Stars and Provisions: Navigating the Stormy Waters of the Holidays While Being Mentally Ill
Living with bipolar disorder and PTSD makes navigating the holiday season precarious to say the least. It’s a time when my mania awakens like the kraken and spurs me to spend too much money on my kids, to decorate far too extravagantly, and to over schedule myself with social engagements—ultimately smashing the already fragile ship of mental health I was trying to sail upon to begin with. Conversely, by around one in the afternoon on Christmas Day, the kraken begins to slip back into the depths, taking with it the life boats and life preservers, leaving me drifting through the dark waves of depression on a flimsy piece of wood, barely able to stay afloat—and yes, of course—sharks smell blood, and soon I am surrounded by sharks—sharks of self-hatred, shame, regret, and self-abuse. By dinner, I feel as if my little piece of drift wood is on the edge of a massive waterfall, and because I think everyone around me knows I am drowning, my anxiety kicks into high gear, and soon I need to get home, go to bed, curl up in the fetal position, and cry myself to sleep as obsessive thoughts whirlpool around in my head—thoughts like: I didn’t do anything right, the kids didn’t like their presents, I am a loser for being on social security for my mental illness, everyone thinks I am freak for being transgender (being transgender is NOT a mental illness by the way), and, as embarrassing as this is to admit as an adult, there is also this little kid in me who is sad she didn’t get enough presents or what she wanted. In other words, by Christmas night, and the coming days ahead, I am smashed upon the rocks in shallow water, with no lighthouse in sight.
All that being said, I am learning to find my way through the vast sea of holiday-related triggers by taking proactive steps—I’ll call these steps—stars and provisions–because they help me map out a course to follow and give me sustenance for the voyage. Here are some of the things that have helped me in recent years to make it to the other side as unscathed as possible.
1). In addition to my other mental illnesses, I am also an addict, so, if I’m going out of town for a couple days, I contact the intergroup of the twelve step programs I attend and find out if there are any meetings close by and whether or not they’ll be open on Christmas. I ask for phone numbers of contacts of people in program I can call if I begin to get triggered. I can arrange to meet someone for coffee at some twenty-four-hour diner after things have quieted down. I can schedule a call with my sponsor. My addictions do not take a vacation for the holidays, so I need to stay just as vigilant—actually more so, during these high-stress times.
2). Whether or not I’m staying close to home or going away for the holidays, I arrange a support person (or persons) I can call when I feel mania, depression, anxiety, or PTSD kicking in. I give myself permission to step out of the room, to step outside, to go for a little walk, to sit in my car and talk with someone who understands my bipolar disorder and addictions, and/or someone in the LGBTQIA community who gets being trans as well. I give myself permission to step away for a few minutes—or longer—to just be by myself—away from the noise and sensory-stimulation overload. If I am being misgendered or continuously called by my old name, I give myself permission to take a break as well. I also give myself permission to stand up for myself if necessary-especially if there are people who try to bait me into arguments over whether or not trans people like myself actually exist—or SHOULD exist. I also prearrange safe people to check in on me throughout the day to see how I’m doing.
3). Staying with routines is crucial for someone like me, and most often those routines are tossed off kilter during the holidays. In order to minimize the effects of that, I do my best to adhere to as many of my daily rhythms as possible. I bring my devotionals or my journal, and even a favorite stuffed animal with me if I’m going out of town. I ask a friend to help me remember to have all my medications and enough for a couple extra days should the weather get rough and I need to stay longer than expected. I also bring something funny to read (I highly recommend anything by P.G. Wodehouse. His books are like reading sunshine). Whatever your daily non-negotiables, find creative ways to keep them.
4). I also have OCD, and whether I’m going out of town or just down the street, I sometimes need to take pictures with my phone of the stove, the oven, any portable space-heaters, the iron, and so on, and prove to myself I turned them off.
5). I give myself permission to bring coloring books, fidget spinners, and other coping tools. In addition, I have found it’s perfectly possible to practice mindfulness techniques right in the middle of a crowd without anyone knowing. I can consciously breathe and consciously use my senses to ground myself in that moment, I can repeat an affirmation, mantra, and/or a prayer in silence right there in the living room or at the dinner table. For me, mindfulness and prayer are often my North Stars when I’m feeling lost at sea.
To sum up, I have much better coping skills than I ever have. And even though these things help, I need to keep my expectations low. I have spent decades suffering through the holidays with depression, mania, anxiety, and PTSD, so I need to know I will most likely be triggered at some point during the day. I will likely slip into some manic behaviors. I will likely be dragged down into some depth of depression. However, this can all be minimized and kept somewhat in check using the maps of stars and the provisions of coping skills that I am increasingly learning to put into practice. I can also practice self-love and self-compassion—knowing the next few days might be difficult, and to step up my self-care. The waters might be rough and I might get tossed around in storms, but I needn’t beat myself up for any of that. The safe shore of the Divine is there as is a harbor of friends.
I wish you all the best during whatever holidays you do—or don’t do. Let’s be lighthouses for one another. Feel free to Facebook friend or message me if you need someone to talk with during these triggering times. Let’s be like Captain Jack Sparrow, and face the kraken, and win.
About the Author
Jennifer Angelina Petro is a transgender mom, poet, educator, blogger, musician, YouTuber, and activist. She is bipolar and has PTSD. Her mission is to help trans people have all the human rights as anyone else, and to help end the stigma of mental illness. She is an alum of This is My Brave Elkins Park, PA. When she’s not marching,speaking at rallies, or helping run an LGBTQIA CommunityCenter in Hatboro, PA, she is reading P.G. Wodehouse and haunting used bookstores.
