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.
Saturday, September 6, 2014
Friday, September 5, 2014
"One door closed and another opened."
September 4, 2014
It has been a long time since I have written here. So much has happened these past nine months since the death of my friend and co partner Tracey Lynn Barfield. When Tracey Lynn first died suddenly in January of this year, I felt as though I had lost an engine, or as a bird with a broken wing and was spiralling out of control. I could not think straight and all I could feel was the sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach as though falling at a breakneck speed and unable to get my bearings. I wondered how I would possibly manage without her help. The mental health pages had already grown since forming them the year before. I knew I could not manage them alone. My first thought was shutting them down, but quickly thought how many people came to depend on us and the numbers just kept growing. I thought also of mine and Tracey Lynn's vision and I realized she would want me to continue with both. It took me a while to get my bearings and back on track. But I did not do this alone.
In the beginning, when she first died, two friends quickly volunteered to help who are members of the closed group. Things happen that force change and in hindsight have a way of working out for the best. I am now back to managing things by myself as I had before I ever met Tracey Lynn. Not a day passes that I don't think of her and miss her.
I realize I am only one person and managing a public page, a support group and a blog all by myself is a lot to take on. Though I post regularly on our public page and am often in group, I don't write in our blog regularly as I would like to.
In mid March, the day after my birthday, a friend I had not seen in over 24 years contacted me on Facebook. The first sentence of her greeting was introducing herself and asking if I remembered her. I responded that I could never forget the only woman outside of my immediate family who ever openly told me to my face that she loved me.
She said it was time she found me. I was so pleased to hear from her. As we chatted we both discovered that each had Bipolar disorder I and that we both shared a deep spirituality. She was not aware that I founded a mental health site or support group when she contacted me. She had no idea that I was mentally ill. She had no recollection of ever visiting me in the psychiatric ward at the onset of my illness, due to her memory losses from her ECT treatments. But I know she did visit as I found a record of it in my journal. I could state precisely when she visited. I was not properly diagnosed then 25 years ago. It took two more psychotic breaks before the doctors correctly determined what was wrong with me.
When she visited me in hospital, I did not know she would later endure hardships I could not even begin to imagine. We had grown apart each living a separate life. When she suggested that had I known then what I know now, or she of me and my illness, we would have been able to understand one another and each have one person to talk to who got it. But I told her that had we still been friends and going through our personal struggles we may not have been of much help to the other, we barely had enough strength to sustain ourselves. How do two drowning people help one another without outside help? We both had to endure the trials we had and fate brought us back together at this time because we are meant to be together now. We are now so much closer than before. We discuss things we never dreamed of talking about before.
It takes a long time to catch up on a thirty year absence. My friend and I had and continue to have a lot to discuss. My husband and I went on vacation this July and flew out to Manitoba to see her. We spent a week together. I had a much needed rest and break from everything. Before we left, I ensured she knew how to use SKYPE and we now chat regularly.
I think of the many connections in my life, those I have loved and lost and the way I lost Tracey Lynn at the beginning of this year only to have another friend I cherished walk gently and unexpectedly back into my life. It truly made the expression |"As a door closes a window opens" come true. I wonder sometimes if Tracey Lynn whispered in my friend's ear to contact me. If so, I could not have asked for a better birthday present.
It has been a long time since I have written here. So much has happened these past nine months since the death of my friend and co partner Tracey Lynn Barfield. When Tracey Lynn first died suddenly in January of this year, I felt as though I had lost an engine, or as a bird with a broken wing and was spiralling out of control. I could not think straight and all I could feel was the sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach as though falling at a breakneck speed and unable to get my bearings. I wondered how I would possibly manage without her help. The mental health pages had already grown since forming them the year before. I knew I could not manage them alone. My first thought was shutting them down, but quickly thought how many people came to depend on us and the numbers just kept growing. I thought also of mine and Tracey Lynn's vision and I realized she would want me to continue with both. It took me a while to get my bearings and back on track. But I did not do this alone.
In the beginning, when she first died, two friends quickly volunteered to help who are members of the closed group. Things happen that force change and in hindsight have a way of working out for the best. I am now back to managing things by myself as I had before I ever met Tracey Lynn. Not a day passes that I don't think of her and miss her.
I realize I am only one person and managing a public page, a support group and a blog all by myself is a lot to take on. Though I post regularly on our public page and am often in group, I don't write in our blog regularly as I would like to.
In mid March, the day after my birthday, a friend I had not seen in over 24 years contacted me on Facebook. The first sentence of her greeting was introducing herself and asking if I remembered her. I responded that I could never forget the only woman outside of my immediate family who ever openly told me to my face that she loved me.
She said it was time she found me. I was so pleased to hear from her. As we chatted we both discovered that each had Bipolar disorder I and that we both shared a deep spirituality. She was not aware that I founded a mental health site or support group when she contacted me. She had no idea that I was mentally ill. She had no recollection of ever visiting me in the psychiatric ward at the onset of my illness, due to her memory losses from her ECT treatments. But I know she did visit as I found a record of it in my journal. I could state precisely when she visited. I was not properly diagnosed then 25 years ago. It took two more psychotic breaks before the doctors correctly determined what was wrong with me.
When she visited me in hospital, I did not know she would later endure hardships I could not even begin to imagine. We had grown apart each living a separate life. When she suggested that had I known then what I know now, or she of me and my illness, we would have been able to understand one another and each have one person to talk to who got it. But I told her that had we still been friends and going through our personal struggles we may not have been of much help to the other, we barely had enough strength to sustain ourselves. How do two drowning people help one another without outside help? We both had to endure the trials we had and fate brought us back together at this time because we are meant to be together now. We are now so much closer than before. We discuss things we never dreamed of talking about before.
It takes a long time to catch up on a thirty year absence. My friend and I had and continue to have a lot to discuss. My husband and I went on vacation this July and flew out to Manitoba to see her. We spent a week together. I had a much needed rest and break from everything. Before we left, I ensured she knew how to use SKYPE and we now chat regularly.
I think of the many connections in my life, those I have loved and lost and the way I lost Tracey Lynn at the beginning of this year only to have another friend I cherished walk gently and unexpectedly back into my life. It truly made the expression |"As a door closes a window opens" come true. I wonder sometimes if Tracey Lynn whispered in my friend's ear to contact me. If so, I could not have asked for a better birthday present.
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