You
never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of
view;
until
you climb inside of his skin and walk around in it."
– Atticus Finch, Harper Lee’s To Kill a Mockingbird
--------------------------
Sometimes my husband has to call my place of employment to
inform them that I am too ill to attend work that day. This makes me feel like shit – total and
complete shit. Once I’m feeling better,
I am so ashamed by this actuality. I
feel like a tiny, helpless toddler incapable of forming my thoughts into proper
words, becoming frustrated and throwing temper tantrums – crying uncontrollably,
kicking and screaming. Does he also need
to change my diaper and spoon-feed me soft foods? Why can’t I be a properly functioning,
professional adult and pick up the damn phone to make that important call my
own self?
The answer is because, on those days, I am not fully
myself. I become a victim to my illness;
my manic depression has total and complete control over me. Her cold, chilling fingers wrap themselves
firmly around me while I sleep fitfully.
She hovers over me, crushing my will as she weighs heavily down upon my
chest preventing me from any action. She
whispers damaging words, gently caressing my lobe while convincing me that I am
worthless, ugly, awful, incompetent, undesirable, worthless -- fucking
worthless. On these mornings, I often
awake with a gasp, as though I have just been revived from potential
drowning. Despite this literal gasp of
life, emotionally I still feel as though I am drowning – struggling to stay
afloat under deep, dark waves of depression.
I imagine that kind of shit is hard to hear. It’s truly challenging to type. But neither typing this nor reading this are
as challenging as living with this illness, and being so often surrounded by misunderstanding. Sometimes, I want to break dishes, throw the
television, punch a window, whatever, when I am told to look on the bright side
or buck up. I want to yell, “I don’t
have a bad attitude, you dumb, ignorant bitch! I have an illness. Do you think I want this? Do you really think I want this? Fuck you.
Try a little empathy!”
I don’t yell at those who would judge though, because I’m
too afraid to face others on some days. Occasionally, all but my family
frightens me. Insane thoughts of what
might happen if I dare leave the house, or even move from my mattress, silence
all rationality. My body curls itself up
into the fetal position without this being a conscious decision. Fear and self-loathing rule. I become an amnesiac to the amazing woman I
really, truly am.
Sometimes I lie in bed and shake and I can’t stop the
shaking. I hyperventilate and my fists
curl up into tight little balls nearly impossible to break open. I stumble upon my words and start to stutter,
so my spouse needs to make the necessary phone calls. And I feel like shit, even more so because I
do blame myself. Why am I not better
than her? Bigger? Braver? Louder? Why can’t I escape her grip and quiet her
voice? I hate her. I hate my mistress manic depression.
But, sometimes, I love her.
I want to hug her and thank her for making me an extraordinary woman.
For making me a strong woman. For making
me caring, considerate, and compassionate.
I want to thank her for this incredible gift of empathy that I
possess.
I want to wrap up that gift in shiny ribbons and bows – make
it glitter and shine just like I do when I’m fully well. I would give that gift to every person I have
ever met – and it would be true they would need to know pain. Ultimately, however, at the bottom of that gift,
under the torn tissue paper, is understanding.
Sometimes I wish these shoes were on your feet. I would invite you to climb into my skin. You might just choose your words more
carefully.
<a href="http://yeahwrite.me/80-open"><img src="http://yeahwrite.me/wp-content/uploads/2012/10/challenge80.png"></a>
<a href="http://yeahwrite.me/80-open"><img src="http://yeahwrite.me/wp-content/uploads/2012/10/challenge80.png"></a>
Our son suffers from depression and it can be terrible, not only for the person but for those who love them. I wish you the best.
ReplyDeleteThank you. Yes, the families absolutely need support too. It's hard to watch someone you love suffer and feel helpless to end that suffering. I am blessed with amazing family, especially my spouse
DeleteWhen my husband and I were younger, he suffered a couple of depressive bouts that brought us both to our knees. Time, understanding, and a healthy dose of prevention have helped him tremendously, but now we worry for our children, terrified that the same demon lurks in them. Many hugs...
ReplyDeleteI have the same worry for my children, as my grandmother and brother are both bipolar as well. But, ultimately worrying accomplishes nothing so I often just push that away so I can be in the moment and enjoy my beautiful children. Thanks!
DeleteActually you will be able to prepare your kids since it has a genetic disposition. You will be able to teach them acceptance and how to cope through the tough times. If you don't mind me asking, have you found ways to manage it? Praying a door opens so you can publish your story.
DeleteYes. Truly, I think the first step to proper management is acknowledgment. This is why a lot of folks I know still struggle so much because they don't want to own their illnesses. But, I take an anti-depressant, mood stabilizer, and anti-anxiety meds. When I was pregnant, though, I couldn't be on all my meds, and this last pregnancy was my hardest struggle in eight years. I also made note of all my "warning signs" and told my spouse so we can stop a manic episode, etc. I manage my mania very well, but the depression is harder. But, I also see a therapist, and faith and love are super important. I feel I do very, very well given my illness.
DeleteGreat post and sounds like a hell of a struggle. But at least you are acknowledging the most important thing - that this is an illness and not some character flaw, which you probably realize less when the episodes start. Sounds like you have a supportive husband and a hopefully cathartic outlet in writing. Sending you lots of virtual hugs!
ReplyDeleteThank you. Yes, I see my bipolar as similar to someone who lives with a chronic disability like Crohn's or Diabetes all their life. It can be managed, but not entirely prevented or eradicated. That's how I wish more people saw it. Many people, and employers, have not been accepting of mental illness for what it really is.
Deletefirstly, i wish i could give you a huge hug. i'm so very sorry you have to go through this; it sounds like a living hell. :(
ReplyDeletethank you though, for sharing...for making those who suffer with you feel less alone.
i suffer from PMDD (severe PMS) and have recently started taking Prozac and it's helped immensely...until the drugs, it was like i would become a monster. i knew what was happening but i couldn't stop. scary friggin times.
Yes. Scary times indeed. However, as cliche as it may be, I do strongly believe that which doesn't kill us makes it stronger. Yeah, first it breaks us down like a beast, but in the end ... stronger.
DeleteYou always blow me away with the raw truth of yourself and your life….
ReplyDeleteI suffer from bipolar with psychosis and have been told by doctors I could have a chance of being schizophrenic when I become older. I often fear for the future of my mind, hoping I won’t be too ill to have a family. I refuse to take medicine because it always seemed to make me physically ill or worse mentally, therefore I just deal and go for walks in the woods when I start to feel my mind shift into a fit of unreality. Sometimes I feel like I may explode with overwhelmed emotions since I always make sure on the outside I’m cool calm and collected while on the inside my illness is trying to escape the prison I keep it in……………life is defiantly a challenge in itself.
Also, I would like to agree that even though this illness sucks, I don’t think I would be the person I am today without it. I guess we can call it a gift and a curse.
Finding the right meds for mental illness is a whole challenge in and of itself. I've been on a lot of different meds, and they often "run their course" and I need to "reset" about every five years. But, I know I am better on them.
DeleteMy grandmother suffered with terrible depression for years. It manifested 20 fold when my dad died. But I often wondered, "why can't my Granny just be happy all the time!!? Why can't she snap out of this funk!?" Years later, I suffered from depression. It was fairly mild, but I was in torment. My mind, my thoughts, they were terrifying. Is have thoughts hit me out of no where. Thoughts that I'd never think in "my right mind". It was hell for my husband, but through a lot of prayer and meditation on God, along with a temporary stint of Prozac and hormone regulation, I got back to "my right mind". You aren't alone, and kudos to you for having the courage to share this part of yourself and realize that it is an illness, not just a flaw. Hugs and prayers for you.
ReplyDeleteOne other thing: Romans 5 3-5 has always stuck with me regarding any kind of "suffering". :)
DeleteThanks. I am glad you are doing better, and I am also happy that folks are willing to read this and share that they suffered too, or know someone else who did. I'm tired of people acting like it's the plague. Thanks for the prayers. Faith has indeed helped me too. I so agree with the "in my right mind" statement. I feel that. I can be there one day, and the next gone. That's one of the hardest parts of bipolar when one is in a "rapid cycle." One day, clean the whole damn house until it shines. Next day, afraid to leave the house.
DeleteMy dad suffers from horrible depression, and is just clawing his way out of a nearly three year dark period. As I watch him struggle, and stumble, and ultimately make his way back, I am awed and humbled by his strength, and the strength of my mom, who has stood by him and helped him through this for 35 years. It is funny because he was, and continues to be, and amazing, present, kind, and attentive father such that I never really knew until I was older the depths of the despair into which he sank from time to time. You are amazing for sharing your own struggle, and bringing light to the stigmas that still unfortunately surround mental illness.
ReplyDeleteThis post made me happy -- not because your dad suffers. For that, you have my sympathy. But, it made me happy because it gave me great hope that I can be an awesome, attentive parent too. I hope, and believe, that I am. But, my children are too young to really know when I'm having a bad day, and I worry about when they're old enough to understand. So, thank you so much for your response and your kind words.
DeleteWow, what an amazing post Angela. I'm so sorry - I hope you stay strong. I like the way you pointed out the positive at the end, although I'd not have thought about positives. One of my best friends in college was, we now know, bipolar. She did a lot of scary stuff. Sometimes it was hard to help her, but she's much better now. I admire you for putting this out there and wish you the best!
ReplyDeleteI guess I should say she "is" bipolar; it's just controlled now, usually.
DeleteThank you. I think most of us know someone who suffers from mental illness, but so few people talk about. My bipolar is now managed so much better than it was in college. That's when I first was officially diagnosed when a friend took me to the health care center. I'm sure I scared the shit out of them at times, and I'm so thankful for them. I'm sure your friend was thankful to have supportive friends too. Thank you for your kind words!
DeleteAngela - bipolar 2 in the house! As The Bloggess says - depression is a lying bastard. But when you are in the throes of it .. or of mania... so hard to see that truth. Strength, courage. xo, Cindy
ReplyDeleteYes! Yes! Thank you for owning your illness with such enthusiasm. I think I love you now.
DeleteI don't have any perfect words for this. But I want you to know that I read it, and I have big respect for you for writing about this so strongly and passionately.
ReplyDeleteThank you.
DeleteIntense post and powerful, beautiful, honest words. Also hard for me to read as I have a young son (10) with a mood disorder (jury still out on whether he will end up classified BP1 or 2 later on) and I tremble as I look toward his future and feel how limited is my ability to ease his path through this world.
ReplyDeleteI think worrying is part of the territory of parenting -- regardless if that child is healthy or ill. I assure you he will not blame you if you can't help. I love my parents, and know they tried. I do wish you luck. Your concern mentioned here demonstrates that you are a good, caring mother. Best to you.
DeleteUgh, what a crappy thing to struggle with. :(
ReplyDeleteYou are brave and amazing and awesome. I am a lurker and a wannbe blooger without the guts to start, but this post broke me heart and started it back up again. You are so strong to write this, and I am so lucky to have found your voice. I canot tell you well how much this impacts me but thank you for your honesty. Wow.
ReplyDeleteThank you. Thank you. Thank you ... seriously. These comments are the reason I share these stories, so that others know they are not alone. It's one of my favorite C.S. Lewis quotes: "We read to know we are not alone." And, I must say yeah write has been an awesome, awesome place to begin my blogging journey. I haven't even been at this for three months, but am loving it. My advice would be, however, for the most part, you have to do it for yourself without wild concern for public opinion. And write as though you are talking to one of your closest friends. It helps so much, and gives the author a strong voice. All of my posts are for Angie, Jess, or Melissa. <3 I hope you find your own voice too, and thank you again.
DeleteYou are incredible and strong and brave. I can't walk in your shoes but I would to understand better the grip mental illness has on someone. There were a few years (early teens) where my son who had ADHD and dyslexia also suffered from severe panic attacks. We spent the first two in the ER because of the tremendous physical pain he experienced. From that point on, therapy and meds helped. He still gets them but not to that extent. I tell peopl who make fun of, judge or throw out comments lightly about people who suffer that they didn't choose this and they would trade places in a minute. That said, it makes our son the wonderfully sensitive and compassionate kid he is and it makes you the fabulous person you are. Thank you for this!
ReplyDeleteThank you for your kind words, and thank you more so for calling others out when they lightly make fun of mental illness. I hate when people are having an off day and say, "OMG. I'm so bipolar today." I also hate when kids say, "Yeah, I'm so upset I'm going to cut myself" sarcastically. Ugh, ugh, ugh. On an unrelated post, but regarding a past post, I also HATE when students yell "Rape!" when a kid is hugging on them or jokingly slugging their arm, whatever. So not funny! I try so hard to get my students to check their language choices. Thanks for helping with that effort, and thanks for the comments on the Coulter post too. That woman sure isn't helping with our effort. You're right -- how does one live in that skin?
DeleteVery, very honest post.
ReplyDeleteI wrote about my anxiety this week, and it was hard to do. Especially since it was present tense as in, on going, right now. I had PPD and depression before that. I've been medicated, I'm not currently. And I've done more than my fair share of self-medicating too. It's hard to admit those things because people judge or make light. It's not light - it's serious business.
It sounds like you have a strong support system and the blogging world can be such a beacon of light I think. Hang in there and be well.
You've done a fantastic job of letting other see how it is to walk in your shoes with this post. I have an Aunt who suffers from severe depression so I really do appreciate this. Thank you.
ReplyDeleteI have a friend who struggles with this illness as well. You are both amazing and strong women. Lesser women would give up, but you both keep going and keep trying. Good for you!
ReplyDeleteIt comes to me as anger. Pure rage that makes me unsafe for anything, especially parenting. I've had to take my kids to the neighbor's house and leave without explanation. (Only once, but I'll never forget the look on her face. I'm sure she thought someone died.) I've never been suicidal, but my sister was. Past tense. But it's no loss, because she was so far gone that the loss was a kind of peace. Most of us, like you, just struggle from day to day and gasp back the horror of what we cannot do sometimes.
ReplyDeleteI never feel guilty when I take one of those days. I AM ill, just not in a socially acceptable way. One of the best things about blogging anonymously is that I can talk about whatever at the level of intensity I actually feel, instead of toning it down so I don't scare people.
ReplyDeleteMy greatest fear is that I've passed this on to one or both of my kids, because I'm not sure how I survived my teen years without killing myself (and not in a fun dramatic exaggeration way, in a real way). I can only hope that I will first of all recognize and acknowledge if they're struggling with depression/anxiety, and second of all be able to suggest some decent coping mechanisms.
Sometimes I wonder who I would be if I didn't have this shit. Or am I just a big list of symptoms with no underlying personality at all?
I feel your pain. You're not alone in wrestling this bitch to the ground some days and having her knock you out other days.
I haven't quite gotten past the guilt of the socially unacceptable sick day, but I'm glad you have.
DeleteThanks to you and all who commented about the worries of parenting while dealing with illness in your head. I don't have kids yet, partly because my biggest fear is giving in to the hopelessness in a way that's unsafe for my child. When you can't trust your own thoughts how can you trust yourself to take care of someone totally dependent on your judgement? Kudos to the jesterqueen who took her kids to the neighbors.
Keep fighting the good fight and wrestling the bitch. I'm gonna choose to fight her today by getting outside to the grocery store. It sounds lame and small to someone who doesn't know. But ya'll know that it counts. Some days it counts big.
Tough as hell to read.
ReplyDeleteSwallow.
Digest.
Wrestling this bitch to the ground as the commenter before me said...is what 'WE DO'.
I wish I could offer the "I'm so sorry...what can I do to help...or how can I understand this bitch of an illness better". I can offer the love and support of someone who lives this...day in and day out. It is a bitch. It sucks giant f'n donkey balls.
((((HUGS))))
THanks for sharing on The Plucky Procr. FB page.
What a brave post. My husband committed suicide last July. He left me with 3 small boys. I often try to imagine what was going through his mind...but it's just impossible because I have never suffered with depression. I can't understand it at all. Your description has been helpful. Reading all of these comments has my heart hurting. So many people seem to suffer with mental illness and treating it seems like a crap shoot. I recently saw a program about a Dr. Amen who performs brain scans to treat mental illness, and he claims that without a proper scan to see exactly what is malfunctioning in the brain, prescribing the usual battery of pills can actually be harmful. He claims an 80% success rate. Some of you may want to look into it. I can't imagine living with such a horrible disease, and my heart goes out to all of you.
ReplyDeleteI honestly don't have any profound words to say since your post said them all. This is EXACTLY how it is. Exactly. This, I am sure, will help non-sufferers a smidge of pain. They will never fully understand it and our constant battle with ourselves and our illness.
ReplyDeleteI love that you can see that this illness is making you a better person and it really does. No matter how much we hate it, it changes us in that it makes us stronger.
Such a wonderful post. Wonderful.