If you haven’t read Chapter 13, find it here:

Chapter 13

Some names have been changed in this chapter to protect privacy.

Pushing Against My Mind: A Journey Through Bipolar Disorder

Chapter 14

Summer 2014 to Spring 2015

By August, I’m off all my medication and feeling great. I’m eating healthier now, so that probably has something to do with it. I’ve finally lost all my baby weight, just in time to put some back on. I get pregnant in September. By my calculations, I am due June 21st, but we will know for sure once we visit the OBGYN.

Getting pregnant right away confirms that the Spirit directed me back in February when I felt that I needed to be ready by September. Mark and I are excited to be pregnant. Now we only need to find out if he is right. Is this baby a girl?

****

The pregnancy and healthy diet are running smoothly. I want to give myself every chance that what happened last time, the manic episode, won’t happen again this time, so I exercise five times a week. By February, I’m barely showing. It’s been 20 weeks since I became pregnant. It is time to find out the baby’s gender. We decide to do a gender reveal with Mark’s family.

Mark doesn’t want to do the traditional cake. He decides to make yogurt parfaits, and we buy plastic cups to indicate the baby’s gender. Green for a boy, and pink for a girl. For some reason, the store didn’t have blue plastic cups. We tell Mark’s family members to pick the color that corresponds with the gender they think the baby is. Mark picks a pink cup, and I pick up a green cup. We make sure Oliver has the correct colored cup.

“Ok, everyone, hold up your cups!” After a few moments, Mark points to Oliver. “He is correct.”
“A girl!” Everyone exclaims happily.

****

In March, Mark takes me on a trip to Washington, D.C. for a babymoon. We’ve been living in our apartment for almost a year. Mark’s sister has been living in the downstairs apartment, which is a bit bigger. It has three bedrooms, one big and two small. She is moving out, though, and his grandparents have offered us the bigger apartment as our family is growing. We gladly accept. We plan to move in in April after the babymoon.

As I am packing the food, Oliver gets into the cooler. He smiles his toothy grin at me. He is wearing a cap, so he had to strain his neck to see me. I smile back and turn on some of his favorite music on the laptop sitting on the table. I’m using it to write a fiction book. I love to write. At the sound of the music, Oliver hops out of the cooler and starts dancing. I pull out the video camera I’m bringing on the trip and record him dancing to the song.

“Whoohoo, you’re dancing!” I say to him.

“Uh-huh, I dancing!” He exclaims happily. I sing along to the music as I watch him dance. I’m going to miss him when I’m gone, but I’m excited for my solo trip with Mark. Except I wish I didn’t have this head cold.

****

“Travel log number one!” I have Mark say into the camera as he drives down the road. He has been creating travel logs for years on his vacations.

“Where are we going?” I ask him.

“To the da da da,” Mark says back, smiling. I laugh. Oliver’s been watching Dora and will say that exact phrase.

“No, we are going to D.C.,” Mark corrects.

“For…” I prompt.

“For our babymoon, and our anniversary.” We decided to double up since our anniversary happens in December, when it is cold.

We are staying with an older couple who used to be a part of our ward (the local branch of the church we attend). This helps us to curtail the costs considerably. We arrive at their house in Maryland late in the night.

“I hope they are still awake,” I say.

“They are still awake. Their lights are on,” Mark says, backing into a parking spot facing the apartment. Sure enough, Sister Davis comes out to greet us.

“I hope your trip wasn’t too strenuous,” she says as she hugs me.

“No, it was great! I appreciated the time with Mark,” I say.

“Well, let’s get your bags out. I’ll show you where you’ll be sleeping,” Sister Davis says. On the way to our room, we pass her husband sitting in a recliner chair. He waves at us as we pass by. I smile and wave back. As I walk to the bedroom, I’m hit by a wave of tiredness. I want to sleep, but instead, I drop off the luggage in the room and head back to the living room. Mark sits next to me on the couch. He puts his arm around me. I lean into him, breathing him in. After a few minutes, I hear:

“Boy, she’s tired out.” My eyes open; I didn’t realize I had fallen asleep. I sheepishly grin at our host.

“You should go to bed,” Mark gently says to me.

“You too? I ask sleepily.

“I’ll be in soon.”

I walk to the bedroom, dead on my feet. I roll into bed and plop the covers over me, without having brushed my teeth. I’m out before Mark gets in for the night.

****

Mark and I head straight to the Metro Station after breakfast the next day. We gaze at the map and the info station before buying tickets. We put enough on our MetroCards to last us the whole day. Tomorrow, we are going to the D.C. temple. Today, we are visiting as many museums as we can on a whirlwind sightseeing tour.

Mark and I traipse around D.C., visiting the outside of the White House, the Capitol building, the Air and Space Museum, and the Natural History Museum. At the Natural History Museum, we see a worker who is showcasing live bugs. She has a big, weird, colorful, striped caterpillar in her hands. She is letting anyone who wants to touch the caterpillar.

“Go touch it,” Mark taunts.

“No way!” I exclaim, pulling out a clean tissue. I keep having to go to the bathroom to refill my pockets with toilet paper.

“Oh, come on,” Mark says, “it’s cute! It won’t hurt you. See, look,” he gets closer to the worker, and she holds out her hand to him. He cups his hand and holds it underneath hers. She drops the caterpillar into his hand. Mark smiles widely at me. I come closer to get a better look at the caterpillar.

“See?” Mark says, “Touch it.”

“No!” I exclaim again, laughing. He tries to coax me into touching it, but I stand my ground. Mark hands the caterpillar back to the worker, and we finally walk away.

“I can’t believe you wouldn’t touch it,” Mark says.

“I’m sorry, are you disappointed in me?”

“Very.”

“Am I less attractive to you now?”

“A bit, yeah.”

“Oh man, well, I’d better go back and touch that caterpillar.”

“Really?”

“No, I’m not touching that thing!” I push him and laugh. He laughs with me. As we leave the Natural History Museum, I pull out my last tissue for my runny nose. Time to restock. Mark and I look around for the next museum to visit. My nose is running profusely.

“I don’t care where we go next. I need a bathroom,” I say.

“The Art Museum is right next to us. We could go there.” Mark says. As we enter the Art Museum, I’m hit with humidity. I almost want to take my jacket off. The temperature difference between outside the building and inside of it is stark. I ask someone where the nearest bathroom is. I rush to the place they point. It’s strange to need a bathroom more for my nose than because I’m pregnant and need to pee all the time. Once I’m restocked on toilet paper and I’ve peed, because I don’t want to waste a trip to the bathroom, I join Mark in the foyer.

“Should we look around, or do you just want to leave?” Mark asks.

“Let’s look around. I like art,” I say. We look around, going from room to room, to view the different periods of art. In our viewing, we see nude pictures and sculptures.

“How do you handle the nudity?” I ask.

“A lot of this stuff isn’t meant to be a turn on, but I mostly don’t dwell on that type of art.”

“I don’t think you are addicted to porn anymore,” I say frankly. This is a sentiment I have shared with him since my episode.

“It’s a lifelong thing.”

“But you haven’t had an issue with it since my episode. I think you won’t have a problem with it in the future.”

“It’s true, I haven’t, but I’m not so sure. I don’t think it works like that. Just because I haven’t doesn’t mean I won’t.”

“I believe in you,” I say, grabbing his hand and squeezing it. I don’t see my episode as his fault. I don’t think his addiction caused my episode in any way, but I know how traumatizing it was for him. I believe this is a big enough deterrent that porn won’t be a problem for him anymore.

****

My belly rumbles loudly. I look at Mark as he looks down at my belly.

“What!” I exclaim, “I told you I was hungry.”

“I know, I’m working on it.” Mark and I wandered away from the National Mall to have dinner. As we cross a city street, we come across a restaurant called Ollie’s Trolley.

“We have to go there!” I say.

“That’s fine with me,” Mark says. It’s a burger place, and I’m excited. They have brisket burgers. Around the restaurant, they have fun antiques. Mark and I take a picture next to an old white carousel horse. We sit at a booth. While we wait for our meal to arrive, I take out my video camera.

“Where are we, Mark?” I ask from behind the camera.

“At a place called Ollie’s Trolley, for dinner,” He says.

“Why did we come here?”

“Because it’s called Ollie’s Trolley.” He says. I laugh and turn off the camera.

“We’ll have to bring Oliver here someday.” The burgers were delicious, and I was also very hungry.

****

The next day, we create another travel log explaining that we are off to the D.C. temple. I’ve never been to this temple. Mark’s parents were married in this temple. After our session, we go exploring. I feel a bit weird looking around the temple after we’ve completed our session, but Mark assures me it is fine to have a look around. The temple is beautiful, and I am filled with peace and comfort.

My heart feels full. I love my husband and how he pushes me to reach outside my comfort zone. I probably wouldn’t have seen so much of the beauty of this temple if I were on my own. I rub my belly and think about how cool it will be to bring my daughter to the temple someday. I hope she can experience the peace and comfort that I do when I come to the House of the Lord.

End of Chapter 14

My Thoughts

I’m so grateful I had this time with Mark before the real chaos began. Exploring D.C. with him was fun. I definitely didn’t understand addiction at that point in my life. I was blissfully unaware of how addiction could rear its ugly head.

Don’t get me wrong, Mark has managed his addiction very well over the years, but I just didn’t understand the claws addiction could have on a person.

We still have that recording of Mark and me in Ollie’s Trolley. We’ve actually added another one since we’ve been back with the kids. We started it out the same way, but Oliver and Alice pop out from under the table. Family is fun.

I hope you enjoyed Chapter 14.

Stay tuned for Chapter 15.

Around 20 Weeks Pregnant

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If you haven’t read chapter 12, find it here:

Chapter 12

Pushing Against My Mind: A Journey Through Bipolar Disorder

Chapter 13

Winter 2014

My doctor switches my antipsychotic because I’m having an allergic reaction, several months after my manic episode. This turns out to be a good thing. On the old antipsychotic, I experienced a weird problem. I wasn’t all the way there. My feelings were muted. I first realized it in the hospital, but the muted feelings persisted. My family noticed as well. Mark affectionately called it Zombie Mary. This new antipsychotic is nicer. I feel everything more deeply and am more alert, less of a zombie.

I’m folding laundry in my bedroom at the Blue House. Oliver is sitting on the ground on a soft quilt blanket featuring pink and blue triangles. He is playing with a small board book. He alternates between turning pages and sticking the book in his mouth. He waves his hand at me and grins.

“Hi, baby!” I smile back at him. His red hair is coming in more around the rest of his head. He no longer has a mullet. He turns one in a week. My birthday is also happening soon. I start singing a Primary song called “Love is Spoken Here” as I look at Oliver. He smiles, drops the book, and dances along to my singing, arms waving, wrists flicking up and down like he is driving a motorcycle.

As I start to sing the second verse, Mark comes into the room. I don’t notice him, though, until he hugs me around my waist from behind. My back is to the door, so I couldn’t see him come in.

“Hi,” Mark says.

“Hey, Handsome!” I say back, squeezing his arms. I turn around and kiss him. “You’re back earlier than I expected. How was school? Where did you go today?” Mark is subbing at local schools until he can find a more permanent job.

“Greenwich,” Mark says. “Funny story, I was at recess trying to understand a little boy. He was in Kindergarten. I couldn’t understand him, so I knelt and, well, look,” Mark turns around and shows me a huge rip in his old dress pants. It spans from the back of his belt to his crotch.

“Oh, my!” I say, slapping my hands to my eyes. I peek between my fingers playfully, “How did you get out of there?”

“I went over to the other aide and told her what happened. She laughed but told me I could go home for the day.”

“Well, I guess it is good that they were understanding,” I laugh.

“Doing laundry?” Mark asks as he takes off his pants. “Have you found any of my pants in there?” I throw him a pair of blue jeans from my pile of clean clothes.

“So, there’s been something I have wanted to share with you,” Mark says as he puts one leg through his pants.

“Hmm?” I’m looking at Oliver again. I scrunch up my face so he laughs.

“There’s another little spirit that wants to come down to our family.” My face falls. I look at Mark wide-eyed, barely breathing. Mark scoops me up in another hug and smiles. “I think it’s a little girl.”

September. I feel the Spirit whisper to me.

A wide smile spreads across my face. A thrill runs through me. A girl! Our family is expanding! Another baby is coming to our family.

A girl!

I’m on medicine I need to get off of.

I’ll need to talk to my psychiatrist about making a plan to get off my medicine.

I need to be ready by… September. That feels right.

****

At my monthly appointment with my psychiatrist, I hesitantly drop the news of wanting to have another baby. I’m not sure how he will take it, or if he’ll tell me that having another baby isn’t advisable.

“My husband and I want to start trying for another baby in September,” I say in a rush, “would it be possible for me to get off my medicine safely, to have a baby?”

“Yeah, sure. It’s possible. Let’s see September…” The psychiatrist trails off, figuring out how to lower my medication. “You want to be completely off by September?”

“Yes, completely off and out of my system. I know this medication isn’t safe for pregnancy.”

“True, it has a short half-life, though. We could have you off of it by late August, and you’d be fine.”

“Could I have another episode?” I ask, pursing my lips and holding my breath.

“Well, it’s a possibility, but you had postpartum psychosis. What happened last time may not happen again.”

“Really? Bipolar runs in my family, though. Both my dad and my sister have it. I thought I was Bipolar as well.”

“I can’t give you that diagnosis because of when your episode happened. Since the mania happened postpartum, you may not have Bipolar 1, even though it runs in your family.” My eyes widen at this news. It doesn’t feel right to me, but I’m no doctor.

“Still,” I persist, “since I had a manic episode and I have family members that have the disorder, isn’t it a safe bet that I may be Bipolar?”

“I can’t diagnose you with it because it happened after you had a baby. Some women have postpartum depression after having their first child, but then with their second child, they are fine. It may be the same for you.”

“But it is still a risk?”

“It is, which is why we should monitor you. You should still come in to see me regularly in case something goes south. I should warn you, though, that I’m not well-versed in prenatal care.”

“You are still willing to see me, though? I’m not sure where else to go.”

“I am still willing to help, but if things go south, I won’t be of much help. Still, it is good to keep coming; you’ll have an easier time getting into the hospital if you keep coming.” I shudder at the word hospital. I don’t want to go back there, but I feel the Lord will help me through this time, so I make a plan with my psychiatrist to get off my medication by late August.

****

At church on Sunday, I’m talking with a friend of mine about my experience in the hospital.

“It was scary. Some of the patients were pretty volatile. But the Lord was with me. I felt His hand in there,” Mark walks past me while I’m having this conversation. “I always knew it was a possibility that I’d be Bipolar. I’m glad I can find strength in the Lord.”

I’m silent in the car ride home, thinking about church and the conversation I had with my friend.

“You know, you don’t have to tell people you are Bipolar,” Mark says.

“Is there something wrong with being Bipolar?” I ask.

“No, I just don’t want people to think of you differently. You are still you.”

“True, but I don’t mind telling people I’m Bipolar. We all have our weaknesses. God didn’t promise us we would have perfect bodies in this life.”

“Some people may treat you differently, though. I want you to be treated well.” I could tell Mark didn’t want me to be stigmatized.

“I don’t mind being open about this if it could help someone,” I say simply.

****

In April, Mark brings me to a small apartment house in Hudson Falls. He parks behind the house and takes me up the back steps and into the upstairs apartment.

“What are we doing here?” I ask.

“My grandparents own this house. They were renting out the downstairs apartment, but their renter moved out, and they have to fix it up. This upstairs apartment hasn’t been used in a while. The grandparents are offering to rent it to us.”

I look around. The first room you enter is the kitchen. It’s a nice kitchen. It doesn’t have a dishwasher, but I don’t mind doing dishes by hand. There are a lot of cupboards. The stove is gas.

“I’ve never worked with a gas stove,” I say to Mark.

“Oh, gas stoves are the best when you know how to use them,” Mark smiles at me.

“Can we afford it?” I ask.

“Well, with me starting the warehouse job soon, we will be able to afford it.” Mark has been working at a college bookstore during book rush, but it was just temporary work. We are blessed that he’s found a warehouse job before the other work ran out. We walk around the small apartment. The apartment has two bedrooms, a bathroom off the kitchen, and a small family room.

Mark and I sit on a couch at the end of the apartment and soak in the room.

“Let’s do it,” I smile at Mark, “it won’t fit our needs for long, but it’s all that we need right now.”

Mark hugs me, and we kiss.

“When can we move in?” I ask.

“Right away.”

****

I love my new apartment. I take pride in keeping it clean and raising our growing boy. He loves watching The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh. I gaze at him as he stands close to the TV. We’re watching the part where Tigger is looking at himself in the mirror. As Tigger talks about his eyes, Oliver points to his eyes. As Tigger talks about his chin, Oliver grabs his chin. It is so adorable; I laugh, and he turns around to smile at me.

“Cute boy!” I exclaim. He’s not even 18 months yet, but I can already tell he’ll have a great sense of humor.

End of Chapter 13

My Thoughts

These memories are precious to me. Normal life between the chaos of mental illness. It’s important to me to remember these times. My life wasn’t all heavy Bipolar stuff. Life happened in between.

Mark was with me. Oliver grew, becoming more adorable each day as his personality came out. God was with me. I was happy.

This chapter holds the first moment that I developed how I want to treat my mental illness. I want to share my experience with others, to help people, to help someone feel less alone in the world. The seed was planted with these memories.

I hope you enjoyed Chapter 13.

Stay tuned for Chapter 14.

Walking with Oliver

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If you haven’t read Chapter 11, find it here:

Chapter 11

Pushing Against My Mind: A Journey Through Bipolar Disorder

Chapter 12

Summer 2011

It was a rainy August day. I was working at the Great Escape, a Six Flags in Upstate NY. Mark and I had a dating game where we competed to see who could come up with the best date. It started the semester we got together in college. I had just had my turn the previous week. I had taken Mark to Stewart’s Pond in the Adirondacks.

We kayaked, swam, and kissed all afternoon. We discussed how we would raise children and our childhoods. My mom helped me prepare lunch. We had BLTs, chips, cookies, and grapes. The lake was serene, even with the rain. It felt secluded that day. Not many people wanted to venture out in the rain.

Mark planned the next date, a hike at Pilot’s Knob. That day was rainy too. I was glad to be working inside a restaurant at the theme park. I called Mark before work.

“Can’t wait for our date night tonight. I hope it stops raining,” I said.

“It will. I promise.” Mark said.

“You do, do you? Can you control the weather? Do you have superpowers?”

“Yes, I do. Hey, while I’ve got you on the phone, what type of jelly do you want on your sandwich? I have grape and strawberry jelly.”

“Raspberry,” I said, and we shared a laugh.

“Actually, I just found some raspberry jelly in the fridge,” he said with surprise.

“I want that then.” I smiled and bit my lip in excitement.

Knowing that I would only be eating a PB&J sandwich on the hike, I ate a big lunch that day. Mark picked me up from work. We stopped at a local gas station so I could change out of my work attire. When we got to the mountain, Mark took a picture of us.

“Do you want to eat some of the sandwiches now?” Mark asked about halfway up the mountain.

“No,” I said. “Let’s wait to eat until we get to the top of the mountain.”

When we reached the top of the mountain, we found a gazebo overlooking Lake George.

“Look, a gondola,” Mark said without a hint of irony in his voice. I laughed.

“I think you mean a gazebo. A gondola is a boat they have in Venice,” I laughed again. Mark went over to the edge of the gazebo and lay down. He reached his arms out over the side.

“What are you doing?” I asked. Up came his arms holding a huge black trash bag.

“Look,” He said. “Some Hobo left his trash here.”

“What’s inside?” I asked curiously, playing along. He proceeded to pull out a steak dinner with garlic mashed potatoes and raspberry lemonade.

“Wow!” Mark exclaimed. “This Hobo was living high on the hog!”

“And he stole your cutlery!” I laughed as he handed me a fork and a knife. Mark’s family had unique cutlery. Each fork and spoon had B’s embossed on the end. This is a great date! A few days earlier, I had asked Mark where he thought this relationship was headed. He batted my question away, stating this was a conversation that could wait. We still needed more time together before we could even think about talking about marriage. He had succeeded at throwing me off the trail.

After dinner, he pulled me into the gazebo to sit down while our food digested. He went into his backpack and pulled out a dictionary. I laughed again. This was a running joke in our relationship. Mark would say a fancy word, and I wouldn’t know what it meant. Each time, he told me that I needed a dictionary. I said I didn’t need one because I could turn on my computer and look up the word. This was before smartphones were readily available to the public.

Mark opened the dictionary. Inside, he had highlighted words that he thought emulated me. Things like awesome, amazing, acrobat (I was a dancer, but he had only marked through the B’s), and beautiful. The last word he came to was bride.

“What about this word?” He asked. I was shocked. I took the book from him and read the definition. In case there was another meaning for the word. He swiftly took out the ring box, which he had hidden in a drilled hole in the thesaurus, and knelt on one knee.

“Will you marry me?” He asked as he opened the ring box. The ring was beautiful, simple, and elegant. A slim gold band with a raised diamond in the middle. I kissed him.

“Yes,” I said excitedly. I took the ring out of the box and tried it on, wondering if it fit me. It did, perfectly.

“You didn’t let me do it!” He complained. I laughed and took off the ring.

“Let’s try again. Here, you do it!” I said.

“Nope, too late,” He laughed. “I didn’t get to be the first one to put it on you.” I leaped into his arms, and we held each other for a few minutes.

“How did you know my ring size?” I asked.

“Remember that day when we went walking around the pond with Jessica?” He asked. I did remember. When he drove me home, he expressed how weird ring sizes were. He explained how big his CTR (Choose the Right) ring was. His sister Jessica helped by offering her ring size without being asked. Since everyone was volunteering their ring size, I provided mine, unaware of his bigger plan.

“When do you want to get married?” I asked.

“I was thinking December.” He said.

“What about Disney World?” I asked. We had planned to go to Disney World together for a College Program Internship. We’d both been accepted, and I couldn’t wait to go.

“I was thinking that could be our honeymoon,” Mark smiled. A three-month honeymoon. I liked the sound of that! Before we walked down the mountain, Mark pulled out a headlamp. It was getting dark. He had thought of everything, like a true Boy Scout.

“What if I said no?” I asked as we walked down the hill.

“I probably would have thrown your flashlight. I’d have run down the hill without you! See ya!” He said jokingly.

“Good thing I didn’t say no, then.” I smiled.

“Yeah, good thing. I had my family go to your house so we could celebrate after our hike. If you had said no, that would have been pretty awkward.”

“True,” I said. “Does my family know?”

“Your mom should know by now. I asked Scott for your hand in marriage. I couldn’t get hold of your dad,” Mark said. Scott was my stepfather. When we arrived at my mom’s house, Mark held my hand. The first person we came to was his aunt, Krystal. I hugged her with my left arm, while still holding Mark’s hand with my right. My mom was getting the treats ready on the counter. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw my ring glitter.

Immediately, she started crying. She didn’t know. Nobody had told her. Earlier, when Mark’s parents came, Mom bragged to them, saying I was going to win the dating game. I got a whole afternoon on a lake. Mark got a few hours in the rain. Although it had been raining all day, it thankfully didn’t rain on our hike.

Mark’s parents told my mom that he had planned a steak dinner for us to enjoy. My mom thought that was a good little addition, but that I would probably still win.

“Mark won,” I said, hugging her.

“Yes, he did,” She replied.

End of Chapter 12

My Thoughts

It was fun writing out my engagement story and remembering the day. Mark has always had a way of making me feel loved and special. He is my favorite person.

Having a good love story really helped me while I was in the hospital. It gave me strength to continue knowing that Mark was there for me. I had someone to get home to. A couple of someones.

Mark has stuck with me through all of it. Although he claims not to be a romantic, I believe he is. He always knows exactly how to love me.

Thanks for reading Chapter 12.

Read Chapter 13 here:

Chapter 13

Brayton Photography-Krystal Brayton

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Let’s dive in…

How I Found My Memoir Editor

A few weeks ago, I was nearing the end of my second edit for my memoir. I was looking into editing options, but I just didn’t know what I was doing. My sister-in-law Ashley started brainstorming how to get an editor with me when she suddenly remembered an editor she knew personally.

“Have I told you about Ami?” She asked after coming up with other options.

“I don’t think so,” I said.

“Ami is someone to look into. Even if you don’t decide to work with her, she’ll give you great advice on what you should do next. She’s awesome.”

I looked into her website and found that she was on Substack. I private messaged her on Substack right away. Her response was prompt. She told me exactly what I needed to give her so she could sample my work. I sent her everything she needed, and a couple of weeks later she emailed me back, again very prompt.

Her email was warm and kind. In her email, she had a link to schedule a call with her. I was able to see her a couple of days after the email was sent. We chatted about my memoir, the length of it, my publishing timeline, what work needed to be done on the project, and if we’d be a good fit for each other.

After the meeting, we decided we’d be a good fit. She drafted and sent over a contract. It was a fairly simple and enjoyable process.

My Takeaway

Ami was very professional, kind, and generous. Although I was worried about the cost and harsh feedback, she put me at ease. Ami was easy to talk to and made sure I understood the whole process.

One of the most surprising things for me was that I could send my Google Doc for the edit. I thought I would have to create a document in Word, which I don’t have or use. I was even more surprised to learn that most of her clients send her Google Docs, so I am not alone.

I can’t describe how excited I am to be taking this next step with my memoir, but I had a lot of work to do in the process. Before I sent my manuscript to her, I had to finish editing a few pages of my memoir and change some formatting issues. I was already trying to do this before I found Ami, but my timetable was moved up a bit. I didn’t really have a timeline before getting an editor, so it helped me prioritize my book this summer.

The editing process will only take a couple of weeks. After that, I will look over it and make the necessary changes. Then it’s onto proofreading and working with my book designer. This whole process has been invigorating!

I’m so grateful that Ashley recommended Ami Hendrickson to me. I’m grateful that I found an editor willing to work with me on a project I’m extremely passionate about.

That’s it for this update.

I can’t wait to share more!

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Have you ever found a great collaborator through someone you know? How did it happen?

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If you haven’t read Chapter 10, find it here:

Chapter 10

Note: Some names were changed in this chapter to protect privacy.

Pushing Against My Mind: A Journey Through Bipolar Disorder

Chapter 11

Spring 2013

Finally, I arrive back home at the Blue House. I need to see my baby, make sure he is ok. I need to make sure I didn’t completely damage him. I wasn’t taking care of him well before I went into the hospital, and I have been gone so long. Mom guilt washes over me. Have I completely ruined Oliver? How will this time away affect his attachment to me?

As Mark parks the car, I unbuckle my seatbelt, ready to bolt. I’m out of the vehicle and bounding up the steps to the front door before Mark has turned the car off. As I open the front door, my eyes are already scanning for him. The house is just like I left it, clean and welcoming.

There he is! The bassinet rocks gently with his movements. I rush into the living room and scoop him up, breathing in his smell, baby soap, and spit up. I breathe deeply. I’m finally home. He feels so heavy! How much has he grown since I’ve been gone? My eyes scan his little body, looking for differences. He seems the same as when I last saw him, but he must have gained weight. Either that or the hospital made me weak.

As I hold him, my eyes droop. I rock on my feet to try to stay awake. Mark comes in from the car, and after a huge yawn from me, he pulls me gently upstairs with the baby. Once in our bedroom, he takes the baby from me and puts him in his Pack’ N Play, next to our bed. I hardly want to let go of Oliver, but I feel dead on my feet. My arms hang limply at my sides, almost sore from Oliver’s weight.

I crawl into bed with Mark. As soon as my head hits the pillow, I’m unconscious.

****

I wake to the sound of Mark’s snores. I lift my head and see the baby’s arm waving. I get out of bed and bring the baby to bed with me. Mark stirs.

“I forgot to tell you, we are dog and house sitting for the Hammonds this weekend.” Mark stretches out on our bed.

“Oh, really? They are going away?” I ask.

“Yep, for spring break. They’ve asked us to watch their dog, Sammy.”

“That will be nice.” I kiss the baby’s forehead. He looks up at me with his deep blue eyes. Then his hand comes up and hits my face. Mark and I laugh. This moment, so small, feels significant to me. We can still have good moments, even after everything I’ve done to them. We are still us. A family.

****

Something is wrong. I can’t seem to stop sleeping. It is like I am living the bad dream I’ve often had, where I can’t keep my eyes open, but I need to get through my day. I spend the whole dream trying to keep my eyes open to complete my daily tasks. It is quite annoying. Now it’s my reality. I’m trying to stay awake at the Hammonds’ house. I am trying to make a bottle for the baby, go to the bathroom, and spend time with Mark. Each time, I end up sleeping on the couch.

“Mary, Sister Newman came to drop off something for dinner,” Mark calls to me from the front door. Someone from church. Usually the women get together and start a meal train for families in need. Although I am grateful, I can barely manage to say thank you before sleep takes over. Part of me registers that Mark and Sister Newman are talking while I sleep, but I can’t even focus enough to understand what they are saying.

“Mary, Sister Newman is leaving,” Mark says.

“Goodbye,” I say sleepily.

The next evening, as I lie on the couch in a sleepy stupor, I hear familiar voices. My family has come to pay a visit. I try so hard to stay awake for them, to converse with them. I talk with my sister in the kitchen for about five minutes before I head back to the couch and close my eyes.

“How long has this been going on for?” Mom asks Mark. “This isn’t normal.”

“She’s been this way since we got here. So, a couple of days,” Mark replies.

“How much medication is she on?”

“The doctors at the hospital said to give her two pills a day.”

“Can I see the pill bottle?” I can hear rummaging as Mark gets the pill bottle.

“This says she should only be taking one pill a day,” Mom says.

“But the doctor said to take two pills.”

“Sometimes the doctors don’t know how the pharmacy is going to fill the prescription. You need to follow the bottle.”

I could hardly stay awake for this conversation, but I see Mom look over at me.

“You are overmedicating her. That’s dangerous.”

“I’ll make sure she only takes one a day from now on.”

“Ok.” Mom pauses, still looking at me. She catches her breath as if to say something. Her lips are drawn in a thin line. “If she gets any worse, you may have to go to the hospital,” she tries to whisper this, but I hear it anyway. A shock goes through me. I have to get better! There is no way I am going back to that place! The far recesses of my mind tell me that I wouldn’t be going back to that part of the hospital. Still, I can’t stomach going back to any part of the hospital. I just want to be better.

I look at my baby. He’s happily swinging his arms, propped up by his nursing pillow. I need to be here for him. I want to be here for him. I fold my arms determinedly and say a prayer to Heavenly Father. I pray that I won’t have to go back to the hospital. That I’ll finish all my recovery at home so I can be with Oliver and Mark. I thank Heavenly Father for being with them at home. As I end my prayer, a wave of sleepiness hits me again. I decide to go to bed early, after Mark gives me the adjusted medicine.

****

The next morning, I am more alert. As I eat breakfast, a bowl of sugary cereal, I look down at my bare ring finger.

“I wish I had my wedding ring back,” I say to Mark.

“I know, you talked about it a lot in the hospital,” Mark says.

“Did I?” I only remember mentioning it once or twice.

“Yep, you called it your sparkly pretties, or something like that. It took me a while to figure out what you meant.”

“Weird,” I say lamely. It’s strange to hear things I don’t remember doing.

“Yeah, you’d mention it most times I came to visit.”

“Did it bother you?”

“Not really, I know it’s important to you.”

“Well, it hasn’t fit my finger since I was pregnant, and my size hasn’t gone down. Still, I’m sorry that I kept bringing it up. I know with my rational mind that we can’t afford to get it resized right now.”

“Maybe someday,” Mark smiles at me.

After breakfast, Mark plays a game as I play with the baby. I watch Mark drive an animated car around.

“You know what I’m craving?” I ask with excitement.

“Hmm?” Mark asks, not taking his eyes off the screen.

“I want McDonald’s!” I practically shout. I don’t know why I am so excited about McDonald’s all of a sudden, but it sounds exactly like what I need.

“We aren’t getting McDonald’s. We shouldn’t.”

“Please, Mark? Please? It would be yummy,” I grab the baby’s arm. “Please, Dad,” I say in a funny baby voice. “Get Mom some McDonald’s; she needs it!”

“No!” But Mark is smiling and using his funny voice. Eventually, I convince him to go to McDonald’s while I stay with the baby at our friend’s house. While he is gone, I pet the dog we are sitting for and make sure she’s had water and food. I let her out to go to the bathroom. After I let her back in, I pick up Oliver.

I hold him close as he sleeps, watching his eyelids flutter adorably while he dreams. I wonder what he dreams about. Is he dreaming about me? Mark? His adventures over the last little while? I missed his little face so much while I was gone. I breathe in his familiar scent again. Babies smell so nice. I send another prayer of gratitude up to Heavenly Father. I won’t take my health, my family, or my son for granted. I’m so glad I get to be with them.

When Mark comes home, he dumps the contents of the bag on the table. Trying to be sneaky, he peeks into each wrapped burger.

“What are you doing?” I ask in suspicion.

“Nothing. This one’s yours.” He says, handing me a wrapped burger.

“What did you do to it?” I smile, ready for a joke.

“Nothing. It’s edible.” I decide not to question him further as I am pretty hungry. I dig into my burger. About halfway through the burger, Mark gets my attention.

“Look down.” He says. I look down and find my wedding ring. My eyes widen.

“You got it resized?” I squeal.

“While you were in the hospital. Right before you went in, we had your ring finger sized.”

“I remember.” I smile.

“Well, I figured I’d resize it while you were in the hospital so you could wear it again.”

“Thank you! How did you get it in the wrapper? Did you just slide it in?”

“No, actually, I got the whole staff involved.”

“Really?”

“No,” He said, smiling mischievously, “I just snuck it in right before I handed it to you.”

“You jerk!” I say, hitting his arm.

“Ow!” Mark says, trying unsuccessfully to dodge, “Put it on, see if it fits.”

“No, you put it on me.” I laugh. He laughs as well, and we both remember how he proposed.

End of Chapter 11

My Thoughts

This time with my small family was priceless. I had just put my two boys through so much, and now we were creating beautiful normal moments together. Mark didn’t hold my manic actions against me. He was perfectly content to have things go back to normal when I got home.

My time with Oliver was also healing. It was hard being without my baby while in the hospital. He was the one I spent the most time with. In the hospital, I didn’t get to feed him, change his diaper, or hold him. The only time I saw him, I wasn’t lucid enough to enjoy him. Being with him after my episode was like going outside and breathing in the fresh air after being in a stale room. Refreshing and energizing.

I hope you enjoyed Chapter 11.

Stay tuned for Chapter 12.

Oliver and I, a little later in the timeline.

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If you haven’t read Chapter 9, find it here:

Chapter 9

Note: Some names were changed in this chapter to protect privacy.

Pushing Against My Mind: A Journey Through Bipolar Disorder

Chapter 10

Spring 2013

I haven’t seen most of the BHU because I’ve been holed up in my room. They have a nice sitting area overlooking downtown. I sit down and look at the wooded city. My emotions feel muted. I stare out the window for several minutes.

“Mary,” I turn around and see a woman with dark hair in scrubs. She looks vaguely familiar. “Wow, you look a lot better.” The woman says. I realize she must be one of my nurses who has been helping me in here. It’s strange that I barely recognize her. Still, my emotions and thoughts are coming slower. It is harder to feel each emotion. Maybe that’s a good thing, though. My emotions have been running away with me lately.

The nurse leads me to a small hallway and opens a door. She goes through the door, leaving the top part open. I peer into the small room. It’s covered with drawers from top to bottom. The nurse types something into her computer, and a couple of drawers open up. She pulls something from each one and closes it swiftly. Then she opens individually wrapped pills and places three pills into a small cup that she hands to me with a cup of water.

“What’s this?” I ask, confused.

“It’s the medicine you’ve been taking.” The nurse says. She smiles at me. “It’s what has been helping you feel better.”

I vaguely remember spitting out some pills while I was manic. I thought they were trying to poison me. After that, a nurse checked my mouth to ensure I swallowed the medicine. It is all a blur. It feels like it happened years ago, just a distant memory. Strangely, it was only a couple of days ago.

After I take my medicine, I’m directed to a table in the cafeteria. A group of doctors, nurses, and caseworkers surrounds the table. They invite me to sit down. I do so cautiously, wondering what the meeting is for.

“Mary, we are your care group.” One of them says. “We are the group that helps you make a plan to leave the hospital.” That stirs something in me, as I have been wanting to leave since I got here.

“That’s great news,” I say. “I’ve been wanting to leave for a while.” I smile at them. They laugh politely.

“You’ve been doing a lot better.” A woman with strawberry-blond hair says with a southern drawl. “Sleeping a lot.”

“Yeah, I’ve been tired,” I say, smiling sheepishly.

“Can you tell us a little bit about what’s been going on?” The woman with the southern drawl says.

“Well,” I begin, “I guess I had a manic episode. I must be Bipolar. I knew it was always a possibility since my dad and sister are Bipolar as well.”

“That’s good insight,” says the woman with the southern drawl. Everyone in the group introduces themselves, and I find out that the woman with a southern drawl is my doctor.

“Well, Mary, you had a good day today. Let’s have a couple more good days, and we can talk about discharge.” The doctor says. I smile at her and thank them for their help. I get up to leave and feel amazed that I don’t wobble or use the table for support. I feel spent. I want to lie down in my bed and sleep again.

“Dinner is soon, if you want to wait in the sitting room.” Someone from the group says to me. I suddenly realize how hungry I am. I decide to eat dinner and go back to bed. As I go out the door, I see another open door and peer in. Patients surround a rectangular table. They are all painting. I hesitantly walk through, unsure if I’m allowed to be in there.

“Mary!” exclaims A lady with dark hair and glasses. She beckons me over. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her before, but she seems to know me.

“Hi.” I awkwardly wave at her.

“It’s good to see you out again!” She says. “Would you like to paint?”

“I think dinner is soon,” I say.

“That’s ok, we can still get you started,” she smiles warmly.

“I think I’ll just watch for now,” I fold my arms around me. “Sorry, I don’t think I know your name,” I smile at her again.

“I’m Beth. I hope you come to OT tomorrow. We do fun things here,” she says.

“I’d like that,” I say.

“Going to groups throughout the day will help you,” Beth says. “It lets your care group know you are getting better. It helps them know you are ready to leave.” This is good information, as I want to get home to Oliver. Everyone is called in for dinner.

I follow the group in and try to find my tray. This is new; I’ve only eaten in my room. A worker comes by and helps me find my tray. I notice the receipt has my name and what food I’m getting. Highlighted in pink, it says “Allergic to honey.” I make a mental note to look for the highlighted part from now on. It’s easier to see than my name. A BHU worker informs me that family members can visit after dinner. I decide to wait on sleep until after visiting hours, hopeful that I’ll see Mark.

Mark doesn’t let me down. I meet with him in the cafeteria instead of my room during visiting hours. My mom must have tipped him off because he doesn’t seem surprised to see me lucid. He looks happy to see me.

“Mark!” I exclaim, excited to see him. We hug and kiss. It feels like ages since I have seen him. “I may get to go home in a couple of days!” I say. “How’s the baby?”

“He’s good,” Mark says. “We’ve been taking good care of him. We had to switch him over to formula because they said with the medicine you are on, you can’t feed the baby anymore.” I feel muted disappointment. I hadn’t thought about how I seemed to be dry now when I was full of milk.

“Mark, you need to let my mom help with the baby. She is dying to help.” I say.

“We were just trying to be respectful of her work.” He says.

“I understand, but she feels bad that she hasn’t helped with the baby. It’s her grandson, too.” I say.

“I’ll reach out to her.” Mark smiles at me. I grab his hand and squeeze.

“I’ve missed you. I feel like I’ve been gone a long time.” I lean in for a kiss, and Mark obliges. The same nurse I saw earlier today comes to our table.

“Hi, I’m Paige.” She says. “I’ve been taking care of Mary since she got here. I’m so happy to see she’s gotten a lot better. She is a sweetheart!” I smile at her.

“She’s the best,” Mark says, squeezing my hand again. I left the cafeteria feeling tired but also faintly elated. I sit in the sitting room. A movie is playing, but I don’t register it. I’m lost in my thoughts. I’m impatient to see my baby.

I can’t push myself too hard; I still feel shaky. My mind feels like I could get better or fade back into mania. It also feels mushy and tired. I can’t say this aloud because I fear they will keep me longer in the hospital. I can’t stay any longer than I have to. I need to hold Oliver.

The next day, I go to the groups. One group is on self-care. Another is on personal safety. I’m surprised by how much I enjoy OT time. I don’t usually do crafts, and we are painting again. I contribute to all of my groups, showing the hospital that I’m ready to go home. Finally, it is time for my care meeting.

“Well, Mary, you had another great day!” exclaims the doctor. “You participated in groups. You are calmer today as well. Let’s talk about discharge.” I smile at the doctor, ready to jump up and down. “We are going to have a care meeting to go over your medicine and what care you will need once you leave. Is there a relative that can attend the meeting with you?”

“I’m sure my husband will,” I say.

“Sounds good. It seems like you have a great husband. He’s been visiting you daily.” She smiles at me from across the table.

“He’s wonderful,” I say. “Can I call Mark now and tell him the good news?”

“Sure.” The doctor says. “We will meet tomorrow at noon.”

“Thanks,” I say, pushing the chair away from the table with my arms. I rush out of the cafeteria without looking back at my care team. Two people are waiting to use the phone, to my dismay. I try to wait patiently, but I can’t hold still. I rock back and forth on my feet until each person in front of me uses the phone. Finally, it is my turn.

“Mark!” I say when he answers. “I get to come home!”

“Really?” Mark exclaims, incredulously.

“Yep,” I say, “you need to be here at noon to attend a care meeting, and then you can take me home. Can you come?” I suddenly worry that he won’t be able to make it, and I’ll have to stay another day.

“I’ll be there!” Mark says. I can hear the smile in his voice.

The rest of the day passes slowly as I wait for visiting hours to begin. Finally, it arrives, and I meet Mark in the cafeteria again. We talk about the baby and how my mom watched him that day. A nurse comes around to tell us it is time for our visitors to leave. I hold Mark tight.

“I just want to go home with you!” I say.

“Do you think there is room for me in your bed?” He asks. We smile at each other, and then he pulls away, kisses my forehead, and leaves. After everything I put him through, he still loves me and wants to be with me. Since getting married, I’ve feared Mark leaving me because of my failings and general feelings of not being enough. This fear probably started when my dad left when I was twelve. It feels nonexistent today as I realize that if Mark loves me and stays through this episode, he’s not going anywhere. I smile as I walk to bed. I can’t believe he wants to be with me, but I am so grateful.

I kneel by my bedside and thank Heavenly Father. I thank Him for my awesome husband and family. I thank Him for bringing me back. I thank Him for the priesthood blessing that helped me come back. I pause my prayer as I realize how true that statement is. I was lost to insanity, and He brought me back. I only started recovering after getting the priesthood blessing.

When I wake up the next day, I gather my clothes and stuff together. I attend groups again to pass the time, telling everyone I see that I am going home today. I go to lunch before they call me back for my meeting with Mark. I try to eat slowly, to pass the time, barely registering the sandwich I’m eating. Finally, a nurse calls me to the back room, where I find Mark and my care group.

“Mark!” I run to him, arms outstretched, and we embrace. A nurse reviews my medicine with Mark, explaining what I am taking. I don’t take in a word anyone says; I’m too excited to be going home. I need to see my little boy!

Mark doesn’t take us straight back to the Blue House. Instead, he surprises me with Five Guys. I don’t tell him that I’ve already eaten. I love Five Guys and am touched by Mark wanting to celebrate. It amazes me that he is just as excited as I am for me to be out of the hospital. I’m glad I mean so much to him. Growing up with a father who left has taken a toll on my psyche. Mom’s parting words echo in my head. If he sticks through this, he will stick through anything. I shiver involuntarily, feeling the truth of those words.

End of Chapter 10

My Thoughts

While lucid in the hospital, I started to notice that my emotions were harder to feel. It felt like they shut down. That was due in part to the experience I just had where I felt everything too deeply. Everything was saturated. It can take a long time to figure out the right balance of medication.

It is funny to think back to that less secure version of me. The one who wasn’t sure of the love her husband had for her. I’m sort of happy to say I don’t recognize that girl anymore. I don’t take Mark’s love for granted, but I am sure of it.

Clarifications

The priesthood blessing I refer to is the blessing I got when Mark, Sam, and Dan came to my hospital room. It is a blessing from God that can be given by worthy men in my church to bless the sick, afflicted, or those who need comfort and counsel. I truly believe it to be power from God, given to bless the lives of others.

I hope you enjoyed Chapter 10.

Read Chapter 11 here:

Chapter 11

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I remember reading Fablehaven with my family when I was a teenager. My siblings and I were all enthralled by the world Brandon Mull created. I especially remember the conversations we had with my mom about agency and what things are in our control. Brandon Mull creates a space for parents and teachers to have deep, enriching conversations with their children.

The Basics

• Age range: 10-13

• Themes: Family, discovering your own strengths, working together to accomplish a goal.

• If your reader loves The Lightning Thief, they’ll love this too

Why It’s Worth Reading

Fablehaven introduces readers to a secret world full of magical creatures. There are strong family ties in this book. Seth and Kendra learn to work together as siblings to save their grandparents. Fablehaven is a great family read. Your kids will engage in the story while you get to ask questions about what truly matters in life.

Talk About It

A few questions to spark conversation at home or in the classroom:

1. What are the first three things you would do if you found out there was a hidden magical world in your grandparents’ backyard?

2. How did Seth grow throughout the book?

3. How do you think the fairy incident changed how Seth interacted with the magical world?

4. What would you do in Kendra’s situation at the end of the book? How would you handle being left alone in a magical world without help?

Try It

Create a Fairy Catcher

This is a supervised outdoor activity.

Materials: Small Mason Jar with a lid, one per child, grass, flowers, hot glue gun, glue, and a small mirror to attract the fairy.

Activity: Give each child a mason jar. Go outside with them and have them gather bits of nature to put in their jar. Once they’ve gathered what they want, have them arrange it in their jars as they want. They can glue down bigger sticks and flowers. When they have everything they want in their jars, give them a small mirror to glue on one side of the jar. Leave their jars outside with the lid open so they can catch a fairy.

One More Thing

Seth’s actions often affect other people or creatures in Fablehaven. How do our own actions affect others?

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Not affiliated with [author/publisher] — just one reader’s recommendation for the parents, teachers, and librarians raising the next one.

If you haven’t read Chapter 8, read it here:

Note: I changed my sister’s name per her request. She is now Sally.

Chapter 8

Pushing Against My Mind: A Journey Through Bipolar Disorder

Key: Manic thoughts and actions depicted in Bold print

Regular thoughts and actions, and others’ words, are depicted in regular print

Chapter 9

Spring 2013

I’m sequestered in my room, having dinner. But my mind is running away with me.

I’m sitting on the bed looking out the window. Waiting. Finally, I see him! My handsome man! My Superman! Mark is flying outside my window, as I’m a few floors up from the ground. He is here to take me away from this place, finally. I’ve been waiting for so long.

Mark has liked Superman all his life. Growing up, he always wore a Superman shirt.

I smile at the thoughts that carry me away from the hospital.

There’s a knock on the side of the door. Sam and Mark’s Uncle Dan comes in.

“Knock, knock,” Dan says.

“Mary, could we give you a priesthood blessing?” Sam asks.

“Sure!” I say, smiling. I know that a priesthood blessing will strengthen me. I look over and see Mark has come in too.

“Hi, Superman!” I say.

“I’m just Mark,” Mark says.

“Oh no! You are Superman,” I say adamantly, “maybe you forgot, but I didn’t. You truly are Superman. See?” I unzip his hoodie.

He’s wearing a green pocket t-shirt underneath his blue hoodie. Dan and Sam laugh.

“Oh, not quite!” Dan chuckles. “That would have been good, though.”

I’m not too shaken by it; I figure he will save me later.

“And where is my Five Guys?” I ask.

“I didn’t bring any this time,” Mark says.

“You did last time I had a baby, and I’m craving some Five Guys,” I say.

“I’m sorry,” Mark says.

“That’s okay. Please just remember to bring it next time.” I say, mollified.

“Mary, would you like your blessing now?” Sam asks.

“Sure! That’ll be great!” I beam at him.

“Who would you like to have say the prayer?” Sam asks.

“Let’s have Dan say the prayer,” I say, sitting down.

Dan blesses me and says that the doctors will find what works best for me so that I can heal and return to my family. They don’t stay for long. It’s nighttime, and they need to get back home. I want Mark to stay, but he needs to get home to Oliver. I sit on the bed, a little dejected but understanding that our son needs his attention.

After the blessing, I sleep for what seems like days. The hospital has been a blur. My mind has blocked out parts of it. Other parts of it stick to my mind, too saturated and bright to be real. When I wake up, I see my mom writing me a letter. She’s come every day to see me.

“Hey, Mary,” she says, looking up from the letter she’s writing. She comes over and kisses my forehead. “I didn’t want to wake you, so I wrote you a letter.” She places the letter on my bedside table.

“I’m tired,” I say groggily.

“You can get back to sleep,” Mom says, “you need your rest.”

“Thanks,” I say, half asleep already. “But your letter.” My words are garbled.

“Don’t worry about the letter. It will be here when you wake up,” Mom says, pointing to the side table. I fall asleep again, only waking to eat and take my medicine.

I wake slowly one afternoon, my eyes closed. I hear footfalls and faint conversation. Where am I? I open my eyes and see my mom and my sister, Sally, in my room, coming to visit me. I’m still groggy, and I can’t remember where I am or what my mom and sister are doing here. They notice I’m awake and come to stand over my bed. I look up at them, and tears start to fall.

Recognition dawns on me as I remember the last few days and how I’ve acted. So many emotions crowd my body. Embarrassment, sadness, and disappointment take hold. I finally realize why I’m here at the hospital. I’ve just had an episode. I am Bipolar. Just like my dad. Just like Sally.

There is no other baby. No video or audio recorded my every word. I wasn’t helping people convert to the gospel. I’m just a crazy girl in a behavioral health unit of the hospital. Disappointment washes over me as I realize I haven’t turned anyone to God. Embarrassment courses through me as I remember all the weird things I did in the hospital, and right before the hospital. Then sadness takes over as the realization hits that none of it is true; it was all just a lie my brain told me because of a lack of sleep.

My sister, Sally, seems to click everything into place for me. Seeing her at the hospital helps me realize somehow that my actions were manic. Maybe it is because she suffered through a manic episode three years ago. I understand that the medicine is the main contributor to why I can see the lies of my mania, but this is the first time I’m seeing Sally in the hospital. It connects everything in my mind, and the realization is too much to bear. I’m sobbing. No baby. No miracle. Just a sad girl in a hospital bed. I mourn the fantastical hallucinations. My mom squeezes my hand.

“It’s ok, Mary. You’re going to be fine,” Mom says. I cry harder. Will I be fine? I don’t feel fine. If I am fine, then why do I want those hallucinations to be real? Sure, my episode left me paranoid and anxious, and I’ll admit not all the hallucinations were good. But I had done so much good in those hallucinations. I’d helped so many people come unto Christ. I want that to be a reality.

One of my life goals is to be a disciple of Christ. I want to be an example of good so badly that others will look at me and see the Spirit of God in me. I want Christ’s image on my countenance.

I have tried so hard to live in a way that my countenance would be bright. Now, when people looked at me, would they only see a crazy girl with a religious background? Would this discredit me forever?

My mom can see I’m lucid again, so she fills me in on everything that’s happened since I’ve been gone.

“Your baby is being well taken care of.” My mom says. “Mark and Pam watch him every single day. I do wish I could watch him. I know I work, but I can take a few days off for this. Every time I ask to help with the baby, they say they’ve got it covered. I know they can handle it, but he is my grandson, too, and you are my daughter. I just want to help.”

“You should be able to help!” I say. I understand Mark’s probably trying to be considerate of her having to work, but still, she is the grandma and should be able to help if she wants. I make a mental note to tell Mark that he needs to let my mom help.

“I’ve felt Grandad around,” I say. Grandad is my father’s dad. Sally smiles gently at me. She didn’t know Grandad; he died before she was born. He died when I was almost five. Even though I was young when he died, I remember him. I didn’t realize how much I have felt his presence until I got better. When I was manic, my focus was on other fantastical things, but as I tell my mom about Grandad, I comprehend how much he’s been around. Protecting me.

“I’m glad he’s been around helping you in here,” Mom says, patting my hand. The nurse comes to usher my family out.

“If Mark sticks through this, he will stick through anything,” Mom says as she leaves with Sally. I smile, considering what Mom said. A BHU worker says I can finally leave my room so long as I’m respectful of others and don’t touch anyone. Immediately, I go to the phone and make a call.

“Hello, this is Nathan Jardine.” My dad says as he picks up the phone.

“Hey, Dad, it’s me. I just had an episode. I’m bipolar just like you,” I say.

“I am sorry, Mary. Are you ok?” Dad asks.

“I think I will be. They are going to release me soon, I think. The doctors just want to make sure I am ok,” I say, dully, trying not to cry over the phone.

“I’m sorry this happened to you, Mary. Episodes are no joke,” Dad says.

“It’s ok,” I say. “I just wanted you to know. There is someone behind me, though, waiting for the phone. I have to go.”

“Ok, I love you, Mary,” Dad says.

“Love you too, bye,” I say.

“Bye,” Dad says.

End of Chapter 9

My Thoughts

Coming out of an episode is no joke, as my dad expressed. All the emotions come crashing down at you at once: the realization, the embarrassment as your rational mind kicks back in, the shame. My body felt so weak after my episode. It probably was; I was still catching up from not sleeping for a week or more.

The emotions are hard to handle all at once. You almost want to crawl into unawareness. Maybe that would be better than feeling so deeply, than remembering everything.

But it does get better. You can come to a place where you look back and laugh at your weird manic actions. I’ve been able to get to that place. I hope you can too.

I hope you enjoyed Chapter 9.

Stay tuned for Chapter 10.

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The thread running through everything

If you’ve read Pushing Against the Mind, you know it’s a personal story, one about pushing through something hard. What you might not know is that the same question sits underneath everything else I write, including a middle-grade novel about a girl discovering powers she didn’t know she had.

The question is this: what does it actually take to heal, or to grow, or to get through something that feels insurmountable? My answer, every time, comes back to the same thing. Family. The people who choose to stand with you. Not perfect families. Not easy ones. The kind that come together because life gets hard, who stick to you like glue when a problem arises. The kind you not only count on but also trust wholeheartedly.

That’s why Pushing Against the Mind centers around family. And the next novel is about family too, even though it looks nothing like a memoir on the surface. I believe in stories about people choosing each other, especially when it’s hard. I don’t think there are enough of these stories in this world. My aim is to create more.

Why everything here is free

I could have built this as a paywall from the start. I didn’t, because I wanted others to be able to read my memoir, author updates, and mini-guides, without restriction. I wanted to build a community for people who need to find it. I want everyone to have access to this publication.

Why I’m asking anyway

Writing takes time I don’t always have. I work a full-day job, I have a family of my own, and I write in whatever hours are left over. None of that is a complaint; it’s just true. If this publication is going to keep growing with more chapters, more books, more of Off the Page and Raising Readers, that time has to come from somewhere.

So if you’ve ever finished a chapter and thought “I’m glad this exists,” a paid subscription is one way to say so. It doesn’t unlock anything you don’t already have. It just means a little more of my time can go toward writing the next thing, instead of somewhere else.

What your support actually does

It doesn’t unlock chapters or buy you a secret tier. It buys the existence of the next chapter, and the one after that, and the book after this one. It’s an investment in more stories about people choosing each other. Which, if you’ve stuck with me this far, may be something that resonates with you.

Thank you for supporting me. Free or paid, all of it, means more than you know.

Mary

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If you haven’t read Chapter 7, find it here:

Chapter 7

Pushing Against My Mind: A Journey Through Bipolar Disorder

Chapter 8

Winter 2012

I had never visited Disney World before my honeymoon, though I had always been a Disney girl. My family went to Disneyland in California every three years while I was growing up, until I moved to New York at 16.

My excitement was palpable. I couldn’t believe I was in Disney World with my newly acquired husband. Mark and I had one day off together. We spent these days enjoying each other’s company, at the parks, at home, or wherever we went. Kissing and generally being wrapped up in one another.

On one of our days off, we went to Hollywood Studios. As soon as we arrived, an elderly couple approached us.

“Would you like our FastPass tickets to the Toy Story ride? It’s for 2 pm, but we really don’t want to stay that long,” the woman said.

“That would be awesome, if you don’t mind,” Mark said, grabbing my hand and squeezing.

“We don’t mind; we’d rather they go to someone than be tossed in the trash,” she smiled.

“Thank you! We appreciate it.” I smiled back.

“Enjoy,” she waved as she walked away. I raised my hand to wave a second too late. I smiled sheepishly up at Mark.

“Where to first?” I asked.

“I’d love to show you the stunt car show!” Mark said, his eyes lighting up.

“Sure!” I grinned. Still holding my hand, Mark directed me to the show. All around me, people were walking to their next ride. Parents held their kids’ hands, dragging them to their destination. One child struggled to keep up with one hand wrapped around their mouse-shaped ice cream and the other stretching to hold their parent’s hand. I watched as we walked by, the ice cream dripping down his arm. A big chocolate and vanilla sticky mess. A big, toothy smile on his face. I smiled at the sight. I couldn’t wait until Mark and I had our own children. I wondered if we would bring them to Disney.

We arrived early to the show and found a good spot on the bleachers, the arena right in front of us. Then someone tall sat in front of me, and I had to maneuver around their Mickey Ears. I found a good viewing point before the show started. Finally, the announcer welcomed us to the car show. Cars zoomed into the arena. We watched as stunt drivers drove through fire.

“I wonder how much this costs for them to do,” Mark said as he closely watched the cars perform jumps and J-turns. “They must go through a ton of tires and car parts. It’s probably a pretty expensive show, just in upkeep for the cars alone. Not to mention paying the stunt drivers.”

I watched Mark appreciatively as he explained the intricacies of what happened behind the scenes. I get to have this man in my life forever! Gratitude overcame me. I kissed his cheek as he remained enthralled by the stunt show. Finally, he looked at me.

“What was that for?” Mark asked as his arm came around my shoulders. He brought me close to him.

“Just because I love you.” I smiled at him. He kissed me softly.

“Love you, too,” Mark said, a tender look in his eyes. A car revved loudly, and he turned his attention back to the show.

We cheered as stunt doubles performed in the Indiana Jones show. After the show, it was time for the Toy Story ride. Mark and I hopped right on the ride thanks to the elderly couple. We battled each other to see who could get the most points. Mark creamed me and the rest of the car.

Halfway through the day, we came upon a pretend brownstone New York City neighborhood. Mark got out his camera to make a video.

“Alright, Mary, I bought us a new home. Let’s go in and take a look around,” Mark said from behind the camera.

“Wow, what a beautiful street we live on, now,” I smiled at the camera, playing along. I took my apartment key out and stuck it in the lock. The key went all the way in. Mark laughed at my shocked face. I laughed with him.

“I had no idea they’d actually go in!” I said.

Mark took pictures of me all around Hollywood Studios. I was wearing my favorite white shirt with yellow flowers, which tied into a yellow bow at the back. I’d pose at each stop. Mark would take my picture, we’d walk a few steps, and then have me pose somewhere else. I couldn’t help but smile at him.

“You know what would be fun?” I asked as we waited in line for the Star Wars ride.

“What?” Mark smiled at me.

“Going home, getting all dressed up, and going somewhere a little fancier like Olive Garden for date night,” I said, trying my best to look convincing and maybe a little seductive.

“Oh, really?” He laughed.

“Hey!” I said, hitting him, “You’re supposed to swoon and agree with me.”

“Ow! Sorry, let me try again.” He fell onto me, and I struggled to support his weight. I knew I wasn’t holding up all his weight, but he was still heavy.

“Yes, master!” Mark said.

“Better!” I said into his body, my voice muffled. He got up, and I did a victory dance. Mark laughed at me again. We rode the last ride, then walked to the bus to go back to our apartment. Once there, we quickly dressed in nicer clothes. I wore the same checkered dress I had for our engagement pictures, and Mark wore a button-down striped shirt. The stripes were blue and green. We got in our 1992 Camry and drove to Olive Garden. We held hands as we approached the restaurant. A man opened the door for us as he was leaving.

“Aw! Young love.” The man teased.

“I’ll show you, young love!” Mark said under his breath, a little embarrassed. Once we were seated, we had forgotten all about the man and his remarks. We took pictures of each other and our food. I got the braised beef tortellini. Mark wanted that one, too, but since I ordered first, he asked for something else.

“You wanted the braised beef tortellini,” I said. “Why did you get the linguini?”

“I didn’t want to get the same thing you got,” Mark said. “Besides, I can just try yours.”

Mark preferred my meal over his.

“You should have had the braised beef.” I laughed.

End of Chapter 8

My Thoughts

I decided to take a break this week from my delusions and show you part of Mark and my honeymoon. Once I started recovering, I thought about my honeymoon often. My mind traveled to a happier time. I try to break up the serious and heavy manic episodes with lighter, happier times.

Doom and gloom all the time can be really depressing, and even with all the trials I’ve endured, my life is not depressing. Mark and I have had wonderful years together. Our children are now 11 and 13, and we’ve had pretty amazing times with them.

Even though I suffer from Bipolar I disorder, I love my life. I love my family, and I love the way we live.

I hope you enjoyed Chapter 8

Read Chapter 9 here:

Chapter 9

Posing for Mark at Hollywood Studios

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What is a time you always go back to when you are having hard times?

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If you’re reading this, you’re one of the 110 people who’ve followed along with Pushing Against the Mind. I want you to hear this from me directly, before anything on the page changes.

This publication is growing. I’m not going anywhere, and neither is the memoir. But I’m expanding what I do here, and I wanted you to be the first to know. I want to avoid confusion.

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What’s staying

Pushing Against the Mind isn’t disappearing. It’s still very much in progress, and I’ll keep publishing new chapters on the same schedule you’re used to. I’m just moving it into its own dedicated section so it’ll be easy to find. I’m no longer making it the sole focus of this publication, but it’s still very much a priority. It is still very important for me to share my memoir to help others.

What’s new

This publication is now home to everything I write, under one name: Mary J. Brayton, Author. You’ll notice that’s how I’m publishing from now on. Same me, just settling into the name I’ll be using across everything I write. Inside, you’ll find three sections:

• Pushing Against the Mind: The memoir, right where it’s always been, continuing chapter by chapter. I’m also working toward publishing it as a complete, self-published book, aiming for the end of this year or early next.

• Off the Page: A free monthly update on what I’m working on, including a real-time look at that self-publishing process: editing, cover design, the whole journey to launch. I’m also writing an upper middle grade fantasy novel. A story about family, friendship, and finding your own strength, and you’ll hear about its progress here along the way.

• Raising Readers (coming soon) — a section for the parents, teachers, and librarians in a young reader’s life, with updates, recommendations, and resources as that middle grade book gets closer to publication.

What this means for you

Nothing changes automatically that you don’t want. You can adjust exactly what you receive from Mary J. Brayton, Author, stay subscribed to just the memoir, add the new sections, or get everything. It’s entirely up to you.

I am so excited to share my author journey at large with you all. I’m so grateful for all of your continued support.

This is what you can expect from Off the Page going forward: a real look at what’s happening behind the scenes, one update a month, as I work toward getting the memoir published and the middle grade book written. Glad to have you along for it.

If you’ve been here for the memoir, thank you, genuinely. This next chapter (pun intended) wouldn’t be happening without you.

More soon,

Mary

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If you haven’t read Chapter 6, find it here.

Chapter 6

Pushing Against My Mind: A Journey Through Bipolar Disorder

Key: Manic thoughts and actions depicted in Bold print

Regular thoughts and actions, and others’ words, are depicted in regular print

Chapter 7

Spring 2013

After the show, I get dressed in travel clothes. A makeup crew comes in and dyes my hair red. They do this to keep me safe. Someone is after my family. My miracle children. I know it’s the President of the United States. He is after me. He hates my message of love, and he wants to destroy my family and me.

Mark and I leave the show in different directions. We each take a baby. I take our daughter; he takes our son. We meet up at a local pizzeria. After our last dinner in Upstate New York, we travel to Disney World.

A few weeks before I went to the hospital, I saw the cutest teal swimsuit. It was a two-piece with a skirt. Its top had big dark teal polka dots, and the bottom was a solid dark teal skirt. Mark said we didn’t have the money to buy it, so we left it.

To show me that I matter to him, Mark presents the swimsuit.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been the best at letting you know how beautiful you are to me,” He says.

“Thank you, Mark!” Is all I can say, tears brimming in my eyes. I take the swimsuit from his hands. I put it on, and it fits perfectly. We spend the day at the beach with the babies. We know this will be our last few days together. We have to separate because it is so dangerous. Evil people want us dead. We still have a message to share. So we must separate for safety. But first, we deserved some family time together. Hence, Disney World.

We visit all our favorite spots and rides. After four days, it is time to leave again.

As our separation draws closer, Mark presents me with another gift, a box of letters from him.

“I’ve been working hard. I know I didn’t write you much on my mission…” He says.

“Only five times!” I laugh.

“Right. Well, this is to make up for that. I don’t know how long we will have to be apart, but these letters should keep you busy.” He kisses me and holds me tight. “I don’t want to leave you and Lily.” Our daughter’s name is Lily because, in the hospital, I sang “Consider the Lilies of the Field” continuously.

“I don’t want to leave you and Oliver!” I say, “But we have to! It’s the only way!”

“I love you!” I call, Mark picks up our son, and leaves. He turns back to me and smiles with tears in his eyes.

I turn around and am greeted by a group of people who saw my daytime show episode and were converted. I trust them completely. I hold my daughter as they bring me to a submarine. We board and travel together to Russia.

I’m not sure why Russia was my haven, but that is where I went. My delusions are like dreams that don’t make sense after waking, but seem so real in the moment.

I find a safe place in a Russian palace. The only things I have with me are my journal, my scriptures, Mark’s letters, some clothes, and our baby girl. I have been writing a lot for a year. I write the message I want the world to know. Mostly, I write my testimony of God and about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

The world thinks that my family is dead. This knowledge sends the world into World War III.

Most people don’t like that my light has been snuffed out. My mother is tortured because the evil men know we aren’t dead, and they are trying to find us. She doesn’t give away my hiding spot but dies trying to protect me.

In real time, I am writing on the walls in spaghetti sauce. I “dressed up” my room to look like I am there so that when the evil men come to kill me, they’ll just be killing a bunch of pillows. I hide in a cubby in the room. I switched rooms again. I know the evil men will fall for my tricks, and I’ll be able to get away free.

When the BHU workers come into my room, they make me wash the sauce off the walls. I write on a bunch of paper saying: You can’t catch me. I show my work to the BHU worker who sits at the desk outside my room. She feigns interest and goes back to reading her book. The BHU worker gives me magazines to keep me busy.

I find clues and messages in the magazines as I read each article aloud. The magazine tells me where I need to go next. I know God is talking to me through these magazines. Occasionally, I walk over to the BHU worker at the desk and let her know what I “want” from the magazines. I know she will get the message that I received the clues that will help me on my mission.

Near the end of the war, in my mind, Mark and I meet up at Buckingham Palace. The Royal family let us stay with them. They are all gems! Soon, we tell the world that we haven’t died. I’ve written a speech for the occasion. I give it just outside of Buckingham Palace on a balcony overlooking thousands of people.

“I know many of you thought that I was dead! But I am alive. My family is well. I want to take a moment and tell everyone that I love them! I know that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is God’s true church. I know that God loves all of us and wants us all to return to Him. I know the Lord will protect His people. We only need to believe and act. We can all be children unto the Lord. He loves each one of us. No matter what we are going through. He is always there for us. He lives.”

In real life, Sam comes to visit one day. My family has banded together to see me through my hospital stay. I show him what I wrote on the piece of paper. He says he likes it.

I give it to him for safekeeping as he leaves. I know he will give it back to me when I need to give my speech. This will help Sam to know that his son’s family is safe when we disappear. I know Sam well enough to know that he will keep this secret from everyone.

Every day I ask to pump. My breasts are so full of milk. The first day, they allow me to pump, but after that, they let me dry up, knowing I can’t feed the baby with the medicine they are giving me.

“Please, let me pump. It hurts so much. I need to feed my baby!” I call.

A nurse comes in to try to explain.

“Sorry, Mary, with what you are taking, you can’t feed your baby anymore.” She states.

“Ok!” I beam at her, not comprehending what she’s trying to explain.

Although there is an age limit at the BHU, children under 18 aren’t allowed to visit; they make an exception for Oliver. I can’t stop talking about how much I miss him. Unfortunately, when Mark comes with Oliver, he brings him in a rainbow jacket, and my delusions set in.

“You’ve brought our daughter, Lily!” I say excitedly.

“No, Mary, this is Oliver, our son!” Mark says, his face crumpling.

I’m not convinced. I animatedly talk with Mark about our daughter Lily and ask him where Oliver is.

“Look, Mary, this baby has Oliver’s face,” Mark tries.

“Lily looks like Oliver because they are twins.”

“Mary, this baby has Oliver’s mullet in the back,” Mark points out.

“Yes, yes. As I said, they’re twins; they share a lot of things.”

Before Mark and the baby leave, the baby poops. Mark rummages around the diaper bag to find a diaper.

I eagerly wait to see that Mark is changing a girl’s diaper, but when he opens the baby’s diaper, I see male genitalia. Oh well! Guess this one is not Lily. But where is she? I don’t linger on the details too long as my delusions take me away again.

Mark’s grandpa also visits me while I’m at the hospital. He doesn’t stay long, though, because I’m not having a great day.

“I’m just going to sit right here,” He says.

“Ok, well, I’ll sit on your lap.” I talk animatedly to him about my daughter and the war.

I later learned that Grandpa told Mark that he wouldn’t be able to see me like that anymore. He loved me and wanted to support me, but he couldn’t see me in that state. It was just too hard. I understood. It is hard to watch a loved one’s mental state decline.

End of Chapter 7

My Thoughts

To answer a question you didn’t ask, no, I didn’t think the president at the time was evil. That was just something my manic brain concocted from the paranoia. I think he came to mind because he was a person of power.

It is crazy to me how much I remember from each episode. Don’t get me wrong, there are also points of blackout where I don’t remember much. But I remember a lot. Some have told me that my delusions sound like a thriller book or movie.

Time feels like it is moving so slow and so quick all at the same time when you are lost in a delusion. Years can pass in my delusions, then I come back to reality and find that it’s only been a few days or weeks.

I’m actually grateful that I can remember my delusions with such clarity. I think it can help others feel like they aren’t alone, or understand their loved ones who may be going through something similar.

I hope you enjoyed Chapter 7.

Read Chapter 8 here:

Chapter 8

Mark and I walking on a Florida beach (not a delusion).

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Were you ever in a situation where you didn’t know how to help a loved one suffering from a mental illness?

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If you haven’t read Chapter 5, find it here:

Chapter 5

Pushing Against My Mind: A Journey Through Bipolar Disorder

Key: Manic thoughts and actions depicted in Bold print

Regular thoughts and actions, and others’ words, are depicted in regular print

Chapter 6

Spring 2013

Mark guides me to the Behavioral Health Unit (BHU). Once we are there, I cling to him. He can’t leave my side. I can sense something is different. Something is about to change. I bury my head in his chest.

“Alright, Mary, let go of your husband. It’s time to come with me,” someone says.

I peek out and see a nurse wearing green scrubs; her curly salt-and-pepper hair is up in a ponytail. She smiles at me, and I hang tighter to Mark, burying my head farther into him.

“I just need to go get my coat,” Mark says. He kisses me, and I let go.

He’ll be back. He’s just grabbing his coat. I tell myself. They take me to a room and get my vitals again. I sit obediently, letting the nurses work around me as I look out the open door and wait for Mark to come back.

Then the night nurses bring me to a bedroom. I’m distracted for a moment by a big maroon curtain in the room that’s blocking the night sky from my view. I get on the bed next to the curtain and move the curtain back and forth, back and forth. It makes a loud noise. I look up at the sky and see the bright moon. I push the curtain aside, kneel by my bed, and pray aloud.

“Heavenly Father,” I say. “Please help me. Please help me make it back to my family. I am grateful for all that Thou hast given me. Please help me make it back to my family.” I close my prayer and open my eyes, looking up at the moon.

I lie down to sleep, but it doesn’t come easily. Though Mark doesn’t cross my mind again, I feel his loss. There is no one to sleep next to on this single-sized bed. I frown and start to cry for reasons I don’t completely understand. My only desire is to be home with my family.

I’m not cognizant of why I’m here or if they are trying to keep me in this place forever. I’m not entirely sure where this place is. But I also know that the Lord will protect me. I know I’ll be safe, and that someday I’ll get to go home to my family. Even in my heightened state, I can still feel the Spirit comfort me with this knowledge.

I don’t get much sleep that night. In the morning, a wave of tiredness hits me. For some reason, even though I’ve only been here one night, they are moving my room. I’m feeling more tired than I’ve been in over a week. I collapse onto the bed as the workers start rolling it down to another room. This room already has a bed. They put my bed in the opposite corner.

Tiredness flees my body as soon as I’m in the new bright room. I twirl around and start singing. There is a dresser in the room, and I keep checking it for baby girl clothes. I find a small rag and start cleaning. I feel like a Disney Princess at the end of the movie. I have everything I want and need. I have a miracle baby! A girl this time. Twins, born two months apart! I know why I am here now! I need to help spread the gospel with my miracle babies.

“I wonder what my daughter looks like?” I say, as I dust off a wall.

“You have a daughter?” a BHU worker asks from my doorway. He is sitting at my door with a desk to make sure I can’t leave the room.

“Oh yes, I just had her! It’s a miracle!” As I clean, I babble about how excited I am to meet my daughter.

I make such a fuss over her that some workers in the BHU believe I have a daughter in the Snuggery. They even go looking for her. Later, after asking family members, they realize this is just a delusion.

****

My mind takes me to a different place. I have just had two miracle children, two months apart. The hospital is a place of refuge. It’s too dangerous to leave with my baby. Mark is hiding our son, and I’m here with our daughter. The nurses are protecting my daughter and me from the evil that wants all of us dead. The evil that is trying to kill us, so I can’t share my message.

The nurses call a popular daytime TV show host. They tell me I’m going to be on her show with the babies and my husband to get my message out. But they need to keep me safe until then. That’s why I am here.

While this is all happening in my mind, what is happening in real life is quite a different story. They are trying to get me to sleep. The doctors are testing out different medications on me. The first one they try makes me more agitated. They put tranquilizer shots in my butt to try to force me to sleep.

I later learned that they told Mark they put enough in me to put an elephant to sleep. I was still going strong at that point.

In my mind, I hear and see the daytime show in the background. An announcer’s voice plays in my head.

“They all thought she was crazy!” I know there is footage in the hospital recording me being crazy. I have to give them a show. I dance around and ramble incoherently.

Not only that, I know they put audio in my room. As I go about my day, I sing Primary songs. I ask “deep questions,” then I advertise mormon.org and lds.org, the LDS websites at the time. I do this because I know that people are listening. After all, they think I’m crazy. I understand that I have a captive audience; If I can get a few people to visit those sites, maybe they will convert to the gospel of Jesus Christ.

They will see that I’m not crazy. I’m just acting like I’m delusional. Those who see I’m not crazy will convert to the Lord’s church. What could be better than that? I know in a week, I will be featured on the popular daytime show. I will show off my talents and my babies. My miracles.

I hear the announcer’s voice again in my head. “Everyone thought she was crazy. We listened and watched as she did the weirdest things in the hospital!” I do a few more dance moves. I know my time is coming. I’m about to leave the hospital with my babies.

Mark brings me my green polka-dotted dress. I do my make-up, and together we tell the host just how this whole thing started. The curtains open. It’s all happening. Our two miracle babies are wheeled on stage to join us. My 1950s-inspired polka-dotted dress looks stunning on me. I no longer look like a crazy delusional maniac. Mark and I meet the daytime host on the stage, and we all sit down.

“Thank you! For everything you do!” I exclaim. “This couldn’t have happened without you!”

“Thank you. Now tell me, how did this happen?” The host asks, “Two babies, two months apart? How is this possible?”

“Well, it’s just a miracle!” I begin. “God wants to share a message with all of you today. He lives! Jesus Christ lives. He loves us all. He wants us all to come back to Him.”

“Wow, that’s a powerful message,” she says with a smile.

“There’s more,” I say, squeezing Mark’s hand. Mark tells the audience and the host his story about how he became addicted to pornography. He counsels against the dangers of pornography. He apologizes, on behalf of all men, to the daytime host and all the women in the audience for this problem. He tells how it destroyed his wife’s family. He explains how it can destroy any family. He pleads with everyone who’s watching to seek help and healing if they are addicted to porn or if they are affected by someone who is. By the end of his speech, everyone in the room is crying.

“Touching, very touching!” She says. “Mary, do you still believe he is addicted to porn?”

“No!” I practically shout.

“Why do you think that is?” She asks.

“Well, I guess it is because of what we went through. Everything that happened. I think that the Lord changed him. Changed him for the better.”

“Wonderful! That’s just wonderful,” the host says, “Now, Mary, I hear you like to sing!” The audience laughs because they’ve heard me singing in the hospital over the last week.

“I do,” I say.

“Well, we set up the stage for you, and we’d love to hear another song,” she says. I go to the stage, and I sing “His Hands” by Kenneth Kope. The Spirit is so strong in the room that I know everyone will investigate The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and be converted.

End of Chapter 6

My Thoughts

It is hard to describe how real mania feels while I’m experiencing it. It’s like I was seeing into the future. I was positive that everything I wrote would happen. I felt every emotion so deeply: the fear, the excitement, the joy over converting others to God.

I was in my own little world, helping it, saving it, bringing Christ back to it. My mind was giving me everything I wanted. And it all made sense to me. Of course, I would embark on the grand journey with my husband. Of course, I would be integral to Christ coming again. Of course, I would bring many to God. The delusions of grandeur were strong and deep.

Yet even though my mind was giving me exactly what I wanted, I would take reality any day. What God gives me every day is so much better than what the fantastical delusions created. I’d rather receive God’s blessings in my life than have the weird dreams that my brain concocts. His blessings are always better, richer, and deeper than what I can come up with.

I hope you enjoyed Chapter 6.

Read Chapter 7 here:

Chapter 7

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It was interesting how different our issues were, but how similarly we dealt with them. I’m grateful that Lilly spoke with me on such a hard topic. I’m grateful for the depth she went into with her experiences. It takes a lot of courage to share with a few friends and family members what you are going through. It takes even more strength to be willing to share it with the world.

Mental illness won’t be destigmatized without sharing our stories. I love when I find someone else who is willing to share!

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If you haven’t read Chapter 4, find it here:

Chapter 4

Note: Some of the names have been changed in this chapter.

Pushing Against The Mind: A Journey Through Bipolar Disorder

Key: Manic thoughts and actions depicted in Bold print

Regular thoughts and actions, and others’ words, are depicted in regular print

Chapter 5

Spring 2013

I’m upstairs feeding the baby. Suddenly, I hear footsteps on the stairs. In come: my mom, Krystal, and my sister, Sally.

“I don’t need medicine!” I say right away, somehow knowing why they were there. I JUST NEED SLEEP! My mind shouts.

This has happened a couple of times in my life. I lose a little sleep, get a little weird, then sleep eventually comes, and I go back to normal.

“Medicine can be pretty helpful,” Krystal says to me. “It has helped me a lot.”

“That’s great for you!” I say undeterred.

“What are you holding?” My mom asks.

In my hand is a compact foundation case with a mirror and an application pad. Earlier in the day, I’d washed all the foundation down the bathroom sink.

“I’m going to give it to Sadie.” Sadie is a friend from church. I open the compact case, showing how empty it is. “I’m going to tell her that God sees her as beautiful even when she doesn’t wear makeup.”

“That’s very nice of you,” Krystal says.

“Thanks!” I say. We sit in silence until they all leave, except Sally. She sits beside me on a metal fold-up chair.

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“You know you can tell me anything, right?” I ask.

“I know,” She says.

“Even if it was bad. Even if it was super bad! I’d believe you.” I say.

“I know.” She says again.

I stroke my baby’s head. He’s sleeping.

“I love you, Sally,” I say.

“Love you too, Mary.” She replies.

I know that if she tells me all her secrets, she won’t have to be on medication anymore. She just needs to let go of all her trauma.

While all this was happening, Mark was downstairs, crying in the kitchen. Because of my fixation, he felt like this was all his fault.

I hear more footfalls on the stairs. Sam comes into the room. He sits down right in front of me.

“You are one of my favorite people,” he says.

I beam at him. I can feel his love for me.

“Have you ever heard of an observation?” He asks.

“No,” I say, still beaming.

“An observation is where they observe you for a little time, at the hospital. They make sure that everything is going ok,” he says. “Would you come with me to have an observation done?”

“What about the baby?” I ask.

“He can stay with Jessica and Pam,” Sam says.

“Alright,” I say. Honestly, I think he’s taking my whole family to Build-A-Bear.

Sam drives us to the hospital in his truck. We head straight to the emergency room. The nurses take my vitals. My mom’s there watching over me.

“What’s your name?” A nurse asks.

“Mary Brayton,” I say.

“When is your birthday?” she asks.

“February 6, 1911,” I say, needing to protect my identity.

“You look pretty good for a 102-year-old.” The nurse jokes, doing fast math.

“Thanks!” I say smiling.

“Tell them your real birthday, Mary,” Mom says.

I quickly say my real birthday. Looking around to make sure nobody else heard.

They take my temperature and ask if I am pregnant.

“Yes,” I say. “It’s a miracle. I came here to have my baby!”

“No, she’s not pregnant,” Mom says. “You just had a baby, Mary. Remember?”

“That’s why it is such a miracle!” I say. I don’t have to wait long before they admit me to a room. Mom and Mark come with me. The nurses ask me to change into blue paper scrubs for observation.

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“I haven’t had anything to eat today. I’m starving.” I say, swinging my legs off the bed. A little later, a nurse brings in a ham sandwich with packages of mayo and mustard. I ask Mark to help me open the packages. He does, and I instantly put the mayo and mustard all over my paper shirt.

“Am I still beautiful?” I ask Mark.

“Yes,” he says with emotion.

“See!” I say, as if proving a point. “I gotta go to the bathroom,” I say, doing a potty dance. A nurse directs me to the bathroom. I jump from tile to tile.

“The floor is lava,” I explain to the nurse as I jump onto the bathroom floor. I relieve myself and sing a children’s song about Jesus. The nurse walks beside me as I hop back to my room.

“I have to go to the bathroom again,” I say, smiling.

“You just went a few minutes ago,” Mom says.

“Yeah, but this time it’s number two.” I know it’s time to have my baby. I can’t have this miracle baby in front of Mom. She doesn’t believe it will come. Mark will have to join me in the bathroom. We need to do this together. A nurse takes me to the bathroom again. I sit on the toilet for a while.

“You can come out now, baby. It’s just you and me.” I walk around the bathroom singing aloud. I know my baby is coming soon. I’m determined to have her in this bathroom.

As I wait, I realize the baby isn’t coming yet. I go back to my room and smile at Mark and Mom. If only you guys knew what’s coming. My miracle baby. A few minutes later, I tell the nurses I have to go to the bathroom again. It must be about time for the baby to come.

“You can’t go to the bathroom anymore. You need to stay in your room,” a nurse says. A phlebotomist comes to take blood.

I still hate needles, but I ask Mark to come over and hold my hand. I look at him as they shove a butterfly needle into my hand. I wince a little but mostly just beam at Mark. I do this to show him that anything is possible when we are together, even getting over my fear of needles.

Mom leaves after a few hours. She explains she is tired.

“What time is it?” I ask.

“9:30 p.m.,” Mark says.

“You should get some rest,” I tell him.

“You should get some rest, too!” Mark says.

“Okay,” I laugh. I lie down obediently, and the nurses turn off the lights. It’s no use, I can’t sleep. I toss and turn, and the bed crinkles. I fluff my pillow.

“Mark, can you come over here and hold my hand, please?” I ask.

He brings his chair over and holds my hand. I smile at him and get into his lap. I kiss him.

“Mary, you need to sleep,” Mark says, gently putting me back in the bed. “You can’t be on me, that’s not allowed here.”

I try again.

He repeats himself and puts me back in bed.

I try one last time.

“Please, Mary,” He says.

“Okay,” I say, “I love you.”

“I love you, too. Now try to get some sleep,” Mark says.

I try, but my brain won’t shut down. My body needs to move. I get up and walk around. Finally, a doctor from the Behavioral Health Unit steps into the room, as it is clear I won’t go to sleep.

“Mary, do you know why you’re here?” she asked in a southern drawl.

“I’m about to have another baby!” I say. “It’s a miracle.”

“I see,” the doctor says.

She asks more questions, but I’m more interested in Mark. Finally, he’s repented. I know it.

“Alright, Mary, we have a spot for you here.” She says. “Let’s get you admitted so that you can try to sleep.”

I smile at her. My adventure is about to begin.

End of Chapter 5

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My Thoughts

I don’t know why I thought Build-A-Bear would save Mark’s soul. It doesn’t make sense to my rational mind. A lot of the things I did in the chapter don’t make sense to my rational mind. Experiencing mania is interesting, terrifying, and all-consuming. I remember most everything that happened while manic with a lot of clarity. But I also had no control over my emotions, thoughts, or actions.

As I look back as an observer, I can laugh at the absurdity of my words and actions. But I can’t make sense of them. It feels like an out-of-body experience. Like someone else was in control, but it also feels so real and concrete in the moment. The euphoria and the delusions of grandeur make it impossible for me to be reasoned with. I know best when I’m manic.

I’m grateful for God’s protection in my life. Even in this chapter, I can see how He made things better, how He protected me. Oliver didn’t fall to the ground because of my negligence. I didn’t hurt myself because of my carelessness. My father-in-law, Sam, was guided by the Spirit to say the right words to help me get to the hospital. All of these small miracles worked together to help this tragic event feel more bearable.

I hope you enjoyed Chapter 5.

Read Chapter 6 here:

Chapter 6

Make sure to subscribe to get my memoir directly into your inbox. Subscribing is free, like my memoir, and ensures that you won’t miss a chapter.

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Please share this post with as many as you think will benefit from this message. My greatest desire is to help others feel seen, to help family and friends gain a better understanding of their loved ones who suffer from a mental illness, and to help destigmatize mental illness. Please help spread the word.

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If you have any questions or want to share your own experiences, I’d love to discuss them with you in the comments!

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If you haven’t read Chapter 3, find it here:

Chapter 3

Pushing Against My Mind: A Journey Through Bipolar Disorder

Key: Manic thoughts and actions depicted in Bold print

Regular thoughts and actions, and others’ words, are depicted in regular print

Chapter 4

Spring 2013

On Sunday, I go home with Mark after church. Mark and I watch a movie together in our room in the evening. Unfortunately, my weekend away hasn’t solved my sleeping problem. That night, I lay into Mark.

“I can’t believe how unrepentant you are being!” I say as we lie down to sleep.

Suddenly, Mark gets out of bed with his pillow.

“I’ll sleep at the Farm tonight,” Mark says. His grandparents lived down the street on a farm.

“You don’t have to,” I say.

“I can’t sleep here, and I need sleep,” Mark says. “I want you to be able to sleep too, and it seems like you can’t when I’m here.”

I toss and turn after he leaves. I feel guilty that he left because of me. I feed the baby throughout the night, but sleep evades me. In the morning, my mood changes, and I bounce down the stairs with manic energy.

Time to save my husband. Surely, he will want to repent today.

I put on my Moby Wrap and bring the baby over to the Farm. Mark is sleeping on the couch. I go over to him and wake him up. He sits up to allow me on the couch. We cuddle for a while.

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“Oliver is hungry. Could you help me feed him?” I’m breastfeeding exclusively, but I have Mark hold the baby’s head up to my chest. I know that this act will bring us closer together as a family. When Oliver is done eating, I put him back in the Moby Wrap.

I chat with Mark’s grandparents about a business idea Mark has had for a while. Mark’s Uncle Dan and Aunt Krystal come into the room, and suddenly an idea sparks. I know how to save my husband.

“Would you guys like to go to Build-A-Bear with Mark and me? I’ve been wanting to go get a bear for Oliver so he can grow up with one.” I say with excitement.

“Maybe,” Krystal says.

“It’s super important. Mark needs this to see how much his family loves him.” I say, knowing that seeing the love his family has for him will change his heart and help him repent.

“We’ll see,” Krystal says.

Mark walks me back to the Blue House. Free from my strife, I’m at ease. I know He will come to God soon enough. I realize that I haven’t eaten anything, and I’m starving.

“Mark, could you get me a bowl of cereal? I’m just so hungry,” I say.

“Sure, what would you like?” He asks.

“If you really loved me, you would know what I needed without me having to say so!” I shout, anger making me shake.

“Sorry,” Mark exclaims. He chooses a cereal, pours it into a bowl with some milk, and gives it to me. “I’m not a mind reader, Mary.”

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“You should know something as simple as that! I am trying to help you here! You need to repent!” I run to the mudroom door, “You need to think about what you’ve done and if you want this family!” I slam the door behind me. I slowly walk over to the Farm. I start singing, I am so happy that the Lord is saving my family.

“Mary, come back!” Mark yells from the back deck. I don’t listen. “Mary, the baby…”

He is too far away to make everything out, but I’ve left Oliver at the Blue House. I keep walking to his grandparents’ farm. As I enter the Farm, I smile widely at his grandparents. We talk for a while, but I’m not making much sense.

Pam comes through the door and asks if she can bring me home. After I buckle myself in, she says she wants to talk and drives in the opposite direction from her house.

“I don’t like how you have been treating Mark,” Pam says.

“Mark is addicted to pornography! He needs my help! He needs tough love,” I say.

“I have my addictions as well…” She tries again.

“That’s fine, but Mark and I have a mission. We need to make the church fly to the sky and all the church members too. Mark has that potential! I see it in him. I only need to coax it out of him!” I exclaim.

“Okay…” She says with uncertainty. She makes a loop and takes me home.

I blather away to her about Mark’s potential. Finally, she is seeing why it is so important that I am treating Mark the way I am. At last, she can see her son’s potential. I’m exuberant, leaping out of my seat. This is all happening. My husband is going to be a spiritual giant. I’m elated.

When we get home, it’s time to feed the baby. I sit on the big couch in the living room to feed him. Suddenly, my anger flares when Mark comes into the room.

“You just need to know who you truly are,” I say to him.

“You need to be nicer to my brother,” Jessica says quietly from across the room on the loveseat.

“I am trying to save him!” My anger rises as I jump out of my seat and hobble towards her. Unfortunately, I’m still feeding the baby. He slips from my arms as I struggle across the room.

Mark is there in a flash and grabs the baby before he falls to the wooden floor. He hands Oliver to Jessica.

I run up the stairs in a rage. Nobody understands how hard I’m trying to save my husband! Mark follows me up the stairs to our room and somehow mollifies me. I smile at him serenely, and we go downstairs. Only the baby isn’t there anymore. Jessica has locked herself in her parents’ bedroom with the baby. I can hear her crying. The baby is crying too.

“Jessica, let me in. The baby is hungry, and I need to feed him,” I say. When she doesn’t immediately let me in, I add, “I’m his mother, and I need to feed him!”

“Wait here,” Mark says, seeing the agitation on my face.

Mark unlocks the door and enters, shutting the door behind him. He says a few things to Jessica as I wait outside. I’m relieved as he comes out with the baby. I can finally feed him. I carefully walk upstairs with Oliver and sit in the comfy chair in Mark’s old room to feed him. I pat his head and look over his small features in wonder. It still seems strange that this tiny human came from me. I’m a mother.

I say a silent prayer to my Heavenly Father. I thank Him for the beautiful boy in my arms. I thank him for my husband, who I know will repent of his mistakes. I thank Him for the miracles we are about to witness. I’m in awe of how we will help bring people to God.

End of Chapter 4

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My Thoughts

It is hard to express my thoughts on this chapter. I was so gone, so out there. It is hard to imagine what it was like for my family. What I put them through. It must have been terrifying. It must have been hard for them to find the balance between mollifying me and keeping the baby safe.

Mark trusted that I wouldn’t hurt Oliver. I don’t know if I would trust someone with my baby who acted the way I did. I am so grateful to the Lord that nothing happened that day. I’m grateful I survived. I’m grateful my family looked past my actions and forgave me. Most of all, I’m grateful my son was protected.

My family didn’t act perfectly that day, but they did act out of love. They figured out what I needed, and they rallied around me, as you’ll see in Chapter 5. They did amazing things for me. Best of all, they loved me through all of it, even when I was acting my worst.

Read Chapter 5 here.

Chapter 5

Brayton Photography-Krystal Brayton

Please share this post with as many as you think will benefit from this message. My greatest desire is to help others feel seen, to help family and friends gain a better understanding of their loved ones who suffer from a mental illness, and to help destigmatize mental illness. Please help spread the word.

Share

If you have any questions or want to share your own experiences, I’d love to discuss them with you in the comments!

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Make sure to subscribe to get my memoir directly into your inbox. My content will always remain free. If you’d like to support my storytelling and the message I’m sharing, consider an optional paid subscription.

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If you haven’t read Chapter 2, read it here:

Chapter 2

Pushing Against My Mind: A Journey Through Bipolar Disorder

Key: Delusional thoughts and actions depicted in Bold print

Regular thoughts and others’ words are depicted in regular font

Chapter 3

Spring 2013

As the baby nears two months old, I don’t realize how much sleep I’m losing. At night, I lie awake and fixate on Mark’s pornography problem. I obsess over why he won’t properly repent while I feed the baby. My mind becomes deluded with each sleepless night.

Mark isn’t treating me well. He isn’t helping with the baby, changing the baby’s diaper, or caring for the baby at all! Mark makes cruel jokes at my expense. I think back to a remark he made at dinner the other night.

“I can’t believe how hungry I was,” I say. Mark makes piggy noises at me. I look away, trying not to cry. I haven’t lost my baby weight, and I feel huge. His piggy noises pierce my heart.

Mark becomes more selfish every day. I suspect that he is still looking at porn. I fixate on the morning he showed me a “funny” video. The focus of this video is a girl in a bikini. It’s repulsive. I’m not sure why he showed it to me. Is he saying I need to work harder to lose weight? He watches the video a few times a day.

“Why do you watch that video over and over again? Do you think the girl in the bikini is pretty?”

“I’m not watching it because of her! I just thought it was funny,” Mark exclaims. “You’re being too sensitive!”

The post-pregnancy hormones coursing through my body take over.

“Mark, it makes me feel very un-beautiful when you watch things like that repeatedly,” I say, but he is past feeling. He goes back to the computer, and I hear the video play again.

Thoughts ruminate in my mind, creating a circular path. Mark doesn’t care about the baby or me.

Each time I get up to feed the baby, the injustice of all those slights comes crashing in on me. Mark’s issues with pornography leave me tossing and turning long after I put the baby back in his bed.

He’ll end up just like my father! My thoughts shout at me.

Finally, on a Friday in April, I take action.

“I am leaving for my mom’s house this weekend with the baby,” I tell Mark while breastfeeding Oliver.

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I’m in the comfy chair upstairs in his old bedroom. The walls are vibrant green. Mark is lying on the floor in front of an old desk, arms folded over his chest.

“That’s something we have to discuss,” he says.

There’s malice behind his words.

“No, Mark. I am going to my mom’s house this weekend.” I state firmly. “You need to decide if you want this family. I feel very unloved and underappreciated. You have a problem with pornography that you aren’t dealing with. So, I am leaving.”

Mark looks over at me with concern, blindsided by my actions. Under different circumstances, I probably could have seen how this hurt him. But I have a father whose whole life was destroyed by pornography. This, coupled with my lack of sleep, amplifies and inflates Mark’s issues in my mind.

I love Mark, and I want him back. This was the best way to get him back. Show him what he’d be losing. My mind is made up. I gather my stuff, and my mom comes to pick me up. We set a meeting with his father, the bishop, for Saturday. Other than that, I don’t want to see Mark.

As soon as I get to my mom’s house, I pull her into her bedroom and tell her what’s happening. My fixation takes over.

“Mark is addicted to pornography, and he isn’t dealing with it well. He doesn’t want to repent.” I say. I can see the hurt on my mom’s face. This is the last thing she wants for her daughter.

“How bad is it?” She asks.

“Pretty bad,” I say, “I think he is still doing it, but he doesn’t want to tell the bishop. I want my husband back.”

The next day and a half is torture. All I can focus on is Mark’s betrayal. If I’m not writing about it in my journal, I’m talking about it with my mom on a walk. The only relief I get is when I hold my baby close to feed him. I read the scriptures with my baby to calm down. That night, his hand makes the “I love you” sign as he stretches.

“I love you, too, Little Man!” I coo.

Brayton Photography-Krystal Brayton

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I cherish this moment. It helps me feel like God is watching over me. And know He is protecting my family. I’m trying hard to help Mark turn to God. My fixation amplifies this desire and turns it into a compulsion. I usually don’t try to force people to come unto Christ.

To prepare for my meeting, I write out all of the little slights I’ve endured from Mark. I leave no stone unturned. I explain Mark’s selfish tendencies. I describe how this problem makes him callous to the baby and me. I express how unloved I feel. I write about that blasted bikini video.

Finally, the meeting arrives. I read the contents of my journal, sparing nothing. By the end, Mark is still callous.

“Well, Mark, what do you have to say?” His father, Sam, asks.

“She’s just being sensitive.” Mark whines.

As he continues to talk, my heart breaks. He is unrepentant. I move to the next fold-up chair to get away from him. My time away from him hasn’t changed a thing. I think in despair. I run my hands through my hair nervously, trying to think of what else I can do.

My agitation is palpable.

“I can’t take this anymore,” I say to them. I turn to Sam and say, “Please talk to him as a father and as a bishop.” I leave the room with the baby.

In the foyer, as I rock Oliver, my fingers turn into icicles. I adjust his blanket to cover more of his body. The heat isn’t turned up in the building, and I contemplate taking the baby out of his carrier to share warmth, but he’s asleep. I can hear indistinct voices coming from the bishop’s room.

Sam’s voice sounds stern. I feel justified and a bit euphoric. You tell him! I’ll get my husband back after this. Not today, Satan! They come out after what feels like hours and drive me back to my mom’s house.

Mark finally looks chastened. We have a long road ahead of us, but I smile knowing we’ll be able to work this out. As we drive to my mom’s house, I talk with Mark’s dad. Mark silently looks out the window, listening. When we get to her house, Mark offers to help me carry the baby inside.

“You can come home with us if you want,” Mark says almost casually, holding Oliver as we get to the room I’m staying in.

“No, I can’t, Mark. But I’ll come home tomorrow.” I say with emotion.

“Yes, you can.” Mark tries again.

“NO! I can’t, Mark!” I yell. “You hurt me so much over the last few months. I’m tired of it. I need a break. But I’ll be home tomorrow!”

Mark hands Oliver to me, hangs his head, and leaves.

It hurts to see him leave like that, so defeated. But I know that he needs a little tough love. My heart soars knowing I’ll get my husband back. Knowing I won’t let Satan have Mark.

I smile as I close the door to my bedroom. Knowing for sure, I’ll sleep easily tonight.

Sleep, it seems, is still hard to come by.

I lie awake all night, looking out the skylight above my bed.

End of Chapter 3

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My Thoughts

This weekend was the first indication that I was going into a manic episode. The lack of sleep made me extremely sensitive. I acted irrationally towards Mark. Every time I think of how he hung his head and walked away, I cringe, wishing I could go back and go home with him that night.

My mom knew I was declining, but didn’t say anything, fearing it would put me over the edge. There wasn’t much she could do anyway. What I needed was medicine. I needed the hospital.

My mom may have suggested the hospital to Mark, but Oliver complicated things. He needed me for everything, and my mom didn’t want to pull me away from him.

Nobody knew what to do with me.

Nobody knew what to think.

Unfortunately, my mom’s hesitation didn’t save me from the hospital.

Read Chapter 4 here.

Chapter 4

My mom with Oliver on that dreaded weekend

Please share this post with as many as you think will benefit from this message. My greatest desire is to help others feel seen, to help family and friends gain a better understanding of their loved ones who suffer from a mental illness, and to help destigmatize mental illness. Please help spread the word.

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If you have any questions or want to share your own experiences, I’d love to discuss them with you in the comments!

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Chapter 1

Pushing Against My Mind: A Journey Through Bipolar Disorder

Chapter 2

Winter 2013

Two days after my birthday, I feel cramps around my pelvis and lower belly. Mark and I go to the mall to see if we can get my labor going. After a few hours of walking, we decide to call it a night and go back home to the Blue House, Mark’s parents’ home. I get in bed after brushing my teeth, ready for sleep. I stretch out my arms and legs, trying to relieve some of the pain. I roll on my side, but the cramping is too much to ignore. Giving up on sleep, I go downstairs to the kitchen to have a late-night snack. I pour myself a glass of milk and get out a piece of bread. Before I can start eating, I feel my water break. I hobble over to the stairs.

“Mark!” I call up. Silence.

“Mark!” I call again, louder. No answer.

“Mark!” Nothing. I change tactics.

“Jessica!” His sister’s bedroom is across the hall from ours. If this doesn’t work, I’ll have to hobble to his parents’ room to get them to wake Mark.

“Yeah?” Jessica asks groggily.

“I think my water broke, and I can’t wake Mark! Can you wake him up?” I hear the bunk bed creak in her room as she gets up. I see her walk across the hall to our room. As soon as I hear muffled voices, I ask Mark to bring down some clothes for me, as I’m only wearing my bathrobe.

After several minutes, he comes downstairs with my clothes. I limp to the bathroom off the mud room, shrugging off my robe and shoving my arms through the shirt he gave me. The skirt takes more time. I struggle to lift my legs while holding the skirt. My balance is off thanks to my huge belly. I feel like I’m going to topple over. As I struggle, Mark grabs the skirt. I lean on him as I gingerly lift one leg at a time into the skirt. Then, as quickly as I can, we go outside.

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Big snowflakes rapidly fall to the ground. I wait as Mark brushes our car off. I look around but can’t see much beyond the light of the house. I can hear Mark hastily brushing off the car and starting it up, even though he’s across the driveway. Mark comes back for me and helps me across the driveway. His parents’ house is at the bottom of the hill. In the wintertime, we have to park our Camry at the top of the slope so we don’t get snowed in.

I trust Mark’s ability to drive us to the hospital in the snowstorm. At the hospital, we go up to the Snuggery where expectant mothers give birth. After a while, we’re put in a room with a bed. The nurses check my vitals and the spacing of the contractions. This lasts through the night as I try, somewhat successfully, to sleep.

“How are we doing this morning?” A nurse asks as she comes into the room.

“Great, ready to have this baby.” I smile widely.

“Hmmm…” She says, looking over my contractions. “We may have to send you home. Your contractions are too far apart to admit you to the hospital fully.” The smile falls from my face.

“But I’m pretty sure my water broke, shouldn’t I stay?” I ask.

“That was just your mucus plug. Your water is still intact,” the nurse says. I slump back into the bed and look out the window in defeat. If they aren’t going to admit me, I need to go to my mom’s house. She lives closer to the hospital than Mark’s parents. My stomach rumbles loudly.

“We can get you breakfast before you leave, though,” the nurse says, acknowledging my stomach.

“Thanks, I’m pretty hungry.” I eat ravenously. A few moments after finishing, I throw up everything I’ve eaten. They decide to move me to a more permanent room in the Snuggery. They stick an I.V. in my arm to keep me nourished.

We invite Mark’s Aunt Krystal to take pictures, and my mom to support me, after our room is secured. I walk around the Snuggery to get labor moving faster.

“You’ve got a handle on breathing through your contractions!” Mom says as I bounce on a big exercise ball, pausing to focus on breathing. I smile big enough to show the one dimple on the left side of my face. Labor is a breeze! Until the contractions come faster and harder.

To move my labor along, the doctor breaks my water that night. This makes the contractions so intense that I curl up on the bed and can’t focus on anything but the pain. My eyes clamp shut as if not being able to see will prevent some of the pain. I decide against an epidural, but the time between the contractions is nonexistent.

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The only thing that keeps me going during this agony is hearing Mark’s voice.

“Please, Mark,” I beg. “Speak to me. I need you.” Every time the contractions get worse, I beg him to talk to me. I squeeze his hand as hard as I can to try to alleviate some of the pain. It doesn’t hurt Mark because I’ve always been small and weak. The contractions make me even weaker. As things progress, Mark stops talking to me.

Brayton Photography-Krystal Brayton

“Mark, please! I need you!” I say in a slight panic, my voice weak.

“He can’t speak, Mary. He’s crying.” Mom says. I peek out from my clamped eyes. Mark’s above me, crying. I brought my husband to tears with my pain. All his faults go away. Here is a man of empathy. He can’t bear the pain I’m in. It doesn’t matter what he’s done. The pornography doesn’t matter. With that much empathy, I know we will be fine. It’s us against the world.

As the night wears on, I become weaker with every contraction. Finally, my mom asks a question that I feel saves my life.

“Do you want an epidural?” I nod my head.

“She wants an epidural,” Mom says to the nurse.

“I need to hear her say it,” the nurse says.

“I want one,” I have to say it twice; my voice is so weak. Some time passes, and the anesthesiologist comes in with the needle. I HATE needles. I really don’t want to get stuck, but I can’t deal with the pain any longer. What if they stick me in the wrong place and I am paralyzed for the rest of my life? Will it hurt? It can’t be as bad as this pain! I’ve been in labor since late Friday night, and it’s now 3 a.m. Sunday morning.

The needle goes in as I breathe out and… nothing. I don’t feel it going in. As the epidural courses through me, the pain stops. The nurse shoos my mom and Krystal away so we can sleep. Mark collapses onto the hospital sleeper sofa, and both of us go straight to sleep, grateful that the pain is gone.

Sunday morning, the doctor comes in to see how I’m doing. He tells me I’m not dilated enough, and I need to have an emergency C-section. I feel calm, like God will take care of me. I’ll be fine, and so will the baby.

As they prepare the operating room, it becomes real to me that I’m about to meet my son. I wonder if he will look more like Mark or me. Will I be a good mother? Will he have hair as I did as a baby, or be bald like Mark was? I hope he looks like Mark, but with blue eyes instead of our brown eyes. Will Mark and I be able to make it as parents? As I ponder these things, Mark dresses for the operating room.

Mark texts everyone to let them know I’m getting an emergency C-section. The morning is a blur. One minute I’m pregnant, the next they are plucking the baby out of my uterus. They let Mark know when they pull the baby out, in case he wants to watch. Mark peeks his head over the curtain and quickly brings it down again. The scene makes him queasy. Once he’s out, the doctors sew me up. The nurses coo over him as they wash him up and cut the umbilical cord.

“Oh, he is so precious!” one says,

“Oh, he is so cute!” says another,

“Can I see him?” I croak. It seems unfair that I can’t see the baby first. I’m the one who has waited these long nine months to meet him.

“He’s adorable. Just like the Gerber Baby!” another one says.

“I want to see him!” I say firmly. Mark brings him over to me after he helps cut the umbilical cord. It feels like it’s been hours since I had the baby.

“Oh, he’s so beautiful! Hi Oliver!” I coo. I want to hold him, but my arms are still tied down. Mark rocks him in a chair and talks to him as I recover from the anesthesia.

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Finally, I get a good look at our son. He is mostly bald but has long mullet-like hair on the back. His hair seems to be red. He is huge! 9 lbs. 13 oz. Krystal comes to take pictures. My mom comes to meet our baby.

“With a baby that big, you could have carried twins!” My mom says incredulously.

Because I had an emergency C-section, I have to stay at the hospital for three days to make sure I’m recovering. On the second day, the nurses come to show us how to bathe the baby properly until the umbilical cord falls off completely. The nurses take it easy on me on the first day after surgery, but by the second day, they urge me to walk around every couple of hours.

“Would you like to take a walk?” A nurse asks.

“I’m not feeling up to it right now,” I say.

“We encourage you to walk regularly so that you don’t get clots.” The nurse explains. After that, I never turn down a nurse when she wants me to walk.

We find out quickly that they only feed me, even though Mark is welcome to stay as long as he likes. Mark slips out for lunch one day after sneaking some of my food. He brings back Five Guys fries.

“Thank you!” I smile at him. I love Five Guys fries above all fries.

Mark and I are forced to watch a movie about Shaken Baby Syndrome on our last day at the hospital. I hold the baby close to me as I watch, as if I can protect him from what is on the screen. One nurse gives me a shot in the arm to protect the baby against Whooping Cough. I cry as I receive the shot. It doesn’t hurt that badly, but my emotions run haywire after the movie.

Mark’s mom, Pam, comes to help fill out the paperwork and bring clothes for the baby. We gather our things and take the baby home. I ride in the back with the baby on the way home. Mark gently drives around bumps so I won’t be in as much pain after the surgery.

End of Chapter 2

My Thoughts

Interestingly, I thought we were over the worst of our problems after the emergency C-section. I truly thought Mark was cured of his pornography addiction because of our experience together.

How naive I was.

The worst of our problems was just around the corner.

Even though I was in so much pain, I was confident the Lord was with me. I relied on Him throughout my labor. When they told me I’d have to have an emergency C-section, a calm washed over me. I knew I’d make it through this storm. I’d soon come to find that I’d make it through an even worse storm with His help. One so devastating it could have irreparably broken my small family. Yet with God’s help, my small family survived.

Read Chapter 3 here:

Chapter 3

Brayton Photography-Krystal Brayton

Please share this post with as many as you think will benefit from this message. My greatest desire is to help others feel seen, to help family and friends gain a better understanding of their loved ones who suffer from a mental illness, and to help destigmatize mental illness. Please help spread the word.

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If you haven’t read Prolgue Part 2, find it here:

Prologue Part 2

Pushing Against My Mind: A Journey Through Bipolar Disorder

Chapter 1

Winter 2013

“I’ve got something to tell you,” Mark says, his voice strained. My heart sinks to my stomach. We’ve just gotten into bed for the night, and I can tell something is up. He seemed upset all evening. I’ve tried to coax it out of him, but he brushed me off all night.

“Ok,” I say, readying myself. I’m afraid that if I say too much, he won’t confide in me. I look over at him, and he turns to look at the ceiling.

“I’ve been looking at pornography off and on since we’ve been married. I’ve done more recently,” he says in a rush. A barrage of feelings crashes over me. I am not good enough. Our forever family is in danger! I can’t do this! I thought we were in a good spot.

I’m hugely pregnant with our first child, and Mark lays this bombshell on me. My church warns us against pornography. We are expected not to look at it. I turn and look at the ceiling, not wanting him to see the expression on my face. I feel shell-shocked, like all the air has left the room. I try not to gasp.

“Do you need to talk to the bishop about it?” I ask after I regain my composure. The bishop was his father, Sam.

“No. I don’t think so. It’s not that bad.” Mark says through gritted teeth.

“How bad is ‘not bad’?” I ask. He gives a vague answer and rolls over to avoid discussing the matter further. Great! Now I’m up for the night. I go into the bathroom and write in my journal about how hurt I am by Mark’s betrayal. I can’t discern how bad it is because he shut me out. Waves of anger, worthlessness, and general hurt wash through me. I cry. This is something I can’t do around people. I bottle up all my anguish. I can’t share it with my husband. That doesn’t feel safe.

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I’ve grown up in a broken home. When my dad left, I stopped crying around people. I need to show I’m strong. I only cry in private. Thoughts of pornography bring my father to mind. He was unfaithful to my mother. A sex addict. It all started when he became addicted to pornography at the young age of 11. It destroyed his marriage to my mother, our family, and continues to haunt him to this day. I go to bed hollow.

I wake up with my head pounding from lack of sleep. Happy birthday to me. 22 is going to be great! I think with sarcasm. I’m determined to figure out how far this has gone. Mark has already left for work, so I snoop around. If Mark won’t explain to me how bad this is, I’ll check out his laptop to find out for myself. I switch on his computer and wait as it boots up. My breath catches in my throat. It’s bad! I turn away from the images, holding back tears, my throat constricting. Of course, he needs to talk to the bishop! Knowing my husband looks at this makes thoughts of worthlessness swim through my head. Is this what he expects me to look like? How can I ever live up to that? My enormous belly will never be the same. I’ll never have a flat stomach again! I’ll never look like that!

I click his computer off and let the tears flow. It’s safe because I’m alone. When Mark comes home from work, I tell him what I did, not wanting to keep secrets.

“I looked at your computer today,” I tell him from the kitchen.

“You had no right! You betrayed me!” Mark says defensively. I burst into tears and run upstairs, rushing past the living room. I betrayed him? He betrayed me! This is the WORST birthday ever! I run away from conflict. In the short year that we have been married, running away from a fight has already become a pattern for me.

Mark follows me upstairs. Eventually, we “agree” that he doesn’t have to tell the bishop. It leaves a bad taste in my mouth, but he convinces me he can work through it on his own. Even though I have different ideas about what he should do, I don’t know what else I can do but support him. I can’t force him to repent.

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****

My 22^nd birthday could not have been more different from my 21^st birthday. I celebrated my 21^st birthday at Disney World. Mark and I honeymooned and worked at Disney World for three months as part of an internship. I took my birthday off so Mark and I could go to Magic Kingdom together, my favorite park. Mark already had the day off. We rode all my favorite rides. Kissed by the castle. We went to a bakery on Main Street. I had a chocolate chip cookie ice cream sandwich, and Mark had a carrot cake.

We ate lunch at Tom Sawyer’s Island. I made spicy chicken sandwiches to bring into the park. They were messy but good. We went on Splash Mountain, one of my favorite rides. Big Thunder Mountain was out of order when we went, which made me sad, but I was able to ride all my other favorite rides. Mark and I went on the Pirates of the Caribbean and the Haunted Mansion. The Haunted Mansion broke down while we were on it, so we kissed to pass the time.

We ended the night at Outback Steakhouse. We spent way too much there, but the food was good. We told them it was my birthday, and they gave me a dessert. I smiled at Mark as they sang to me. When we went home, we weren’t ready to end the night. Mark and I walked over to the swimming pool. We hadn’t brought our swimsuits, but it was a warm night, so we just dunked our feet in the water and talked for a bit. The pool smelled of chlorine and sun, even though it was dark out. The pavement still felt warmed by the sun. There was just one other couple in the pool.

Not wanting the night to end, I playfully got out of the water and tried to shove Mark in. He didn’t budge. I tried harder.

“You don’t want to do that!” Mark said.

“Oh yeah? Why not?” I asked, laughing.

“Because I’ll toss you in,” he said. I shoved harder. Then I started pushing repeatedly just to see what he would do. His hands shot out and grabbed me. I rolled over his shoulders and into the water fully clothed. I burst out of the water, gasping for air. I heard the other couple laughing at us.

“That’s it! Your turn!” I shouted. He got out of the pool and backed up. I hoisted myself up, my soaked jeans pulling me back. I chased him around the pool until he jumped in all by himself. Cheating me out of my revenge. I jumped in after him. We splashed around in the water, making sure the other one was completely soaked, laughing the whole time. Finally, we closed the gap, hugging and kissing! Mark was my best friend. We could always make each other laugh. My heart swelled knowing I could be with my best friend forever.

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****

Today, on my 22^nd birthday, my heart aches. Yet even in this sadness, I know I still want Mark forever. This trial will be difficult, but I know we can get through it if we turn to the Lord, which is why it is so painful to me that he won’t go to the bishop about his mistakes. I saw how it landed for my dad, who constantly chooses pride over going to the Lord. I don’t want that same fate for the person I love most, next to God.

****

As I lie in bed searching for sleep, I’m reminded of a time before we were married. Mark and I were sitting in his 1993 Camry. We were holding hands. He told me then of his addiction to pornography. He laid every grievance out for me. At first, I tried to pull my hand away, but he clung to it tighter.

I held his hand throughout the entire conversation, realizing how important it was for him to have my hand. The uneasiness left me as I listened to his struggle. It was replaced with love. I was extremely grateful that he told me about his battle with pornography while we were still dating. He was taking a risk. He knew my thoughts on pornography and how it destroyed my family.

Yet, I was in awe of his bravery. Here was a man different from my father. Where my father kept things hidden, trusting no one, this boy was laying it all out for me before we were even engaged.

“I’m willing to work with you on this, if you are,” I told him as I kissed his cheek. “I just want us to turn to the Lord in everything.”

Why isn’t Mark turning to the Lord now?

End of Chapter 1

My Thoughts

The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints has spoken against pornography for a long time. Growing up, it was difficult to watch how my father’s life was destroyed by his addictions. I felt like his problems started when he became addicted to pornography, and it went unchecked.

I was devastated when I learned that my husband had been hiding the same thing that ruined my dad’s life. It was the hiding of it that disturbed me the most. I wanted to work with him, but how could I trust him if he was going to hide this problem from me?

Every relationship is different and has different needs. Mark and I eventually worked something out, as you will see by the end of my memoir. You’ll see in later chapters why I decided to start Chapter 1 out like this.

I am so grateful for my husband, Mark. He has been my rock in many ways. Every relationship has its bumps in the road, but I’m so grateful for how those bumps always seem to help us grow together and bond.

Mark allowed me to share this vulnerable part of his story so that I could share my memoir. I’m grateful for his vulnerability. I hope you enjoyed Chapter 1.

Stay tuned for Chapter 2.

Brayton Photography-Krystal Brayton

Please share this post with as many as you think will benefit from this message. My greatest desire is to help others feel seen, to help family and friends gain a better understanding of their loved ones who suffer from a mental illness, and to help destigmatize mental illness. Please help spread the word.

Share

If you have any questions or want to share your own experiences, I’d love to discuss them with you in the comments!

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Prologue Part 1

Pushing Against My Mind: A Journey Through Bipolar Disorder

Key: Manic thoughts and actions in Bold print.

Regular thoughts and actions, and others’ words in Regular print.

Prologue

Fall 2017

“Hello Mark, I’m at Gourmet Café. You need to come with the children. We need to do this to save our marriage,” I say matter-of-factly.

“Mary, you know I can’t come. I need to put the kids to bed.” Mark says.

“You’d come if you loved me,” I say, hanging up the phone. I wait a few minutes for him to call me back and apologize. I watch a couple eating pasta together for a few seconds, and my mood shifts. Mark is the best husband. I call Mark again.

“Ok, I will do whatever you want me to do,” I say, smiling. “You just need to tell me what to do.”

“Have you eaten anything there?” Mark asks.

“Not yet. I don’t even have my water,” I laugh, enjoying the game.

“Ok, I want you to leave the restaurant,” Mark says calmly.

I get up and leave the restaurant. What a fun game I’m playing!

“Ok, now what?” I ask.

“I want you to go back to the Lily House,” Mark says with a long sigh.

“I’m not sure I know how,” I say. It’s dark now, and I can’t remember the path I took to get to Gourmet Café.

“Which way did you come from?” Mark asks.

“My right,” I say with unfounded confidence.

“Go that way,” Mark says.

“Ok!” I say cheerily. I start walking down the dark path. “I love you!”

“I love you, too,” Mark says.

“Ok, I’m coming to a left turn. Do I turn left or keep going straight?” I ask.

“Try straight,” Mark’s voice wavers.

“This is how this works,” I say, turning the game into a profound teaching moment. “You have the priesthood, and you’re guiding me.” I smile, hoping he will get the spiritual lesson.

“Ok, Mark, I see some people. They’re pretty loud. Are they safe? Use your priesthood.” I remind him.

“Yes, they are, but don’t go up to them. Keep walking towards the Lily House.” Mark sounds like he’s about to cry.

My lesson is working! He is turning to God!

“But I don’t know where it is,” I say joyfully. “I see a cop. Is he safe or should I avoid him?”

“He is safe. You should ask him where the Lily House is.” Mark sighs with relief.

“What if he doesn’t know? The Lily House is a sort of safe house; he may not know.”

“Try asking him. He probably knows.”

I approach the cop and ask him where the Lily House is. He smiles and kindly directs me toward the house. I’m closer than I thought I was.

“He’s nice,” I tell Mark.

“That’s good,” Mark says.

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I walk along the sidewalk until I get to the Lily House. I blather to Mark about whatever comes to mind. Once at the Lily House, I open the door and head straight for my room.

“I’m tired,” I say as I get in bed.
“Maybe you should rest,” Mark says back.

“But I want to keep talking to you,” I say, being romantic.

“We can talk tomorrow. I love you,”

“Love you too,” I yawn. We hang up, and I try to sleep. Just like during the day, I can’t stay put. I go downstairs and look over my mom’s movies again. I put in Rigoletto, a Beauty and the Beast kind of movie. I ask the night worker to watch it with me, knowing that if she does, she will be converted to the gospel of Jesus Christ.

“I’ll just stay behind the desk, but I can watch it from here,” she says.

The whole night, I alternate between watching the movie and trying to sleep in the bedroom they’ve provided for me upstairs. As the sun rises, I’m still alternating between the bedroom and the TV room. I get dressed in my exercise clothes, turn on some music on my phone, and start dancing around the Lily House using the furniture to stretch and dance.

I get a call from Mark. He tells me that he will pick me up. I smile, thinking I’ll finally go home.

I don’t realize he is picking me up to take me to the hospital.

“My husband should be here around 1 p.m. to pick me up,” I tell the lady at the front desk.

“Alright, thanks for letting me know.” She says.

Mark told me to stay put so he could pick me up. I am determined to do as he says, even though the pull to wander is strong. I pace downstairs as I wait. Imagining the romantic getaway Mark must be planning for us.

There’s a knock on the door. I run upstairs to gather my stuff, as I’m sure the knock is Mark coming to get me. As I come back downstairs, I am greeted by two cops. I’m not sure why they are here at the Lily House, but I smile at them. The lady at the desk beckons me into the room.

“These nice cops want to talk with you, Mary.” She smiles at me.

“Ok!” I say, smiling back, trusting her.

“Hello, Mary! We just wanted to ask you some questions,” says one of them.

“Are you married?” I ask him.

“Yes,” he says.

“Are you married?” I ask, looking at the other one.

“No,” he says.

“You need to go to her. She needs you!” I say earnestly.

“Who?” asks the cop.

“Your future wife.” I smile.

The cops exchange a glance.

“She has a drug problem, and she is about to die, but you will save her. Help her get better. You’ll know where to find her. Just follow your heart.” The cop smiles. I assume that he was smiling because he heard the truth of my words. He leaves, and I’m left with the married cop.

Without asking any of the intended questions, the married cop asks me to come with him. I go willingly, trusting him. This is another blessing from God. If I hadn’t gone willingly, he would have forced me to go. I have to leave all my stuff behind, so I ask the lady at the desk to give it to Mark. I let her know how important it is that she hands over the movies to Mark since they aren’t mine. I am just borrowing them.

I ride in the back of the cop car, as if I’m a criminal. Yet this doesn’t deter me from gabbing away to the married cop about how his partner will find his true love. The seats in the back are very uncomfortable, made of hard plastic. It’s the first time I’ve ever been in a cop car, let alone in the back of one. The married cop drops me off at the hospital. I ask where his unmarried partner went, realizing for the first time that he wasn’t with us. Must be off finding his future wife. Hope he gets to her in time.

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The married cop responds noncommittally and waits with me until Mark shows up at the hospital. He nods at Mark as he leaves us.

As Mark sits with me in the waiting room, I have him rub my feet. Knowing that if he does this for me, he truly loves me. I sing as they call us back to be observed. Some of the songs I sing are patriotic, and some are church hymns. I know I am being recorded. What I say in this room will help others come to God. I pause after one of the patriotic songs.

“It’s happening again, isn’t it?” I ask Mark.

“Unfortunately, yes,” he says, looking at me. He knows I am lucid again.

“How many times will we have to go through this?” I ask.

“I don’t know,” Mark says, putting a hand on my leg. “Just be good for the doctors.”

“I will.” My voice cracks, and tears fill my eyes. “I just wish I would stop doing this to you. I wish we could figure this out.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Mark comforts. “Just focus on getting better.”

“I just want to be done with this!” I exclaim. The doctor I’ve worked with for years on this problem comes into the room. I try to hide my tears.

“Hi, Mary, are you alright?” She asks in her southern drawl.

“Just wanting to be better.” My breath catches as I sob.

“She is a little lucid right now,” Mark explains.

“Well, it’s understandable that you want to get better.” She says, “You want to get home to your cute kids. Let’s admit you and figure out what we can do.”

“Ok,” I wipe my eyes and hold my breath, trying to gain composure. Why do I have to be so weak? Why can’t I stay sane? What am I doing wrong?

Four Years earlier…

End of Prologue Part 2

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My Thoughts

The transition between mania and being lucid is always difficult. It usually involves tears and embarrassment for me. Emotions run high. It was a process, but I learned to work through my emotions and see the humor behind my actions. It wasn’t always easy to find the humor, as you will see throughout my memoir. I go through some tough emotions. My religious perspective makes it easier to see the positive.

Clarifications

The priesthood spoken of in the Prologue, Part 2, is the power of God that men of my church can wield to bless others. However, it doesn’t work like a crystal ball. Men can provide services with the Priesthood, blessing the sacrament each week, giving blessings of comfort and counsel, and healing.

Although I am sure Mark was being very prayerful and trying to listen to the Holy Ghost while he talked on the phone, he wasn’t invoking some mystical power as he gave me directions. When I am manic, mystical, and religious often bleed together. I hope you enjoyed the Prologue Part 2.

Read Chapter 1 here:

Chapter 1

Brayton Photography, Krystal Brayton

Family picture taken weeks before my manic episode.

Please share this post with as many as you think will benefit from this message. My greatest desire is to help others feel seen, to help family and friends gain a better understanding of their loved ones who suffer from a mental illness, and to help destigmatize mental illness. Please help spread the word.

Share

If you have any questions or want to share your own experiences, I’d love to discuss them with you in the comments!

Leave a comment

Make sure to subscribe to get my memoir directly into your inbox. My content will always remain free. If you’d like to support my storytelling and the message I’m sharing, consider an optional paid subscription.

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