“Don't compromise yourself. You're all you've got.”
― Janis Joplin
I've been lost. Seriously, epically lost - the type of lost when you realize that you are so far from where you're supposed to be that you wonder and then despair at ever getting back to where you wanted to go in the first place.
I've been struggling, really struggling for about three years, with last year being a nightmare to navigate. 2013 was a year that I clawed, kicked and hacked my way through one day, one hour, one minute. I've never fought so hard in my life, to keep my life.
My Dad was mentally ill. I watched the illness consume him, bit by bit until the brilliant and unorthodox man I knew and loved was utterly eaten by insanity. His brain shrunk, the white matter in his mind corroded like a unwanted battery. What made the loss more devastating was that there was a part of me that watched what was happening to my father and wondered when, not if, something similar would happen to me.
Madness of the lethal variety runs in our family. My grandfather had it and blew his brains out. My father had it and was devoured. A cousin who shares my name had it and drank a gallon of insecticide to escape. I have it and nearly lost my life this past year to psychotic reasoning that my family was better off without me in it. One of my children has it and struggles on nearly a daily basis not to hurt himself. The fact that I passed this disease on to one of my babies has broken my heart.,
2013 was a year where I struggled to come to peace with such a violent genetic heritage. I rang in the new year with a trip to a psychiatric hospital after becoming deeply suicidal and making final preparations to end my life. My sister thankfully intervened and gave me the choice to go to the hospital in her car or in an ambulance.
When I went to the hospital they made me strip, documented the self-inflicted injuries and eventually put me in a room to rest. The room was suicide proof, which means that it wasn't very comfortable to sleep in. That night, dressed in a hospital gown with snaps (no ties) I tried to make sense of a world that was anything but sensible. I could hear other women in the ward moaning and crying and after a while I joined in, keening my heartbreak. I was convinced that I was better off dead than alive and damaged in the head.
A year (nearly to the day) has passed. I have a name for my pain (Bi-Polar, Type 2 with Psychotic Features) I have a team of doctors that I work with to keep my brain chemicals balanced. My condition is chronic and progressive. I'm on serious anti-psychotic and anti-depressive medication that I'll likely take for the rest of my life. The medicine makes me sick and has caused me to gain some weight and won't protect me from ever relapsing again. Still, it's a small price to pay for being here.
And that is the crux of it. I'm still here. I'm still alive. This damnable disease hasn't won. Will I continue to struggle ? Yes. Is a relapse possible. Yes, in fact it's likely. But I can't focus on that. I can't focus on the what if's - I have to cling to the what are's if that makes any sense.
I still have bad days. Sometimes I have a bad week or two in a row. I'm not performing at 100% despite my best efforts. 100% will take time. Thankfully, I have that time because I'm still alive.
I'm still alive.
I'm keenly aware of my life now and don't take my existence for granted like I used to. Each day I'm here is a day worth celebrating. Perhaps that's why I am trying to find happiness in simply drawing breath, in each little victory, no matter how small. This year my theme is all about teaching myself joy over and over again.
I decided to be open about what happened to me because I think it's the right thing to do and I'm sick of pretending that everything is amazing when in fact, it's not nearly that simple. I also decided to be more up front about things because mental illness is a lot more common than people think and perhaps someone who reads this is also struggling.
Yes, I've been lost, but I feel for the first time in a very long time that I can see a hint of the road that I'm supposed to take. I know it will be difficult, but I am determined to get back on it make up for the lost time. Here's to a better year for everyone and being less lost and more found in every way.
― Janis Joplin
I've been lost. Seriously, epically lost - the type of lost when you realize that you are so far from where you're supposed to be that you wonder and then despair at ever getting back to where you wanted to go in the first place.
I've been struggling, really struggling for about three years, with last year being a nightmare to navigate. 2013 was a year that I clawed, kicked and hacked my way through one day, one hour, one minute. I've never fought so hard in my life, to keep my life.
My Dad was mentally ill. I watched the illness consume him, bit by bit until the brilliant and unorthodox man I knew and loved was utterly eaten by insanity. His brain shrunk, the white matter in his mind corroded like a unwanted battery. What made the loss more devastating was that there was a part of me that watched what was happening to my father and wondered when, not if, something similar would happen to me.
Madness of the lethal variety runs in our family. My grandfather had it and blew his brains out. My father had it and was devoured. A cousin who shares my name had it and drank a gallon of insecticide to escape. I have it and nearly lost my life this past year to psychotic reasoning that my family was better off without me in it. One of my children has it and struggles on nearly a daily basis not to hurt himself. The fact that I passed this disease on to one of my babies has broken my heart.,
2013 was a year where I struggled to come to peace with such a violent genetic heritage. I rang in the new year with a trip to a psychiatric hospital after becoming deeply suicidal and making final preparations to end my life. My sister thankfully intervened and gave me the choice to go to the hospital in her car or in an ambulance.
When I went to the hospital they made me strip, documented the self-inflicted injuries and eventually put me in a room to rest. The room was suicide proof, which means that it wasn't very comfortable to sleep in. That night, dressed in a hospital gown with snaps (no ties) I tried to make sense of a world that was anything but sensible. I could hear other women in the ward moaning and crying and after a while I joined in, keening my heartbreak. I was convinced that I was better off dead than alive and damaged in the head.
A year (nearly to the day) has passed. I have a name for my pain (Bi-Polar, Type 2 with Psychotic Features) I have a team of doctors that I work with to keep my brain chemicals balanced. My condition is chronic and progressive. I'm on serious anti-psychotic and anti-depressive medication that I'll likely take for the rest of my life. The medicine makes me sick and has caused me to gain some weight and won't protect me from ever relapsing again. Still, it's a small price to pay for being here.
And that is the crux of it. I'm still here. I'm still alive. This damnable disease hasn't won. Will I continue to struggle ? Yes. Is a relapse possible. Yes, in fact it's likely. But I can't focus on that. I can't focus on the what if's - I have to cling to the what are's if that makes any sense.
I still have bad days. Sometimes I have a bad week or two in a row. I'm not performing at 100% despite my best efforts. 100% will take time. Thankfully, I have that time because I'm still alive.
I'm still alive.
I'm keenly aware of my life now and don't take my existence for granted like I used to. Each day I'm here is a day worth celebrating. Perhaps that's why I am trying to find happiness in simply drawing breath, in each little victory, no matter how small. This year my theme is all about teaching myself joy over and over again.
I decided to be open about what happened to me because I think it's the right thing to do and I'm sick of pretending that everything is amazing when in fact, it's not nearly that simple. I also decided to be more up front about things because mental illness is a lot more common than people think and perhaps someone who reads this is also struggling.
Yes, I've been lost, but I feel for the first time in a very long time that I can see a hint of the road that I'm supposed to take. I know it will be difficult, but I am determined to get back on it make up for the lost time. Here's to a better year for everyone and being less lost and more found in every way.
