Hey, y'all --
I got a comment to my last post that absolutely floored me. It reminded me of the "happy face" mask that I seem to wear all the time, whether my bipolar is flaring up or not. That "normal" mask that tells the world that I'm just as ok as everyone else, despite the fact that I really do have a mental illness.
I mean, I know it's all right that I do (at least that's what I tell myself most of the time), but sometimes the stigma surrounding bipolar disorder still makes me want to wear my "happy face" and hide behind my "normal" mask.
I have accepted the accolades offered me by y'all, and the compliments I've received by others who know of my writing, and the thanks and gratitude expressed to me by people who've heard me speak at In Our Own Voice (NAMI) presentations... and I've soaked it all in, as undeserving as it all is, congratulating myself on my stability and sanity...
FORGETTING THAT I AM ALWAYS JUST ONE EPISODE AWAY FROM INSANITY!!!
I should say AGAIN. I should. I mean, I preach about not taking our stability for granted. Yet I find myself doing it anyway. I preach a lot of things I find myself convicted by. They say never to point your finger at anyone, because you'll find four fingers pointing right back at yourself!
I'm not saying I'm better than anyone. I never meant to say that, and if anyone ever took it that way, my humble apologies. My intro says that I'll share the ups AND downs of living with bipolar disorder. Well, it ain't all sugar, folks, as you well know if you have the disorder! We have our good days, and we have our not-so-good days.
A friend of mine is really struggling right now with grief and depression. I feel so badly for him, yet I can't do anything but be a friend to him. I want to yell at the doctors and say, "Give him better medication!" Iwant to scream at his psychiatrist, "You need to do a better job!" I want to say to his therapist, "If you were saying the right things to him, he would be better!"
Yet none of these things are right. And none of them would help my friend, either. He has to face his own dragons, as we all do. All I can do is be his friend, give him a shoulder to cry on, offer my support. And tell him I've been where he's at.
It doesn't matter whether you call it depression, bipolar disorder, schizoaffective disorder, schizophrenia, borderline personality disorder, OCD, PTSD (or any of the other initials), or whatever. It is still a mental illness. In that we are all the same. And we all struggle the same. Your illness is no worse than mine, and mine no worse than yours. They just manifest differently, have different symptoms.
And some of us cope better than others. Or maybe we just wear our masks better. Maybe my "happy face" has been in place for so long that I wouldn't let you know I was hurting inside even if you did ask me. Maybe I've been writing about the "ups" for so long that I've forgotten about the "downs," because I don't want you to focus on them. I want everything about bipolar to be so nicey-nicey for you.
Goodenough wrote on my blog yesterday:
"My story is no more impressive or important than any one else who lives with the ravages of mental illness and tries like hell to get out of bed. I am one episode away from relapse. I am one med failure away from psychosis. I am one stigmatizing word away from depression and despair."
How I was dumbstruck by those words - how true they rang! I wish I had said that. Because it is so true. Behind my mask, I say those words to you. I am not perfect, not even close. Today I have some semblence of stability. I have learned to take one day at a time, because with mental illness, you never know what tomorrow will bring. Don't get me wrong, please, I'm not being dramatic, and I'm not being negative. I'm just being realistic.
Recovery is a process. An ongoing process. It doesn't happen overnight. It takes time. It takes the rest of your life. You may be at one point on the timeline, and I might be at another. I may be at one point of the timeline today, and at an entirely different point tomorrow, on unsure footing, I don't know.
Here's the rest of what Goodenough said in her comments:
"Does that mean that no one should strive toward recovery? OF COURSE NOT! It just means that recovery is not linear. It isn't climbing a ladder or Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs toward ultimate self-actualization. It is 2 steps forward, 10 steps back. It is scratching, clawing, digging in and getting a hand up. It might not be pretty along the way. For most, there won't be a parade or party or even a casserole given in honor of their recovery. But recovery is recovering quality of life. And that smells beautiful."
Today I am in recovery from bipolar disorder. And if you're here, so are you. So let's take off our "happy face" masks, and be real about it. We have a mental illness. We are NOT mentally ill. We are not sick. We have a chemical imbalance, that's all. Other people have physical illnesses (like asthma or diabetes), and they don't have to wear masks, afraid they won't "fit in." So do we -- only it's not in our bodies, it's in our brains. Why should we have to wear a mask, either? Why should we have to be "different?"
We don't. Not if we don't make ourselves different. We can be real. At least with ourselves. At least here, where we have the freedom to express ourselves. Until the rest of the world catches up, that is. And they will, because I (among others) am going to put a face on mental illness. I want them to see that we are just like them, their family member, their child, their parent.
It gets tiring to wear a mask that keeps the world at bay. I'd rather be myself, for better or for worse. Even though I have an incurable disease, part of my acceptance of that disease is learning to like myself for who I am in spite of the disease.
Do you agree or not?
Wishing you peace and stability,
Remember God loves you and so do I,
Michele