The Significance of Purging Material and Mental Clutter

Compulsive decluttering or just a simple distraction to stave off anxiety? Whatever the case, I’m right on track again! Just as with any other time I get exhausted, sick, or overwhelmed, I resort to decluttering my house. This time, it was somewhat benign, as the stuff I got rid of was outgrown clothing and Halloween decorations stashed in the basement.

But, first, a little backstory- yesterday, I drove all the gas out of my car to meet somebody who was sleeping off a hangover. I caught a cold while walking around yesterday, breathing in pollen at the park. And, of course, I’m run-down, tired and angry. It’s Mother’s Day again, and I haven’t spoken to my mother in 10 years. In her mind, throwing out assorted ink pens is more important than a person’s livelihood. There is much I don’t want to discuss my family, but we have differing perspectives on certain issues.

This is the second time in a month that I’ve been sick with a cold or allergies. And I’m dreading going to work this week because when one of the team members in the quality department goes on vacation, I have to fill in. In fact, before my co-worker left for her vacation, she ambushed me to ask me to work this past Saturday. When I said I wasn’t able, she took another jab, guilt-tripped me, and now I’m saddled into working next Saturday!

I get depressed when I’m sick, and I start ruminating. Today I was thinking about how little regard my family has given me and my kids. It usually doesn’t bother me, until I get around “normal” people, enjoying time with extended family members. Maybe I am being unrealistic. Perhaps what I see in an hour of time with others isn’t enough time to truly define how other families function.

When I decided to declutter, I started off with my daughter’s box of clothes from the basement. I told her that I wanted to only keep a few bulky winter garments downstairs. Whatever else that can’t fit upstairs, she has to choose what to donate. Many of the clothes seemed fine, but she had minor complaints about each item she didn’t want.

My son’s box was easy to empty because he outgrew several pairs of shorts. What else was there to go through but the Halloween box? I dumped it out and looked over the plastic mice and bats. I remembered the ugly, heavy-duty extension cords I bought only two years ago to use for lights. For all the work I did putting up the lights, it didn’t look as good as my neighbor’s lighting.

Halloween Clutter

There was some shiny, purple garland that was starting to fall apart. When I saw the gaudy, felt decorations, I was reminded about primary-school artwork. All of these items, I thought I was justified when purchasing because they didn’t contain witches or vampires- nothing more than smiling pumpkins and kitty-cats. I just know that this Halloween, my son will be angry that I got rid of the decorations. He likes to dress up and hand out candy on our decorated porch.

After decluttering, I marveled at how clean and organized the basement looked. I have to obtain the strength to not buy more stuff next year to appease anybody else’s values. I need to take a closer look at what I will do to cope when I have no possessions to donate. Maybe I can get out in nature- away from clutter and needless spending.

 

 

Cyclothymia- A Milder Form of Bipolar Disorder

“I am bipolar, and I am a full manifestation of it in terms of my speech, in terms of my energy.” -Mauro Ranallo

After several years of being called, “bipolar” by endearing family members, I set aside my judgment of them and often wondered if there was some validity in the criticisms.

The depression persisted from my teens up until now, however, the mania wasn’t fully manifested until later in life. I can recall one friend telling me that I was the only person they’ve known that exhibited both a melancholic and hyper disposition simultaneously.

As a female, my moods have always been further compounded by the fluctuations in my hormones (i.e., “pms”, and postpartum).

About 7 years ago, I went to my doctor who diagnosed me with depression and PMDD. Every visit since then, the depression notes remain on my summary. Once, when I tried to contact one of my doctor’s, she stated that none of my conditions weren’t applicable because I wasn’t re-evaluated for them- I had missed an appointment and she seemed harsh and unhelpful.

When I went back for a yearly appointment in 2017, the doctor assumed I was there specifically for a prescription. I told her I wanted to have a thorough diagnosis- that meant I had to get blood tests to rule out physical conditions. It also meant she would refer me to a psychiatrist for the full evaluation.

I met with two psychiatrists- the first might have had a different certification because he made my second appointment with the doctor who conducts evaluations. Again, I think I was scheduled with him first because the staff thought I just wanted counseling or pills.

When I had my evaluation, she told me I was, “a little bipolar.” I told her I didn’t want pills, just a diagnosis so I could manage my disorder on my own. She prescribed something that I never took. Weeks later, I requested my records and discovered the notes about my mood disorder- which didn’t explicitly state that I had bipolar disorder.

This diagnosis leads me to research more about bipolar disorder. More specifically, I wish to learn more about cyclothymia- or, as some people refer to it- “mild” bipolar (a “little” bipolar!).

Cyclothymia is a somewhat rare mental disorder, affecting about 0.4-1% of the population, with women being more frequently diagnosed than men by a ratio of 3:2.

“Cyclothymic disorder is characterized by hypomanic and mini-depressive periods that last a few days, follow an irregular course, and are less severe than those in bipolar disorder; these symptom periods must occur for more than half the days during a period of ≥ 2 yr. Diagnosis is clinical and based on history. Management consists primarily of education, although some patients with functional impairment require drug therapy.” (Merck Manuals)

Many people, such as myself, enjoy the hypomania component of the disorder allows me to be “high-functioning”.

It helps those who are achievers, leaders, or those with an artistic bent, to be productive and creative, even influential and admired by their peers. On the other side of the coin- the “depressed” element of cyclothymia, wreaks havoc on relationships and can create conflict due to erratic behavior in the workplace and otherwise.

Many people afflicted by cyclothymia (or other forms of mood disorders) often turn to drugs and alcohol to a feeble attempt to quell their moods.

How can somebody get help if they think they may have cyclothymia? There is no test for cyclothymia. A doctor usually refers to your medical history and sometimes will refer you to a psychiatrist. Since the symptoms of cyclothymia are similar to bipolar 1 and bipolar 2, it is important to seek an evaluation from a psychiatrist.

Since cyclothymia is less severe than other forms of bipolar disorder, you may decide to examine various methods of treatment, with or without medications.

What works well for one individual isn’t always ideal for everybody else.

You can choose to see a therapist at regular intervals, join a support group, etc. Still, many psychiatrists prescribe medication.

Medications Often Prescribed

Lithium– a mood stabilizer

Lamictal– an anticonvulsant

Tegretol– used to treat seizures and bipolar disorder (anticonvulsant)

In conjunction with working with your doctor and psychiatrist, you can find online resources to provide you with information. The ADA has a screening tool to help guide you.

References:

  1. https://ada.com/conditions/cyclothymic-disorder/
  2. https://www.merckmanuals.com/professional/psychiatric-disorders/mood-disorders/cyclothymic-disorder
  3. https://www.psycom.net/depression.central.lamotrigine.html
  4. https://www.psycom.net/depression.central.cyclothymia.html
  5. https://www.drugbank.ca/drugs/DB01356
  6. https://www.everydayhealth.com/drugs/tegretol

When Painful Childhood Memories Leave a Lasting Impression

A few weeks ago, I was contacted by a distant relative on a genealogy website. She motivated me to obtain and scan old family photos to share on the site. Of course, I was delighted to find somebody that shared an interest in our family’s roots. My dad agreed to let me have his family photos and records.

In the past week after all my work of scanning photos, I felt unsettled. There are brokenness and trauma in my family. My grandfather suffered a blow to the head and died several years after he sustained injuries to his brain. He had two failed marriages and some of his children moved out of state. Whatever his problems were with his wives and children, to me he was my beloved grandfather. To my family, we were all hurt deeply by his death and suffering.

Our family moved into the house my grandfather used to live and my parents began fighting began when I was 10 years of age. I was beginning to put on weight prior to these changes in the home. I can remember being a little on the chubby side back when I was in kindergarten. My mom often ridiculed me and called me, “Tubby”, “Tub-of-Lard,” “Baby Huey” and a number of other variations. Sometimes if I was quick enough, I could see her making fun of my lazy eye, or encouraging other family members to do so. If others tried to console me, she would say that I was trying to be “babied.” After a while, hugs and attention from people embarrassed me. I kept my emotions stuffed and I got stuffed in my appearance! The only time I showed weakness was when I stayed at my grandmother’s house and my mom wasn’t lurking nearby to monitor conversations.

So when I see a few photos of myself from age 5 until age 11, I can clearly see that my problems got bigger at the time of upheaval in our family. When I was 10, I stayed outside every chance I could so I could be with the neighborhood kids, playing baseball, or riding bikes. My stomach had expanded so much that I couldn’t just buy regular clothes. I was relegated to wear “husky” pants (now called “plus” for girls), and they were unattractive. I didn’t want to wear dresses or try to look pretty anymore. This type of behavior went on until I was 14 years old and began starving myself for a few years.

The odd thing was that my mom seemed nicer to me when I lost weight, but she found out I was not eating. In order to avoid fighting, I ate the bare minimum amount of food in her presence. At school and everywhere else, I ate almost nothing and loved to hear my stomach grumble. A grumbling stomach equated with acceptance by others, and it meant that I was losing weight.

Time has a way of helping you change your course, but some pain remains. Therapy probably helps many people, but I just lack the time and commitment to seeing a therapist regularly.