Where have I been?

One of the things I’ve tried very hard to do with these blogs is make them feel light and “mom-like,” mostly because that’s how I want to remember things. And I do go back and read them often.

But the reality is, things aren’t always great. And the last month has been a prime example of that.

Through the mountain of medical tests, psychiatrists, obstetricians, therapists, etc. that came as a result of the Mexico incident — followed shortly by getting pregnant — one of the things that came out is that I have bipolar disorder.

I remember the psychiatrist very clearly saying, “What you’ve told me indicates to me you suffer from bipolar disorder.”

“Suffer” feels like a strong word, because most of the time I am happy. I’m outgoing, I love being around people, and I really do think I live a pretty great life.

But at the same time, there have been brief periods where I’ve fallen into deep depressions that all but immobilize me. And my way of coming out of those has always been a pretty intense manic episode.

Again, I am incredibly lucky to be surrounded by people who truly love me and help bring me back to reality.

But the reality is, sometimes those people aren’t in my immediate proximity… and things can go off the rails very quickly.

As I’ve mentioned before, my husband is in the Air Force Reserves. And as I’m sure almost everyone knows, the U.S. went to war with Iran on February 28th.

To be very upfront, I don’t always know what I can and can’t share when it comes to his military role. We’ve never really felt like a “military family,” and there are things I think active-duty families just know that don’t always come as naturally to reserve families.

So I’ll just say this: Bubs is safe. But there was — and still is — a very real possibility that he could deploy.

Our Spring Break plans changed at the last minute. Instead of going to California, he had to stay in town — partly to make sure everything at his civilian job was squared away in case he had to leave quickly, and partly to help coordinate things within his reserve unit.

This is when I went into a deep depression for about a week.

There were too many unknowns. Too much waiting. Too much checking the news, looking for any sign that he might be leaving.

He was working long hours and could only answer so many “any news yet?” texts throughout the day.

Finally, the Friday before the kids’ Spring Break, my older sister told me there was no reason for me to be alone for the next two weeks. She told me to come home to Texas, let Bubs focus on what he needed to do, and that by the time school started again, we’d likely have more clarity.

Moments like these are always so obvious in hindsight. I wish I could recognize them while they’re happening.

It didn’t even occur to me that what my sister meant was, “Let’s look at flights to Austin or San Antonio. It might be early next week and it might be expensive, but we’ll get you home.”

My manic brain heard: leave now.

Just like in past manic episodes, I felt a sudden surge of energy and clarity — but it’s a very specific kind of clarity. It’s tunnel vision.

This time, the goal was simple: get to Texas.

At around 1:30pm, I packed Ashley into her car seat, threw together some clothes and video games for the older two, and went to pick them up from school.

It didn’t occur to me — not even for a second — how difficult it would be to drive across three states with three kids, one of whom is still breastfeeding, on a completely unplanned trip.

Thankfully, Ashley slept most of the time. Abby and TJ were thrilled about the surprise road trip to see their cousins. Twelve hours in the car apparently isn’t daunting to a ten- and eight-year-old at the beginning of the trip.

But I was so locked in that it didn’t even occur to me to tell Bubs that we were leaving.

For two weeks.

Typing that now, I feel like a complete crazy person. I can’t even explain what I was thinking — because the truth is, I wasn’t.

It wasn’t until my older sister called me — after seeing my location just across the New Mexico border — that reality started to break through.

She was furious. And her “mom” energy snapped me back into place.

In a very real sense, I was in the middle of the desert with three kids completely dependent on me… while in the middle of a manic episode.

People have probably been committed for less.

Hindsight is always so clear. When the manic episode ends, I can physically feel it — like air filling my lungs and logic coming back online.

And then comes the “holy shit” moment.

Jenn wanted me to pull over and turn around, but I didn’t want to scare the kids. So I told her I would call Bubs.

And thank God I have a husband who is patient, calm, and not prone to panic.

He was upset — of course he was — but he helped me think through a rational plan.

I was already more than halfway from Tucson to El Paso. Seeing my family would likely be good for me. The kids were okay. Abby had already helped give Ashley a bottle, and we could manage stops as needed.

Instead of turning around and making things more chaotic, the plan became: get to El Paso, get a hotel, and Bubs would try to fly in and help me finish the drive. But that was putting him in a spot because he was going to miss his official drill weekend--maybe the most important one he's ever had. 

And in the end, or better or for worse, airlines do not operate based on manic episodes.

There was no way for him to get there in time.

So this is where my family stepped in in a way I still don’t fully have words for.

My sister told “the Michaels” — her husband and Bubs’ sister’s husband — that they needed to get in the car and come get me.

After some debate, “immediately” became 4 a.m. the next morning so they could reach us by noon.

Which means two grown men drove eight hours to El Paso, just to turn around and help drive us the rest of the way to Texas.

A sixteen-hour round trip to rescue me.

Everything went smoothly from there. The kids thought it was an adventure — a hotel stop, swimming, DoorDashing Chili’s.

And just like that, I was home.

We’ve been here for just under two weeks. I’ve been surrounded by my family, and I’ve been okay.

Bubs flew in last night, and we’ll all drive back home together this weekend.

Now, granted, that isn’t the whole story. Being surrounded by my family has given me a lot of time to think — and I’ll get into that next time.

For now, we are safe.
We are together.
And we are okay.