Next week is Thanksgiving and the official beginning of the hectic holiday season will begin. Since diagnosis, I have learned to live with a pit in my stomach and a hairball of anxiety in my throat from November to January as the trend is for me to have a setback during this season. It is simply stress and as much as I try to anticipate what needs to be done, my brain ends up defeated. I have been thinking a bit more about hope in the last few weeks as it pertains to me, to the season, to evolving moods and to 2017.
Hope is all I have. Hope that medications continue to work. Hope that I can control my moods. Hope that my disorder remains in remission. Hope that I am a loving wife and mother. Hope that I am a patient and kind friend. Hope that I am a better, more effective provider. Hope that my patients keep hope for themselves.
2016 has not been the best year for so many of us. I started off rough, with a deep depressive episode. Hope for symptom relief kept me moving forward and out of the hospital. Hope keeps me thinking the year will end differently than it began. I have advocated and spoken to so many congressmen and woman regarding the need for mental health reform. The hope of so many of us got HR2646 passed and we maintain hope that the Senate will soon act, continuing to push reform forward. Hope keeps me in action, showing the “world” exactly what I am capable of even if it’s not in the timeline I would prefer.
Four short years ago, I started spiraling down. Four short years ago, I could not recognize the symptoms nor understand that I had a problem. I could not understand I had bipolar disorder. I thought I had an ineffective therapist. Three short years ago, I believed my career was stagnant and over due to my diagnosis. I felt the knowledge of my disorder would preclude me from ever achieving anything further in this life and would ruin my family. Two short years ago I started writing. I started writing to change the way the public viewed mental illness, and in particular a nurse with a mental illness. I did it for myself, to hold onto the hope that my life was bigger than my diagnosis and would mean something to my husband, my children and me. One short year ago, I accepted a position that I never dreamed I would have. Hope always wins when you want it to.
I suspect one has to be shown hope to have hope. I found hope when a psychiatrist believed in me and told me that during one of my hospitalizations. Prior to that moment I had truly believed I would be spending the remainder of my days in and out of the hospital. Recovering and relapsing repeatedly. I just may still. I cannot predict the future. However I have hope my new-ish pattern of stability and symptom remission will continue.
What do I look forward to in 2017? I look forward to continuing this career I love. I look forward to working on my doctorate, provided acceptance to a program. I look forward to writing more. I look forward to presenting at a conference. I look forward to continued remission. I look forward to maintain hope.