Category: bipolar disorder

Posted in bipolar disorder, Depression, Photography, Psych meds

It wasn’t fun and it had to be done.

Posted on by debthumanblog

On Friday, I gave a talk on suicide – from the perspective of nearly killing myself, and my emotional response to the suicide of someone I knew. There were only five people in the audience and, rather than attempt power point, I used two quilts I had made. The first quilt was made when I was suicidal. The second is what I saw in my mind after someone I knew had killed himself. I’m used to working without a net and never write out what I intend to say. I speak from the gut. Sometimes, from the heart. The talk went well although I didn’t have time to say all I intended to say. I suspect for me to get everything in, I’d need an hour. I only had a half hour. I was asked what to say to a 20-something person who is suicidal. I stressed the necessity of taking the person to the hospital. If you take a person to the hospital and you are wrong, you get embarrassed. If you don’t take a person to the hospital and you’re wring, you’re going to a funeral. 

I got home and depression snuck up on me and grabbed me. Friday was rough. I found myself looking for Amazon Prime movies about suicide and mental institutions. Now, I find myself looking through Amazon to find books about mental institutions. I don’t know why this fascinates me. Maybe it’s because there but for having junk for parents, go I into a mad world run by mad men and mad women disguised as psychiatrists. Maybe I’m looking for validation for my refusal to be dumped into a locked ward.

Bipolar disorder sucks. For so long, I didn’t mind being bipolar. I finally had an accurate diagnosis that explained so many of the confusing bits of my life. I finally had proper meds. And then I nearly killed myself and bipolar disorder started to suck. 

I’ve discovered that once one admits to being suicidal, one needs to speak carefully. I’m having wild mood swings and something is clearly out of whack. Either my thyroid med needs adjusting, or – please, God no –  my mood stabilizer has stopped working. Coming off a psych med means going through withdrawal hell that lasts three months. This is followed by four to six months of med adjustment. Please let it be my thyroid. I saw my doctor last Wednesday and saw the bloodsucker on Thursday. Later this week, I’ll pick up the lab results. I described the mood swings and told my doctor I can’t live like this. I then had to tell her I’m not suicidal. I’m frustrated. I’m scared. I’m waiting for the next mood swing to arrive and blow through my head like a hurricane blowing through Florida. But, and this part is critical, I don’t want to die. Today, I don’t want to die. I’ve no idea what I will want tomorrow. That’s the terrifying part of bipolar disorder. I know my mood will swing wildly; I don’t know when or in what direction. Manic and more insomnia? Depressed and worried about becoming suicidal?

We went to Bosque del Apache on Saturday. I like the nature preserve, but I dislike being restricted to only a few roads. I’d like to do some serious exploring. The sandhill cranes have arrived and I had fun shooting them. I use a Canon rather than a gun. I worked on photographing birds in flight. It’s harder than it sounds. I use manual focus and it was tough to focus fast enough to get a clear shot.

I also worked on composing the scene when I’m doing landscape photography. I want to move away from snapshots and start taking photographic art. 

What passes for fall color in New Mexico

Looking for cool, art stuff? Please stop by my store, Deb Thuman Art http://DebThumanArt.com

I’m linking with Nina Marie http://ninamariesayre.blogspot.com Stop by and see what other artists have been doing.

Posted in Beads, bipolar disorder, Jewelry, Photography

Art To Calm By

Posted on by debthumanblog

I’ve been in better shape this last week, but I’m still manic. Some days are better than other days.  I had to tweak my mood stabilizer. It helped, but I’m now noticing more than brain fog than usual. Psych meds interfere with my ability to think. At least I’m not a zombie and I can still drive myself around town. Taking Uber from my home to class would be $30 one way. Plus tip. Assuming there’s an Uber driver willing to come this far out of town to pick me up.

Art is a way I can calm down, so I’ve been making necklaces.

Recycled Black Glass Pendant

I’ve been fascinated by the recycled glass beads I’ve been finding for sale. I like the idea of recycling. Why should glass go into the landfill when it can be turned into jewelry?

The iridescent blue beads are also recycled glass.

Impression Jasper Pendant

Impression Jasper is a default name. Someone dug up a rock, said it gave the impression of jasper, and the name stuck. This is a piece that was enhanced by heat treating the stone. Without enhancing, Impression Jasper is more subtle.

The above necklaces are for sale. I’ll eventually get them into my online store once I figure out the price for each. Jewelry prices are a function of cost of materials, time to make and how much I have to swear at the piece while making it.

This one I’m keeping for myself. The pendant is a fossil.

I put fancy stitches on the straps for the quilted laptop totes and wanted to serge the ends. The first end got caught somehow in the serger and I spent quality time swearing at the serger while trying to coax the threads off the finger. It’s still stuck. I’ll try again later. These quilted laptop totes are taking way too much time to make. Eventually, they will be finished and they will go into my store.

Tinker Helps With The Laundry

Usually the cats hide when they think I’m going to photograph them. I had to sneak up on Tinker, zoom the cellphone camera as much as possible, and hope for the best. The shot is backlit and I could have overcome that with the Canon. The cellphone doesn’t allow for that kind of tinkering. The cats don’t allow for me to take the time to use the Canon.

I’m linking with Nina Marie http://ninamariesayre.blogspot.com. Stop by and see what other artists are doing.

Looking for one-of-a-kind jewelry or fiber art? Please stop by my store, Deb Thuman Art http://www.DebThumanArt.com.

Posted in Beads, bipolar disorder, Fiber, Jewelry, Photography, Quilts

There’s A Reason It’s Called Art Therapy

Posted on by debthumanblog

I tweaked my mood stabilizer, and I’m feeling better. At least I’m not getting slammed by moods. Rapid cycling is having four or more episodes in a year. I had four in a week. The insomnia is still with me but Ambien is helping. 

I started working on jewelry and I like what I came up with. I don’t like how I photographed the pieces. Natural light wasn’t enough light. I added two LED lights, one on each side. That made for nasty shadows. So I kept the LED lights and added on camera flash. I’m not wild about the results although I did get the colors accurate. 

I worked a bit more on the suicide quilt. I don’t think that quilt should have a border, so I did a pillow case finish. Never did one of those before. Using Razzle Dazzle threads for hand quilting meant that the back of the quilt was nasty looking. The pillow case finish hides all that. I need to draft an eagle wing, get the wing drawn on the quilt, and quilt the wing with silver thread. 

The university is having a symposium in November and, being manic, I thought it would be a great idea to propose doing a talk on suicide from the perspective of one who nearly killed herself and one who is left behind by someone else’s suicide. It seemed like a good idea at the time. I have two nightmares about this: no one will show up, or 500 people will show up. Rather than power point – something that’s guaranteed to have a technical problem no matter how much you practice – I’m using two quilts. 

This is the quilt about when I nearly killed myself. It has a catchy title: Get Back Here Motherfucker, Sit Your Ass Down In That Chair, Shut The Fuck Up, And Listen To Me. That should explain why I don’t enter this quilt into a juried quilt show. It’s from a time when the neurologists were patting me on the head, smiling, and handing me prescriptions for useless drugs. They refused to answer any of my questions.

This is an axon with neurotransmitters represented by beads, coming out of the end of the axon and not being received by the dendrite.

The quilted part is an action potential. It’s a representation of the electrical impulse that goes the length of the axon.

There was another rape on campus. This time, the campus police actually did something. They temporarily banned the rapist from campus. Although I asked, the police refuse to give out the rapist’s name, photo or description. I’m so tired of being afraid. There’s probably a quilt in there somewhere. 

I’m linking with Nina Marie http://ninamariesayre.blogspot.com   Stop by and see what other artists are doing. 

Looking for a great gift? Stop by my store http://DebThumanArt.com

Posted in bipolar disorder

I didn’t choose bipolar disorder. Bipolar disorder chose me.

Posted on by debthumanblog

Bipolar disorder has an ugly side.

Not the deadening depression that causes us to have a suicide rate 20 times that of the rest of the population. I’m still alive.

Not the stereotypical spendthrift manic episode. I am constantly careful to never spend more in a month than I can pay in full when the credit card bill arrives.

The ugly side is the side that meds don’t help. It’s the fluttering and skipping in my heart that tells me I’m having an excess of anxiety. Three cardiologists have told me my heart is healthy.

Since the age of four, my life has been consumed with intense emotions. I’ve only relaxed once when I went on a women’s retreat in 1976. It felt strange. Comfortable. Nice. I’d like to have that happen again, but I know it won’t.

Today my heart flutters and skips while pumping blood. This happens from time to time. Usually, one clonazepam solves the problem. Twelve years ago, I was put on the lowest dose and told to take one pill three times a day. I take the pills when I need them and ignore the bottle when I am able to calm down. I’m still on the lowest dose.

Today, one clonazepam didn’t solve the problem. Two didn’t solve the problem. Three are starting to unravel my anxiety. I’m listening to music that’s supposed to have inaudible sounds to trigger specific brain waves. I made myself a cup of tea – one of my calming habits from more than 50 years ago. I’m starting to have fewer flutters and skips. I am nowhere near to being relaxed. I know relax is something that won’t happen again. I don’t know how to make it happen. I don’t know how to calm myself.

Most of the time, being bipolar doesn’t bother me. It gives me a view of life others don’t have. It gives me understanding others don’t have. It gives me knowledge of what psych meds will and won’t do. It gives me intimate understanding of med hell, med adjustment, and med withdrawal. All of it sucks. All of it is part of being bipolar.

People try. One coworker told me he was sorry I had to be bipolar. I know he was being compassionate and I appreciate that. I told him I couldn’t remember a time when I wasn’t bipolar. I don’t know what normal is. I don’t know how normal feels. I’d like to know. I’d like, just for a little bit, to be normal. To see the world others see. To feel the world others feel. To not have to constantly monitor my reactions to events and try to figure out if my reaction is normal, or part of being bipolar.

People ask me what bipolar disorder is. It’s a mood disorder. That label doesn’t explain anything. My moods have a mind of their own. The manic and depressive swings rarely have anything to do with what is going on in my life. I hate the manic and depressive swings.

I’ve read that bipolar disorder gets worse as one gets older. Maybe that’s happening to me. During the 35 years in which I could have been, should have been, and wasn’t diagnosed, I put myself through college earning two degrees. One in journalism and one in biology. The biology degree was hard because I wasn’t allowed to take any science or math classes in high school. I put myself through law school. I ran my own solo law practice. I moved 2000 miles across the country and lived on my own for a year.

I’m a criminal defense attorney. I’ve fought my guts out doing trials for clients. In desperation, I put together a program where people with minor drug charges could go into counseling and upon successful completion of the counseling their charges would be dropped. I figured out a way to have an appropriate consequence for non-citizen clients so they could avoid a deportation triggering conviction. I survived working in a toxic office and quit before the toxicity killed me. Two weeks after I quit, I could sleep without pills and the lower back pain stopped. Six months after I quit, I no longer needed blood pressure meds.

I survived growing up in a house run by a violent, drunken narcissist and a violent drunk who bragged about being in Germany during the occupation after WWII. He told, time and again, how he drove a jeep down “Jew Alley” where goods and produce were sold, knocking over stands and sending people scattering. The drunk thought that was a great accomplishment and how funny it was to see Jews scattering. Jews who survived the Holocaust only to be tormented and terrorized by a drunken asshole.

I still look at my life and am disgusted because I haven’t achieved anything.

I’m very well medicated. I look at my life and see only the extremes of bipolar disorder. I still feel the extremes of bipolar disorder. The horrible, out of control manic episodes and the crushing depressive episodes were I worry I’ll become suicidal. I worry about suicide and dread becoming yet another bipolar person who succeeded in dying. I’m terrified that’s how my life will end.

Don’t you dare feel sorry for me. I neither want nor need your pity. I don’t want your understanding. What I want, is something you can’t give. I want to know what it feels like to be normal. I want to react to events and not have to analyze my reaction to attempt to determine if the reaction is genuine or a function of bipolar disorder. I want to realize, as I start to move away from center, that I need to adjust myself back to center. Instead, I have insomnia for three weeks before I figure out I’m manic. Instead, I find myself thinking that being dead wouldn’t be so bad before I figure out I’m depressed. I want to know how to calm the anxiety without having to take a handful of meds. I want to never again, have the weight of flashbacks. I want to never again have to talk to memories, tell memories they are about something that happened once but isn’t happening now. I want to never have to tell memories I did the best I could at the time the event happened.

Most of all, I don’t want you to feel sorry for me.

Legacy of Child Abuse
Posted in bipolar disorder, Fiber, Photography

Rape, Dog, Knitting and Other Oddities

Posted on by debthumanblog

Odd things happened this week. Another woman was raped on the New Mexico State University campus. This time, the campus police actually did something. They temporarily banned the rapist from campus. I’ve asked for a complete description and photo of the guy as well as the date he can return to campus. Naturally, I got no response.  I’m tired of being scared. I’ll be making myself some decent cargo pants so I can have ready access to my pepper gel and stun gun.

Meanwhile, I got an email about a request for proposals for “Graduate, Online, and Nontraditional Student Recruitment, Retention, and Consulting Services.” Clearly someone screwed up because there’s no way the administration wants to hear what I have to say. This is going to be fun. My first suggestion will be to get rid of the Keystone Cops and replace them with a real police force. The reason for never arresting anyone for sexual assault or rape on campus is to dissuade women from reporting sexual assaults. If there are no reports, then the campus is a wonderful, safe place to send your daughter because there’s no crime on campus.

In a few weeks, I’ll be participating in a symposium on campus. Being manic, I decided it would be a great idea to bring two art quilts and talk about suicide from the perspective of nearly killing myself and the perspective of someone left behind after suicide of a friend. I have two nightmares about this. No one showing up and 500 people showing up. If nothing else, this is going to be an interesting experience. 

I’ve put more scarves into my store. 

I’ve bought a type of yarn I have never bought before and I’m making silky, chenille scarves. I like how this yarn feels. Depending on how well these two sell once I get them into my store, I may be working with more chenille yarn. 

I went dog shopping at the shelter where Animal Control takes strays yesterday. This is so discouraging. I found a dog that was close to what I need. She’s listed as a year old, but I think she’s older. The prominent teats tell me she’s had at least one litter. She was shaking when she met me, but did calm down once she was sure I wasn’t going to hurt her. She’s mellow. She even likes me. But….she’s not housebroken and she isn’t trained to walk with a leash. I can’t leave a dog that’s not housebroken home alone while I’m at school. I can’t leave her in the yard. Even if we did break down and put up a fence, we’re out in the desert and have an assortment of critters. Rattlesnakes, javelinas, bob cat, coyotes and that’s just the predators I know about. You can’t fence out a rattlesnake and we’ve had rattlers lounging on the patio next to the door. It’s unsafe to have a dog running lose in the yard. And so, reluctantly, I decided this isn’t the dog for me. 

I’m linking with Nina Marie http://ninamariesayre.blogspot.com   Stop by and see what other artists have been doing. 

Looking for a great, one of a kind piece of art? Please stop by my store, Deb Thuman Art http://www.debthumanart.com

Posted in bipolar disorder, Emotions, Photography, PTSD, Scarves

Scarves, Dogs, PTSD

Posted on by debthumanblog

Insomnia. It isn’t just for breakfast any more. This manic episode can leave now. Please leave. I am wide awake at 10:00 PM and don’t feel sleepy until after 1:00 AM. I drag myself through the next day, and wait for the insomnia to arrive about 10:00 PM. And on and on and on. I see my doctor on Wednesday morning and I’ll ask about sleeping pills.

Meanwhile, the anniversary of my mother’s funeral is on the ninth. To celebrate, I’m having flashbacks to the hell that woman put me through. She was a violent, drunken narcissist who had four children she didn’t want and made sure we knew she didn’t want us. I remember how I felt when she was complaining about her sister in law. “Why does she get all the boys and all I get are girls?” It was said in front of me. Inside, I asked what was wrong with girls? I knew better than to ask out loud. From the day she married the violent drunk until she died, I have no happy memory of her. Just misery and pain. 

This year, Yom Kippur falls on October 9. The very day I see my doctor. The anniversary of my mother’s funeral. Maybe God is trying to tell me something but I can’t decipher the message. 

We’ve had rain here in the desert. Photographers like to talk about shooting during the Golden Hours – two hours after sunrise and two hours before sunset. That leaves 20 less than perfect hours in a day. I like to play with photography when it’s cloudy. Although I sorely lack energy today, I went outside to photograph and play. Here are some of the results. 

Sometimes, I just gotta play with editing.

I need to get more scarves into my store. The scarves were finished, they just needed to be photographed and listed. I’ve got some hand dyed pieces. I knit up a blank using white cotton. Then I dye the piece. Next, I unravel the yarn and knit up the final piece. The dye doesn’t take evenly on a knitted blank, so the result is a marled color. 

I worked with some new to me yarn. It generates heat when exposed to sunlight – even on a cloudy day. I couldn’t pass up this yarn and I had a coupon for 25% off. I also bought some bulky chenille yarn

The search for a service dog continues. It’s frustrating. So many of the dogs in this area are part pit bull. I had a case where the pit bull got loose and chewed a lady’s leg nearly down to the bone. I cannot have a dog I can’t trust. That there are so many mixed breed dogs that are partially pit bull tells me that the owners like to let their vicious dog run loose. 

I’m linking with Nina Marie http://ninamariesayre.blogspot.com

Looking for a scarf or one of a kind jewelry? Please stop by my store, Deb Thuman Art http://debthumanart.com

Posted in bipolar disorder, Fiber, Suicide

Dogs, Bipolar Disorder, Suicide, Quilts

Posted on by debthumanblog

For the last couple years, I’ve been trying off and on to find a service dog trained to work with someone who has bipolar disorder. I’ve found a place out of state that will charge $16,000 for the dog and I’d have to move there for four months to be trained with the dog. Nope. 

I’ve found places where service dogs are trained to work with people who have PTSD. Nice, but PTSD isn’t bipolar disorder. That would be like suggesting you have open heart surgery when what you need is to have your gallbladder removed. 

Finally, I found a trainer who not only trains dogs to work with people who have bipolar disorder, but comes to the house to train both the dog and the human simultaneously. There was some sort of dog convention in the convention center this weekend, and we got to meet the trainer. When I read all the things a psychiatric service dog can be trained to do, I nearly cried. Dogs can smell mood swings at the start of the swing. You’d think I could do better than this, but I don’t realize I’m manic until I’m bouncing off the ceiling or that I’m depressed until I’m suicidal. I’ve had insomnia for the last couple weeks and I’ve never had insomnia. I only figured out the day before yesterday that I’m having a manic episode. Manic is annoying, but depressive is terrifying. The suicide rate for people who have bipolar disorder is 20 times that of the rest of the population. Depressive episodes are life threatening.

The dog can be trained to make sure I take my meds at the same time every day, get up at the same time and go to bed at the same time. Routine can be extremely helpful in managing bipolar disorder. 

The dog, most likely a rescue dog, will cost me about $200 and will already be house broken, neutered/spayed, and have up to date vaccinations. Training will last 9-18 months at a cost of $200 a month. When the training ends, I’ll be in a position to train another dog when the first dog retires. 

The trainer suggested getting a dog 2-3 years old. We have two cats and the cats aren’t going anywhere. The dog has to be okay living with cats. Also dogs that age are easiest to train. My dog, when I get one, will be trained to get on the shuttle bus at school, go to class with me, get on a train (can’t wait to take an overnight train trip) and fly. The flying training encompasses everything up to getting through airport security. Airlines have to let a person fly with a service dog and cannot charge additional for the dog. Yes, there are airlines that do that. As my first amendment teacher in law school said, don’t assume something is legal just because someone is doing it. However, flying with a service dog means being all but guaranteed a seat in the front row where there’s the most leg room. Jim is 6’3” and needs extra leg room. 

If it’s a place where the public can go – airport, restaurant, post office, class room – the facility must allow service dogs. No exceptions. It’s federal law and most states have a parallel law. 

I’m in the process of setting up an appointment for both the trainer and I to go to a dog rescue organization and see if they have an appropriate dog for me. Once I get the dog that’s right for me, training can begin immediately. I’m so psyched about this. For the first time in my life, I’m going to be able to live a normal life. I wonder what that’s going to feel like. 

I’ve been working on art quilts. I’ve got the quilting done on the memorial quilt about the people murdered at the temple in Pittsburgh last October. The Hebrew word in the middle is Chai. It means life. There is a quilted star for each of the 11 people murdered. The red threads are temporarily holding the layers together. I need to trim the quilt, pick out a backing, finish the piece, and launder it. 

I’ve got a good start on the quilt about someone I knew who committed suicide. The horizontal threads are temporarily holding the quilt together. There’s a trick to photographing shiny stuff. Obviously, I don’t know what that trick is. I find myself working out emotions while working on this quilt. 

I’m linking with Nina Marie http://ninamariesayre.blogspot.com  Stop by and see what other artists are doing. 

If you’re looking for something that’s one of a kind, please visit my store, Deb Thuman Art http://www.DebThumanArt.com

Posted in Beads, bipolar disorder, Clay, Depression, Emotions, Jewelry, Quilts

Beads. Quilt. Clay. Bipolar disorder.

Posted on by debthumanblog

It’s been a rough few days. I wanted to decrease the Wellbutrin because I’m taking a prescription form of folate that is formulated to cross the blood brain barrier. The folate helps keep me above suicidal but doesn’t cause brain dropouts. I tried cutting the Wellbutrin pill in half. Nope. Bad idea. I felt myself sinking below center. The rate of suicide for people who are bipolar is 20 times that of the rest of the population. I find that terrifying. I’ve been suicidal 5 times in my life. How many times can I walk up to the edge of the cliff and not jump off?  I’m back to the dosages I was on and much closer to center. 

Bipolar disorder means having moods that have minds of their own. I’m in a foul mood, but there’s no reason why I should feel this way. Working on art helped, but I’m still not at center. I had ordered some impression jasper. It’s a stone that gives the impression of jasper. Except it’s not jasper. These two are dyed. I liked the color, so I’ve been playing around. 

I don’t usually just have a pendant on a silver chain, but this particular Swavorski crystal would be overwhelmed if I added any beads. 

I played a bit with making a book mark.

I can’t just sit and watch TV; I have to be doing something. I’ve been crocheting circles. Eventually, I’ll roll out a slab of clay, arrange the circles on the slab, press them in, and cut out little trays. 

I wanted to make a quilt to commemorate the murders at the temple in Pittsburgh last October. I’m not sure I’m all that happy with the chai, but I’m not about to wash this piece. I had to figure out how to make blood spatter for this piece and I can’t remember if I set the blood spatter. 

I’m trying to force myself to relax and have fun with my classes, immunology and cell biology. I spent college having to be the best in my classes. I spent law school having to be the best. I spent a career practicing law having to be the best. Now, I’m taking classes that interest me. I’m not going for another degree. The grade doesn’t matter…..except it does matter. I’m feeling burnt out because I’m putting emphasis on getting a good grade rather than putting emphasis on enjoying the class. 

I’m linking with Nina Marie http://ninamariesayre.blogspot.com Stop by and see what other artists are doing.

Please stop by my store, Deb Thuman Art http://www.debthumanart.com

Posted in bipolar disorder, Cognitive problems, Depression, Fiber, Psych meds, Sciatica, Shibori

I’m dyeing. No need to send flowers although orange roses would be nice. Or maybe white carnations.

Posted on by debthumanblog

I needed new oversized tee shirts to sleep in. It’s cheaper for me to buy from Dharma Trading than to make a tee shirt. That leaves me to experiment with color and dyeing technique. I wanted to shoot these experiments outside, but we are having WIND. Spring in the desert features wind gusts of 50 mph. One day, the wind got faster than 100 mph. Indoor shooting has restrictions because I put the experiment on a piece of white board and shoot while standing up. These are hardly great art.

For my Shibori experiments, I tied one tee shirt in knots, used bulldog clips on another tee shirt, and clothespins on a knitted piece. Shibori is traditionally dyed indigo blue.  Not my Shibori. I’m a color junkie and need to be surrounded by lots and lots of different colors. Fortunately, color is legal and doesn’t affect my ability to drive. 

Clothes pins
Bulldog clips
Fabric tied in knots

For hand dyed yarn, I knit a blank from 100% cotton yarn, dye the piece, unravel the piece, then knit something. I’m curious to see what happens when I knit a piece from the Shibori experiment. 

I made the mistake of rinsing out the orange piece with the purple piece. It’s going to be interesting to see how this knits up because this isn’t the only purple spot on this piece. 

I have mixed feelings about the oversized tee shirts. Manipulations were only on the bottom of the red tee shirt. I like that idea and I’m thinking about how to expand on it. The purple tee shirt was a surprise. I didn’t realize the dye was going to separate and dye the tied parts a light red. I like the effect, but I’m not sure I want to have clothing that resembles tie dye. 

There are six more clothing blanks to dye – 1 tee shirt, 2 caftans, 2 blouses. I’ve been thinking about how I want to fold the fabric and what I want to use as a resist. Clothespins are nice, but once the clothespins are dyed, they shouldn’t be used to hang laundry. I’m afraid if I used dyed clothespins to hang wet clothes the dye would bleed into the clothing. 

Once I finish dyeing the rest of the blanks, I’ll work on dyeing yardage and I’m thinking of folding the fabric on the diagonal. A Shibori scrub top could be interesting. So could a pair of boxers for Jim made from the leftover fabric. The blanks and the yardage are from Dharma Trading. The quality is good, but the blanks and fabric aren’t pre-shrunk. This time, I’m going to be hanging the tee shirts on the line each time I wash them. Maybe that will keep the shrinkage to a minimum. 

I’m not in a chatty mood today and I’m not sure why. I may be just a bit below center – a bit depressed. Earlier, I was doing some online research for the novel and found some sad pieces. Thus, the depression. This isn’t a serious depression and I’ve no suicidal thoughts. 

After the last major depressive event wherein I found myself thinking that being dead wouldn’t be so bad, I talked to my doctor about tweaking my meds. She doubled the dosage for both Lamictal and Wellbutrin. That solved the depression problem, but left me stoned out of my mind. I’d be driving and wonder where I was. I went back down on both prescriptions and felt weird feelings in my head. It took a couple days to figure out I was going into withdrawal. I went back up to my previous dosages for both meds. That eliminated the withdrawal symptoms but left me snarling at Jim and the cats. I doubled the dose for Wellbutrin putting me back on the dosage my doctor recommended. I’m not snarling, but my brain isn’t working all that well. Words get lost in my head and I haven’t figured out where they hide. One time, I couldn’t remember “body wash.” I described the word I wanted by saying it’s a liquid and you use it to wash yourself. Today, Jim was driving us home, and I was bewildered. I couldn’t figure out where we were or how we got there. I may have to cut the Wellbutrin back to one and a half pills a day rather than two pills. 

I’ve been going to the gym a couple times a week and doing yoga on the non-gym days. It’s helping and I feel like soon I won’t have to worry about a relapse. Which is dangerous because this is the time when I push myself too far and cause a relapse. It’s hard to know what I shouldn’t be doing until I do it and start to hurt. 

I’ll be back up to center tomorrow. Or maybe after I start working on my new gym shorts later today. I’m using a cotton/lycra blend with 4-way stretch and I’ve got the fabric cut out. Just need to start sewing the pieces together. The gym shorts are necessary because the management of the gym I go to hired a man to clean the locker rooms. He’s the world’s slowest man and he’s always cleaning the locker room when I get to the gym. My solution was to wear gym clothes to the gym, work out, and go back home to shower. It’s a good solution, but I need pockets to hold my keys while I work out and to carry my iPod to and from the gym. I have two pairs of shorts that are both stretchy and have pockets. I’d like to not have to do laundry each time I go to the gym so I’m making gym shorts. 

I’m linking with Nina Marie http://ninamariesayre.blogspot.com

Looking for one of a kind art pieces? Please stop by my store, Deb Thuman Art, http://debthumanart.com

Posted in Baking, bipolar disorder, Cognitive problems, Fiber, Sciatica

A Dangerous Time

Posted on by debthumanblog

I have entered The Dangerous Time in my recovery from an angry sciatic nerve. I feel good. The pain is nearly non-existent. I think I can do things. Like walk through the grocery store. That walk is what started the relapse. I had some pain on Monday as I pushed my walker from one class to the next. I had more pain on Wednesday as I pushed my walker from one class to the next. I won’t be doing any more pushing for a while because I’m taking another week off from school. I don’t like doing that, but I really, really, really don’t like the idea of having to push this walker around for a few more months. This was week 5. According to the articles I’ve seen, sciatica is supposed to clear up in 6 weeks. That’s not going to happen . Yes, I have had this conversation with my sciatic nerve. The sciatic nerve isn’t paying attention to me. 

I broke down and ordered a new walker. Buying a walker is not the best time to be economy minded. My current walker has 6” wheels on the front legs and end caps on the back legs. It’s not designed for use on pavement. What I ordered has four 7.5” wheels, hand brakes, a seat and a nifty basket under the seat. I’m thinking that the larger wheels will help avoid the death traps on the sidewalks and pavement. The smaller wheels on my current walker would get stuck in the sidewalk joins and in low spots on irregular pavement. The campus is rife with death traps. The seat will allow me to move baking ingredients from the pantry to the counter. I doubt I’ll ever sit on the seat, but I wanted a seat so I could put stuff on it rather than try to push a walker while holding something in my hand. I suspect I’ll need to use the walker for at least another month.

I discovered a leftover from the cognitive deficits that were part of the withdrawal from Cymbalta. I tried sewing, and couldn’t remember basic things. Like how to thread my machine. How to attach the free motion quilting foot. I forgot I needed to lower the feed dogs when I quilted. I forgot where the button is to lower the feed dogs. As a result, I made a quilted tote bag filled with technical errors. I always cut the batting and backing larger than what will be the top side of the quilt. Not this time. I cut the batting too short and too narrow. I had to diddle around joining additional pieces of batting to what I had cut out. The backing was also too narrow. I had to sew a strip onto the backing. I wanted to do a pillowcase type quilt. Sew all three layers together leaving a hole on one end, pull the inside of the bag out through the hole, and sew the hole closed. Ta da! No binding needed. I sewed the seam too narrow in spots and the backing didn’t get caught in the stitching. I did a row of top stitching around the quilt to fix that problem. Except it didn’t fix it. Deciding I wasn’t about to go crazy making this quilted tote bag, I left the gaps. I folded the quilt in half, sewed up the sides and proclaimed it finished. No, there will not be photos. I really don’t want something this filled with errors on the internet. Yes, I will use the tote bag. It’s a tote bag – not an art piece.

I get to find out in the coming week if my sewing brain has returned. When we were on vacation last August, I bought patterns for quilted purses and a quilted wallet. Last week, I bought a pattern for a quilted messenger bag. I was having a minor manic episode and that’s about the extent of my shopping spree. That and the bunny cake pan which makes six little bunny cakes. It is beyond cute. Manic episodes are supposed to be when those with bipolar disorder spend vast sums of money. I’m always careful when I’m manic and my spending sprees are limited to about $100.00. The other part of my manic episodes is culinary. I bake. I cook. I make home made pasta. The bunny cake pan hasn’t arrived yet and I’m looking forward to making little pound cake bunnies when the pan arrives. Yes, there will be bunny cake photos.

I decided to make the quilted wallet first and the messenger bag after that. The wallet has a long strap on it so it can be used as a mini purse. This is a great idea. When I’m at school, I put my wallet, credit card case, and assorted purse stuff in the backpack. If I want to go someplace after school, I need to move purse stuff from the backpack to my purse. I’m thinking that a wallet with a strap could double for a purse when I want to go somewhere after class.

I’ve had a lack of ambition lately, and I think maybe making art will pop me out of the blahs. It’s worth a try.

I’m finally able to stand long enough to block and photograph scarves. Being confined to the couch is conducive to knitting. I’m now playing with cotton yarn that I hand dyed. First, I knit some of the yarn. Then I dye the yarn. Then I unravel the yarn and get a mottled effect. I think there’s more life in yarn that isn’t a solid dye.

Hand dyed cotton scarf.
Playing with cables
Working on designing lace patterns.
Closeup of lace pattern

I’m linking with Nina Marie ,http://ninamariesayre.blogspot.com

If you are looking for one of a kind art pieces, please stop by my store, Deb Thuman Art,www.debthumanart.com. 

Posted in Baking, bipolar disorder, Cognitive problems, Pain, Peripheral neuropathy, Photography

Rolling On

Posted on by debthumanblog

I have sciatic pain. Apparently two major depressive episodes in three weeks is not healthy. The second episode was scary because I caught myself thinking being dead wouldn’t be so bad. I called my doctor and now have my psych meds tweaked. Meanwhile, I woke up in severe pain last week Monday. I couldn’t walk more than a few steps. I had to push a chair around because I didn’t have a walker. 

Now, I have a few life adjustments. I use a walker and will likely need it for at least 4 more weeks. I have to consider how far I can walk. I tested out my walking ability in the grocery store this morning. I want to go back to school on Monday and I needed to know if I could walk from the shuttle stop to my class. I’m pretty sure I can get that far. I was afraid I’d get halfway to where I need to go, my leg would give out, and I’d be stuck. I’ve missed two weeks of school and I don’t think I can catch up. I know the grades don’t matter; I’m not working towards another degree. I’ve seen too many retired people taking classes and all they are doing is taking up a place in the class. I don’t want to be like that. I want to get as much as I can from my classes.

One of the main roads on campus is torn up. As in removed right down to the soil. I have to cross that road to get from one class to the other. I’m not looking forward to pushing a walker through an uneven, messy, wet, muddy road. I’m not looking forward to trying to get in and out of buildings that don’t have door openers. The university is asking the state for a few million dollars and one of the projects to be funded is $40,000 for a patio outside the football coach’s office. I’ve been taking classes since 2000 (I’m the poster child for the over educated) and in that time, I’ve seen only one student in a wheelchair and only one student using a walker.

If you ever need a walker, get one with a seat. I didn’t, and I’m regretting it. If I have to stand for any length of time, it sure would be helpful to have a seat on which to place my knee. My walker came last Friday. My cupholder came a few days later. That cupholder allows me to go to Starbucks by myself. Such a little thing but means so much to me. I’m used to being independent. Now, I have to wait for someone to open the door for me so I can get in and out of buildings.

We now have a collection of night lights. I got up in the middle of the night Friday night because my foot hurt and I wanted to get my TENs unit. I’m not sure how this happened. I lost my balance, went flying to the floor, banged my head on the wall, and scraped up my hand and arm. Then the lamp fell down on top of me. Jim had to rescue me. I have positional vertigo and I do what I call ear exercises. The exercises help to reset the fluid in my ears. I did my exercises after my deep tissue massage and I feel steadier. I’m not old enough to be this old.

Eating dinner at Chili’s was….interesting. The fellow who was about to seat us asked if we wanted to sit in the bar. I asked him if he saw me using a walker. He did. “Do you really think I can climb up on those stools?” If I gotta be disabled, I’ll make darned sure to educate people on how not to be stupid.

I so wanted to make something for Pi Day, March 14. But I couldn’t stand long enough to bake anything. I wanted to make decorated cookies for Hibernian Heritage Day. I’m that rare combination of Scott-Irish and Polish Jew. I can’t bring myself to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day. I can celebrate Hibernian Heritage Day. I still can’t stand long enough to make cut out cookies and decorate them. No, Jim doesn’t want to bake per my instructions. He likes his own version of baking. We have a running discussion on whose oatmeal cookies are better. Jim adds chili powder. I use dried cherries rather than raisins. Adding chocolate chips is also good.

I finished another scarf. I can’t stand long enough to block it or photograph it. On this one, I played around a bit. I had worked out the lace pattern for the blue scarf, and the lace pattern on this scarf is based on the blue scarf. I kicked it up a notch.

My doctor tweaked my meds. I go from 3 mood stabilizers a day to 6. I’m supposed to add another pill each week. I go from 1 antidepressant to 2. The change left me with brain fog. Yesterday was the first day I could think clearly since I increased the doses. I’m thinking waiting two weeks rather than one week between increases will make it easier to adjust. I feel….safer now. I’m not worried about sinking into a dangerous depression or becoming suicidal. I feel….solid. Like I’m not going to fall below center.

I’m linking with Nina Marie http://ninamariesayre.blogspot.com Stop by and see what other artists have been doing.

Looking for some cool, one of a kind art? Please stop by my store, Deb Thuman Art http://www.debthumanart.com.

Posted in Baking, bipolar disorder, Depression, Fiber, Pain, PTSD, Sciatica

Some days, I just don’t feel like slaying dragons.

Posted on by debthumanblog

I can’t tell if I’m depressed or just royally pissed off. The muscles around my hips got tight enough to effect the sciatic nerve. I can’t get around without using a walker. I can’t take my vitamins because they are in a cupboard and I can’t reach them. I can get a glass out of the cupboard, but I can’t carry the glass to the sink to fill it with water. I can’t bring a drink from the kitchen to any part of the house because I need both hands to use the walker. My cupholder for the walker will arrive in a few days. 

I didn’t go to school last week because I was waiting for my walker to be delivered. I won’t be going to school this week because about 98% of the buildings are inaccessible. I only know of one restroom that’s accessible. There’s an office set up to “help” accommodate students who have disabilities. Yeah, right. The office is only to protect the university in the event of a lawsuit. Even if the office actually gave a shit about students, they couldn’t help me. I’d need someone with me all day to open doors for me. The someone would have to be a woman so I could use the restroom. The restroom by my first class has two doors. One door gets you into a sitting room. The second door gets you into where the toilets are. There isn’t a handicap stall so I would be forced to use the toilet with the stall door open.

I’ve been working on a bag to tie onto the walker so I could carry stuff. I used three placemats piled onto my cutting mat so I could iron the seams. I am not sure I can put the bag together. I need to cut out a backing, cut out batting, and sew the whole works together. But…the batting is not in the sewing room. It’s in the guest room. I bought 10 yards a few years ago so I’d always have batting when I needed it. I can’t lug the batting to the sewing room because I need two hands on the walker. I can only walk a few steps without the walker. Cutting out an 18” x 36” piece of fabric requires standing up. I can only stand on my own for a minute or two before the pain in my leg becomes unbearable.

I need to photograph a scarf I knitted so I can put the scarf in my on-line store. But I can’t get the white board out of the closet and get it over to the sliding glass door and I can’t stand up while I focus the camera. This is the best I can do…and it’s not very good.

So much of my life right now is restricted. I see the world in terms of what I can’t do. I can’t make the bed. I can’t change the sheets. I can’t do laundry. I can’t put away my clothes after Jim washes them. I can’t stand while brushing my teeth or blowing my hair dry. I can’t bake because I can’t get the mixer or the ingredients out of the pantry.

My appointment with my doctor arrived before my walker was delivered. I got as far as the reception area where I could check in and doubled over from the pain. I think I may have traumatized the poor woman who asked if I was all right. No, I’m not all right. She offered to get me a wheelchair. Did you know that driving a wheelchair is a whole lot harder than it looks? I found that out real fast.

I can’t.

I can’t.

I can’t.

I found videos on Youtube for exercises to help with the pain of sciatica. The exercises work. I had a deep tissue massage yesterday and that helped. I have rice bags that I made. I put them in the microwave, then wrap the hot bags in a dishtowel. I put the bags under my right hip and right calf. That helps. I thought when we had the house built that a ledge in the shower was luxury. I thought it would only be used when I shave my legs. Now, I sit on that luxurious ledge in order to take a shower. Jim put a chair in the bathroom so I could brush my teeth and dry my hair.

Still, even with all the help, I can’t do so many things. I can’t fix myself a cup of tea and bring it into my office because I need both hands on my walker. I can’t fix myself a bagel and bring it into my office because I need both hands on my walker. I can’t cook because I can’t get ingredients out of the pantry. I can’t open a can of soup and nuke it. I can get up to nuking it if I can reach the proper size container, but I can’t carry my soup to the table.

This misery came about after two major depressive episodes within three weeks. The pain started last Sunday and got worse over the next few days. My doctor tweaked my meds with the hope that the new doses will keep the depressive episodes away.

I never let bipolar disorder or PTSD stop me from doing what I want to do. I almost never run from my PTSD triggers. The two exceptions are a series on Amazon Prime that deals with treatment of veterans who have PTSD. I could see a problem starting as we watched the show. Fortunately, the show sucked and we switched the channel before I had an attack. The other time I ran was watching the news. I couldn’t bear to hear a teenager express her admiration of her parents because they got her help when she was suicidal. I had to mute the TV.

I’ve never run from bipolar disorder.

Mental illness never kept me down. My sciatic nerve is keeping me from doing nearly all the things I want to do. 

That’s why I don’t feel like slaying dragons today.

I’m linking with Nina Marie http://ninamariesayre.blogspot.com Stop by and see what other artists are doing.

Looking for one of a kind art? Please stop by my store Deb Thuman Art http://www.debthumanart.com

Posted in Baking, bipolar disorder, Depression, Psych meds, Suicide

Here’s Why I Have No Ambition

Posted on by debthumanblog

I don’t feel like doing anything. I don’t feel like making art. I don’t feel like studying although I enjoy my two botany classes. I don’t feel like reading. I just looked at a recipe for banana cake with maple cream cheese frosting. Certainly a combination of flavors that will be wonderful. I don’t feel like making the cake although I could probably be convinced to make the frosting and eat it with a spoon. 

This was bothering me until I thought about the cause for the lack of ambition. In the last year, I’ve been through:

  • Deciding to commit suicide and coming back from the edge
  • Going on Cymbalta which I did reluctantly
  • Four infections in five months
  • Severe nerve pain
  • Having to report sexual harassment to the campus police
  • Having the joy sucked out of life and realizing the problem was Cymbalta
  • Coming off Cymbalta and going through horrendous withdrawal 
  • Having cognitive deficits from the withdrawal and not being able to find the street where I live
  • Having so many withdrawal problems that I was sure I was going to be hospitalized so I drafted an advance psychiatric directive and packed a bag before I went to my appointment with my doctor
  • Having breakthrough bleeding and doing the research to find the causes, treatments and incidence of uterine cancer
  • Having to wait a month for a biopsy and another week for the results
  • Having severe anxiety resulting in many cookies and scarves
  • The dishwasher broke just after Thanksgiving
  • Someone I knew committed suicide

No sane person would have any ambition after all that.

I look back, and wonder how I managed when I was working for the Public Defender Department. I think part of survival was to do what I really shouldn’t do – ignore what’s going on inside of me and keep myself busy so I don’t feel much. Now, I don’t have an extreme stress and adrenaline job. Now, I have time to take care of myself and no excuse not to take care of myself.

In Sylvia Plath’s book The Bell Jar, she compares depression to being under a bell jar. From time to time, the bell jar lifts, but she knows it will always come back down. I had a mental health crisis this week. I sort of saw it coming on Wednesday night when I found myself thinking about suicide. The suicide rate for people with bipolar disorder is 20 times the rate for people who aren’t bipolar.

I am 20 times as likely to commit suicide as you. That’s terrifying.

Thursday morning, the anxiety and depression increased. I cried a lot. I needed an extra ½ pill of Wellbutrin. I needed to take all three klonopin. I’ve been on the same dose for klonopin for the last 12 years. Sometimes I don’t need klonopin. Sometimes, I need one or two. Thursday, I needed three to stop the flutters in my chest.

Today, I feel the bell jar coming back down. On Monday, I’ll call my doctor and talk to her about increasing my meds. I don’t like living like this. Suicide terrifies me and I want to live.

Bipolar disorder: the ability to feel like crap 80% of the time.

I’m still knitting to keep the anxiety down. Here’s my latest scarf and it’s in my store: Deb Thuman Art http://debthumanart.com

I’ve Got The Browns

One of the tings I can do to make the bipolar crap go away is to immerse myself with art. Before, art was visual. This time, art is verbal. I’m working on the novel and just did a massive editing. I had Jim print out what I had written, and I went through the pages by hand. I’ll put all the changes into the computer when I finish editing. I’m playing around with an idea for something that I’ve never seen done before. Don’t know how well it’s going to work, but it’s an interesting exercise.

I’m also baking to keep the depression from getting any worse. I’m making croissants. Because of the time between turns and the amount of time the dough has to be in the refrigerator before I can turn it into croissants, I make the dough on Saturday and cut out, shape, and bake the croissants on Sunday morning. 

I’m linking with Nina Marie http://ninamariesayre.blogspot.com

Looking for a great gift? A treat for yourself? Please stop by my store, Deb Thuman Art http://debthumanart.com

Posted in Baking, bipolar disorder, Depression, Fiber, Grief, Suicide

Feeling Better, still…upset? Sad? Angry?

Posted on by debthumanblog

I’m still woking my way to understanding and sanity. I’ve written more conversations that I’ll never say out loud and that no one will ever read. Maybe. Someday. Right now, the feelings are still too raw. 

I’m closer to center, and I feel…solid. Like being centered is going to stay. Bipolar disorder is a lifetime full of mood surprises. I’ve no idea how long this solid feeling center will last. I do know that it won’t last. Sooner or late, I’ll have another mood surprise.

I did a google search to find a way to make sense of suicide and came across this site:https://www.mayoclinic.org/healthy-lifestyle/end-of-life/in-depth/suicide/art-20044900

It’s from the Mayo Clinic and I trust this website to have decent information. There’s a whole lot of inaccurate junk on the internet. So much of what is described in the article is an accurate description of what I felt and continue to feel. I’m troubled by the knowledge that I was brought back from the edge of suicide by a thin thread. Depending on your theology, this was either pure luck or divine intervention. Jim and I went hiking and I suddenly felt good. When we got home, the good feeling left and I realized I was depressed. I went on antidepressants immediately. I had no idea I was depressed. Yeah, right, Deb. How the heck can you be suicidal and not know you’re depressed. It’s easy. And that terrifies me. At the time I was aware that I was having a manic episode. I wasn’t aware I was having a mixed episode where both intense mania and intense depression coexist. Why am I allowed to continue life and John wasn’t? I want the world to make sense, and the world doesn’t make sense. The world has never made sense and will never make sense. I read murder mysteries and watch TV police dramas even though I know the shows are inaccurate. The world makes sense in murder mysteries and on television. Innocent people don’t go to prison in novels. Innocent people go to prison in courtrooms every day.

My world doesn’t make sense and I can’t figure out how to make the world make sense. And so I knit. And bake. This week, I made puff pastry. Um…..I’m not wild about puff pastry. I suppose it has its uses, but I don’t care for it.

I’ve made another scarf and bought yarn for four more scarves. So far, I’ve made 11 scarves and sold 5 of them. This one is listed in my store Deb Thuman Artwww.debthumanart.com

I’m linking with Nina Marie. Stop by and see what other artists are doing.http://ninamariesayre.blogspot.com

Posted in Baking, bipolar disorder, Depression, Grief, Suicide

Writing my way back to center

Posted on by debthumanblog

My psych meds keep me alive. Literally. After a depression so severe that I decided killing myself was a rational decision, had worked out how when and where, and by divine intervention realized I had to go back on antidepressants, I decided I’d never again discontinue Wellbutrin. I had good reasons for going off Wellbutrin. I was having hallucinations. I had left a toxic work environment three years prior. Maybe I could get by with just my mood stabilizer.

And then someone I knew killed himself. I’m still reeling. I’m not crying as much, but I haven’t recovered. I still have questions about why I’m alive and he isn’t. I still have no appetite. Fortunately, I’m seriously overweight so not having an appetite isn’t a health issue and won’t be for several more months.

Earlier this week, I tried writing out my feelings. It’s a written piece that I can’t share now and doubt I’ll ever share. It’s too personal. Too raw. It almost helped. Or rather it helped for a few days.

The depressive episode arrived this past Monday. I saw my psychologist on Tuesday. It didn’t help. The depression lifted – I though – on Wednesday. It came roaring back yesterday. The usual depression cures didn’t work. Jim and I went to a kitchen store in El Paso. Kitchen stores, even if I don’t buy anything, reliably lift the depression. Not this time.

I’m working on more scarves. Knitting the scarves helped me through the intense anxiety while waiting for doctors appointments, biopsy appointment, results showing I don’t have cancer. It’s not working this time.

I tried baking my way out of this depression. I found a recipe for chocolate cutout cookies and tried piping royal icing. I need to listen to myself. I thought that icing was too stiff. I was right but by then, the icing was in the pastry bag and there was no going back. And I was out of powdered sugar so I couldn’t start over.

I love botany. That’s what I concentrated on in college. Botany and microbiology. The smaller things get, the more fascinating things are. I am taking two botany classes this semester: structure and function of plants and plant physiology. Same text book for both classes. One set of studying for two classes. What could be better? Except I’m depressed and don’t care about the classes.

I have the blood spatter on the background fabric for a quilt about the murders in the synagog in Pittsburgh last fall. I can’t bring myself to work on the quilt.

So I sit here. Depressed. Knowing I need to read the textbook for my classes next week. Knowing I need to at least read over my notes for a test on Monday. Not wanting to do anything. Knowing I have to wait out this depressive episode. Knowing there’s no shortcut. No cure. No relief. Just tears.

At least I did laundry and will have clean underwear next week.

I’m linking with Nina Marie. Stop by and see what other artists are making http://ninamariesayre.blogspot.com

Looking for one of a kind jewelry? Scarves? Seam ripper? Please stop by my store, Deb Thuman Art https://www.debthumanart.com