My darkest bipolar episode. And Music (by Sarah Jickling)

My darkest bipolar episode. And a music video

At sixteen, my best friend and I started a band. We were two quiet, nerdy, never been kissed teenagers who wanted desperately to have an adventure. Though we technically lived in the retirement town of White Rock, British Columbia, we spent most of our time in our own worlda world that from an outsiders point of view could only be described as very cute

So it only made sense that our band sang songs about liking boys and being nerds, and our logo was a hand drawn cupcake. That band became my persona. I was Sarah from The Oh Wells, and I was cute, cute, very cute. Sure, Id been having panic attacks and insomnia since I was four years old, but even my anxiety came off as endearing. 

The year I turned twenty, my band competed in a prestigious music competition. The other musicians all saw me as the shy, quirky, adorable one. Nobody knew that I had been fighting uncontrollable mood swings and suicidal thoughts for the past year and a half, that my behaviour had pushed away my band mates and my best friend, and that I had never felt more alone in my life. 

I so badly wanted to be the happy girl baking cupcakes that was on my album cover. She was still a part of me, but the other part of me was crying for help, and I was ignoring her. I tried every natural remedy, therapist, diet, and eastern religion that I came across, but that other part of me would never leave me alone for good. She would pop up just when things were getting good, and leave me rocking back and forth in my room.

Finally, I stepped away from the band and faced my mental illness. I accepted my diagnosis of Bipolar Type 2, and I started the horrible trial-and-error of finding the right medication. As each drug failed to control my symptoms or presented even worse side effects, I often felt like giving up. My suicidal thoughts became the loudest thoughts in my head. I experimented with overdosing on a daily basis. 

One day, I told one of my closest friends how many pills I had taken. It was more than ever before. She called 911 and as I drifted into a pill-fuelled daze, I heard police officers at my door. I now know, after a few of these types of incidents, that if a police officer shows up at your door, you should just do what they say. But at this point, I was terrified. They chased me as I tried to run away, screaming, and took me to emergency.

Hours later, I shuffled to the bathroom, sedated and numb. As I was washing my hands, I was struck by my reflection in the mirror. I couldnt recognize the girl looking back at me. She was in a skimpy hospital gown, greasy hair standing almost on end, cheeks raw from crying and lips grey from dehydration. I looked like a stereotypical crazy person, like something out of a movie. I had never looked less cute in my life. Back at my hospital bed, my friend was waiting for me, desperately asking the nurses to bring me a sandwich. Its important for me to say: I wasnt cute, but I wasnt alone either.

Im twenty-five now. That wasnt my last hospital visit, but it was the last time that I was startled by my own darkness. Now I embrace every part of me (or try to). Ive repaired lost friendships, rekindled relationships torn apart by my unpredictability, and only a month and a half ago I finally found a cocktail of medications that keep me stable and safe. Ive starting playing music again, and this time I write about the darkest parts of my life and hold nothing back. But the truth is I still have that part of me that loves paper hearts and the sound of the marimba.

I recently created a music video for my new song Valentine,a love letter I wrote to those who stood by my side through the ups and downs. In the video, I wanted to compare that cute girl who started a band when she was sixteen with the girl I saw in the mirror at the hospital, and I wanted to show everyone that they are both ME. I am a musician in her mid-twenties who lives with bipolar disorder. Sometimes I feel empty and sometimes I feel full of joy. This music video shows the extreme opposites of bipolar, and the importance of accepting the dark along with the light.

Valentine (Official Video) – Sarah Jickling and her Good Bad Luck


About the Author: Sarah Jickling

photo_sarahjickling_bethanymenzelSarah Jickling is a Canadian songstress and mental health advocate. Over the past few years, Jickling’s whimsical indie-pop songs have been featured on radio stations across the country and in independent films. The twenty-five year old uses her music to spread mental health awareness, and has opened up about her experiences with Bipolar Disorder and Anxiety Disorder on radio, local television, podcasts, blogs and at live speaking events. Her new album, When I Get Better, is set to be released in 2017. She can be found in hospital waiting rooms and pole dancing studios around Vancouver, BC.

 

[irp posts=”2156″ name=”Bipolar Disorder – Important New Insights”]

[irp posts=”2049″ name=”Dealing with Depression: 14 NEW Insights That Will Change the Way You Think About It”]

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Anxiety will always tilt our focus to the risks, often at the expense of the very real rewards. It does this to keep us safe. We’re more likely to run into trouble if we miss the potential risks than if we miss the potential gains. 

This means that anxiety will swell just as much in reaction to a real life-threat, as it will to the things that might cause heartache (feels awful, but not life-threatening), but which will more likely come with great rewards. Wholehearted living means actively shifting our awareness to what we have to gain by taking a safe risk. 

Sometimes staying safe will be the exactly right thing to do, but sometimes we need to fight for that important or meaningful thing by hushing the noise of anxiety and moving bravely forward. 

When children or teens are on the edge of brave, but anxiety is pushing them back, ask, ‘But what would it be like if you could?’ ♥️

#parenting #parent #mindfulparenting #childanxiety #positiveparenting #heywarrior #heyawesome
Except I don’t do hungry me or tired me or intolerant me, as, you know … intolerably. Most of the time. Sometimes.
Growth doesn’t always announce itself in ways that feel safe or invited. Often, it can leave us exhausted and confused and with dirt in our pores from the fury of the battle. It is this way for all of us, our children too. 

The truth of it all is that we are all born with a profound and immense capacity to rise through challenges, changes and heartache. There is something else we are born with too, and it is the capacity to add softness, strength, and safety for each other when the movement towards growth feels too big. Not always by finding the answer, but by being it - just by being - safe, warm, vulnerable, real. As it turns out, sometimes, this is the richest source of growth for all of us.
When the world feel sunsettled, the ripple can reach the hearts, minds and spirits of kids and teens whether or not they are directly affected. As the important adult in the life of any child or teen, you have a profound capacity to give them what they need to steady their world again.

When their fears are really big, such as the death of a parent, being alone in the world, being separated from people they love, children might put this into something else. 

This can also happen because they can’t always articulate the fear. Emotional ‘experiences’ don’t lay in the brain as words, they lay down as images and sensory experiences. This is why smells and sounds can trigger anxiety, even if they aren’t connected to a scary experience. The ‘experiences’ also don’t need to be theirs. Hearing ‘about’ is enough.

The content of the fear might seem irrational but the feeling will be valid. Think of it as the feeling being the part that needs you. Their anxiety, sadness, anger (which happens to hold down other more vulnerable emotions) needs to be seen, held, contained and soothed, so they can feel safe again - and you have so much power to make that happen. 

‘I can see how worried you are. There are some big things happening in the world at the moment, but my darling, you are safe. I promise. You are so safe.’ 

If they have been through something big, the truth is that they have been through something frightening AND they are safe, ‘We’re going through some big things and it can be confusing and scary. We’ll get through this. It’s okay to feel scared or sad or angry. Whatever you feel is okay, and I’m here and I love you and we are safe. We can get through anything together.’
I love being a parent. I love it with every part of my being and more than I ever thought I could love anything. Honestly though, nothing has brought out my insecurities or vulnerabilities as much. This is so normal. Confusing, and normal. 

However many children we have, and whatever age they are, each child and each new stage will bring something new for us to learn. It will always be this way. Our children will each do life differently, and along the way we will need to adapt and bend ourselves around their path to light their way as best we can. But we won't do this perfectly, because we can't always know what mountains they'll need to climb, or what dragons they'll need to slay. We won't always know what they’ll need, and we won't always be able to give it. We don't need to. But we'll want to. Sometimes we’ll ache because of this and we’ll blame ourselves for not being ‘enough’. Sometimes we won't. This is the vulnerability that comes with parenting. 

We love them so much, and that never changes, but the way we feel about parenting might change a thousand times before breakfast. Parenting is tough. It's worth every second - every second - but it's tough. Great parents can feel everything, and sometimes it can turn from moment to moment - loving, furious, resentful, compassionate, gentle, tough, joyful, selfish, confused and wise - all of it. Great parents can feel all of it.

Because parenting is pure joy, but not always. We are strong, nurturing, selfless, loving, but not always. Parents aren't perfect. Love isn't perfect. And it was meant to be. We’re raising humans - real ones, with feelings, who don't need to be perfect, and wont  need others to be perfect. Humans who can be kind to others, and to themselves first. But they will learn this from us. Parenting is the role which needs us to be our most human, beautifully imperfect, flawed, vulnerable selves. Let's not judge ourselves for our shortcomings and the imperfections, and the necessary human-ness of us.❤️

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