Stephanie Says.. Take a walk inside my head

So, as I’ve said, I’ve been diagnosed with
Clinical Depression
Bi Polar Disorder
and 
PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder)

I though I would try and open up my life by giving those of you in Stephanieland the opportunity to ask about my experiences. Thank you for your interest so far.

Keep those questions coming. I would like to be as transparent and helpful as I can.

The first Question that I would like to try and answer is:

What are practical ways to support someone with these diagnoses?

Most of you know some of the answer to this one.
Dishes Washing
Laundry Doing
Vaccum Pushing
Ice Cream Buying
Dinner Cooking
Yard Raking
Fingernail Painting
Hair Combing
Errand Running
Doctor Appointmenting
Waiting Rooming

And as much as you can think of that fits the definition of “things to actually physically do for someone else”

These things, however, are very relative. Unless you know someone VERY well, you may both be uncomfortable having you in their house.
This is where individuality comes in.
This is also where ASKING comes in. Don’t just attack your friend with detergent and a mop. Offer to help clean for an hour or two (remember that day long projects can often be too overwhelming for those who regularly walk through depression, even if those projects are broken down piece by piece). Offer to take your friend for coffee and just catch up. Plan a play date and offer to watch their children for an afternoon.
A little kindness goes a long way. A little kindness helps those of us who are fighting our own minds to feel less alone. A little kindness, believe me, is very much appreciated.
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Mental illness isn’t visible, but it IS an illness. Er, rather they are Illness-es- that have to do with the brain and the functioning thereof. 
And the people who most bear the brunt of our exotic, eclectic, eccentric selves are those who love us most. 
Parents
Spouses
Siblings
Teachers
Employers
Co Workers
Partners

The last suggestion I have of practical ways to support those with mental illnesses is to love on the people whom we love.

My husband, for example, has three friends in particular who care for, pray with, and invest in him. I appreciate them so much. I know that his life could be so different, and in some ways could be so much better, if the majority of his time was not spent tending to and thinking of me. Knowing that he has a strong, loving support system relieves and reassures me. Their presence lessons my own anxiety.

And for that, I will ever be grateful.

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Thank you for your interest in this first question. 
I hope that I was helpful.

Thank you for paying attention to my disclaimers. I am in no way a person who works in either medicine or therapy. I can only relay my own experiences, and, in limited part, the experiences of my husband.

Thank you for reviewing these experiences with me.

Feel free to question further. I have enjoyed thinking this one through.

So, as I’ve said, I’ve been diagnosed with
Clinical Depression
Bi Polar Disorder
and 
PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder)

Thank you for asking Questions. I am honored by your interest and am grateful to those who are trying to understand my journey.

The first Question that I would like to try and answer is:

What are practical ways to support someone with these diagnoses?

Thing That May or May Not Be Helpful–The Warning

Loving someone with a mental illness may remind you of loving a toddler.
Sometimes things are icky.

Some of these may not apply to you AT ALL, but these are the more practical, less emotional things that I can think of, so let’s give it a try, shall we?

Things to do
-Check in
This can be a simple “hi” or “thinking of you” or smiley face or “here is a song you might like” text or message. You don’t have to be fancy. In fact, your mentally ill friend may appreciate the effort expended if you DO attempt something fancy, but, if they are anything like I am, simple works best.

-Rather Than Assuming, Ask
Now I understand that you might be afraid to approach any topic that even TOUCHES on the mentally ill, but it’s okay to ask.

-In Is Better Than Out
I’m not saying that ALL mentally ill people are shy and withdrawn (aren’t those of us with Bi-Polar Disorder supposed to be some kind of party animals?) but sometimes just going from the bed to the shower is literally a hard thing to do.
Don’t be disappointed if plans are cancelled again and again and again. Please don’t take such occasions personally. They are not reflections of the state of your friendship. They are reflections of the strength of your loved one’s fear.
Can you do something like a bedside pizza and catch up? Can you do a video phone conversation complete with silly pictures?
A little patience and understanding can serve to enrich your relationships–even with people who AREN”T mentally ill.
Put your creativity to work! Or turn to Dr. Google. It has suggestions for everything.

-We Stink, Love Us Anyway
Self Harm. In most cases, this is such an incomplete topic and I feel the need to someday flesh it out.
I’m not saying that there aren’t cutters out there. There are and they are just some of the million examples of how people try and exert control in a world that feels like it is pressuring them to death.
For the depressed, however, self harm can take slightly different forms.
Take my house, for example. There are times in which it is cobweb city. This is not because I have a special affinity for such things. This is because I LITERALLY HAVE SO LITTLE SELF ESTEEM THAT I DO NOT FEEL WORTHY TO HAVE NICE THINGS AROUND ME. It’s also a sign of a complete lack of energy, but for some people with depression, the tangled hair, the unclean body, the house that is messy to the point of disbelief can point to an extreme low period in the life of a person with mental illness.
To the frustration of those who love us, this “low period” can last years.
The longest I can remember going without showering (and this means that I was in the same clothes the entire time) is about two weeks. I’ve gone about two months without washing my hair.
Again, sometimes we’re gonna stink.
Please, please love us anyway.

-Listen To Learn
This one is self explanatory. There are people in the world who listen for the pause in order to throw in their own bits of conversational flow.
If you are a person, however, who is interested in continuing a loving relationship with a person who is mentally ill (especially if said person is the slightest bit like myself) DON’T DO THIS. It’s hurtful. And we all want to be kind to others. Well…don’t we?

-Take What You Read With A Grain of Salt
Yes, exercise is helpful.
Yes, diet is good.
Yes, setting goals and breaking them down into smaller, more manageable bits can be a wonderful way to get through life.
BUT
BUT
BUT
Be VERY careful with generalizations.
VERY careful.
The mind can affect the body in strange and wonderful ways. Should your very individual friend be in the middle of a very individual, specific to them episode (depression, panic, traumatic) exercise may NOT be the way to go.

which brings me to part two of this point
-The Second
Everyone is Individual (Or: Be Careful of Generalizations)
A helpful thing to do might be to learn what makes your very individual loved one healed enough to fight the darkness that seems like it is in control.
Some people strive to reach a certain video game level.
Some people put on music and dance.
Some people put on a sad movie and cry.
Some people take to their bed (yes, sleep can be a harmful escape, but it can also be a source of healing).
Some people write or draw.
Some people need others there to talk to.
But everyone is different.

Observe. Listen. Learn.

One problem that all of us (mentally ill or not) have is to dismiss anything outside of our understanding. We can hurt others by insisting that they act in ways that make sense to US while completely ignoring the fact that OUR ways actually do more damage to those we are trying to help than they do good.

I often tell my husband “You don’t have to understand me, you just have to love me.”

Research is good. Education is better. But sometimes a grain of salt is needed when we are striving to walk alongside people who don’t fit into any mold, textbook described or no. And sometimes, we need to bring a whole bucket.

-Appeal to the Senses
Food can be good. One of the things that helps me after a period or two of not eating well (or not eating much at all) is to seek out things that crunch. Something about the snap of an apple or carrot or celery stalk helps me focus on what I’m doing, rather than mindlessly taking in food just to please those who have expressed worry.

Touch can be good. Touch can signal love and acceptance.
My father, for example, gives the BEST hugs. His hugs signify a sense of belonging signaling that even though I am a mess, he loves me anyway.

Heat isn’t really a sense, but it can be good too.
This probably isn’t a real, true verifiable fact, but, if the depressed person is anything like I am, walking through times of self hatred and low self esteem can be cold inducing. I don’t mean A cold, as in “we can put a man on the moon, but we can’t cure the common cold”. I mean cold as in chilly. As in four sweaters in the middle of summer and still shivering. As in not caring what the thermostat says, give me another cover or two, thank you very much.
Hot chocolate. Hot tea. Warm blankets. These signify comfort and concern to someone whose body is giving off the wrong seasonal signals, making them feel very much like an outsider.

You don’t have to talk to care. In fact, the quieter you are, the better it may be, relationship wise.

Actions may speak louder than words sometimes, and to a person who, like me, is mentally ill, actions can sometimes be better trusted. 
Words, unfortunately, can be cheap.

If you aren’t willing to put in the work, maybe it’s better to say nothing at all.

The Final Post For This Question will be on my wall in just a few minutes.

Thank you for your interest.
I would love to answer whatever you can throw at me.

Don’t be shy. I’m pretty wide open.
And if I’m not, I’ll just message you.

I promise.

So, as I’ve said, I’ve been diagnosed with
Clinical Depression
Bi Polar Disorder
and 
PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder)

Thank you for asking Questions. I am honored by your interest and am grateful to those who are trying to understand my journey.

The first Question that I would like to try and answer is:

What are practical ways to support someone with these diagnoses?

As I’ve previously explained, I am much more emotional than I am practical, so these suggestions may not be any help AT ALL, but let’s try anyway, shall we?

-Tip That May Or May Not Help Number One

One Word
BELIEVE

If you are embarking on a plan to walk side by side with someone who has been diagnosed with a mental illness or five, please hear me

I cannot stress enough how important Belief is

I know. I know. There are denominations and sects out there imparting their particular understandings that 
1. Mental illness does not exist
or that
2. Mental illness is a sin
or that 
3. Mental illness can be forced away if one just prays strongly and repeatedly.

Let me be clear. I believe in sin. I believe that some things that we encounter in our lives are BECAUSE of said sin (both our own and that of others).

I believe in prayer. I believe that things happen BECAUSE of prayer and faith and belief and the will of God and the existence of miracles (which I also believe in) and I believe that mental illness CAN be a part of a person’s life one minute and not the next because there is a God (Yes,I believe in Him too) who can and DOES heal the bodies minds and spirits of the people of this world.

I just don’t believe that such healing happens to everyone.

I believe that prayers can and do remain unanswered, at least as answers to prayer apply to those who are doing the praying.

I believe that sometimes the answer is no.

I believe that sometimes people receive a diagnosis informing them that they are and are going to be mentally ill and accept such diagnosis, only to have to fight against the baffled disbelief of the people who claim to love them.

I believe that sometimes people are themselves baffled by a diagnosis only to face the overwhelming emotions and excessive need for reassurance from others. This can lead to more hiding away of feelings, more disinclination to ask for what is needed, more experiencing of self doubt than someone else who is trying to fit a diagnosis into their own new reality would experience.

And I believe that some people take a deep breath or two, gather all the courage they can, let the people around them know about the additions to their mental status only to hear
YOU ARE NOT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Now hear me:
I understand that first reactions can be initial bursts of shock and disbelief that can affect even close relationships in ways that neither party ever intended.

But I also know that 
YOU ARE NOT
You just want attention
Are you SURE
Now WHAT did your doctor say

and other such utterances can cut.

So if you are a person who HAS doubts about the diagnosis of a friend or loved one, instead of unintentionally attacking or confusing, consider the following alternatives

-Asking how such a diagnosis makes your conversation partner feel (but be prepared to encounter confusion. Even people who have lived with a mental illness diagnosis for years may not have a handle on the emotions such processes may stir up in them)

-Talking to a counselor yourself or asking to sit in on one of your loved one’s sessions (the knowledge a trained professional can bring to such a life journey may just prove to be helpful to both you and the person you love)

-Educate yourself. I have no idea if there are support groups for friends/siblings/parents/partners/spouses of those with PTSD or Bi Polar disorder, but there might be. If so, learning about the experiences other people have with THEIR friends and loved ones might help you understand your own partner. It also might help you figure out just WHAT all the confusing letters associated with the mentally ill actually stand for. (For example, you may be wondering just what OCD IS anyway.)

And try to remember something that my counselor told me after I had expressed sadness that the people around me would greet the retelling of my memories with much doubt and the information that they as a group did not recollect things to have been those experiences at all.

“Just because other people can’t remember, doesn’t mean they didn’t happen. The feelings are real.”

So, as I’ve said, I’ve been diagnosed with
Clinical Depression
Bi Polar Disorder
and 
PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder)

Thank you for asking Questions. I am honored by your interest and am grateful to those who are trying to understand my journey.

The first Question that I would like to try and answer is

What are practical ways to support someone with these diagnoses?

As I’ve previously explained, I am much more emotional than I am practical, so these suggestions may not be any help AT ALL, but let’s try and help, shall we?

—Thing One—

MAKE SURE and search your mind, heart, soul, time, compassion, stamina, finances, future, liver, spleen, stomach and everything else that is a part of you before you even ATTEMPT to enter a long term relationship (and yes, I am including friendship in this category) with someone who is mentally ill, especially someone who has a diagnosis that they will be living with untold years in the future.

(Interruption here: As I understand it, there is a type of depression that is “circumstantial”. This type can be 
triggered by a move, a job loss and other things that people tend to refer to as “temporary”. I have read and heard that “circumstantial” depression is something that can be walked through in time. Therefore, the opinions that I am providing in —Thing One— do not apply to people with this particular diagnosis…as I understand it. Thank you.)

Loving someone (in whatever form love that love takes) with Depression, Bi Polar Disorder, Borderline Personality Disorder, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome and/or any number of diagnoses, disorders and syndromes can be rough.

-It takes time…and work
If you are attempting to reach someone who, like me, has been diagnosed with an illness that directly impacts a person’s ability and/or willingness to leave the house and actually interact with others, please be aware that you are probably going to be engaging in some sort of yo-yo process.
If the person with whom you are attempting to form a relationship thinks like I do, he or she may prefer to remain at home not only because of the possibility of being hurt or misunderstood by those in the “outside world” but also because he or she has convinced themselves that they are protecting the outside world from THEM. Low self esteem is a HUGE issue in the lives of those with many forms of depression and the very real fear of negatively impacting social gatherings (of all types) with abnormality and misunderstandings often keeps people who are depressed at home.
The fact that many in the throes of a depressive episode don’t wash their faces, brush their teeth or attempt to do ANYTHING with their hair also factors into such reluctance.

-It takes patience
Loving someone with a mental illness can be, or so I’ve been told, a bit like babysitting a toddler.
Tears are easily shed.
Stories are rehashed.
Beds are often taken to.
And certain words and phrases are repeated ever and often.
There can be, again this is based on what I’ve been told, a certain childishness in the mentally ill people whom you encounter. This childishness will become more and more evident the more and more that you get to know them.
Unintentional egotism, for example, is one of the things you may notice about those whom you observe. This is NOT, as the dictionary suggests, because of “an undue sense of self importance”. It IS, in my experience because of an overly active lack of self esteem leading to a constant need (real OR perceived) for assurance.

-It takes perseverance and sacrifice
Fully loving someone who is mentally ill (again, I am referring to love in whatever form that it may manifest itself in your particular relationship or ships) is a long term proposition. Emphasis on the word long.
It will require (as, indeed, many loving relationships do) sacrifices of your time. Of your energy. It will bleed into your priorities. It will cut short your sleep.
Some mentally ill people keep what I refer to as “vampire hours”. We are abed during the day and awake (or, sometimes, what passes for awake) at night.
To really bond with someone who might be living this way, you might find yourself needing to stay awake at night as well. 
See, if you are seeking to build a relationship with someone who exhibits the traits that I do, you might begin to notice that they can talk about relatively inconsequential things for hours (literally HOURS) before enough trust is built up to strip away the protections surrounding their wounds and scars and fully open themselves to your scrutiny.
Fear has a lot to do with this of course and, should you attempt to forge this kind of bond, BE VERY CAREFUL not to either say something that implies rushing the conversation along or to cut off communication just as the person with whom you are talking is taking the leap into trust.

You are, of course, under no obligation to form such relationships.

You may be one of the people in the life of someone who is mentally ill who drops in with an offer of help and becomes a story about the kindness of near strangers in this crazy world.

If you DO, however, chose to display such love, be very very VERY careful about walking away.

Should they be the slightest bit like me, mentally ill people are acutely aware of the imbalance that put out into their circles.

We live for messages, yet, due to being overwhelmed by too many feelings or too much stimuli, do not reply to the ones that WE are sent for days.

We “pre-worry” about how events might unfold and, despite knowing how to rehearse every possible combination of conversations and scenarios which we might encounter, end up backing out for the night. We do this over and over, often to the risk to our personal reputation.
Sometimes we ARE lazy and unreliable. Sometimes, we are just jerky jerks from Jerksylvania.
Sometimes, we’re trying to protect ourselves from pain and panic.
Sometimes, we’re trying to protect the people we love from our own selves.
And sometimes, we’re just afraid.

And our biggest fear is often that of being left.
We (again, I am referring to people who are walking through the same diagnoses as I am and who have similar enough experiences to mine to feel emotions close enough to my own for this to apply–please keep in mind that not every one of us with a mental illness is even remotely the same, even when it comes to the things we feel) tend to form attachments very quickly. To find a “friend” (in quotes here because of the intensity of the relationship, not the insincerity of the person to whom we have been opening ourselves) only to have them stop replying,obviously distance themselves or cut off all contact whatsoever is a nightmare to us.

It is also one of the reasons why many of us are so isolated. Fear can be a very powerful enemy of ours.
The fear of finding a friend and then losing them is one of our biggest.

This is why I have posted this part of my answer.
Again, thank you for your interest.
I am honored to be answering your questions.

So, as I’ve said, I’ve been diagnosed with
Clinical Depression
Bi Polar Disorder
and 
PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder)

Thank you for asking Questions. I am honored by your interest and am grateful to those who are trying to understand my journey.

The first Question that I would like to try and answer is

What are practical ways to support someone with these diagnoses?

Answer
Oh boy. There is a lot to unpack here and I do tend to chase rabbits, so please bear with me.

First of all, please remember that I am one person who has had over forty years of experiences that are unique to her and no one else. My thoughts, my passions, my education, my prejudices, my preferences, my loves, my relationships and all kinds of “my” things are going to be different than anyone else.

You may meet someone else who is Clinically Depressed.
You may meet someone who has Bi Polar Disorder.
You may meet somebody who has been diagnosed with PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder).
You may meet someone who, like me, is doing their best to live with all three.

That person will not be me. They will not call chocolate their boyfriend. They will not cry at every Hallmark commercial ever made. They won’t carry a book with them every where they go because, well…doesn’t EVERYONE need some kind of security blanket?

And they CERTAINLY won’t be a person who does the London Tipton clap every time they feel proud of themselves…or, if they do, they won’t be the type to announce this peculiarity on social media.

Do you understand the point I’m trying to make?

I am more than willing to discuss my experiences (in fact, I’d PREFER to discuss them than to be speculated about). I can and will offer tips.

I cannot, however, make the experience of caring for someone with these mental illnesses a uniform one.

One size, in this case, does NOT fit all.

My hope, however, is that what I am going to post next does help some of you.

Because doesn’t everybody need that really?

Even if it’s just every now and then?

So, as I’ve said, I’ve been diagnosed with
Clinical Depression
Bi Polar Disorder
and 
PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder)

Thanks For Your Interest, Part One

I’m mulling over some possible blog entries, so I decided to ask you for help. Several of you asked questions, the answers to which I may incorporate into future entries. Tonight, however, I am honored by your interest and hope share some of my experiences over the past two to three years in the hopes that we can uncover some things together.

The first thing that I would like to say is that I am by no means an expert. I have read some articles, browsed some message boards, questioned my nurse and therapist and conversed with others about how THEY feel following THEIR diagnoses, but there is a whole heap of a lot that I still don’t (and probably never WILL) understand.

Hence, the following disclaimer:

I am only one person. I have three different diagnoses, but I am not in any way claiming that MY thoughts, feelings and actions are identical to the thoughts, feelings and actions of ANYONE else, even if others have come to the same conclusions about that someone else as they have of me.

Also, I still don’t know a lot. I’m learning things (such as that, just as “depression” is an umbrella term, so too is the phrase “bi polar”) but I don’t yet understand much of what I’m beginning to figure out. I am, for example, not clear on my own PTSD AT ALL, but I am learning.

All this to say, PLEASE don’t take what is written here as any type of Gospel, because it’s not.

I’m just telling my story. It may be SIMILAR to that of someone else, but it cannot and will not ever be the same.

Before I begin, I’d like to take a moment to repeat a few things my caregivers have taught me over the years.

The first is simply this: To not be afraid of the word “trauma”. “It simply means that something bad happened to you. And it did.”
Those of us who watch medical shows may picture “trauma” as involving protruding bones, bloody sheets and open wounds.
My counselors are helping me see that trauma DOES involve a wounding, but it is one that CAN BE walked through.

The second thing I’d like to repeat is the phrase “you’re still you”.
I have spent hours trying to figure out if, since my brain is broken, anything that I want, anything that I say and/or any idea that I have can be trusted. I guess I’ve been thinking of being bi polar as something akin to being possessed. By this, I mean the kind of possession that you might see in a horror movie. I’ve wondered if the bi polar part of me was doing some kind of brain take over and could anything I did anymore truly be called valid.

As it turns out, mental illness CAN cause compulsive or obsessive thoughts that repeat over and over until the person experiencing them feels like he or she HAS to give in to get the awfulness to stop. This is not what I experience. I, if anything, live with a LACK of thinking. I’m excitable and emotional and there is usually not any sort of processing going on before I speak or act.

Action or not, however, the me that jumps up and down and begins spinning in circles when good things happen, who laughs far too long and loud when amused, who has been told that she is just “too…” (nosy, wordy, loud, emotional, just…MUCH) over and over is Me.

My counselor is helping me see that being depressed, or bi polar, or even having been traumatized is not the same as some kind of alien take over. Me being sad. Me being amused. Me being so happy that I clap my hands is still me.

I have messy hair. I have fair skin. I wear glasses and don’t match my socks.
These are some facts about me.

I’m mentally ill.
This is another one.

Thanks for your interest. I look forward to us journeying together.

I really do.

A Message to the Hurting

I may never meet the man who saved my life. My existence had shrunk down so that what I called living was mostly conducted through the Internet. For five months or more I had missed work and church. I slept only when my body could not take anymore of being awake. I ate only when my husband handed me food. What “living” I did consisted of doctor’s offices, chairs in therapy and a nurse who monitored my medication.
I was confused. I was scared. I was alone.

No one called. No one wrote. No one checked in. After about month two, even my Christian community was silent.
I tried reaching out. I asked for love. I asked for help. I asked for friendship. I asked for communion. People lead their own lives. People had their own things going. People were too busy to even slot me in.

My husband tried to shoulder the burden. The more I hurt him, the more guilty I felt. For months, however, he was my everything. When I forgot to eat, he fed me. When yet another person had brushed me off, he told me jokes. I tried. For him, I tried. But inside, I was dying. Inside I felt that I was screaming into a void, bleeding all over the floor with no one to stitch up my heart.

And then came the diagnosis. After years of going from counselor to counselor, Bible study to Bible study, potential friend to potential friend, doctor to doctor…years of sleeping too much or not at all, eating too much or forgetting meals entirely, shunning work and existing only for my bed, I met her.
I didn’t have much hope, really. SOME of my past therapists had tried to fill in my missing puzzle pieces. Most, however, listened to only half of what I said and gave their opinions based on what they heard.

See, I have a hard time speaking. During important conversations, I stammer. I repeat words, I end sentences on questions when they do not need to be, I trail off without ever really making a point. It’s not that I expect everyone to read my mind. It’s just that I somehow cannot make what is flowing so coherently in my head come intelligibly out of my mouth. I’m hard to talk to. I’m hard to understand. Even to the people most trying to love me. As a result, the more frustrated that -they- get, the more I feel that it’s -my- fault. I feel guilty. I feel ashamed. I feel impossible to love.
For years, therefore, I had searched for an answer. A key. A talisman. A magic word that would unlock the me inside. Someone brave. Someone strong. Someone who was worth something. Not the ugly, selfish, worthless mistake that I felt everyone could see. One by one, my therapists gave up on me. Year after year the answers I sought refused to come. I hated Christmas because it represented yet ANOTHER twelve months of shame, of loss, of failure.
“There -is- something wrong with you” my husband agreed while reiterating that we would never have children because of my (at that time unnamed) chronic condition “I just don’t know what”.

I didn’t know what either. I couldn’t explain WHY my mind was a battlefield. I did not know how to verbalize the experience of my body being unable to take any more mental wars and just collapsing inward on itself. I didn’t know WHY the Bible verses I have been able to quote since grade school and the hymns that I learned before I could really talk weren’t enough. I questioned my faith. I questioned my existence. I questioned my sanity. I felt ugly. I felt unwanted. I felt useless. Most of all, I felt guilty. I would sleep for fourteen, fifteen, twenty hours at a time while my husband was at work. I felt guilty. I felt selfish. I didn’t understand why he didn’t just put me aside. Surely, I reasoned, his life would be better off without me.

And then we met her. This counselor HASN”T given up on me. This counselor hugs. This counselor listens. This counselor cares.
This counselor gave me a word.

The war in my soul? The battle in my head? The division in my heart?
It has a name.

Bipolar.

Bipolar.

The connections in my brain don’t work like the connections in the brains of my friends and families do.

Clinical Depression goes along with it.
Thus the lack of food and over reliance on sleeping.

And PTSD
PTSD, the cherry on this particular sundae.

I had answers.
I had explanations.
I just didn’t know what to do with them.

I can be creative.
I can be kind.
I can love music and books and rainbows and sunsets and all kinds of beautiful things.
But I can also be hurt.
I can be afraid.
My mind can turn against itself.
I can be compelled over and over again to finish THIS task or the items on THAT list before I am able to rest.

Sometimes sleep takes over.
Sometimes it doesn’t.
Sometimes I get up from my bed because the thoughts are too much and all I can do is turn on the music or put the TV on low or play a game of solitaire until I can sleep again.
Just for a moment.
Until the circle comes round once more.

The diagnosis helped.
My condition informs a lot of my personality.
I’m seeing answers every day.

The diagnosis helped.
Until it didn’t.

The first course of treatment they put me on worked for two days.
I woke up feeling bad.
Before we could even get into the car to go to the hospital, my body began taking over. Involuntary, the movement of my limbs were. Unasked for were the noises coming out of my mouth.
Time in the hospital.
Allergic reaction.
Scary.
And back to square one.

While seeking something that WOULD’NT make me twitch and jerk and vocalize, the reality hit me.
I WILL BE LIKE THIS FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE.
I will never NOT be bipolar.
I cannot wish it away.
I cannot take a magical pill, turn a magical key, speak a magical word.

Get a second opinion.
Just have faith.
Cling to what you know about Christ and His kingdom.
Such was the advice of those around me.
And, of course, my favorite.
Just don’t be depressed.

Okay.
Okay.

I just won’t.
I just won’t have curly hair.
I just won’t have color changing eyes.
I just won’t burn in the sun.
Thanks for the advice, lady.
I just won’t be depressed.
Why didn’t I think of that?

This is me
Forever.
And it got to me.
It got to me bad one morning.
See, I stay up until three or four or seven a lot of times.

I keep vampire hours.
No one is around at three.
No one is around at four.
People don’t have time at seven.
People are busy.
People need sleep.
People don’t have time for me
or any of my stuff.

I’m alone at three.
I’m alone at four.
I’m alone at seven
because by then
my husband is off to the office
which I rarely see anymore

And that night I was alone.
No children, he had said.
Just call on Jesus, people advised.
Backs turned, my community demonstrated.

And the online group I had joined discussed pain
and cancers
and not being able to breathe
and dislocated knees
and popping joints
and systems that shut down
when they themselves stood up
They were kind
But they didn’t fight my battle
They dealt primarily with the body
I was fighting my mind

It was three in the morning
I had no where to go
I had tried

After I sleep, was the answer
When I’m less busy, I was told
We’ll catch up someday, people said
Go to bed
Go to bed
It will all be better in the morning
Three o’clock WAS the morning
It wasn’t any better

Ugly
Useless
Smelly from no showers
Exhausted from no rest
Isolated from myself
Hurting my husband
Pierced by shattered dreams
I would never truly be a wife
Or a mother
Or brave
Or strong
Or beautiful
Or really
Anything at all

It hurt
Knowing that all I was doing was hurting the people I loved
Knowing that the people I loved didn’t love me
Knowing
Knowing
That everyone would be better off
I made plans
I HAD been making plans
I didn’t intend to be here in the morning
And then he came

My world was online, remember
There was no one to talk to at three in the morning

Everyone was asleep
Everyone wanted ME to be asleep
I wasn’t asleep
I was alone
Abandoned
Afraid

But he said hi
He was in my group
And he said hi
And I said hi
And he asked me what was wrong
We had never met
We WILL never meet
But he saved my life

See, my world is dramatic
My world is emotional
My world loves soap opera antics and overly exaggerated gasps and high pitched screams
My world is selfish
My world says things like
But you have to stay for ME
and
Oh no, you really don’t want to do THAT
or
You don’t really mean it, you are always trying to get attention

My world piles on the guilt
And selfishness
And shame
My world interrupts
My world is impatient
My world doesn’t listen
But he?

He did.
Without theatrics
Without melodrama
Without emotion
He listened
(well, he read)

He didn’t give me fake sympathy
He didn’t hand out guilt
He didn’t even say no
What he said was wait

Calmly
Quietly

He told me to wait
Tomorrow isn’t here yet, he said
Stick around
It might be better

And I did
I didn’t kill myself that night

I was there
When the clock struck four
And six
And seven

It’s not easy
I still forget to eat
And take to my bed
I still cry when my mind sends out its soldiers

More often than not
I am still awake at three in the morning

More often than not

While the world sleeps

I am alone
I am alone
But I am alive

He’s right you know
I DON’T know what will happen tomorrow
I could win a million dollars
or I could wade through the crappiest day of my life

It’s a mystery
But it’s now MY mystery
MY puzzle
MY riddle to solve

It’s not easy
But it’s now
It’s here
And tomorrow
And tomorrow
And the tomorrow after that
Might just be better than today

And you?
I can’t fight your battle for you
I can’t tell you that there is magic
I can’t tell you to walk in the sun
But I can stay awake

I can be here
With you
I can listen
I can care
I can ask you to stick around
I can be calm
I can be quiet
And I can remind you that you don’t have to go through this alone

Because your tomorrow?
You don’t know
And next week
And the week after that
Might just be better
Might just turn out better
Might just be better
Than your today