Categories
Mental illness

Where’s Waldo?

My boyfriend is missing…

The thing is, no one is taking me seriously because technically he disappears all the time. He is usually gone for 24-48 hours and then returns and tells me some lame excuse for why he didn’t even call. 

This time is different. 

We live in the age of technology. We are always connected, my boyfriend is no exception. If he’s not texting or messaging through Facebook, he’s playing a game, listening to music, streaming porn. 

He walked out the door 36 hours ago and has not been connected one time. His phone can only be used with WiFi, it has no service. So for him to not be connected means he hasn’t sent a single message, checked messenger or sent any instant messages. He hasn’t played a game or played his silly casino slots he’s addicted to. Not a single time. 

It doesn’t look good. There is someone who I think knows something, but he isn’t talking! I am so distraught and I have no idea what to do about any of it. There isn’t really anything I can do about it except sit here and wait. 

I’m going insane with worry. 

I filled out a missing persons report this morning and now I’m writing this because I need help. I need someone with some knowledge of ways to search for people using technology; perhaps using an IMEI number or pinging his phone. Anything!! 

If he is found and alive, we are breaking up! I can’t deal with the stress of not knowing if he is alive or dead. I just can’t. 

If you can help me please email me:

sarah.jones@bipolarlivingtoday.com

Categories
Mental illness

Meet The Fear Family

I didn’t think I could do anything to advocate for mental health.

I have issues. 

There are days, and sometimes weeks that I can’t bring myself to walk outside. It takes a very strong motivator, like seeing my kids, or when it becomes vital for me to eat. You know, to stay alive.

The age of online shopping is heaven for a person with agoraphobia. Amazon, eBay, and my new favorite, the Walmart Grocery Pick-Up service, make life so much easier for me; I have a lot less anxiety as well. 

The first time I ordered my groceries online, I was so thrilled to be shopping for food and breathing normally at the same time. A short time later, I received an email informing me I could pick up my groceries. 

I told the app I was on my way, apparently they can watch your trip in real time through GPS. Once I arrived a message popped up asking which stall I was in. A couple minutes later a woman walked out to my car with my groceries, she even put them in my car for me, it was amazing. When I returned home, I informed my boyfriend I was never stepping foot inside a WalMart ever again. 

Agoraphobia is such a strange thing. It’s hard to describe the way it feels exactly but I’ll try.

There is a town in the brain called the Amygdala and this neuron called Mr. Fear and his wife Nonsensical Fear live there. When I should be afraid, Mr. Fear uses his neurotransmitter which is kinda like a loudspeaker, and tells all of the other neurons that I’m scared. Every now and then however, Nonsensical gets on the loudspeaker and says some crazy shit. All the neurons know it’s inaccurate information, but what Nonsensical does is plant a seed of doubt. So these happy, healthy neurons who were perfectly content, now think it’s possible that a huge crack will open up and swallow me whole if I open my front door. I don’t know. That’s the only way I know to describe it. 

Sometimes, if I am late to an event or late for plans with someone, it’s simply because I am struggling to leave my apartment. When my brain is functioning correctly, I am never late. I hate being late for something. If I’m having anxiety over leaving the house, plus anxiety over being late, I will usually end up cancelling whatever I had planned, cry for awhile, then just go to bed, hoping that will push some kind of reset button and I will wake up normal and happy. 

The times agoraphobia is really bad are when I’m depressed, which makes sense. Depression already makes me not want to do anything. Combine depression and agoraphobia and you might as well forget about me leaving my apartment. I would probably have starved to death by now if Postmates and Doordash didn’t exist. 

Hopefully after reading this, agoraphobia makes a little more sense, although you might be confused instead. There is so much about mental illness that doesn’t make sense and thanks to a loudmouth named Nonsensical, I’m as confusing as they come. Oh well. 

You can’t have everything. 

 

Categories
Mental illness

Rant: Religion is Not a Cure for Mental Illness

I love this post so much. This writer is exactly who we all need backing us up and talking the “real talk” of mental illness. Living in the Bible belt, I am all too aware of those who honestly believe Jesus will cure mental illness. It’s completely maddening. Thank you Casey for posting this.

This Bipolar Brat

Disclaimer: I am an atheist. I’m out and loud about my atheism. However, this post isn’t about my beliefs or your beliefs. It’s about some’s ignorant beliefs when it comes to mental illness and mental health.

This rant is about a type of toxic positivity

(Check out the article, linked above)

I read a great article the other day on the subject by Natasha Tracey over at her website, Bipolar Burble. I highly suggest you read her thoughts on the subject because I relate to her attitude towards positivity BS.

So, what is toxic positivity?

Psychology Today defines toxic positivity as “the concept that keeping positive, and keeping positive only, is the right way to live your life.  It means only focusing on positive things and rejecting anything that may trigger negative emotions.”

Too much positivity turns into toxic positivity. There’s a lack of empathy towards the person struggling.

It’s…

View original post 525 more words

Categories
Mental Health Resources Mental illness Thoughts on life

My Retort

I chose yesterday of all days, to turn off the feature that had me pre-approve all comments on my posts.

I chose to do this because of the way my mind was working at the time. My mind very forcefully said,

“Who cares if someone disagrees or doesn’t like my post, or says something negative about what I choose. I want the criticism, and I feel passionate about everything I publish. If it makes it to the public eye, I put everything in it. So why the hell not?”

Everything happens for a reason and if a certain comment hadn’t been made and gone very public, I wouldn’t be writing this post now.

I don’t know how many of my readers saw the comment before it was removed, but it’s ok. I’m grateful it happened because my silence on the issue further stigmatizes mental illness. That goes against my goal.

Personality disorders often go without being treated due to being widely misdiagnosed.

Personality Disorders are one of the most heavily stigmatized mental health conditions a person can experience. This rampant stigma has both tangible and emotional consequences that can worsen existing difficulties. Stigma shows in the form of judgments, blame, negative assumptions and discrimination.

Stigma can lead a person experiencing a Personality Disorder to feel ashamed and hide their suffering. This leads to further negative emotion (shame, loneliness, fear) and attempts to suppress distress. Suppression of distress and self-invalidation typically results in further emotion dysregulation, dysregulated thinking and out-of-control behavior.  

Even if individuals are determined enough to push through the stigma and seek treatment, they may encounter even more stigma. Some mental health professionals are reluctant, or even refuse, to diagnose and/or treat a Personality Disorder, even when a person clearly meets diagnostic criteria. ( Article about Borderline Personality Disorder)

So here we go… I’m divulging personal stuff I never intended on divulging, because my boyfriend has a Personality Disorder with war related Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

To be diagnosed with a Personality Disorder, you need to have severe problems functioning in one or both of these areas:

  • Self-Functioning: A fully functioning person is in touch with his or her deepest and most innermost feelings and desires. This individual has received unconditional positive regard from others, does not place conditions on his or her own worth, is capable of expressing feelings, and is fully open to life’s many experiences.

Some examples of Interpersonal skills are:

  • Communication skills involve both listening and speaking effectively.
  • Assertiveness skills involve expressing yourself and your rights without violating others’ rights.
  • Conflict Resolution skills help you resolve differences so that you may continue a relationship effectively.
  • Anger Management skills involve recognizing and expressing anger appropriately in order to achieve goals, handle emergencies, solve problems and even protect our health.

Jason has problems functioning in both areas, and his PTSD exacerbates everything.

Elinor Greenberg, Ph.D., CGP, says men with Narcissistic Personality Disorder follow a “love pattern” in their romantic relationships that they reproduce over and over again with different women.

The most common “Narcissistic Love Patterns” she has named, “The Romantic, “The Big Game Hunter,” “The White Knight,” “The Novelty Seeker,” “The Hater,” and “The Recycler.” The consistency in all of the patterns, is that he loves you and wants you, then runs.

Jason is kind of all over the place. He can’t be put into one particular pattern, however, he runs. A LOT.

Ok. Are you with me so far? Good. Because now I’m about to throw a giant chink in your chain…

Everything I had researched and studied, mostly made sense and sometimes were spot on. The major factor that set Jason aside, is his ability to love.

I kept studying various publications and I kept studying Jason. A common thread throughout everything I studied, are the misconceptions commonly inherent in Personality Disorders by Behavioral Health professionals themselves.

I read a hundred different articles and various publications stating a narcissist can’t love or have empathy for others.

I’m here to tell you, that is not correct. I know Jason loves me with every ounce of his capability. Finally, I found what I know to be true.

Ross Rosenberg, M.Ed., LCPC, CADC, CSAT writes that although it’s complicated, that narcissists can, in fact, feel and express love and can be empathetic.

In Rosenbergs book, “The Human Magnet Syndrome: Why We Love People Who Hurt Us,” “garden variety narcissists,” or those with NPD are capable of love and empathy AS LONG AS IT MAKES THEM FEEL GOOD OR THEY GET SOMETHING IN RETURN.

Since they desperately and perpetually seek love, appreciation and affirmation from others, they will consciously and unconsciously (Human Magnet Syndrome) gravitate toward others that can meet this impossible need.  Sadly, however, the people who are going to fall in love with them and, consequently, try to take their problems and pain away are deprived of the very same love, respect and care that the narcissists fight so hard to obtain.  These unfortunate people are almost always going to be codependents.

(Entering stage left is… Ms. Codependent herselfME.)

Rosenberg goes on to say that his book also explains why codependents are the only personality type that can actually withstand the narcissist’s selfishness while shaping it (distorting it) into a loving relationship.

He states as a fact, that narcissists and codependents love each other. The feeling is quite real to them.

The narcissist falls deeply in love with the codependent because she provides unconditional love. It’s the one thing the narcissist believed was impossible. She loves him for his true self, so he has found his soul mate.

Rosenberg says the unstable and fleeting nature of their love experience is best explained using a metaphor- a bucket with holes. 

Narcissists need a steady stream of unconditional love, respect and care to keep their hole-ridden bucket filled.

No amount of unconditional love or affirmation, kindness, empathy, etc., will ever keep their “buckets” topped off. Hence, their need for affirmation, attention, etc. while desperately self-promoting themselves, gives us an idea why they are motivated, if not addicted, to their narcissistic ways and why they are unable to stop. 

But here is the rub: they can only adore and love people who fill their holey bucket. They really do “love” these people – their codependents.

And the codependents selflessly “love” them back. 

With Jason’s PTSD combined with a personality disorder, over a period of time, his “holey bucket” empties. He begins to see my flaws and they piss him off. Another scenario is he will try so hard to get my attention and love, ending up feeling slighted. He thinks I’m too busy writing, or playing a game on my phone to notice he needs, “Sarah Time”.

Then, as he watches me make plans with other people, he feels he must not be as important as they are, I don’t appreciate his hard work and effort, and his bucket depletes.

The empty bucket leaves him feeling insecure and afraid, and those feeling manifest themselves through anger. The fear and insecurity also ensures he will develop a fear of me leaving him. Those were the times there were violent outbursts. The scary stuff…

Jason and I are not stupid people, and our love for one another is making us look at ourselves and our relationship from a new perspective. We had to start asking,

“What does our unique relationship need to survive and flourish?”

The first thing I knew I must do, is stop being a victim. Jason isn’t a horrible person. He has fucking issues. So do I.

I wouldn’t ever be happy with a “normal” guy, the kind everyone thinks I deserve. I will get bored with that guy. I will end up breaking his little heart when Jason shows up and says, “Get in the car, I’m gonna beat the breaks off this dude and then we’re getting the hell outta here.”

Yep, that’s the guy I’m ridin’ with.

I’m not Jason’s girl because I’m scared. I’m not scared anymore. I meant it when I said that part is done. We are someplace else in the evolution of our relationship.

I’m Jason’s girl because as fucked up of a dynamic it has been, I see him trying to be a man worthy of me. I watch him listen and give input, trying to understand the mysteries of the mind with me. This shit is going to be hard, but the really scary stuff everyone was worried about, is over.

On to the next hurdle

To the people disowning me for choosing this path, I get it. All I ask is to please open your mind and consider the possibility that what looks like a cut and dry cycle of abuse to you, is in reality, a stepping stone to a new level of understanding and existing.

I know I am on the right path for me.

I feel that some very real discoveries are in the process of being made in the field of mental health and although you are very open-minded and a wonderful advocate for your cause, you are lacking an understanding of some of the very real and very big issues some of us face every minute, of every day.

Mental Health stigma is not as big of an issue as it once was, but it’s still way bigger than I thought. There is so much that is still unknown, and when we are dealing with the unknown, we are limited to our understanding of it.

As mental health patients, we have not been taken seriously in the past. That is changing. Those of us who are able, have a responsibility to ourselves and to others who are suffering to educate everyone about the parts of mental illness you can’t understand from reading a textbook, publication, or observation.

We will never have it all figured out, but my purpose is clear to me.

TALK. WRITE. EDUCATE. VOTE.

I love you, B, more than you know. I hope you can forgive me for the worry and stress my being in your life has caused you. I hope we can come to a compromise where we can still be family that does things together. I hate to think of my life without you in it… You said something to me last week that has stuck with me. You said you were willing to help me if you felt like we were on the same team.

A heartbreaking truth about being mentally ill, is for the most part, you feel extremely misunderstood and very alone in the world.

Advocacy is appreciated and necessary, however, we crave unconditional love and support, regardless of there being a lack of understanding concerning the “whys” of our mentally ill behaviors.

We don’t know why most of the time.

I can promise, I will always do what I believe is right, and I know sometimes I will be so wrong. I’m learning and traveling through time like everyone else.

ONE. DAY. AT. A. TIME.

Categories
Mental illness

Fighting Mental Health Stigma

What You Can Do


Photo by: Theresa Carriveau

The Problem


There are so many issues as a result of mental health stigma. At the most basic, stigma discriminates and alienates people who are pretty rough on themselves already.

On a national level, we have a fragmented healthcare system which further alienates the mentally ill. We lack adequate mental health care professionals, and the ones we have are poorly distributed. With the baby boomers aging, medical staff are unprepared for the inevitable rise in the need for behavioral health services.

People of all ages are suffering and often don’t seek help. Their reasons vary from ignorance, lack of resources, fear of discrimination, and some are simply too ill to inquire about mental health care or assistance programs that may be available. This needs to be a problem of the past, and quickly.

The ACE Study shows how childhood trauma affects the course of a lifespan. The more trauma a person experiences as a child, the more likely that person will have serious physical and mental health problems as an adult.

The results of the ACE Study make healthcare for the mentally ill imperative since we know some health problems might be preventable if treatment begins at an early age.

It irritates me that it’s 2019 and much of society and our government view the mentally Ill as dangerous, criminal, and unable to live peacefully among everyone else. However, I understand the main problem is ignorance and lack of understanding.

Many people are suffering in silence due to fear of what will happen to them, how they will be treated, lack of resources and funding.


What Can We Do?


The solution is people working together to reach very attainable goals.

How do we achieve these goals?

Educate. Teach society what mental illness is and what it isn’t.

Talk about it.

Those of us with mental illness need to talk about our experiences. We need to get out to the voting booths next fall. We need to advocate for those suffering from mental illness so they can get the help they need and deserve.

Learn of bills being written or voted on in your area concerning mental health, then write letters to your legislators.

Mental Health stigma is a problem that has gotten better, but there is a lot of room for improvement. Let’s help people… WAKE UP!

Categories
Mental illness

It’s Not Really About Me


I find myself in an all too familiar battle. With me.

I’m at a point in my life where I’m unsure of my purpose. Like I said, it’s familiar, but (whiny voice) I hate it!

Most people can be satisfied by simply conforming to society and cultural norms. The outline is get married, raise a family, work hard, go on vacations, try not to get divorced (although about 50% will) birthdays, graduations, retirement, and then the sweet bliss of death.

Most people find their purpose in there somewhere. They might have their purpose instilled in them through religion or what they have been taught.

We live in a culture that puts children’s needs above everything, so it makes sense that most mothers feel their purpose is their children. Not to mention the human instinct to provide, care, and nurture our babies.

Some might feel their purpose lies in helping others and spend their lives doing acts of service. Some folks live their entire lives only indulging their every want.

My purpose has always seemed relatively clear to me, with the exception of this particular phase of my life.

As a kid my purpose was clear. Be a kid, go to school, get good grades, hang out with friends, make out behind the bleachers.

At 19 I became a wife, and at 21 a mother. At that moment I knew my life was no longer my own. I lived and breathed for my son. Then along came my daughter 2 years later. I thought I had it figured out.

I was wrong…

Through a series of unfortunate events, addiction, mental illness and a nervous breakdown, my now ex-husband was awarded custody of my babies. I was so lost. What was my purpose now?

I met Keith.

It was love at first sight. We were inseperable all but 3 days a week when I stayed with my Mama to give him a break from me. I’m not even kidding. Apparently I’m exhausting.

His struggle with mental illness was conspicuous from day one. We had that in common, but we ended up balancing each other out. It worked.

I could never remember to take my meds, but he reminded me. If I was having a particularly hard time, he set them in my hand.

Keith needed a lot of care and I could always seem to take care of him, even when I couldn’t really take care of myself.

Both of us couldn’t remember our own appointments with our psychiatrists, but I always knew his and he knew mine.

He pulled me back down to earth and I intermittently pulled the stick out of his ass. You get the idea.

When Keith and I began seeing each other he told me he was drinking himself to death like Ernest Hemmingway. I just said, “Well, if that’s what you want. Who am I to interfere with your death plan?”

Eventually, he saw his purpose was to be a good husband to me and mine was to be a good wife. We got sober. We had the kids every other weekend and for the most part, life was pretty peachy.

Mental illness won its battle over my poor sweet husband and he took an early exit. Since his death I have had 2 prevalent phases of “what now”?

The first phase was my “Blue Period”. I was sad. I was so lost that I literally couldn’t breathe. It was like I had to learn a new way to inhale and exhale to remain conscious. Just, lost.

The 2nd phase is my “Pissed Period”. One day I was sad, and then I started thinking about Keith making the choice to check out early, and it filled me with rage. How dare he? He made a promise to me and he broke it. He didn’t simply leave me, he left the fucking planet. He left me to fend for myself and I was suddenly so alone.

I’m coming out of that phase now but still struggling with my purpose. I can’t accept that my life is to be an endless array of fucked up occurrences sprinkled with slivers of joy. Sure, the joyous moments although few and far between, keep me from checking out early, but I need to believe it gets better. I need a reason to want a late checkout with a continental breakfast.

I love my children more than anything, but they are with their Dad and awesome step-mom and although they love me, they don’t need me. That’s a fun fact I had to learn to accept.

So, my purpose? YOU.

I think I need to tell my story and to a lot of people. I want the stigma surrounding mental health to disappear. I’m gonna talk about it. I’m going to talk about the real deal.

No sugar, no bullshit.

If I talk to 5,000 people struggling in silence, and 50 of those people begin to feel someone understands and then 25 of those people ask for help, I have succeeded.

I will never stop. I found it, my purpose.

If you are one of the many suffering with depression, mood swings, mania, OCD, schizophrenia, or have no diagnosis but don’t feel right, please reach out. If you don’t want treatment, there are alternatives. You don’t have to live like this, and suicide causes pain you can not imagine to everyone stuck here. The world is not better off without you. That is a lie your mind has made up. If you truly feel you have no one, or that no one gets it, e-mail me.

sarah.jones@bipolarlivingtoday.com or
inside.my.manic.mind@bipolarlivingtoday.com
Categories
Mental illness Thoughts on life

My Sweet, Sweet Husband


Yesterday marked two years since my husband left this realm of reality that is our planet, Earth. He is out there now on the ultimate adventure and a part of me is a little jealous.

I’m not suicidal or anything, I just am so curious about what is beyond our limited knowledge and understanding of the afterlife and what happens to us. It’s fascinating.

One thing I know for certain is that we don’t really die. The part of us that is “us”, or the soul is made up of energy. The law of conservation of energy states that energy can neither be created nor destroyed. It can only be transformed or transferred from one form to another.

I know Keith is still around because I feel him all the time. Sometimes I can even hear him if I’m quiet and still long enough to pay attention. Then there are the dreams.

He hasn’t come to me more than a handful of times in my dreams that I can recall. When he does though, it always seems like a real visit. It’s different from a normal dream. It feels as if we are in a different dimension and we are the only two entities that exist there.

Yesterday, I pretty much stayed in bed. I slept off and on and during one of my naps, Keith came. He picked me up from someplace and said, “Are you ready, dear?”

I ran up to him and threw my arms around him immediately in tears and exclaimed, “Where have you been?? You were gone forever, I thought you were dead!”

He replied, “Now, you know I’m not dead, right?”

I looked up at him incredulously and said, “Yeah, I’m pretty sure I know that, but why can’t I see you anytime I want?”

He said something poignant to me and I remembered the gist of it when I woke up so I looked it up. It was a quote by the poet Emily Dickinson.

Keith smiled at me and said, “Forever is composed of moments.”

Frustrated I asked what he meant and he basically said that I have many things to accomplish while I’m here. Be patient and take nothing for granted. He said he will always be close by, keeping watch, and loving me. He said after my series of moments on this plane of existence, he will come for me and we can be together. Until then I must be satisfied with the lovely invasion into my sleep.

We ended our visit with something we said to each other every day we were together.

I said, “You are my sweet, sweet husband.”

He returned with, “And you are my lovely wife.”

Me & my sweet, sweet husband Keith. Photo taken two days prior to his suicide.
Categories
Mental illness

Cheaters and Liars


If I am to be honest, I have been a cheater and a liar before. In fact, I had an affair during my first marriage which ultimately ended the relationship. Once trust is broken, it’s incredibly difficult to get it back.

Of course, no one cares about how the cheater feels, they cheated. They deserve pain, guilt and whatever else happens as a result of their bad karma. Until I was the cheater, I assumed they didn’t feel guilty about their actions anyway.

I can’t speak for all cheaters or former cheaters, but not only did it not feel good to cheat, the remorse I felt once I was found out and seeing the pain I caused was truly awful.

Karma working the way it does, it would make sense for me to pay for my decision to cheat. The mere feelings I had were not sufficient. Well, I paid in spades.

Everyone knows the saying, ” once a cheater, always a cheater”. That rule doesn’t apply to everyone.

I became an anti-cheater, or as someone affectionately called me, the “Monogamy Nazi”.

Honesty, fidelity, and trust became the most important things in the world to me. There is no room in my world for infidelity.

Lying and cheating tend to go hand in hand. Lies become necessary to carry out the cheating and to keep the affair going. Once the habit of lying has begun, it’s like a contagious illness, it spreads. It spreads into all areas of your daily life, and after a while you may even begin to believe the lies yourself.

With my monogamy comes honesty. I am honest to a fault at this time in my life. I have never liked to hurt anyone’s feelings, but I will if I have to.

*If anyone would like me to tell you about yourself, just ask. I will begrudgingly oblige.*                          

Keith’s death also has contributed to my lack of filter. My mother-in-law refers to a condition very similar as “grief-stripping”.

Seems appropriate.

The whole point of this rant is to let it be known that I understand what it feels like from both sides, and they both suck.

Being the one cheated on feels horrible because of the betrayal. Your body and soul should belong to your partner, and that is sacred. When betrayal occurs, it’s a violation of this sacred bond and ultimately, a violation of trust.

Being the one cheating sucks on a different level. You know you’re screwing up, and you know you could lose everything you have that truly means everything to you, but the lure of infidelity can be exciting and intoxicating.

Once the cheating has happened, there’s no going back. You can’t take it away, no matter how much you may want to. If your partner finds out or you tell them, their pain becomes your pain, and it should. I had to keep in mind that the pain I felt merely witnessing my partner’s pain, was nothing compared to how felt.

My pain was well deserved.

The cheater and the partner (or former partner), now have to deal with the consequences of infidelity.

If you stay together, be prepared for a lot of work. Relationships are hard work without betrayal, so throwing the wrench of deceit into the mess makes it extra tough, but It can be done.

My best advice is this; cheaters, accept responsibility. Do not blame your partner for your bad choices. It’s your fault and yours alone. If there is a problem at home, go home and fix it. All of that energy used to lie and sneak around can be transferred to your relationship and fixing what’s broken.

No excuses.

Ok, now the victims, because that’s what you are. The betrayal feels awful when it’s done to you. If your partner comes clean and wants to work things out with you, you have a decision to make.

Do you stay with this person, or go?

If you stay, be prepared for a tough road. If you leave, then do your best to move on in a healthy way. In both cases, forgiveness is in order.

Always remember, forgiving isn’t for the person who wronged you, it’s for you.

Respect yourself, love yourself. Make your stance on what your needs are and stick to your guns. If your partner loves you and truly wants to make it work, they will work to keep you and they should.

If they won’t fight to keep you and work really hard, LET THEM GO.

GOOD RIDDANCE.

Categories
Mental illness Thoughts on life

The Kids Are NOT Alright


Mental illness showed up in me at a young age, beginning with O.C.D. and morphing into full blown depression by my teen years. Although those things were difficult to deal with as a kid, dealing with having a mentally ill parent was just as difficult, if not more.

The thought that I could put my own children through something similar to my own experience, never really occurred to me. I dont know why it didn’t. I believe I sincerely thought that I could raise my children relatively unscathed by my illness. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

Not only have my children been affected negatively, they could possibly have a more difficult time than I ever endured; or I might think it’s more difficult for them because they’re my babies, and I loathe the idea of causing them pain. Emotionally damaging my children is something I absolutely would never consciously do.

Being in denial that my children have been affected negatively by my illness wouldn’t help a damn thing. In fact, I would really like to put us in family therapy to help us cope with the past, present, and future.

Hopefully I can convince the rest of their family to be supportive of the therapy. After all, it is mainly for the children’s benefit.

Now that my kids are teenagers, they are beginning to feel resentment toward me and what I don’t think they realize, is I get it! My mama was bat-shit crazy at times, and although she did her best, it wasn’t always easy being her daughter.

I wish my kids could see what’s in my heart. They would see the unconditional love and devotion I feel for them. They aren’t just my babies, they are amazing human beings. They truly are the whole package. Smart, funny, compassionate, the kind of kids women dream about having.

My hope is that my kids and I can have open communication about mental illness and how it has affected them in the past, and how it’s affecting them now. I’m confident with love, patience, and an open mind, we will get through life together.

We will not get through our life together unscathed. It’s not possible. Getting through it and becoming stronger and better is possible for everyone involved. That’s a challenge I’m willing to accept.

Categories
Mental illness Thoughts on life

Am I Ever Happy?


Featured photo: cafepress.com Gifs: giphy.com

Someone asked me today if I’m ever happy. This question followed a bitch out session by yours truly. I had a good reason to bitch, trust me. I guess everyone usually feels justified when bitching someone out. If you know you’re wrong and keep complaining, then you’re… just a bitch.

I sat in the car and contemplated this thing called happiness and wondered, “What the hell is that?”

This person is right, I’m not happy and am rarely satisfied with anything in my life right now. So what do I do about it?

I figure I have one of two choices. Either accept my life for what it is and shut the hell up, or change it. So, which one do I choose? Hell, I don’t know. If I knew the answer, I would probably be happy.

So there you have it. The answer is very simple. Everyone else has to change their ways to make me happy.

Since that will never happen, I have to do something different. I am just as tired of bitching as everyone is tired of hearing it. My bitching has gotten to the point where I am annoying myself. That’s pretty bad.

So my message to everyone is, I will do my best to stop all the complaining.

Life sucks sometimes. Adulting especially sucks. When my husband was still alive he was stressed about money all the time. I wasn’t. I didn’t have to worry about it because he did all the worrying. Now I have to do it all and damn it, Keith, wherever you are, please know I get it now!

Eventually, no one will want to be around me with all of this negative energy. I need a Snickers and a Disney movie or musical stat! This is an emergency. If I can’t be happy with chocolate and Disney then I need a lobotomy.

Well… I am totally bombing the no complaining thing.

My first positive statement in this ridiculous post, is that thanks to the new medication I’m on, I’m not depressed. Unhappy? Yes. Depressed? No. So that’s a plus, right?

I have to start thinking more on the positive side. This negativity is turning me into a bitter bitch and that’s not me. Plus, I don’t want to be alone my whole life and I definitely don’t want the 100 cats that inevitably goes along with that.

The new me will begin… Tomorrow. Then, I will be a ray of fucking sunshine. Lookout.