Tonight I write to you about something that I deal with every day. Mental Illness. I have bipolar disorder with anxiety and depression. I was diagnosed after the first time I was hospitalized for wanting to kill myself back in 2006. When I talked to the psychiatrist and told him what my plan was, he said that had I went through with it, I surely would have died. Since then it's been up and down like a roller coaster. I've felt like a guinea pig with all the medications I've tried.
Although the picture above may look funny, most of those feelings are what I deal with. Today was one of "those" days. I was fighting the anxiety battle all day. My mind was running, I was nauseous, I was sweating, and all I wanted to do was go home and hide under the covers where I'd be safe. But I got up, got dressed, and went to work. I still felt that way most of the day. M vcby irritable, grouchy and mean-spirited boss didn't help matters any. I prayed, A LOT. I tried to focus on my work. I was productive and was able to clear my desk.
Now I am home. I have eaten dinner. Played some Mah-Jong. I'm listening to some calming music. And still trying to focus. I am forcing myself to focus on just one thing at a time.
The kind of bipolar disorder I have I don't get the manic highs. I feel "normal". I feel like I can accomplish anything. I have more energy. I have a positive outlook. I feel "alive". But those moods are rare. I haven't had an "up mood" in years. The depression has a strangle hold on me. It has stolen so much of my life. Life that I can't get back. And I know I'm missing out on life. I don't know how to "fix" it. Medications can only do so much. The rest is up to me and God.
People think that since you are a Christian you are happy all the time. After all, we let God handle our problems every day. We're in very capable hands! But we are human. Yes, I believe in God. If it weren't for my faith I'd have no hope left in my life. I try to pray through the anxiety. I try not to lose hope when the depression drags me so far down that I can't see the light of day. And I will admit, for a short time today I wished I weren't alive. That's how my brain responds to overwhelming anxiety. My fight-or-flight reflex is death. The only one sure way out. But I know that I would do more harm than good. My daughter lost her father and grandfather in the space of a year. My husband would be broken hearted without me. My mom would probably have another nervous breakdown. But, to my brain, the instinct to escape is through death. The ultimate avoidance of problems and stress that will not go away.
Mental health is such a misunderstood disease. Yes, it's a disease. It's not something we wish to have. No, we can't just "snap out of it" (ohhh how I HATE hearing that!!) and if we just ___________ we wouldn't feel so bad. (HUGE sigh and eye roll here.) I'm not weak-willed. I'm not "nuts", "crazy" or "mental" (Ohh yet another term I DESPISE!) I have a disease that is probably inherited (I'm adopted so my whole health history is one great big surprise after another). I have learned through trial and error that it's not a real good idea for me to not be on meds. It get suicidal. My husband found that out the hard way. But bless his soul, after three years of a roller coaster ride, we are still together. And he understands me a whole lot better now than he did then.
When I look back through the years, I see that my anxiety took root at a very early age. I was always a "nervous" child. As a teenager I was a little less "nervous". But I remember every morning getting up for school and having my stomach in knots. I knew whenever I had to do something out of my comfort zone it would make me nervous. When my mother remarried I was 11. She moved to upstate NY with her new husband and left me with my grandparents in Connecticut. I remember that at one point, the whole tug of war thing really took a toll on my psyche. I remember our neighbor telling my grandparents that I'd wind up having a nervous breakdown if that all kept up. I didn't want to leave my grandparents. I loved where I was. I had my best friend. The beach was just down the street. And I was getting old enough where I could walk into town on my own. I liked my school. I didn't want to move. I didn't even know the guy. But, I also remember overhearing my grandparents saying how they already raised one kid, they didn't need another. That I was just a burden. Don't get me wrong, my grandparents loved me. It's just that they were getting on in years and didn't need to raise another child.
My last stint in an intensive outpatient program was only beneficial to me while I was there. I didn't have the emotional support at home to help me gain control. My first husband was psychologically abusive and emotionally distant. He had no interest in hearing about what I was learning and I really didn't have trust in him to confide things. The first time I was hospitalized, part of my therapy sessions was to have family there. The one time they tried to include my husband, they had to make him leave because it was just upsetting me. And it turns out he never told our kids where I was. He told them mommy left. I was never able to convince them where I had been even though I had the discharge papers, all the paperwork, etc. So it kind of made sense when I went through the second round why I didn't want to confide in him.
This last go-around when I started at the mental health clinic, the month before I had tried to take a handful of pills (sinus pills, but the ones that make you sleepy) but my husband stopped me. So, when they did my intake they had suggested that perhaps I should be an inpatient until I could become stable again. But I had just started a new job and my husband was out of work. We needed the money. And I didn't have insurance. I didn't need to rack up more bills. So, at my first therapy session, my therapist made me sign a "safety agreement". (It is an outline of things you can do if you feel suicidal. You make a list of people you trust whom you can talk to. You think about things that make you feel good and you enjoy doing. The number for Crisis in put on there as well as contact information for the therapist. It is quite a detailed plan.) I hung that on my fridge when I got home so that I would see it every day. I think it was at that point my husband really understood what I was dealing with. I wasn't just some crazy b***h. I had a real problem that had to be managed.
My husband comes with me to some of my psych appointments. Sometimes he sees things going on with me that either I haven't paid attention to or have just not wanted to say anything. He dispenses and manages all my meds, so sometimes he will come with me to see my psych nurse practitioner. I may not really know if a medication is working, but he can see the difference in me when a medication is working and when it isn't.
Right now I take 40mg of Prozac in the morning. Since my mind races at night and it's hard for me to fall asleep I take 2-50mg Vistarel caps (kind of like Benedryl), and a 50mg Amitriptyline. Amitriptyline is an old antidepressant. It makes you sleepy, sometimes. (Or, if you're like me, you need the dose you'd give an elephant to help you sleep.) I did notice an improvement in my mood after starting the Amitriptyline. The dosage on my Prozac was just raised, so it may be a while before I feel any effects. Since I have no insurance, my psych nurse has to find inexpensive medications to treat me with. Also, they won't prescribe controlled substances such as Xanax, Klonipin or Ativan.
Oh how I've prayed to be "healed". I went to healing services. I've prayed. I've been anointed and prayed over. I've had hands laid on me in healing. Sometimes I've wondered if maybe my faith isn't strong enough to believe that God can heal me. Whatever it is, I wish it would go away.
I used to have a dog that would be able to sense when I'd get really low. She'd sniff me when I'd come home from work and just be able to tell. And it was at those times she never left my side. I'd literally step on her because she'd be right under my feet. I couldn't even go to the bathroom alone because she'd follow me! She was the best comfort I could've ever asked for. I wish I still had her.
I unfortunately passed this horrible disease on to 2 of my children. My son Brian spent probably 2 or 3 years of his life in his room. He dropped out of school and developed a social anxiety. But he used his time constructively. He went online and did his GED with no help from anyone. No formal studying. No classes. Just him and YouTube and whatever resources he could find. And he passed his exam with flying colors!! He is now 24 years old, engaged to a wonderful lady, is step-dad to 2 and has a newborn son. He's working on going into the Army National Guard. And he works his skinny little butt off to support his family. Oh, and if that isn't enough, once he got his life together, he worked on shedding all the weight he put on during those years. He is now 6'4" and 175lbs. (At one point he was over 300lbs!) I am so proud of him and all he's accomplished.
My daughter, however, has not faired so well. After her dad passed last year, she went into a deep depression. She stopped going to school this past February. She tried going a day here and day there, but hasn't been able to make a real effort. She would sleep all day and stay up all night. It's only been since she's been with her new boyfriend and faithfully taking her meds that we've seen a change in her. Her boyfriend is in college to become a therapist like his parents. He works as a counselor with troubled kids. And he's working with my daughter little by little. His father also brought up the fact that she probably has PTSD because of the time spent with her father when he was dying. She gets horrible flash backs, break downs, and nightmares. She says she can't remember any of the good things. Try as we might, there was nothing we could do. She didn't "want" to be fixed. She wanted to be a hermit and wallow in her depression and grief. And sometimes we need to do that. Sometimes we need to withdraw from the world for a little while until we get passed all the bad things. And maybe God needed her to go through that to have a better appreciation for living life. I do know that she's slowing climbing out of that pit. Day by day. Little by little.
I feel like I am rambling. Nothing in any particular order. But this is something I wanted to put out there. I want people to know that just because you're a Christian doesn't mean you're happy go lucky all the time. Life isn't perfect. We are human. It is just that we are blessed with perfect love from a perfect Savior. One who once walked this earth as a human and experienced much of what we go through on a daily basis. And He gave His life on that cross so that we could have life. So that we could appreciate this gift of life that He has given us.
Every once in a while I, too, will wallow in the pit of despair, of depression, and look at all the things in my life that I hate. But it takes those things to make me appreciate what I do have. I have a roof over my head, food to eat, a car to drive, a family that loves me, 2 beautiful grandsons, a husband that loves me and spoils me, and yesterday I learned that I was accepted into a college degree program through a Christian university to become a Christian counselor. For now it will be just online. When I finish my studies, I want to work with abused women. I want them to realize that there IS a way out. That there IS someone who cares. That God will see them through this and carry them on to a better life. By working through lifes' trauma's it will make you a stronger, wiser person. And to take life one day at a time. No more than that. Matthew 6:34 says "Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own."
It is because of Him that I made it through my day today. I made it through the day despite the anxiety. Despite the stress. Despite the problems. He held me up and helped me finish my day. He got us home safely. And now I'm sitting in the recliner with my dog right next to me. My husband is sitting on the sofa next to me watching a movie. My daughter is out with her boyfriend and one of her BFF's. All is quiet. Just the way I like it.
It is through Him that I don't give up. It is through Him that I have hope. It is through Him that I have the ultimate therapist. He is the ultimate Physician. No one will better understand you than Jesus. How many nights have I cried myself to sleep praying to Him to make this all go away. To give me my life back. But I know that He has a grand plan for me. I am going through this valley for a reason.
Today's Christian Woman magazine had some well-written articles on the topic of mental health this month. (I will post the link to that and several other mental health sites at the end.) And it probably better conveys what I am trying to say. But, as a fellow blogger and Christian wife told me "write about what God puts on your heart". So I am. It's also a cardinal rule among writers "write what you know". And this I know. Intimately. Better than I'd like to.
At some point we may move down to where the college is. I long for a fresh start where no one knows me. As much as I hate change and I really hate moving, I feel that the Lord is pushing me in this direction. They say be careful what you wish for... well, be careful in what you pray for. God IS listening.
"For I, the Lord your God, hold your right hand; it is I who say to you, “Fear not, I am the one who helps you.” Isaiah 41:13
Blessings.
Linda
Here are those links I promised:
Today's Christian Woman "Finding God in the Depths" by Kristina Cowan
Today's Christian Woman "For Better and For..." by Cindy Baum
Today's Christian Woman "Mental Illness is no Laughing Matter" by Amy Simpson
Christianity Today/her.meneutics "Christians Can't Ignore the Uncomfortable Reality of Mental Illness" by Amy Simpson
The Guardian "Talking About Mental Health 'So Much of this is Behind Closed Doors' "
by Amanda Holpuch
If you or someone you love suffers from mental illness, there is hope and help. You are not alone in this.
National Suicide Hotline
National Alliance on Mental Illness
FaithNet NAMI
Crisis Service/Crisis Call Center
No comments:
Post a Comment