Monday, February 16, 2015
If Only People Tried to Understand.
If your loved one had cancer, ALS, or any other illness would you blame them, or worse walk out on them? Would you stop loving and caring about them purely because they were afflicted with a disease they neither wanted nor asked for? It may surprise my family and friends to know just how many members of my mental health group have lost loved ones due to a mental illness they neither wanted nor asked for either. It is painful to know that many, many of them have coped with this, done what they need to do in order to survive and yet are still rejected, isolated and alone rejected by their own family. Many are able to maintain relationships now that they were unable to do in the past due to the condition they were in at the time, but remain unforgiven. It hurts when I hear sons and daughters unwilling to forgive their own parents or even try to understand their side of things too. I cannot imagine being disowned by my children, they are so near and dear to me. Nor can I imagine not being granted access to my grandchildren. Many people who comply with treatment are able to lead productive lives, maintain relationships and live rewarding lives, if society and especially those they love but give them a chance. Every day I hear such sorrowful stories from thousands of persons all over the world. People I have never met except on this pathway of pain. I know how blessed I am that my family never gave up on me, and to have a life's partner who stands by me and loves me through it all. It is possible to work through the madness, the darkness and the pain and inspire others to do the same. People need to know they are not alone and they are accepted and loved. That is all any of us want!! Lynn-Marie Ramjass
I Don't Blame Every Thought, Feeling and Action I Have on My Disorder, Don't You Dare Do that Either!!!
I hope this resonates with a lot of people and you share it. As it needs to be said. I have been stable for going on nineteen years and hospital free. I get upset at times when things befall me which any other person would under the same circumstances. It is unfair and insulting to me to constantly blame anything I say or do on my disorder. Or if I am angry or hurt to ask me if I took my medication. I am not a child and I certainly resent being treated like one. When I am not thinking clearly or lucidly, believe me, I am more than aware of it, and know enough to seek help. I have buried many loved ones and not fallen apart at the seams as some may have supposed that I would. I am not a fragile person just because I have this disorder. It is not a character defect or a weakness. In fact, if others knew what it was like to live with this, or experienced the times I did free fall into lunacy, they would understand the remarkable resiliency and strength it takes to crawl out of that black hole. I am honest with my thoughts and feelings. People cannot play games with my heart and expect me not to react. I don't play games. You either love me as I am, accept me as I am, or you don't. I have survived a lot in my life time. Also, when I love I love deeply and genuinely and I will always love you, but that does not mean that I can always be with those I love. For the sake of my sanity, I have had to distance myself from people who trigger me, that includes members of my own family. For the sake of my immediate family, particularly my sons and grandchildren, I will not allow anything or anyone to push me over that edge again. I do what I must to keep sane. Set boundaries, let people know what you need and expect from them. If you need to be alone for a while, say so. If you need a hug, someone to just listen and not judge or try to fix you. We need people to accept us and love us and be there for us. They cannot walk through this fire for us, but they can assure us that they will be there for us when we emerge the other side of hell. Lynn-Marie.
Thursday, January 29, 2015
Disconnected
Sometimes I suffer bouts of insomnia. I never know when this will happen. Nor do I like to rely on sleeping pills in order to sleep. I have sleep apnea and must wear a mask, as I tend to stop breathing in my sleep. My husband snores like a buzz saw and I know he has restless leg syndrome, as he kicks weirdly in his sleep, but he flatly refuses to check it out. I am unable to wear ear plugs as they bother me, and so I am the one who generally ends up in the living room on the couch. My CPAP machine in our room as it is a cumbersome device. I awaken every hour on the hour and then feel I had not slept at all.
I have not slept very well these last few weeks and when I don't sleep I get irritable. And when I am impatient and irritable and snap at others, (my husband and sister as they live with me) I feel guilty and then I feel shame. And a shitload of other emotions pile one atop the other. I hate it. I often feel I am drowning, or cannot catch my breath. And those closest to me don't understand this, well face it, my husband doesn't understand this. My sister might, since she has asthma and GAD generalized anxiety disorder.
I feel misunderstood most of the time and not heard. That drives me round the bend. When I have to constantly repeat myself. Communicating with people is exhausting. I have been with my husband close to forty years and he still cannot tell me why he loves me. He cannot name a single attribute other than he thinks that I am pretty. I don't feel pretty not when I get upset and angry and frustrated and rail at him for not understanding what it is I want and need even when I tell him and make my needs known. I am praying a lot these days. There is a constant tightness in my chest. I feel tears behind my eyes that won't come. I feel disconnected. And that concerns me. I have felt this way before and I don't like it.
I have not slept very well these last few weeks and when I don't sleep I get irritable. And when I am impatient and irritable and snap at others, (my husband and sister as they live with me) I feel guilty and then I feel shame. And a shitload of other emotions pile one atop the other. I hate it. I often feel I am drowning, or cannot catch my breath. And those closest to me don't understand this, well face it, my husband doesn't understand this. My sister might, since she has asthma and GAD generalized anxiety disorder.
I feel misunderstood most of the time and not heard. That drives me round the bend. When I have to constantly repeat myself. Communicating with people is exhausting. I have been with my husband close to forty years and he still cannot tell me why he loves me. He cannot name a single attribute other than he thinks that I am pretty. I don't feel pretty not when I get upset and angry and frustrated and rail at him for not understanding what it is I want and need even when I tell him and make my needs known. I am praying a lot these days. There is a constant tightness in my chest. I feel tears behind my eyes that won't come. I feel disconnected. And that concerns me. I have felt this way before and I don't like it.
The Descent into Madness is Terrifying
I wrote the following two years ago.
Before you were diagnosed did you wonder why certain books, poems, artists, musicians, writers, composers, movies, etc. resonated with you? Did you feel a kinship with its characters, story, background? Did you look in the looking glass, fall down that rabbit hole, take a walk on the wild side in your imagination long before it became a crack in your real world? I have always felt that kinship though it was years before I understood why. The passion and the pain are so profound. I have flown like Icarus so close to the sun and had my wings burned plummeting to the earth faster than the speed of sound, the ears ringing, the mind spinning, the heart beating wildly in my chest, thinking I would die before I hit the ground. You lay there broken, beaten, bleeding and unable to function, fragments of a formal self scattered everywhere, wondering if you shall ever walk, let alone fly again. You gradually begin to crawl, one foot in front of the other, doing all you can to gain your strength. As much as you enjoyed that momentary ecstatic magic, the descent into madness is terrifying. You cannot be there for others when your wings are broken, when you are in a cage, bruised and broken and unable to function. It takes time to process what happened to you. It takes time to find the right treatment and it takes courage to ask for help.
Lynn-Marie.
Sunday, October 5, 2014
Where Do Dogs Go When They Die?
It has been four weeks since I last wrote in this blog. I would like to write more regularly, not entirely certain that anyone would be interested in what I have to say. I write, none the less, for I find it therapeutic. It allows me to get my thoughts and especially my feelings out there on paper. I may see them, get in touch with them and feel them. The words express what I am feeling. It is often difficult for me to figure that out. In this way, I am better able to understand them. If I do not express myself, if I try to suppress them (these intense emotions), if I bury them too far for too long, they will either smother me, or rise one day, down the road and the hidden grief would drive me into infinite lunacy.
Having bipolar disorder, anyone who has it, or lives with someone who has it, knows that our emotions are intense. We cannot help it, it is the nature of the illness. We are intense complex individuals. The mood stabilizer I am on stabilizes my moods. It does its job, it does not allow me to feel the full weight of my emotions. Some people may argue that that is a good thing. But I often feel cheated!!! Especially when I face a trauma. I used to feel the full weight of my emotions straight away; good, bad, or indifferent, I knew what I felt and I felt it to my core.
It was sunny earlier today, cool, but sunny. Suddenly dark, black, ominous clouds completely blotted out the sun. They seemed to appear out of no where. The sky blue sky became many shades of grey. It looks like a storm is brewing. The trees are not swaying, there is no wind, but a downpour is on the horizon. The sun at this very moment, is in one portion of the sky, the south west hemisphere, and it is trying to peer through these massive clouds. Now the question becomes will it rain heavily or will the sun win and the clouds drift away? Will it rain as heavily as anticipated? Or will those clouds all disappear and the rain hold off until later tonight? Will it rain at all?
Thus far, there has only been some light drizzle, a few drops against the window pane, like the tears that sometimes well my eyes,as I sit writing this. I am aware that this reminds me of my current situation and my mood concerning Molly our dog.
Whether we have a mental illness or not, life's situations, and our emotions, reactions to these events are like this, the weather. Things can be going well and suddenly, out of a clear blue sky, a storm threatens and something traumatic happens. Lets say for example, you have to put your dog to sleep, as we had to yesterday. That is our current storm in our household. I, personally, have never had to put a dog down before.I did not know how I'd feel. I prepared for it, however. Or so I thought.
The storm hit me, my husband and my sister as she lives with us. And she is closest to the dog. But of the three of us, I was the only one who at first did not appear visibly shaken by it. What is wrong with me? Am I that callous? Did I not care for the dog at all? Where there should have been a fierce downpour, there had only been a light drizzle. A few tears and not much rain. I felt cheated as I said earlier because when we first did it, I felt numb. I did not react at first, as I thought I should have. Where a storm threatened and then struck, I experienced a gentle drizzle, just as it seemed outside. A fierce storm was imminent, but did not happen.
When traumas blind side us, or even when we brace ourselves for the impact, as I thought that I had, are we ever fully prepared for the variety of emotions that come with it? The emotions envelop you like those clouds, I spoke of earlier and they completely block out your sunshine. They take away your peace, jumble your emotions and your thoughts. For many of us, it is practically impossible to think straight under such enormous pressure
We all saw that our dog was suffering. She was partially blind and partially deaf and so arthritic, she was unable to stand properly or walk without losing her balance. We have had Molly our Sheltie for 15 1/2 years. As the owner I knew what is to happen. My dog will die that day but my dog doesn't know this, as I pet her, talk to her, not even certain she can hear me, I say my good byes holding back the tears and I leave her. I was not fully conscious of the fact that I would never see, or pat her again when I took my leave of her.
The night before, I thought that I would be able to take her there and to be with her when they put her to sleep, but in a moment of weakness, after I'd said my good byes the day she was scheduled to be injected, I asked that my husband take her. He understands he says. But does he? Does he know how he will feel? Because I sure as hell don't know how I feel and I cannot explain it,
When he returns from the vet's he is visibly crying. He cannot even speak. I cannot bear to see him cry.I hold him, his shoulders are shaking. "I didn't know it would affect me like that? he said. "I did" I answered as I held him in the doorway. Tears are in my eyes, but I am still not crying as I should.
Moments later, we sit alone together in the living room. He pours us a shot of 18 year old Scotch and we toast Molly. I feel numb.My husband is speaking and he proceeds to tell me "The vet said they would give Molly some ice cream, an injection, a pain killer, she will feel no pain, and within a minute her heart will stop and she'll be gone" he said. I hear him, I sit watching him from across the room, sipping my Scotch.
I feel the tears well in my eyes and the lump in my throat. I heard this voice screaming at me in my head (Not literally) "You should be with her, you should be with her, you callous bitch" and my husband continued, "They asked me if I wanted to stay while they did it?. "I told them No" he said. His voice sounded distant and far away. I could not hear him due to the other voice in my head telling me "Molly is alone, completely alone with strangers with whom she is about to die and neither of you are with her. Why aren't you with her Lynn-Marie? This isn't right. You coward. You'll regret this for the rest of your life." I told myself. I hung my head in shame and remorse. I said nothing. I never told him how I felt.
We were to go and meet our two granddaughters ages 4 and 2 for a sleep over just then, the three of us grateful for their visit. They were a welcome distraction. "The vet said they'd call when they had done it" he said. But they never called before we left, or after we returned. On route to meet the girls, I wanted to call the vet and see if they had done it and tell them to wait, I would come and be with Molly after all. But I didn't. Why didn't I go?
We were glad to have the girls overnight because their presence helped ease the pain a lot and kept our minds off of the fact the dog was no longer with us.We returned after meeting the girls to find Molly's empty feed and water bowls in the sink. My heart sank. I knew she was gone by now. I washed them quietly, Ian took them to the garage, the girls didn't ask about the dog, their mother had told them earlier that day that Molly got sick, died and went to heaven. I wasn't even certain if they knew what that meant, but if they asked any questions I would answer them as simply and honestly as I could.
Never to see Molly again, that reality never really hit me full force until this morning,upon waking to an empty hallway and not finding her by the back door waiting to be let out to pee, or fast asleep on the carpet. I resisted the urge to cry while my grands were here. It was only after my grandchildren went home with their parents this morning and my husband went to work, and I was alone that I thought of Molly and all of the years together since she was a pup. I never even realized how much I loved her or what she meant to me until then. My heart stopped, the breath caught in the back of my throat, the lump grew bigger, and the storm came, and when it came, it was a tsunami. What began as a drizzle, tear eyed turned quickly to a complete downpour. I sat in the wash room and I sobbed. No one saw me, no one heard me.
What I share with you is the fact that I did not deserve a dog like Molly. I took her for granted. My sister took better care of her, lavished her with more attention, was a much more avid animal lover and all around better human being than I am or ever will be. That is what hit me, that is what I confess here in this blog and that is what will forever haunt me. I will never have another dog, not only because I cannot put us all through that again, but mainly because I do not deserve to have one.
I felt GUILT, I felt ANGER and I felt SHAME for all that I have previously mentioned and that I did not remain with my dog when she took her last breath. I was there with my grandfather and my mother in law when each died, and yet, I could not hold my dog and watch a vet inject her and put her to sleep and have that dog, whom I have had since a pup die in my arms. I just could not do it.
When I finished sobbing, I returned to the living room to watch the sky once more. And like my mood and my situation, the fact the rain is imminent was clear. I knew from the pain in my legs and the emotional pain in my heart I'd experienced earlier regarding, my previously explained situation with Molly, that it is coming. It is and was only a question of time.
The sun and the clouds now are engaged in a scuffle. The clouds are becoming darker and the overshadowing the sun. The pain in my legs has intensified and so it will come soon. And when it does it will be a downpour and not a drizzle.But lo and behold, I look to the south west again and the clouds have turned from dark grey to fluffy white. Bright blue portions of sky are visible behind these clouds, and the grey ones are suddenly drifting away, becoming lighter and less intense. The dark grey clouds have been pierced by the sunlight and they too are breaking up and drifting away.
The sunlight is piercing through the front window pane and illuminating the entire living room. The beige sofa I sit upon lights up with a ray of sunshine and the warmth fills the room. It will rain today, but not yet. As I write this, hours later, the sun is gone now and the clouds are back full force. I have had my rainstorm of emotions my downpour regarding my dog. And now await a literal downpour here in my town.
I know one day, the sun will peer through those clouds regarding my grief, our grief with Molly. I know one day it won't hurt as much. I allowed myself to feel the full weight of my grief. I will find myself missing her, the grief will come in waves with little reminders. I will never forgive myself for not being with her or being a better owner. That is how I honestly feel. More guilt weighted upon that which already exists regarding the previous losses in my life, more regrets that I hadn't done things differently.. Saying good bye to Molly was by far more difficult than I had ever expected or imagined. I feel like I hadn't truly said good bye to her as I was not with her when she actually died as I should have been.
Having bipolar disorder, anyone who has it, or lives with someone who has it, knows that our emotions are intense. We cannot help it, it is the nature of the illness. We are intense complex individuals. The mood stabilizer I am on stabilizes my moods. It does its job, it does not allow me to feel the full weight of my emotions. Some people may argue that that is a good thing. But I often feel cheated!!! Especially when I face a trauma. I used to feel the full weight of my emotions straight away; good, bad, or indifferent, I knew what I felt and I felt it to my core.
It was sunny earlier today, cool, but sunny. Suddenly dark, black, ominous clouds completely blotted out the sun. They seemed to appear out of no where. The sky blue sky became many shades of grey. It looks like a storm is brewing. The trees are not swaying, there is no wind, but a downpour is on the horizon. The sun at this very moment, is in one portion of the sky, the south west hemisphere, and it is trying to peer through these massive clouds. Now the question becomes will it rain heavily or will the sun win and the clouds drift away? Will it rain as heavily as anticipated? Or will those clouds all disappear and the rain hold off until later tonight? Will it rain at all?
Thus far, there has only been some light drizzle, a few drops against the window pane, like the tears that sometimes well my eyes,as I sit writing this. I am aware that this reminds me of my current situation and my mood concerning Molly our dog.
Whether we have a mental illness or not, life's situations, and our emotions, reactions to these events are like this, the weather. Things can be going well and suddenly, out of a clear blue sky, a storm threatens and something traumatic happens. Lets say for example, you have to put your dog to sleep, as we had to yesterday. That is our current storm in our household. I, personally, have never had to put a dog down before.I did not know how I'd feel. I prepared for it, however. Or so I thought.
The storm hit me, my husband and my sister as she lives with us. And she is closest to the dog. But of the three of us, I was the only one who at first did not appear visibly shaken by it. What is wrong with me? Am I that callous? Did I not care for the dog at all? Where there should have been a fierce downpour, there had only been a light drizzle. A few tears and not much rain. I felt cheated as I said earlier because when we first did it, I felt numb. I did not react at first, as I thought I should have. Where a storm threatened and then struck, I experienced a gentle drizzle, just as it seemed outside. A fierce storm was imminent, but did not happen.
When traumas blind side us, or even when we brace ourselves for the impact, as I thought that I had, are we ever fully prepared for the variety of emotions that come with it? The emotions envelop you like those clouds, I spoke of earlier and they completely block out your sunshine. They take away your peace, jumble your emotions and your thoughts. For many of us, it is practically impossible to think straight under such enormous pressure
We all saw that our dog was suffering. She was partially blind and partially deaf and so arthritic, she was unable to stand properly or walk without losing her balance. We have had Molly our Sheltie for 15 1/2 years. As the owner I knew what is to happen. My dog will die that day but my dog doesn't know this, as I pet her, talk to her, not even certain she can hear me, I say my good byes holding back the tears and I leave her. I was not fully conscious of the fact that I would never see, or pat her again when I took my leave of her.
The night before, I thought that I would be able to take her there and to be with her when they put her to sleep, but in a moment of weakness, after I'd said my good byes the day she was scheduled to be injected, I asked that my husband take her. He understands he says. But does he? Does he know how he will feel? Because I sure as hell don't know how I feel and I cannot explain it,
When he returns from the vet's he is visibly crying. He cannot even speak. I cannot bear to see him cry.I hold him, his shoulders are shaking. "I didn't know it would affect me like that? he said. "I did" I answered as I held him in the doorway. Tears are in my eyes, but I am still not crying as I should.
Moments later, we sit alone together in the living room. He pours us a shot of 18 year old Scotch and we toast Molly. I feel numb.My husband is speaking and he proceeds to tell me "The vet said they would give Molly some ice cream, an injection, a pain killer, she will feel no pain, and within a minute her heart will stop and she'll be gone" he said. I hear him, I sit watching him from across the room, sipping my Scotch.
I feel the tears well in my eyes and the lump in my throat. I heard this voice screaming at me in my head (Not literally) "You should be with her, you should be with her, you callous bitch" and my husband continued, "They asked me if I wanted to stay while they did it?. "I told them No" he said. His voice sounded distant and far away. I could not hear him due to the other voice in my head telling me "Molly is alone, completely alone with strangers with whom she is about to die and neither of you are with her. Why aren't you with her Lynn-Marie? This isn't right. You coward. You'll regret this for the rest of your life." I told myself. I hung my head in shame and remorse. I said nothing. I never told him how I felt.
We were to go and meet our two granddaughters ages 4 and 2 for a sleep over just then, the three of us grateful for their visit. They were a welcome distraction. "The vet said they'd call when they had done it" he said. But they never called before we left, or after we returned. On route to meet the girls, I wanted to call the vet and see if they had done it and tell them to wait, I would come and be with Molly after all. But I didn't. Why didn't I go?
We were glad to have the girls overnight because their presence helped ease the pain a lot and kept our minds off of the fact the dog was no longer with us.We returned after meeting the girls to find Molly's empty feed and water bowls in the sink. My heart sank. I knew she was gone by now. I washed them quietly, Ian took them to the garage, the girls didn't ask about the dog, their mother had told them earlier that day that Molly got sick, died and went to heaven. I wasn't even certain if they knew what that meant, but if they asked any questions I would answer them as simply and honestly as I could.
Never to see Molly again, that reality never really hit me full force until this morning,upon waking to an empty hallway and not finding her by the back door waiting to be let out to pee, or fast asleep on the carpet. I resisted the urge to cry while my grands were here. It was only after my grandchildren went home with their parents this morning and my husband went to work, and I was alone that I thought of Molly and all of the years together since she was a pup. I never even realized how much I loved her or what she meant to me until then. My heart stopped, the breath caught in the back of my throat, the lump grew bigger, and the storm came, and when it came, it was a tsunami. What began as a drizzle, tear eyed turned quickly to a complete downpour. I sat in the wash room and I sobbed. No one saw me, no one heard me.
What I share with you is the fact that I did not deserve a dog like Molly. I took her for granted. My sister took better care of her, lavished her with more attention, was a much more avid animal lover and all around better human being than I am or ever will be. That is what hit me, that is what I confess here in this blog and that is what will forever haunt me. I will never have another dog, not only because I cannot put us all through that again, but mainly because I do not deserve to have one.
I felt GUILT, I felt ANGER and I felt SHAME for all that I have previously mentioned and that I did not remain with my dog when she took her last breath. I was there with my grandfather and my mother in law when each died, and yet, I could not hold my dog and watch a vet inject her and put her to sleep and have that dog, whom I have had since a pup die in my arms. I just could not do it.
When I finished sobbing, I returned to the living room to watch the sky once more. And like my mood and my situation, the fact the rain is imminent was clear. I knew from the pain in my legs and the emotional pain in my heart I'd experienced earlier regarding, my previously explained situation with Molly, that it is coming. It is and was only a question of time.
The sun and the clouds now are engaged in a scuffle. The clouds are becoming darker and the overshadowing the sun. The pain in my legs has intensified and so it will come soon. And when it does it will be a downpour and not a drizzle.But lo and behold, I look to the south west again and the clouds have turned from dark grey to fluffy white. Bright blue portions of sky are visible behind these clouds, and the grey ones are suddenly drifting away, becoming lighter and less intense. The dark grey clouds have been pierced by the sunlight and they too are breaking up and drifting away.
The sunlight is piercing through the front window pane and illuminating the entire living room. The beige sofa I sit upon lights up with a ray of sunshine and the warmth fills the room. It will rain today, but not yet. As I write this, hours later, the sun is gone now and the clouds are back full force. I have had my rainstorm of emotions my downpour regarding my dog. And now await a literal downpour here in my town.
I know one day, the sun will peer through those clouds regarding my grief, our grief with Molly. I know one day it won't hurt as much. I allowed myself to feel the full weight of my grief. I will find myself missing her, the grief will come in waves with little reminders. I will never forgive myself for not being with her or being a better owner. That is how I honestly feel. More guilt weighted upon that which already exists regarding the previous losses in my life, more regrets that I hadn't done things differently.. Saying good bye to Molly was by far more difficult than I had ever expected or imagined. I feel like I hadn't truly said good bye to her as I was not with her when she actually died as I should have been.
Saturday, September 6, 2014
Well meaning friends.
September 6th, 2014
The other day I had commented on my personal Facebook page how I was a bit depressed due to the fact that my eldest two granddaughters were beginning junior kindergarten and I would not be minding them regularly any more. I realized how quickly they had grown up and this rite of passage though expected had come too soon. I felt I was entitled to my feelings. I thought it was normal for parents and grandparents to feel that way. I even stated I felt mildly depressed. I thought it was a common feeling whether one suffered from a mental illness or not. Was I depressed, or just feeling sad? The word "depression" stirs up a lot of confusion even with those who battle it daily and to various degrees. And with the sudden suicide of actor Robin Williams due to chronic depression, the mere mention of that word throws people into a tizzy.
I received a private message from a well meaning friend who herself battled crippling depression for many years. She stated that she was sorry to hear that I felt that way, that she thought "I was over that" meaning my bouts of depression. She suggested I should focus on my loved ones, and how there is so much suffering in the world. How should one interpret any of this?
This floored me. How could one innocent comment be so misconstrued? How do I respond to this? Firstly, I took a deep breath and remembered that I knew this person for a long time. I knew many intimate details of her life. I knew that she meant well, so I did not respond straight away with a knee jerk reaction. I let her know that I knew she meant well, but that bipolar was not something "one gets over." It is incurable but can be controlled with the right treatment. Secondly, I pointed out that I had indicated in my original post that I was mildly depressed.
I suppose now in hindsight I was, but perhaps I was also a little sad. Can I be depressed and sad too? Had I used the wrong word to describe how I felt? If so, it would not be the first time and it certainly will not be the last. I have always had trouble identifying my emotions. It took me years to be able to express them verbally.
I immediately felt misunderstood, judged, and was rattled by this response from my well meaning friend. I felt my feelings were discounted and my situation was not important. It did not help when she proceeded to tell me how she had pulled herself out of her almost lifelong depression for the sake of her grandchildren. Which implied that I ought to be able to do the same thing without her coming out and saying it. Whereas, I have to take medication to battle my demons and stabilize my moods. For me, there is no other option. But this was not a debilitating depression I was experiencing.I even said so. Why all the fuss? Perhaps I was not depressed at all. I had merely used the wrong word to express my emotions.
Her comment made me feel as though my will was not as strong as hers was. Does this mean that I am weaker by nature, I have a character flaw, or that my faith is not strong enough? Not by a long shot.It means I have bipolar disorder and she does not. I have been struggling with this disorder for twenty five years. I have good days and bad days. But there are different forms of bipolar. And there are various types and degrees of depression. Though my disorder is diagnosed as Bipolar I with psychosis, for me, I have experienced more mania than depression. I have not had a psychotic episode in 17 years.
The medication I am taking, and thankfully I only need one drug, has kept me stable for the last fourteen years. The one I was on for three years previously also managed my disorder until I had a toxic reaction to it. I can only pray this current medication continues to work for me. It also has side effects as all drugs do and I have gained a lot of weight. But my sanity is far more important to me than vanity. I have long since stopped dyeing my hair, or wearing make up, but no matter what I do or don't do, there is somebody who is going to judge me for it.
I also think a former toxic relationship had been a major trigger for me and since severing that relationship, I have not experienced any more psychosis. I have learned new coping skills, I monitor my stress level, I have learned to set boundaries, I see my pdoc regularly and I take my medication, I have a strong support group. I manage a public mental health page and a closed support group. My husband, children and grandchildren are my nearest and dearest family, they bring me so much light, and love and laughter. I do focus on my family, but I also help those who walk the same path I walked and continue to walk.. I have goals. I lead a full life. This works for me. I don't share this expecting others to think what worked for me will work for them. If it were not for my faith in God, my resilience, my determination to control this disorder and not allow it to control me, I would still be fumbling in the dark.
I reached a state of normalcy back in 1997. Since such time, I have come a very long way in my recovery. When I say recovery, it does not mean that I am cured. For as previously mentioned there is no cure. But just because I have an off day every once in a while, is no reason for friends and family to think I have jumped off of the deep end. I know when I am in need of help. And when I do I will ask for it.
During this long road from the onset of my illness in 1989 to 1997 when I last experienced a hospitalization, I became aware of the symptoms and on two occasions in between had the courage to seek professional help when necessary and alert family members as to my state of mind, and call when I am in need of a ride to the hospital, I have checked myself in more than once. In my case, I am acutely aware when I lose my mind, and seek others to help me find it. Some people don't remember there experiences whilst psychotic, I do, and I believe I was meant to remember in order to do what I do.
It hurts when I am not allowed to express the same reactions other people would normally feel under the same circumstances. If not for my medication which stabilizes my moods, I would feel the full weight of my emotions which at times can be debilitating. So if I were not on medication and "thought of the suffering in the world" as my well meaning friend suggested, I would most assuredly be so weighed down by the weight of such grief, I would not be able to function.
The other day I had commented on my personal Facebook page how I was a bit depressed due to the fact that my eldest two granddaughters were beginning junior kindergarten and I would not be minding them regularly any more. I realized how quickly they had grown up and this rite of passage though expected had come too soon. I felt I was entitled to my feelings. I thought it was normal for parents and grandparents to feel that way. I even stated I felt mildly depressed. I thought it was a common feeling whether one suffered from a mental illness or not. Was I depressed, or just feeling sad? The word "depression" stirs up a lot of confusion even with those who battle it daily and to various degrees. And with the sudden suicide of actor Robin Williams due to chronic depression, the mere mention of that word throws people into a tizzy.
I received a private message from a well meaning friend who herself battled crippling depression for many years. She stated that she was sorry to hear that I felt that way, that she thought "I was over that" meaning my bouts of depression. She suggested I should focus on my loved ones, and how there is so much suffering in the world. How should one interpret any of this?
This floored me. How could one innocent comment be so misconstrued? How do I respond to this? Firstly, I took a deep breath and remembered that I knew this person for a long time. I knew many intimate details of her life. I knew that she meant well, so I did not respond straight away with a knee jerk reaction. I let her know that I knew she meant well, but that bipolar was not something "one gets over." It is incurable but can be controlled with the right treatment. Secondly, I pointed out that I had indicated in my original post that I was mildly depressed.
I suppose now in hindsight I was, but perhaps I was also a little sad. Can I be depressed and sad too? Had I used the wrong word to describe how I felt? If so, it would not be the first time and it certainly will not be the last. I have always had trouble identifying my emotions. It took me years to be able to express them verbally.
I immediately felt misunderstood, judged, and was rattled by this response from my well meaning friend. I felt my feelings were discounted and my situation was not important. It did not help when she proceeded to tell me how she had pulled herself out of her almost lifelong depression for the sake of her grandchildren. Which implied that I ought to be able to do the same thing without her coming out and saying it. Whereas, I have to take medication to battle my demons and stabilize my moods. For me, there is no other option. But this was not a debilitating depression I was experiencing.I even said so. Why all the fuss? Perhaps I was not depressed at all. I had merely used the wrong word to express my emotions.
Her comment made me feel as though my will was not as strong as hers was. Does this mean that I am weaker by nature, I have a character flaw, or that my faith is not strong enough? Not by a long shot.It means I have bipolar disorder and she does not. I have been struggling with this disorder for twenty five years. I have good days and bad days. But there are different forms of bipolar. And there are various types and degrees of depression. Though my disorder is diagnosed as Bipolar I with psychosis, for me, I have experienced more mania than depression. I have not had a psychotic episode in 17 years.
The medication I am taking, and thankfully I only need one drug, has kept me stable for the last fourteen years. The one I was on for three years previously also managed my disorder until I had a toxic reaction to it. I can only pray this current medication continues to work for me. It also has side effects as all drugs do and I have gained a lot of weight. But my sanity is far more important to me than vanity. I have long since stopped dyeing my hair, or wearing make up, but no matter what I do or don't do, there is somebody who is going to judge me for it.
I also think a former toxic relationship had been a major trigger for me and since severing that relationship, I have not experienced any more psychosis. I have learned new coping skills, I monitor my stress level, I have learned to set boundaries, I see my pdoc regularly and I take my medication, I have a strong support group. I manage a public mental health page and a closed support group. My husband, children and grandchildren are my nearest and dearest family, they bring me so much light, and love and laughter. I do focus on my family, but I also help those who walk the same path I walked and continue to walk.. I have goals. I lead a full life. This works for me. I don't share this expecting others to think what worked for me will work for them. If it were not for my faith in God, my resilience, my determination to control this disorder and not allow it to control me, I would still be fumbling in the dark.
I reached a state of normalcy back in 1997. Since such time, I have come a very long way in my recovery. When I say recovery, it does not mean that I am cured. For as previously mentioned there is no cure. But just because I have an off day every once in a while, is no reason for friends and family to think I have jumped off of the deep end. I know when I am in need of help. And when I do I will ask for it.
During this long road from the onset of my illness in 1989 to 1997 when I last experienced a hospitalization, I became aware of the symptoms and on two occasions in between had the courage to seek professional help when necessary and alert family members as to my state of mind, and call when I am in need of a ride to the hospital, I have checked myself in more than once. In my case, I am acutely aware when I lose my mind, and seek others to help me find it. Some people don't remember there experiences whilst psychotic, I do, and I believe I was meant to remember in order to do what I do.
It hurts when I am not allowed to express the same reactions other people would normally feel under the same circumstances. If not for my medication which stabilizes my moods, I would feel the full weight of my emotions which at times can be debilitating. So if I were not on medication and "thought of the suffering in the world" as my well meaning friend suggested, I would most assuredly be so weighed down by the weight of such grief, I would not be able to function.
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