and then acknowledge your own personal wins for the day.

Then, you look in that mirror at the end of the day and say something to the effect of,

"I rocked this day. I mean seriously. I took it out back, and I beat the crap out of it. I took care of a sick, whiny, clingy toddler today. I worked out. I went to the grocery store. I unloaded the dishwasher. I did laundry. I kissed my husband.

Maybe I didn't make a ton of (or any) money. Maybe I didn't earn some big award. Maybe I didn't only think nice things.

But you know what I did? I loved on my kids. I didn't kill anyone. I even took a shower and let myself look at pinterest for a while. Take that, Thursday."

You know why? Because you did. You made it through the day. And you did some good things. So. Here's to Friday. Rock your day, and then give yourself credit. You're worth it.

Loud.

Sometimes there’s an undeniable disparity between who I am and who I want to be; between who I am and who people think I am. Sometimes in the quiet hours between the time when everyone else falls asleep and the time I finally drift off (read: wrestle my racing mind into submission and force my weary eyes to close) I have the opportunity to sit and ponder who I really am.

Here’s what I’ve learned:

When I was a teenager, I was LOUD. Not your average, run of the mill, no volume control loud, we’re talking loud voice, loud laugh, loud personality. Everyone knew who I was, and people either loved me or hated me. (I like to believe everyone loved me, obviously.) I told jokes that weren’t funny, they were just louder than everyone else’s. I made fun of people behind their backs loud enough to make myself seem cool. These deafening traits weren’t a mark of confidence, they rarely are.

I would spend my entire day at school refusing to eat, the bulk of the afternoon and evening cramming every morsel of food I could find in my mouth (duh, I was starving) and a portion of the night in a locked bathroom throwing as much as I could back up. But I wasn’t loud about that.

When I was about 12 and starting to have all those really super bizarre physical changes that happen to a girl, I really started, for the first time, to realize that my mom was dead. She’d been gone for six whole years, but it hadn’t sunken into the deepest parts of my mind. I missed her profoundly. I felt isolated and alone. I felt like nobody in the whole wide world would ever be able to understand me. I felt dark and depressed. I felt the agonizing mental torment that accompanies the death of a parent. But I wasn’t loud about that.

When I was in high school, I wanted more than anything to be cast as the lead in a musical. Nearly every time I came in second or third. It made me question whether or not I had the musical talent I’d been told I had. My senior year, I was cast as an absurd character who goes on stage and makes a fool of herself. I played my part well, earned a mention in the newspaper for my less than ten lines, and never felt talented again. But I wasn’t loud about that either.

And now I’m an adult. I’m not so loud anymore.

I’m strong.
I’m a fighter.
I’m fiercely loyal.

I went through my own personal Hell to get here, but I survived. I made mistakes along the way. I’ve spent my share of nights crying myself to sleep, and regrettably my share of nights screaming at anyone who would take it. (Usually my husband, who happens to be perfect for me in every way, but that’s another story for another day.) It’s been a hard road, and a long one. In fact, I’m certain I haven’t yet reached the end of this journey, but there’s one thing I know for sure:

I don’t have to be loud anymore, It’s okay to just be me. Even if I’m not completely sure who that is yet.

Katrina's Kitchen

Want to know how we made this transformation over 6 months without going on a diet, and while still eating dessert every night?

I had the opportunity to be a guest-blogger at Katrina's Kitchen, and my post will be up on Tuesday! Stay tuned!